"You know, I think I've always had these proclivities."

He murmurs to him, softly, leaning down to kiss his jaw.

"I remember daydreaming as a child about sieges and pirates... and always being very concerned about what happened with the prisoners of war. Specific, young, rather chaste daydreams that nonetheless featured rooms full of men held at the mercy of the more powerful, stripped of dignity, brought to pained tears. Before I even had words to put it into."