You're arguing, dear lamb? [ Again, Lucius' voice lilts with an incredulity just for show. His hand moves up; the soft pads of its fingertips graze along Eridanus' delicate throat, until his palm cups the bottom of this boy's jaw. ] Then I suppose anything must have been a lie.

[ His thumb hooks, gilded claw pressing between Eridanus' lips. Sliding into the wet space between gums and bottom lip, it plies at the flesh as though it were his own plaything, watching its shape distort around the intruding digit. ]

Even Lords take a knee to something higher. [ Again, his tongue licks through the air. An old, familiar impulse thunders through his blood, this youthful Eridanus so precious that he fills Lucius' skull with thoughts of his body ripped limb from limb. ] You don't need to worry — I'll take good care of you, little one.