[Oh. The intensity in his eyes doesn't diminish, only magnified by the sentiment that translation carries — the way it hooks in his chest, snags, and threatens a debilitating bout of emotion. A careful breath readies him against it.]

I want you to teach me French. [A slow and thoughtful stroke of his palm up, mapping every step of Cy's spine.] And Chiskikani.

[He'll be a dedicated student to everything that Cy shares with him.]

But first, I want to spend the day as you suggested. [Leaning in, he steals a brief taste of sugar and strawberry from Cy's lips in a kiss. He could stand to eat sweets if it was like this.] Will you fuck me?