Greg's eyes were riveted to Theo's face, watching thoughts wash across those normally placid expressions. And he turned his head as the light weight of the other boy made the bed creak and shift. But still, Theo hung back, pulling in on himself in that familiar way Greg remembered in his dreams; it was a protective reflex Theo had had back then, and Greg had dreamed nights of prying his lover's arms back, gently restraining him as the boy under him willingly moaned and withered in torturous pleasure.
Greg almost snatched at Theo's raised hand, to pull him closer but he felt his fingers tighten into the thin blanket as his breathing drew shallow. He turned slightly towards Theo, his expression a mix of agony and joy, "Theo, for the love of Merlin come touch me," he found himself almost hissing, his tone so low and quiet but dripping with need, "It's me. It's Greg. I've been gone, in jail," he said, and he found his hand going up and out, a gesture of growing impatience at wanting to re-discover Theo's person.
"Give me a proper greeting," Greg said, a directing tone there again, "Show me you know me, love me," he said, his voice dropping down again into that tone, hoarse.