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His fingers slid to Aleksy's shirt sleeve, below the gloves, and his other hand very slowly started to pull at the glove fingers one by one.

"You are surrounded by people who are willing but you are not." He tugged until the pale skin of Aleksy's wrist was visible. Jeremiah continued to pull the glove off a finger at a time. "You need to learn control but you're fighting it."

"If not a friend, then who else, Lisichya?" The word was spoke was soft and laden with affection. Despite what he was doing his attention was on Aleksy's face, watching his reactions. The tightening of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

"You need it like I need air." With one firm tug Jeremiah finished pulling off the glove and set it down on the table. "Which means it is the right position." He still held onto Aleksy's forearm with one hand but the other-

His hand was held right above Aleksy's now bare hand, a scant few millimeters away from touching. There was no chill from his hand for once, only warmth. The hovering only lasted a moment before he was pressing the tip of his forefinger to Aleksy's bare wrist and dragging it slowly across the skin.

The smile on his face was likely wrong but it was there as Aleksy clearly reacted. The slight shudder of his body, the way his eyes widened and

Jeremiah knew, still read it in Aleksy's body language that as much as he wanted to pull away he was not. That he wanted to press for more. He gave him a small, soft smile and it was wrong to be there in this instance, entirely wrong, but it was there as Aleksy reacted.

The shudder of his body, the way his eyes widened, even the way he said his name. Jeremiah was enjoying it.

"Do you really want me to, Lyoshka?" Not Aleksy, not little fox, but Lyoshka. "I can help," he spoke as his finger continued to lightly trace the veins that stretched from his wrist to his palm. From there he go to a fingertip and then repeat all over.

"You can learn and it will be alright. It's warm, isn't it? Satisfying?" Bright blue-green eyes - these eyes are wrong too somehow - look to him. As if he knew just how good a meal he could make.

"It's alright," he said softly, as if he did not hear no, "I know."

This pass it was more than one finger. It was two that pressed to the pulse that was rising, not unlike Jeremiah's strange handshake, and then he was holding Aleksy's hand. His chair was slid forward in one of those moments, closer than he had been before.

"You can't do anything like this." His thumb brushes along Aleksy's knuckles. "You need this," but he didn't want it, "and I'll give it to you." Then, because he was closer now, he was tugging that hand he held - let go of him with the other hand that was holding his arm - and raised the hand to press it to his cheek. The one that had the same level of stubble it always had, that should have been chill but was warm.

Jeremiah practically thrummed with energy and it was all right there, laid out for Aleksy to have.

There was strength in Jeremiah that had not been there previously, more than just his firm insistence that he usually had.

His face tilted towards the hand further, the silver-haired man looking out of the corner of his eye towards Aleksy. The protests were not ignored, not entirely, his grip did loosen but he did not release Aleksy.

Not yet.

"Tell me, Lyoshka, what it feels like." Then I will let you go is unspoken but it is there. Yet just as must as there, his fingers brushed against the back of Aleksy's hand once more. This was no longer energy being given.

Jeremiah pulled the hand from his cheek but did not quite let it go. Instead he continued to hold it but it was now caught between both of his. His thumbs massaged into the palm, as if he could work color back into the skin but it was pale from the lack of sun.

The very thing he felt like as he touched Aleksy. Warm and present and there (but it was sick and twisted now).

"You need to feed, Lyoshka, and not put yourself away. Not just for your hunger." ... because he knew just how much the other craved touch, because Jeremiah was the same way. Aleksy was not blossoming, he was wilting underneath all of this. "You do yourselves no favors."

Jeremiah did not quite let him go, instead keeping a hold of him still while he reached for the glove. He very diligently, very gently held his hand while he put it back on him. Even the sleeve of his shirt was pulled back into place so that skin was no longer visible.

A finger dragged across the leather of the glove.

"Do you think you could do that? A little more often? It is not just me that is willing." Finn was, there was no doubt, and there were others that would willingly let him have just a little if it would mean Aleksy would be whole and well.

"Good, I'm glad." Jeremiah smiled (wrong) and closed his hand around Aleksy's one last time before he finally let him go (right but too late). He reached and put the lid back on the vodka before he stood up with a stretch.

"I can't stay any longer," his bright blue-green eyes (wrong) flicked towards the clock, "I actually need to finish up a report at work but ..." He stepped over to Aleksy and, with a single finger under his chin (wrong), tilted his head up. "I'll come by again later, alright? I'm worried about you."

Then he was leaning toward Aleksy, warm lips brushing gently against his forehead (wrong wrong wrong). "So try not to worry me so much, hm?" His voice was quiet, the look on his face absolutely sincere as he rocked back on his heels to stand properly.

There was no goodbye after that. Just Jeremiah smiling at him one more time before he left the kitchen. The front door was heard not even a moment later and Aleksy was alone.