'Devour...' he repeats the word thoughtfully, like he likes the taste of it. And there is something-- intriguing, in the notion that there's something in Johnny's house, which is itself all houses, that wants to consume. The antithesis of that which a house is built to be. Unheimlich, in the words of several entertaining madmen centuries after his time.

'Tell me,' Doctor Unthank whispers, the sound hanging in the air, catching and clinging like so much cobweb, 'do you ever dream of that? Of being devoured?' He presses further against Johnny's hips, pinning him against the wall with his sheer height and bulk. 'Of being... swamped, pressed down upon and consumed. There's something visceral about it, isn't there?' His eyes flash briefly wide, sharp with appreciation. 'Nothing so... cerebral, metaphysical as an, mm, an unmaking, not simply the ceasing of existence of death, but to be smothered by the warm dark...'

He exhales a shivery little breath, and lifts a long finger to trail over Johnny's lips, parted and damp with his own unsteady breath. It catches against the skin.

'Do you ever wake up ~hard?' He drives forward and up with his thigh to punctuate the word hard, his own lips parted and eyes on Johnny in fascination.