Broken Boulder i can't tell if the want justifies the need

His heart lurched painfully at Delight's— request, if it could be called that. Sometimes he still thought about it— about dying, about how much easier it would be. But he could feel the rawness in the other's words, and suddenly it just wasn't an option; he'd never been under the impression no one would care, but it hadn't felt real, it hadn't felt like actually hurting anyone until now.
But it was easier to focus on what he said next. He almost wanted to laugh, but he at least had the sense to know it would not be well-received. Delight, he wanted to say, would have said if his throat didn't feel so constricted, you're the best luck I've ever had. And in a way it was sad, because it was true, at least from where he was standing— despite everything, Delight was right here, telling him he wanted him. It was all he'd ever wanted from those he'd dared to love, but it'd been too much to ask. He wouldn't have asked it of Delight, not when the fragile dark boy already had burdens of his own— but here he stood, caught in the storm, already bruised and bloodied from it and still asking for more.
A shiver raced down his spine at Delight's trailing touch, rational thought fleeing from him at the speed of light. All he could think was that—
You— are beautiful, He murmured into his fur, breath hitching slightly. His exploration resumed, taking the form of soft, hesitant preening, working slowly from the base of his ear down his neck. For once, lust did not fuel his own actions; he just wanted to— touch, explore, memorize, convince himself this was real. He pressed more tightly against Delight, realizing at once that he wanted to be this close much more often, and that this was not close enough at all.