M/M. Elijah Ember has spent most of his life avoiding the war brewing around him.
M/M. Even watching him felt like being a voyeur. Perhaps it was because when he normally saw the young man, he was a voyeur and that experience tainted his mind so that it was hard for him to not picture the young man displayed naked in front of him. If he closed his eyes he could see the pale, thin form moving before him in a slow and sensuous dance. He could watch behind his eyelids as the young man ran his hands over himself in ways that could make his pants tighten and his pulse race. The dancer always reminded him of one thing.