[There was a horrifying moment where Seregil thought to pull Alec down and bring their lips together; to feel the curve of the other man's neck with his fingers as Seregil them in the hair at the base of his neck.

He squashed the thought by turning to look at the toaster and its silver reflective surface.

It wasn't Alec's fault; he reminded himself; Alec was doing nothing that hadn't been ordinary and natural just days before. They'd always had a type of intimacy about them that was their own, and everything had been perfectly fine there. There had been issues, of course, but those were his own. They were the fancies of a man who fell too quickly and too deeply for another man who he could never reach in that way. And he didn't want to. At least that's what he kept telling himself that he was fine so long as he had a place, somewhere, in Alec's heart.

But since their meeting here there was a pull. It was as if Alec were carefully untying the strings that held his heart at bay. The old reminders were starting not to be enough - every time Alec called him his talí, his beloved, a string came undone and it took more force to put it back in place.]

I've spoken with Max; he's the one who runs that black market of theirs.

[He carefully kept his voice even, casual almost.]

It's possible he'll be asking about night work.