"I don't. I don't understand what I do for Randale, either," Stef replied, and his insolent competence warmed Vanyel's heart. "Do you?"

"Sort of." It was hard enough to define what had occurred, let alone frame it in words that someone ignorant of magic would understand. "The pain came from a set spell that was inside my base magical shields - that's not shielding that would defend me from an attack, as such, but rather something that defines where my magic, and my other Gifts, become separate from other magic, other people's thoughts and emotions and such. Does that make sense?"

"Like...underclothes?" Stef hazarded.

Incorrigable. "Something like," he allowed. "That's the first shield any mage-gifted or mind-gifted Herald has to build, and believe me, it's not pleasant to live without one. Krebain persauded me to lower mine -" Stefen, without so much of a flicker of change of expression, took Vanyel's hand in his. He knows how I was persuaded. "He left a set-spell inside that would continually transmute mutable magical energy - the kind I keep in reserve - into Gate-energy, which is...energy that brings two points together, removing the intervening space. The second point was I think within his own reserves. But that wasn't even the point. The point was that he knew it was the one kind of energy that I can't tolerate. Feeling Gate-energy causes me a lot of pain. Does any of that make sense?"

"He tortured you," Stefen said flatly. His hand tightened.

Vanyel grimaced. "Yes. The only thing that suppressed the pain was proximity to him, because if we were close, the distance between the two points - well, it always hurt if he wasn't with me. And because the spell was fuelled from my power, not even his death ended it. And it couldn't be destroyed by anyone else because my shielding was too powerful."

"Savil told me some of that," Stef said. "She hoped if you could control your power, you could free yourself -"

"And I couldn't, because I was in too much pain. And," and this was the hardest part to admit to, "The pain spell was all that was left of my - of the person I was conditioned to centre myself around. It truly felt like, if I fought it, there'd be nothing left of me. I didn't have anything else. It was built to keep me focused completely on Krebain, completely obsessed with the thought of having him near me. So when you gave me music back, you reminded me of who I really am..."

"I knew it." Stefen's grip flexed against his hand, and he brushed his fingertips gently over each of Van's knuckles in turn. Each touch seared his mood into Vanyel's senses. Quiet, charcoal anger. "I knew you were too damned unhappy to stop hurting and I decided I'd do anything to change that."

"I could never, ever thank you enough," and as the words left him, Stefen's hands found him, tight on his arms.

"I couldn't have given up on you any more than I could give up on myself," and his eyes shone. "Don't thank me. More than anything else I'm terrified of poisoning this with obligation," and he leaned close against Vanyel's shoulder. "Please don't think you owe me anything."

How could he even pretend to abide by that? He turned the idea over in his mind, and with some trepidation, he reached out to Yfandes. It still felt strange and wonderful that he could Mindspeak her at a distance, and she was often willing to feel a situation out with him, but he wasn't sure what she'd make of this.

She responded to his touch with something that, in a human, might have been a friendly backslap. :Gods, it's good to see you two together,: she told him warmly. :He's right, too - if you feel you're repaying a debt to him, that's not going to be, ah, enjoyable for either of you.:

:I'd do anything for him -:

:Which is exactly what he doesn't want. Look at him, listen to him. He's spent his whole life twisting people around his fingers in order to survive - I think that when he goes to bed, he wants someone who simply likes him and enjoys his company, and doesn't owe him any favours. He wants to know where you draw a line, and abide by that. I'd fancy he draws plenty of his own.:

:You could be right,: he wondered, as Stef turned to look up into his eyes. "You know, I never thought it was as simple as singing, long before I saw those scars," Stef said. "That's what I hate most about this Gift. I can sing away the pain, but the pain's never the real problem. Just look at Randale."

"True enough," he replied. "But without the pain, I could let the Healers reach the rest of the damage. And some of that's curable, unlike Randale," he added bitterly. "I've scars, but I've lost the fixation on my - my torturer. And Healer Nor said, well. Some of the other fixations might be inborn things about me that Krebain used against me."

"Like that need to please others?" Stef smiled, and raised a hand to stroke his face. "I can imagine that. And it's an admirable quality that I'll try not to take for granted." Gods, and he honestly means that. "I used to wonder, but... I'm not sure it matters why we want what we want. I might as well wonder why I don't want ladies. A man once told me that people like you and I need each other. Like dancing partners - one to lead and one to follow. Even if this wasn't always how you were - if I can give what you need, and you want to give what I need, that's all I care about right now." Stef frowned. "Actually, if they healed this out of you I might be quite disappointed."

Vanyel found he was smiling, quite unexpectedly. "So might I. Before tonight, I would have been pretty relieved."

Stef's hand dropped to his shoulder. "You know, there's a lot I should have said, and asked, first, but I didn't, because we seemed to be in a terrible hurry. I feel like I know exactly what you need, but - I've never been more afraid of making a mistake with someone."

