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Frankly, Horace was too tipsy to feel offense at the comment about his emotional nature. Instead, he chuckled. "Maybe it's 'cause I'm balancing you out, a bit. You coulda asked where I'd gone - I might've told you." He paused. "But I might not've. You told me to go and I thought it didn't matter much where." The base in Belgium hadn't been a choice, it had been an order. The timing of it was strange.

There was a surge of satisfaction in having Lawr actually admit that he had been losing some control. "Oh, was my Swedish that bad? Is my pronunciation off? I can try some again, if you want." He laid on the bed next to LAwr and smiled lazily.

"Mm, I know." Horace kind of wished Lawr had been the type to ask questions. Asking questions kind of demonstrated a concern about someone or their well-being that he'd never really felt from Lawr.

Horace grinned before tipping back the rest of his bottle. Slowly, he scooted closer to Lawr and ran two fingers down his spine. "Depends on the type of strangling. But you know that, don't you?" He felt loopy, a little, and very warm.

"What's your favorite phrase? I Think I like 'var snäll och använd mig' best." This was said right next to Lawr's neck, as Horace had (a bit clumsy) scooted even closer.

"He doesn't like it rough?" Horace was not surprised about Melvin being vanilla or not wanting to be manhandled. There had been a spark inside the odd man, he thought, but it was something he had never bothered to think about too hard. "What a shame."

Horace saw Lawr freeze and slid his hand under the hem of his shirt. "What do you want?"

Horace pressed the palm of his hand against Lawr's stomach before swiveling his wrist around so he could slide just the tips of his fingers under the waistband of Lawr's pants. He was more than amenable to the other man's suggestions. Horace was only concerned by one things - it was a hazy concern, but still he voice it. "Why do you want me to say 'I love you'?"

He shivered. Even if he had wanted to forget, he couldn't. The things Lawr had done to him were thrilling. "You know I can be good." His fingers crept lower. But, sometimes, Horace had to admit it was just as fun being bad.

Pretty words, pretty words. Though they were nice to hear, Horace knew they were only words, even if he felt a painful tug in his chest. Lawr had Melvin, who thought he loved him, at least - wasn't that enough? Melvin, who was okay with this sort of thing. Horace had asked, and he wondered if that was when he'd decided to buy another six-pack, if that was when he'd decided to throw things to the wind. He didn't wanna think about it anymore, but he knew he'd hold out on saying those words. He'd try. Lawr didn't need an 'I love you' from him anymore.

So Horace stayed silent, not trusting his own words. He tensed as Lawr ran slender fingers through his hair, knowing, hoping for what was coming. At the grip, he gasped, automatically tilting his head back. His hand still stayed where it was, fingers stilled only for a moment. This time might be different. "You'll have to make me say it." He wasn't confident of anything right now, much less his ability to resist Lawr.