He is not in his body. He is not of his body at all.

Riley Flynn flees Crockett Island, and the priest follows.

Richard likes secrets, and Mowbray likes oaths.

Paul and Julian spend the morning together.

(What urge will save him now that sex won't?)

In Monte Carlo, Lermontov aims to turn Craster's head. It works out differently than intended.

"You want your choirboy back, don't you?"

"The problem with that whole strategy is that it only works once, Aaron. Once if you're lucky."

It is the sacrilege of it all, maybe, he thinks: men like him are not meant to lay eyes on the Son of Heaven like this, in the quiet moments he strays too close to human.

He feels Sui Zhou's smile unlace over his pulse, languid and nude in its amusement. "You've had the morning," he answers, unmoved. "The day won't keep for you."

There have been stranger love-matches made at sea. Probably.