There's heat in those words, and Jeff wants to stoke the flames, and draw a fire out of the other boy that'll burn them both up, which is weird, right, because that's, like, Aelwyn's deal, not his.

Or maybe he just wants to keep things tangled and confusing and indefinable, where every touch and declaration can mean ten different things at once, and he knows... He knows that heat is the inevitable byproduct.

"Oh. Well. You don't have to share." Simple. It's that easy, right?

Tim's got him pinned, sort of, under his weight, and Jeff could probably push him off, but he doesn't want to. It's weird, looking down where a leg should be, and seeing its absence, so stark and sudden that it still feels unreal. He likes it. Sometimes, for fun, Jeff likes to make others see wrongness in him, too. Too many fingers on his hands-- blink-- too few fingers-- blink-- an eye where an eye shouldn't be-- blink-- and now he's totally normal again. Little things like that. Pranks and perks of his current state of whatever-the-fuck he is.

Did Tim ever have two legs? Was Dave ever not a weasel? (Wait, who's Dave again?)

"Mm... What've you been thinking?"