Lucien Enjolras

"Yes," quietly, and he brushes his thumb across Laertes' lips with a small smile. Enjolras' eyes, already darker than normal, look almost as dark as the sea in the flickering gleams and shadows of the fire. "I do like your hands on my back, if that was not apparent." It is not often at all that he permits anyone to touch him, but Laertes is of course a special case. Sometimes, he feels he cannot get enough of it. Now is one of those times, and he drifts a little closer, finally pulling his hand away to rest at the buttons of his shirt. "Would you like this off?"