He quivers, but leans trustingly against me. I... I do not like the frantic nature of that laugh, but of course I understand it. I caused it.

He trusts, but does not trust entirely, and I am heartsore.

I will be patient. I will give him time, as he has given me both time and his unselfish nature, and perhaps one day he will be able to believe that I shall not abandon him.

(Perhaps one day I... no, I cannot even think it.)

He inhales me, my scent, and I hold him closer.

...no. I cannot, his words...

I steady myself. Most certainly, I can. If this is what he needs for now, I can perform any task, support him in anything. Not because I am in debt to him, though I am. Not because I have hurt him, though that weighs on me. This is not a matter of balancing a ledger.

It is a matter of balancing Genta. Genta is in need and that is all that is of import.

I turn my head, and brush my lips against his cheek. My hand goes to his chest, to his heartbeat, steady and strong, and I align myself behind him. His heart beats against my chest; mine against his back. "My heart is yours, my Genta," I say quietly. "You carry many burdens, without complaint, and I would like to ease your heart for a time."

I let my hand drop further, grazing the waistband of his pants. "I would take great delight in giving you pleasure."