[He grits his teeth, that glimpse of the remote enough to tell him what Cy is about to do even if it does not prepare him for the sensation — that thickening inside of him, betrayed by a slight shift of movement on the blanket as he attempts to resettle around it. The stretch aches dully, and he closes his eyes for a rigid moment, too aware of a pair of arm-in-arm strangers passing on the path not far away.]
... I don't believe you — that you have only one favorite. [His voice is thin with breath, but it doesn't shake. His discipline is much more inflexible when they aren't inside the security of their bedroom, apparently.] You've been to so many worlds.
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... I don't believe you — that you have only one favorite. [His voice is thin with breath, but it doesn't shake. His discipline is much more inflexible when they aren't inside the security of their bedroom, apparently.] You've been to so many worlds.