But myself keeps slipping away.

For moments he simply stared, waiting for his order to be obeyed. But as the seconds passed and he saw that Tic was not going to look at him, his smile faded. His upper lip curled, revealing clenched teeth. Larkin lifted his hand, slender fingers wrapping around Tic's chin. He turned his head towards him, teeth grinding as the boy's eyes slid tightly shut.

Larkin breathed, keeping his control. He rarely ever did, and didn't see why he was doing it now. His jaw relaxed. There wasn't any reason to be gentle - just how fragile the boy looked, shivering and frightened, made him want to be careful. He might break if Larkin was to strike him, his neck may snap if he were smacked. His face could bruise so easily.

His hand loosed its hold on Tic's chin; a finger strayed to the boy's cracked lips, sliding over them. Larkin whispered, "You're going to show me, and tell me everything." He leaned in closer, studying that mouth that rarely opened, but had only minutes ago to disobey him. "It is… inevitable," he said, "let me see your eyes."

They did not open.

So close to the boy's face Larkin leaned, his fingers moving from Tic's chin to brush his brow and caress his cheek, "Don't be afraid, Tic, not for them. If not me, then someone else. If not you, then someone else. It's so much easier if you just look at me, into my eyes," but Tic resisted further, lids remaining closed, and Larkin chuckled. What did he think he was gaining by increasing Larkin's anger?

Silence came to the ruler and again he was drawn to that worn mouth, the trembling lips. He tore his eyes away, mind juggling a mix of thoughts and decisions. What was he to do? Violence suddenly did not appeal to him, not here, not with Tic. Perhaps he should have waited longer. He had a few days until the ball; he could have let Tic bask in all that Larkin could give him. Maybe there was more trust to be gained - but it could never be done, not after this. There was only force, persuasion. Could he persuade all he wanted out of Tic?

Gloved fingers wiped tears that had been squeezed out of Tic's eyes away from his cheek, and Larkin watched them. He had to open those eyes sooner or later. Sooner would be better. Patience was not an option anymore. He leaned forward the last few inches from Tic's face, turning his head gently and brushed the boy's cheekbone with his lips. He was cold with fear, and Larkin's mouth curved into a smile. Tipping up Tic's chin with a finger, he let their lips touch for a brief moment.