[ He can tell there’s something in the words that makes Basch… uncomfortable? Uncertain? Something he struggles with, at the very least, because he can all but feel the tension sing through him in response. But Basch pushes through it, too. Clasps his hand over his heart, turns to kiss him again and Sylvain meets him, slow and sensual and warm.

He debates on asking, debates on whether this is a moment he should push on it, but after a breath, he lets it go. Little steps at a time, he thinks, and they’ve already taken big ones today. Several, in fact, and he knows the strain that in itself can cause.

So he just kisses him back and stays wrapped around him, limbs tangled and body pressed close. ]

You’ve more than earned it. I still don’t know what I did to deserve yours in turn, but I’m grateful for it all the same.