Paul began to undress, and Gabriel couldn't help but watch, could do nothing but let his gaze follow the movement of Paul's hands, take in every bit of skin revealed as those iron-hard fingers worked.  It was mesmerizing, as graceful as any performer, though there was no cheap theatre here-- just a personal entertainment that Gabriel kept to himself, always thrilled to see any of Paul bare.<br/><br/>It wasn't just sexual, either.  The man was poetry, was art, the kind that held the gaze and held the emotions and made you feel whether you wanted to or not.  Gabriel listened as he spoke, the words sliding in his ears and echoing behind his eyes.  Yes...  Yes, he thought so too...<br/><br/>He was so divine, and when he reached out and touched him, Gabriel accepted the caress and let himself be guided, half out of the tub and dripping on the floor.  The water hit the ground loudly, landed on Paul's feet, but he didn't care-- Gabriel had noticed the way he'd tossed his clothes aside, left them on the ground instead of carefully folded and tucked away.<br/><br/>He listened to Paul's question, turning it over in his head as he gazed at the other, meeting those flint-dark eyes.  Gabriel smiled then, staring up at Paul with serenity and contentment.<br/><br/>"No, Sir."  No, and he was so, so grateful for that...  Gabriel couldn't stand the thought of pity from anyone, especially the man before him.  The beautiful, blessedly cold, delightful man who ruled his heart and mind.