The look he gives Victor is slightly sick and almost defeated, because, or, and, but that isn't exactly the point. He's kissed Victor. He had. He'd already kissed Victor. He can't ever undo that. Unfeel it. It's feels branded on to his skin, burned into his mind.




Even if maybe it is, too. Hadn't Victor laughed?


Even if Victor just said he didn't plan to stop either.
Victor, whose face had grown suddenly so very serious.

Victor, whose hand had tightened on his, where it stretched between them still.