There's that meticulousness, Van realised, as Stef looked at him with deep concern. He's a careful man who likes to play with fire. "What sort of mistake?" he asked.

"The kind where you won't say no to me. If I asked for something you didn't want me to have - in the heat of the moment, I don't know that you'd refuse me. I could take you somewhere you didn't want to be." He's right, Van knew in his bones. It's not magic, not coercion. It's - more fundamental to me than that. And I suppose I'm too far gone to know better, but I can see what he fears all too well. I could regret what I'd do for him. I know what I could do. He shivered, the thought of his lost years with Krebain encroaching on his mind.

Stef made to move away, but Van clasped his hand, determined not to let the memories win even for a moment. "It's alright," he insisted.

"Then please tell me, is there's anything I shouldn't do with you?"

It hadn't proved easy to predict what he could deal with. Getting knocked into the dirt by Herald Tantras while they sparred had been fine - Tantras merely glancing at him as he'd changed clothes afterwards had left him shaking for hours. And even if he could answer, should he? Would Stef not think him too delicate, too choosy for his place? But Stef watched him with such concern - his worst fear, truly? "I can think of...one or two things," he admitted. "Please don't cut me or mark me." He looked down at the dark bruise on his wrist. "I don't mind things like this. But I don't want more scars."

"Understood," and Stef took his hand again gently. "I'll honour that, I swear. No blades, no marks that could last more than a day or two. No needles?"

Vanyel's hand twtiched in his. "Best not," he said shortly. He breathed slowly, trying to shake off the memory of Krebain spearing holes through his nipples. His skin crawled even to know that Stef had noticed those old scars. But it all felt more distant, since he'd been healed - a life he knew from marks and from memories, but not a waking nightmare any more.

"You like pain," Stef noted without censure. "There's enough ways to enjoy that without causing any damage."

"Yes - I liked that." And he'd missed it, so badly - like he'd missed sex, missed being touched - was that wrong, was he losing himself again? But Stef truly didn't seem to object to Vanyel voicing restrictions, and indeed, he seemed to expect it. I've not simply found a kinder torturer. This is...something else entirely. He doesn't want to do anything more than what I want. "But I needed it to end, too. Please don't ever leave me hurting."

"I won't, I promise." Stef's eyes widened in concern. In compassion. Everything I tell him is another memory in silhouette. He knows it. The penetrating look in Stef's deep green eyes made the agenda of his questions altogether transparent. He's looking for those self-same weaknesses that Krebain used to destroy me - but in his eyes, they're tools for pleasure. Maybe for healing. Maybe for loving. Stefen stared at him thoughtfully, more questions ticking away in his eyes. "You seemed to like when I tried to restrain you..."

He thought of how Stef had held his wrists down against the bed. The Bard was so slight, Vanyel could probably have overpowered him without even magic if Stef had really been trying to hold him down. The restraint was part of his role, not something real. It wasn't like being shackled and powerless - not really - it was more like...being held, being asked again for his trust in exchange for Stef's mercies. "Yes," he replied. "It always made it easier for me," he admitted, and looked away. Tried to keep to the present. "When you did that, I felt like I could feel whatever I wanted."

"I have some ideas about that," and Stef's smile sent a warm shiver right down Vanyel's spine. Stef tilted his head delicately. "I noticed you wanted my permission, at the end."

"I thought I should ask," Van replied. "I thought it would please you."

"You thought it would displease me if you didn't?" Stef guessed, and he nodded. "No, I don't mind about that. I like to see that I've made a man happy - the way I treat them, it's reassuring. But if you'd prefer to wait on my leave, we could do it that way. I warn you, though, I've tried it with men before and I'm told I'm bad at it. I always say yes, and that ruins all their fun. If you did want a little denial, though, I'd try it," he shrugged.

"I...don't think so," Van replied, relieved for the proof that he truly could decide what would happen between them. That asking to be hurt and tied down didn't mean anything more than just that, if he didn't want it to.

Stef leaned to speak close to his ear. "Then don't ever ask my permission to surrender before my filthy vices," he said, like he was offering a secret, and Van shivered again, this time decidedly pleasantly. "Don't guess at what would please me. I'm not going to want what you've had before. I don't want some object, or a shell - I want you, whatever you want to offer, and I won't be satisfied unless you are."

"Well?" Van asked, turning to him, almost nose to nose.

"What?"

"What would please you?" he asked boldly.

Stefen looked speculative, and his smile turned sly. "More than anything?" He held Vanyel's eyes, and raised his hands to caress his face. "I want to make love with you. And the first time - just the first - I want to take you slow, sweet and easy while I look you in the eyes like this. I want to see you come so hard on my cock that you'll still feel it for days." He slouched back into the corner of the couch. "Interested?"

And there go all of my wits again. "Yes. Gods yes," he breathed.

"I didn't like to guess, but I had a feeling." Stef murmured, and held out his hand.