It was that night, during his sleep period, that Carl received a visit from Armand.
How he had done it, Carl didn’t know. But the luminance of the room did not change at his entrance, and so Carl didn’t wake at first. It was only when he felt the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder that he shot out of sleep—and stared up at the shadowy form of the object of his passion.
The two men regarded each other in silence, until Carl could not stop himself from reaching up and, with infinite tenderness, run his finger along the line of Armand’s cheek. The touch was electric, and Armand half closed his eyes in response, like a cat being petted.
Carl raised himself onto his elbows and looked into Armand’s dark eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but found he did not know what to say. Armand smil
