Duck Lake are you worth your weight in gold, cause you're behind my eyelids when i'm all alone

had the boy referred to mahler as a sweet piece of ass, the reaction would have been much the same: a slow blink followed alarian's words, punctuated by a decidedly vague twitch of his dark lips. quietly he fielded the nerves of the other, preferring to keep on the same pointed path he had taken up until now. "and you vant to lie vith me," mahler suggested, with nary a frisson of social trepidation surrounding his bold assumption.
the nature of males with males was something as of yet uncontemplated by the largely celibate mahler. it was an activity to which he had given no thought, for the solitary nature of his ways had dampened whatever desire might have remained in him from youth. however, a cursory guess led the man to believe it was much the same, but he doubted whatever carnal pleasure he could offer alarian would be enough.
"you vould make a good mate. there is no vorth in rolling about with strangers," the gargoyle intoned, without judgement. there were only two reasons here that he could, or would see: alarian had little sense of self-worth, or it was mere lust that drove the boy. and both prickled at the root of his hackles, for mahler knew he was ill-equipped to deal with either extreme.