He could feel the melancholy in the air, but to him, who'd never known the real joys of togetherness, it only read as part of it. Perhaps, like some of those heavy stories, guilt is always part of the act of love? The boy did know better, somewhere inside, but he didn't know that the pure kind of union would ever be his. Surely there were people who went their whole intimate lives without knowing that frolicking, radiant kind of embrace? The other servants, who'd had many girls, liked to boast at some kind of game where their partners for the night were reluctant, but were made to give in. Perhaps this was that?<br/><br/>He was mad with this new venture. He face was buried against her. His tongue went where Engel's fingers had been. This kind of thing wasn't designed in any way to displease the recipient, but he was still doing it against her will. Her misery became profit for him, keeping the former firecracker still, and he groaned at her woman's taste. His surging, slick part looked for more of her flavors and aromas. The completely slippery entrance was mystifying. It was just flesh, wasn't it, but like this, it was addicting to the inexperienced boy. He was fast learning his own inclinations.<br/><br/>"Lyra." he mouthed against her, fingers digging into the outside of her thighs as he swallowed his own saliva, tinted with her salts and private seasonings. His green eyes looked up at her from where he was, between her legs, lapping and kissing and sucking. It was cruel, really, that Engel had stolen something like this from her, and taken it with Theodore's innocence, too. The poison of that serpent couldn't be washer, and now it was affecting what used to be a kind servant.<br/><br/>"I love you Lyra." he said, all hot concepts melding in his brain. He was drunk on his own torrential chemicals, mixed by an unseen doctor with violet eyes. "I love you." he repeated against her cunt and sucked a pair of folds before introducing his tongue into that folded valley, stroking and caressing her firmly, as though pressure could squeeze her of more for him to eat. He laughed quietly into her recent deflowering, a first sprout of insanity, as one hand came between her and his starving mouth.<br/><br/>One arm was still wrapped around her leg so the hand of the other could try it's luck. If she did not stop him he would stick his longest finger into her, reaching an inferior depth compared to their master's. Sloppily he'd move that digit, and look up at her with new light in his greens. "Is it like him? Am I better?" he asked, naively. He'd not been good with his tongue, but if she or her body had taken to the novelty of it he might have spread some tingles, but his finger play was nowhere near the ministrations of Engel Geslack. "I can make you feel better, Lyra."