He squeezed his hand back, equally. "One hell of a meant to be, huh? The market. The job. The gods seemed to not want to take any chances it wouldn't come to this. I know I certainly wasn't looking for this. I was...adamant I would never feel this again. And then you had to go and be so...kind."

His eyes misted up as he turned his head enough to kiss Fletcher's chin. "Thank you. For all of it. For being kind. For taking care of me. Respecting me and my wishes. I know how hard that is. For being patient because I'm...so new to all this and shy. I don't know what I did to deserve you. But I'm grateful it was you."

He lay there quiet for a long while, chest heaving and utterly spent. His mind was blank but for the impulse to evoke the three simple words that had fallen loose in their torrid passion. Because after all, he did love the man. Didn't he? He did. He'd fallen for Theo so wholly, so completely. It wasn't a trick of the mind. It wasn't the intensity of the moment, or the enticing danger in their affair. He'd thought he knew what love was before, but he truly had never felt quite like this in his life. And it had started months ago, too. At the night market. He'd realized then that he cared. He just...didn't know how much until now.

Fletch rolled to face Theo. The intensity of his fire had quelled to a gentle warmth, and an ever-present, sleepy little smile softened his features. As he basked in the man's presence, the depth of his infatuation couldn't have been more plain. "It's a little different every time," he said. "But...yeah. More or less. If you can't walk by the end of it, it means I've done my job. And if you can't talk, well..." He sought Theo's hand beneath the blankets, found it, and slipped their fingers together, seeking an altogether different entanglement. But whether it was his addled state or his hesitancy to say what he truly wanted to, his words didn't come easy to him. "Theo. That day in the market. When I knocked you over. And made the worst impression I could have possibly made. I...what were the chances, you know? What were the chances that I'd...that I'd found someone so damned beautiful?"

It quickly became an overwhelming whirlwind of sensation and emotion for Theodore. Soft sounds he'd never made before easily escaped him, brushing Fletcher's skin wherever he could plant his lips. He felt as if his skin was on fire and he was drowning in an ocean of ecstasy with only Fletcher as his tether back to reality.

Theo bit his own wrist so hard it would surely bruise to keep himself quiet as he careened off the metaphorical cliff. And then he returned the favor.

It was late in the evening and he was an absolutely boneless heap by the time they were settled back into each other's arms. Theo didn't think he could move a muscle if he wanted to. "Is it—does it always feel like that?" He questioned in a somewhat deeper, and hoarse voice than usual. "I've never...that was..." Theo giggled uncontrollably having no words to explain but knowing Fletcher likely understood how he felt.

He broke. Finally, he broke, and that fire in him surged into a raging and unquenchable thing. As he pulled Theo roughly into his room and kicked the door shut and tore at his love's tunic with desperate, grasping fingers, he thought that fever would consume the both of them. Before now, every kiss he'd imparted, every caress to Theo's cheek had been careful and controlled, as though he'd been afraid to break the man. But that caution was gone, now. He'd abandoned it the moment Theo had ignored his warning. 

Somewhere along the way, he'd lost his eyepatch. And his shirt. And his trousers. At last, he dragged Theo into his bed in a wild tangle of wandering hands and passionate kisses and messed hair and hot breaths, and showed the man just what he'd been holding back.

Theo stepped in closer and dragged Fletcher into a hungry, passionate kiss. "Then show me what I've been missing all this time," he whispered against his lips. "I've wanted this all day."

Fletch stood up a little straighter. His lips parted and his eye flashed in undeniable hunger. "I can stop there," he insisted, his signing rapid and clumsy. "I won't push that on you. I won't hurt you. But I've a mind to show you just how much I want you, Theo."

He drank him in but politely kept his distance. Theo knew Fletcher had said his strength was tenuous and here again it was brought to light. The man was trying to respect Theo's wishes. The question though was what was enough for Fletcher?

Theo smiled softly to see him signing and quickly signed back. "What is considered safe? What is the point you can stop at? I..." he blushed but kept going, "am interested in what we discussed last night. In touching and...being touched. But, I am not ready for full intercourse still. If that is too much for you, I understand. I can wish you good night here. Either way I am glad to know your wants and respect your wishes."

Theo's voice jolted him from his fantasies, and he scowled. And then he wondered why the very man he'd been thinking about had just now irritated him by existing and having wants of his own. He lay there quietly for a minute as he untangled it. Only when he'd sorted it out and gotten his head on straight did he swing his legs over the bed and rise to his feet.

He popped the nanny door open. This time, though, he swung it fully outward and leaned against the doorframe, blocking the way into his room. "I'm trying to be good, Theo, but I'm only going to say this once," he murmured, and then remembered himself and switched to signing. "If you're asking for something safe, you'd best stay in your own room tonight. Safe's not what's been on my mind."

Theo tried to read in his room but his thoughts were constantly filled with Fletcher. He could not wait for evening to come when he could crawl back into the man's arms again and maybe finally sleep there until dawn. They still needed to rest of course that the candles would wake Fletcher up given that Theo had no chance whatsoever of being any help in that department. 

It was a great relief when dinner was finally over and he no longer had to posture and remain neutral in front of his parents. This season certainly always brought out the worst in his mother and he just wasn't up for dealing with her. The slow, torturous walk back to his room was years rather than minutes it felt like until at last he was peacefully and safely alone again. He cleaned up and changed, making sure he was squeaky clean before quietly calling out to the next room.

"May I please come over or would you rather have some peace tonight? It's okay if you'd rather be alone."

The next few hours passed by achingly slow. At first he didn't mind it. The distance helped. He had himself a drink, and washed up, and went to dinner in the kitchen. When he saw Dewey, though, he went quiet, and for much of the meal he found himself preoccupied with thoughts of how he'd treated the man. He really was a bulldog at times: latching on with a locked jaw and the intent to kill. If Dewey really did have a thing for Neish, he seemed a good enough man, and Fletch wouldn't stand in his way. Or in the way of her happiness, as Dewey had insinuated he would.

By the time dinner was over, and he laid down on his bed, he was positively morose. He went over the day's events again. This time, though, his thoughts caught on something different: Theo standing all too close, their fingers brushing against one another as their breath mingled. The forbiddenness of it. The danger. His eye snapped open and he huffed, shoving it aside. There was no sense in torturing himself with the thought. Yet it crept back, and he found his imagination wandering to what it could have been if he'd just...let himself...snap.