[ In less of a haze than the first time, he does not fail to notice the way Sylvain avoids volunteering information about his own motivations or private thoughts. Some part of that makes the sense of danger flare again, even as it simultaneously soothes; the man does not press him outside the bounds of this game, and clearly does not wish to be himself. Basch understands how that works, even if he wonders if this man craves closeness the way the sky pirate did. People were never his skill; it’s not worth guessing.

Especially not with more pressing matters filling his mind. He cannot worry his answer was unsatisfactory with a sound like that in his ear. His body goes rigid at the pressure on his cock, his weight shifting back against the other man as his other hand begins to explore and undress.

He likes it, yes. That much is obvious. But what is it he’s craving? He considers it, even as Sylvain guides his gaze to the image of himself, taught, surrendered. The sense of danger and shame is there again, but something sits under it. Something he has little experience teasing out or naming.

But Sylvain keeps spinning the fantasy, and he moans, his body remaining rigid out of years of restraining his own want. When the man bites his neck, he cries out so sharply it stings his own ears, his knees buckling and a hand going back to grip the other’s neck. ]

I — I want to be at your mercy. To resist you as long as I can and then beg you when I have broken. I want to be exhausted and spent, and to see you the same.

[ It’s closer to the truth and as much as he knows how to say. There’s something else here, something about Sylvain and how skilled he is, how in control, how the game feels like a mutually beneficial game and not a power struggle brought to the bedroom.

And as he admits that, the him in the reflection shifts, his lips moving in pleading words, his gaze trained on Sylvain as he pulls on the restraints, trying to reach the other man. A thing he often wants and so rarely musters. ]