He sucks in a quick, sharp breath between his teeth as they move in against him, oh god, he shivers involuntarily and his eyes flutter shut when feels their breath on his neck. "I - I'm-" he murmurs, still pulling his hand back - no longer trying to tug it free, just shifting, drawing their hand along. Like he wants them to snag his wrist and pin it to the wall. He does want that. They're powerful, whatever they are; luxuriant, intoxicating, completely overwhelming, and he wants to be overwhelmed. He always does.

And it's such an obvious ploy, using this to get at him, using him to get at the house, and there's a part of him that wants to resist, push them away, run, but the urge is dulled, whether by something they've done to him or by his own weak will he can't tell.

Does it matter?

"That's negotiable," he says, and hates himself for it.