The flip was sudden, his only warning the grip on his wrist. The heat of it all paused, waiting to see if he was being stopped because Kethaias was angry again, descending into melancholy, because Ryland was finally giving them what they wanted but that was going too far, or if it was something else equally mad and frustrating.<br/><br/><i>What you need be is less clothed.</i><br/><br/>Ryland's grin widened, and he couldn't help the little laugh that bubbled up from his throat. "My hand," he said, but Kethaias was unrelenting. When it was clear that he was going to be pinned, he lifted his gaze to Kethaias', the drop of his eyelids going sly with a wicked curl of a smile. The low fall of the tent had Kethaias low over him, nearly pressed against him. Ryland lifted his hips, squirmed and wriggled, doing his utmost best to tempt. Kethaias' weight above him increased, as though he could stop him, and a complicated thrill of heat when down Ryland's spine as his struggling failed to move the man above him at all.<br/><br/><i>This would cause scandal.</i><br/><br/>"You do know who I am by now, don't you?" he said, amusement dripping from each sardonic word. "Mention my name. No one will be surprised."<br/><br/>Every breath he took, he could feel the brush of Kethaias' knuckles where he was unbuttoning his shirt. Ryland's skin felt too hot, needing the release of fabric as much as the rest of him wanted it. And as soon as the shirt had been parted, exposing all of him from the waist up, he stopped struggling and let Kethaias<i>look</i>.<br/><br/>There was praise in that gaze, heat and need. Ryland lifted his chin, his head falling back, the picture of self-assured beauty. Golden and flushed, the feast in waiting. An<i>impressive lure to dangle in front of a hungry man.</i><br/><br/>Kethaias released him to reach for his neck, and it was just as pinning as his wrist had been, even soft. Ryland had practically invited it with the tilt of his head, and he wasn't sorry for it. Underneath the strong cords of Kethaias' arms, Ryland let his hand drift down, and he kept his gaze locked with Kethaias' as he, deliberately, slowly, began to untether the laces at his pants.<br/><br/>"You've caught me," Ryland said. His words hummed against Kathaias' hand on his throat. The sound of his laces rasping in their eyelets as he pulled them through rivaled the soft hush of his words. He was still smiling. "Don't waste what I'm meant for." His hand, done with his own pants, rose to cup Kethaias through his. His artifice fell, just a little, to show real anticipation. He was obviously pleased with the shape of Kethaias that he'd found. "If you're angry of a lure, then I suppose I can only hope to get what I deserve."