"Want you safe," he amended, and god wasn't he used to it. The slim body against his own, questing fingers, wanton eyes imploring and there'd been times he'd wanted it so bad he was dizzy, the soft velvet of Wren's boy skin and the clever tentacle fingers that knew just how to touch. But he couldn't, Wren was just a broken boy and fucking was a defense mechanism, an automatic response when his emotions ran high.
"Ssh," Aiden whispered again, catching Wren's hand on the undeniable bulge in his jeans, bringing it up to press a quick kiss to the fingertips. "No. Love you," he added quietly, his deep voice rough as a cat's tongue from long silences, and he nuzzled Wren's hand for a second to reassure him that he wasn't upset.
"You're okay here?" Trying again, more clear, earnest hazel eyes. "No one hurts?"