[ If Lyney thinks that's happening--no, if either of them think that's on the table--then that expectation is as doomed as this thing that they've become.

Wriothesley leans in and all bets are off. He doesn't send Lyney away, doesn't put an end to what's his to stop--he makes himself the one to capture Lyney's lips this time, kisses him softly and slow. His duties, his senses, his very ethics blur and come apart at their seams, lost to warm skin and the gentle scent of Lyney. It's his kiss to take, he realizes, his opportunity to show Lyney that he means at least one thing he's said in all of this: that Lyney himself is no mistake, that he wants him, wants to satisfy him. A challenge he can't say no to.

But he doesn't draw it out, doesn't let the moment roll on the way he wants to. He pulls back after a few moments, makes Lyney look at him once more with a hand under his chin. Levels them with each other. ]

...Looks like it's my turn to warn you. I'm going to do that again, and if you don't want me to, then leave now. If even the tiniest voice inside you says this isn't right--go. Understood?