&& there is very little surprise to be had here; Elucifer’s heart has never been very good at boundaries. Flynn is far from the first human to win his affections this way, but his affections are a quiet thing. Worn in gentle gazes and quiet evening spent reading, talking, debating. It’s a slow kind of l o v e that clings to the walls of his chest and fills each breath with a painful sort of reserve. He is loathe to bring those feelings forward and never would he do so. (He never has before. Flynn will be no different; a quiet presence to be enjoyed and cherished, before what is only a candle in the wind of a life is flickering out;; He is a memory that Elucifer will cherish in the forseeable eternity that haunts an ageless sort of life.) And the closest Elucifer comes to those quiet three words is a warm muzzle pressed into soft hand, fingers curling back through fur and feathers and leathery skin;; brushing over horns, over whiskers. Elucifer bares his soul in a different kind of way, s i g h s deeply at the touch and relaxes. (He is reminded of his days of peace. Evenings spent in the field beyond the barrier with a warm body pressed close and sprawling silvery locks fanning out over him. Flynn is the first human to see him, since DUKE.)