How could his mother deny him this? How she did not see the beauty that this woman was, he could never know. He loved her and it broke his heart that his mother could not seem to understand that; and as Tobias kissed and then murmured against him, a soft affectionate brush of skin in comparison to the more deviant nature otherwise, it was a perfect contradiction and his head tilted again to claim his mouth before slowly pulling away, standing up.
He looked down and the prone form had him swallowing heavy air, wetting his lips as a hand reached out to trail down the long thigh. Running a hand through his own hair he turned to step toward the armoire, pulling out lube and a condom.
As he turned back toward him, Eros was struck, a small affectionate smile filtered across his face. The body may have been different, but the moonlight still flickered in, still dusted his skin in the same way, the innocent beautiful perfect face looking back at him. The flash of a memory and masculine lines were replaced with the soft curve of a breast, the perfect rise of a hip. She had been so terrified, stolen away by the wind, placed as a wife to a god she could not see.
His hand had reached out then, and did again, to lean and bend over her gently, kindly, tracing over the curve of the jaw. He'd whispered soft affections, told her not to be afraid. He would never hurt her. And he promised that still.
Eros' lips dropped, as his knee bent to the mattress, to kiss the skin of Tobias' stomach, hands carefully parting his thighs as he slid up the lean body. Taking Tobias' mouth in another kiss, he murmured against his lips as a free hand moved to the sensitive skin of his perineum. "Are you sure? We do not have to rush tonight."