#me sob

“And why would I do that, hm? Just because a few of our colleagues saw us being, mm..closer than we ought to be? John, I’ll tell you this: I’ve been very open about my preference for men and who I keep in my bed for centuries now. It doesn’t bother me what others say, nor should it bother you.”

Conall gives Andre a playful look and tilts his chin up, grinning a little. “No, John, I like you too much to let you go because of a few disapproving glances. If I did that every time someone disapproved, I would be quite deprived of lovers, wouldn’t I?” He snorts, lightly pats Andre’s cheek before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Now no more worries. Everything will be quite fine.”

      ANDRE  STIFLES  HIS  SMILE  into  his  crystal  glass  of  sherry.  Conall’s  validation,  no  matter  how  lukewarm  it  might  be,  is  still  breath  enough  to  make  the  embers  in   André’s  heart  glow  cherry,  smoke  puffing  happily.  

     Still,  despite  the  affection  that  stays  tenderly  stoked  in  his  heart,  still  fluttering  with  nerves  at   the  newness  of  it  all,  André  remains  wary  of  the  implications  of  their  closeness.  His  own  preference  for  men,  though  he  hardly  knows  enough  about  that  part  of  himself  to  be  confident  enough  to  call  it  that,  is  a  recent  development.  André  hasn’t  had  the  luxury  of  centuries  to  understand  it,  and  so  there  remains  a  strong  desire  for  discretion  and  secrecy  within  him.  He  tries  to  believe  Conall  when  he  says  everything  will  be  fine.