Morgan could feel his whole body heat, as Dean leaned in toward him. It was a familiar feeling, as his hand traveled over Dean's shoulder and rubbed at the back of his neck. It was the feeling of a lover under his touch; familiar, but long denied. It was only the fact that the boy kept talking, that kept Morgan from leaning in and kissing him.
"They needed buying," he said, the alcohol dumbing down the quick answers he usually gave. "Better will me than with someone who would beat them, or misuse them."
His own eyes closed for a moment, remembering the young dark-haired slave he had seen, that day at the auctions.