Dio stood for quite some time with his arms around his taller, slightly older servant and guardian. The soft hairs at the nape of Luciola's neck moved in the brisk wind of the ruins, tickling his cheek. The fragrance of Luciola's simple shampoo was a faint note beneath the smell of blood and day-old corpses, leaked fuel and metal and wind through stone, but it was a sweet one, a scent Dio treasured. Through the billows of his cloak he could feel his chest pressed to Luciola's broad, strong back. The warmth of that contact made Dio's heart pound. It was every bit as free and soaring a feeling as the first time he piloted a vanship.
Possessiveness was a dangerous emotion. Dio didn't shy away from his affection for his servant, but he wondered, in moments like this, just how much like Delphine he really was. For he wanted to touch Luciola, stir him and create reactions. No matter what Dio did, no matter how he pressed against him, Luciola only ever accepted the touch. It didn't make him cry out or wither the way Delphine's touches did Dio. Perhaps this was different, this pleasant knot in the pit of his stomach, this ache of desire, this need to constantly embrace him. This emotion seemed more tender than whatever vile demanding Delphine had for her things.
Dio didn't understand. Perhaps he wasn't meant to. But his time with Luciola like this would end with his birthday, and there were things he wanted to do before then.
The young guild scion stretched to his tip-toes. He pressed a single kiss to the back of Luciola's white neck.
Luciola exhaled. It might have been a sigh of "Sir?"
Dio pressed another kiss to his neck, and spoke, lips near the point of Luciola's ear. "We should get back to the ship," he breathed, "There's nothing more to see here."