"Fortunate." A shiver ripples down Delta's spine, skin flushing pink in short order for the rumble and implication of Locus' voice. What else would he be, to have Locus obey? To have him serve and serve gladly. "That I would be worthy of that trust."

He turns his head enough to brush his lips against Locus' jaw, hands shifting from the gradual, soothing passes of before to something more exploratory. There's so much of him to touch, so much of him to experience- and Delta wishes to experience all of it. Every inch, every warm, angled cant and shift of smooth bellied muscle.