Не просите – и будет вам дано, не ищите – и найдете. А тот, кто делает – тому опаньки.
Batter My Heart by Aria - еще один постканон, где Маркус возвращается™.
"You shouldn't have been able to find us," she says, letting Marcus in. Inside, the light is dim. There are two twin beds, neither made, and a closed door leading to the adjoining bathroom. Marcus can hear water running. Mouse sits on one of the unmade beds. "How did you manage it?"
"With God's guiding hand," Marcus replies absently, gazing at the line of light under the bathroom door. "How is he?"
"I assume you mean Father Tomas," Mouse says, very dry, "not God."
По Божьей воле и собственному желанию Маркус вливается в команду - деликатный, чутко настроенный на Томаса - наблюдает, сдерживается, не давит. Очередной демон, как водится, тоже работает на отношения, озвучивая всё, что должно быть озвучено, и еще немного сверх того; давая обоим пищу для осознаний - и признаний, себе и друг другу.
The demon laughs, Chloe's spine arching off the bed. "Pretender!" it shrieks. "What do you want, Father Tomas? Do you want to be him?" It throws Marcus a contemptuous look. Marcus gazes back impassively. "You're the only one who does," the demon croons. "Or is it worse than that? You love to be told you can't. You'd throw yourself at anything you've been forbidden. Don't engage in adultery. Don't follow your visions. Don't profane your vows!"
Что-то в этом есть, честное слово
Поэтому когда в финале Маркус сказал "Tomas, don't come", я натурально прыснула со смеху))
Маркус тут вообще прелесть: очень нежный, и честный, и по-хорошему отчаянный
Tomas looks away, down at his hands, curled into loose fists against his bare thighs. He's close enough for Marcus to see the texture of his stubble, close enough to kiss. He is always going to be exactly this close and no closer, the precise distance of yearning toward something untouchable. That is what Marcus has made himself, untouchable, in admonishments and layers of closed-over wounds and a certainty that is half the time in opposition to Tomas's. If Marcus leaves this be, they will never touch again, not truly; they will be tied together and held at arm's length by a terrible longing, never breached or consummated, and both of them are the sort of men who could endure that, accept it as their due.
Fuck that, Marcus thinks.
He reaches out and runs his thumb along the scrape of Tomas's jaw. Tomas looks back up, startled, and Marcus draws him into a kiss.
...и просто насмешливый засранец:
"What are we doing?" he mumbles against Marcus's mouth, and Marcus understands in a flash that this isn't a protest; this, absurdly, is Tomas revving his own engine, pretending at resistance.
Marcus feels a welling of amused tenderness. He ducks his head to grin into the collar of Tomas's t-shirt, and mouths at the line of his neck. Tomas shivers satisfyingly. "You have had sex before, Tomas," he murmurs. "Figure it out."
Хотя в этом они с Томасом нашли друг друга:
"Tell me," Marcus says. "What you want more than anything. The reason you didn't say no."
He knows he's pushing, knows they could do something careful and gentle and fumbling that will make Tomas look at him soft-eyed in the morning, whether or not Tomas comes to his senses and that look is also flavored with regret. But Marcus is loath to do anything by half-measures, least of all this, and oh, Tomas is his type after all: Tomas stares at him for a moment in silence, and then says, with absolute confidence, "I want you on your back, begging for me."
АААААААААА
И ведь заставил-таки просить))
Короче, отличный был вечер. Любитель чистых романсов во мне дал бы десять из десяти, если бы автор так старательно - и заметно - не отводил Мышку с дороги;впрочем, а что делать, если мальчикам необходимо побыть наедине? 
"You shouldn't have been able to find us," she says, letting Marcus in. Inside, the light is dim. There are two twin beds, neither made, and a closed door leading to the adjoining bathroom. Marcus can hear water running. Mouse sits on one of the unmade beds. "How did you manage it?"
"With God's guiding hand," Marcus replies absently, gazing at the line of light under the bathroom door. "How is he?"
"I assume you mean Father Tomas," Mouse says, very dry, "not God."
По Божьей воле и собственному желанию Маркус вливается в команду - деликатный, чутко настроенный на Томаса - наблюдает, сдерживается, не давит. Очередной демон, как водится, тоже работает на отношения, озвучивая всё, что должно быть озвучено, и еще немного сверх того; давая обоим пищу для осознаний - и признаний, себе и друг другу.
The demon laughs, Chloe's spine arching off the bed. "Pretender!" it shrieks. "What do you want, Father Tomas? Do you want to be him?" It throws Marcus a contemptuous look. Marcus gazes back impassively. "You're the only one who does," the demon croons. "Or is it worse than that? You love to be told you can't. You'd throw yourself at anything you've been forbidden. Don't engage in adultery. Don't follow your visions. Don't profane your vows!"
Что-то в этом есть, честное слово
Маркус тут вообще прелесть: очень нежный, и честный, и по-хорошему отчаянный
Tomas looks away, down at his hands, curled into loose fists against his bare thighs. He's close enough for Marcus to see the texture of his stubble, close enough to kiss. He is always going to be exactly this close and no closer, the precise distance of yearning toward something untouchable. That is what Marcus has made himself, untouchable, in admonishments and layers of closed-over wounds and a certainty that is half the time in opposition to Tomas's. If Marcus leaves this be, they will never touch again, not truly; they will be tied together and held at arm's length by a terrible longing, never breached or consummated, and both of them are the sort of men who could endure that, accept it as their due.
Fuck that, Marcus thinks.
He reaches out and runs his thumb along the scrape of Tomas's jaw. Tomas looks back up, startled, and Marcus draws him into a kiss.
...и просто насмешливый засранец:
"What are we doing?" he mumbles against Marcus's mouth, and Marcus understands in a flash that this isn't a protest; this, absurdly, is Tomas revving his own engine, pretending at resistance.
Marcus feels a welling of amused tenderness. He ducks his head to grin into the collar of Tomas's t-shirt, and mouths at the line of his neck. Tomas shivers satisfyingly. "You have had sex before, Tomas," he murmurs. "Figure it out."
Хотя в этом они с Томасом нашли друг друга:
"Tell me," Marcus says. "What you want more than anything. The reason you didn't say no."
He knows he's pushing, knows they could do something careful and gentle and fumbling that will make Tomas look at him soft-eyed in the morning, whether or not Tomas comes to his senses and that look is also flavored with regret. But Marcus is loath to do anything by half-measures, least of all this, and oh, Tomas is his type after all: Tomas stares at him for a moment in silence, and then says, with absolute confidence, "I want you on your back, begging for me."
АААААААААА
Короче, отличный был вечер. Любитель чистых романсов во мне дал бы десять из десяти, если бы автор так старательно - и заметно - не отводил Мышку с дороги;
Они кагбэ встречаются, но Маркус ничего не рассказывает о себе, а потом пропадает на несколько месяцев, не оставив даже записки.