A Musebox for Flying Squids

Gaius dots his spine with kisses when he's in range, bites his shoulder; his grip is strong, his rhythm steady-- they are instruments of mutual pleasure instead of carnage, and he finds he prefers this to their previous uses. They will lift a blade again and again, but so rarely does he get to give gentle touch, bask in the affection of another.

"Say it again," he says after he hears that soft utterance. It's akin to a prayer, and if he is the God Estinien prays to in moments like this, Gaius may well find religion. "Please."