[His wine is still beside him too, but like the trashfire he is, he'll likely drink it in the morning... Besides, he's far more invested with reminiscing about the paradise they've both lost.]

Mm, they were. Lost, but not forgotten. Cherished more now, than I ever did back then. Foolish of me to take you for granted.

[He says this, but he feels an ache in his chest. In a sense, is he no doing the same now? Here he has him once more, and yet... That smile fades, replaced by something far more conflicted. Guilty. His brows pinch together, and he uses that loose hold on Hythlodaeus' waist to draw their bodies nearer.

He wants to kiss his neck, to let his hands explore the expanse of his body, to soothe the ache they share for one another. But he cannot. He knows he should not. Yet, they both would torture each other with this allowed intimacy.

Mayhap they are both masochists.]