"Debateable." He shrugs and tugs himself up, nosing along the line of David's jaw. They all did things they weren't proud of. The trick is that he recognized them for what they were, what he could help, what he couldn't, and moved on from there. But right here, right now, that doesn't matter. What matters is what was done to them- and what he can do to make David forget.

"Whatever you want." Like it's a burden to slot their lips together. To let all that manic, painful need fall to the wayside to focus on the brush of skin to skin, the hitching of breath, the lazy pass of his tongue.