A frown marred Kerr's forehead. Ben was describing coercion, then. Gentle... maybe, but coercion all the same. Charon had known Ben wasn't immersed or as committed to their play as his obsession desired and it sounded like he'd lived for the times when Ben had become so. He'd encouraged experimentation because he'd been trying to feel his way around Ben's barriers and get under his skin... to find the place where he'd drop his inhibitions.
And be Charon's.
Kerr stroked the roof of his mouth ruminatively with the ball of his tongue stud, back and forth, trying to reconcile the resurgence of his opinion of Charon as not a great guy with the man who'd altruistically freed his mind tonight. These were not comfortable thoughts. Nor were they new, for they were flavoured with Declan's and Themba's taint... the men Ben had a distressing habit of becoming vulnerable to. Maybe Kerr was fooling himself, thinking that he was any better, when he'd also taken advantage of a young, eager mortal all those years ago. In his own way. It made him realise he was in no position to judge.
Besides, as far as they'd both known, he was dead. It wasn't like Ben's behaviour had been healthy and Charon might have sensed genuine potential for a partner in Ben. He had to keep perspective here, remember what a terrible time Ben had been going through. None of this was Kerr's business, it had all been between them. The realisation helped him settle back into appreciation for Charon; really, if he had been dead, he was comforted by the notion that someone powerful cared enough about Ben to protect him and try to pry him out of his grief. He deserved... contentment, if that was as far as he could push himself.
Kerr squeezed Ben and then relaxed, exhaling his negative thoughts out in a cleansing sigh. "I have to remember that. You thought I was dead. I really did owe Charon for doing his best with you. If ever I really do die, I expect you to do better next time. I'll be your husband by then," he grinned, feeling a cheeky little thrill at saying the word. As he spoke, he manoeuvred himself on top of Ben, wriggling up his body until he could rest his elbows either side of Ben's head. Their legs were alternated so he kept some of his weight off his fledge but it wasn't like he had to worry about squashing the breath out of him.
"You can have a month of mourning for every year we've lived together but that's it, got it?" he ordered authoritatively, resting his chin in his hands and smirking down at Ben. "I mean, if you die, I'll move on that quickly at least. Probably quicker," he teased, nodding thoughtfully at his lie as he shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. The gesture was rather awkward considering his position but he hoped Ben was charmed anyway. "I hear there are lots of lovely, willing boys out there just waiting for a guy like me." It was difficult to keep a straight face in amongst all this projected arrogance.
