Maybe he is special. Rook hasn't even considered that there's a possibility of that. That maybe the fact that he sensed Ulysse doesn't mean that everyone will. That whispered confession makes something land hard in his stomach, his breath harsh and raw as it rushes out.

He lets out a sound at the mere nose-bump, it breaks out of his throat as a growl. His gaze intense and still on Ulysse's eyes, following them.

They don't have time for this, and yet he can't pull away. He won't put an end to it. He already knows it.

The pleading in Ulysse's voice is what makes him lean in even further, hushing the other man. "Shh," he starts, almost like comforting him. "Kiss me," he whispers, and this time it's not a demand or a command, it's a request, quiet and almost sweet.