Are they shameful for their existence, or for your indulgence? Do you tend to yourself? Do you think of me in those stolen moments, using the memory of my visage for your blasphemy? Tell me.
He swallows thickly, words effecting him deeply. Such conversation unfamiliar to him.
‘Blasphemy’, that’s what she called it. There’s something sensual about the word in the intimate space between them. Lucio’s palms sweat, flexing in the absence of anything to do.
“Haa-“ he breathes audibly, eyebrows raised slightly in his reluctance of admittance.
Had she caught him? Seen him before when he thought he was hidden away enough? He had to find the balance- close enough to hear should she call for him, yet far enough to avoid eyes and ears. Was she toying with him?
“…. yes,” he whispers, “The stone of your estate… tainted by my expenditure. Brought about only by my eagerness to please you.”
Lucio frowns slightly, “Forgive me… I am something wretched.”