Apparently with a will of their own, Renly's lips turned toward the heated sounds that spilled from the man's mouth, like a flower turned to the light. His head ached. His chest hurt. His lips burned and cracked and peeled and burned again against the searing heat.
"No," he breathed, barely more than a whisper. The very word itself wrenched something deep inside his chest, something painful and wrong, but he repeated it again, louder this time. "No. You can't, I-I can't..." he stammered, shaking his head and reaching up to gather the man's hands in his own, pushing them away with the gentlest touch he could manage.
"I don't know you," he insisted, anguished because he didn't want it to be true. "I don't know what you want from me, but I... I'm not who you think I am."