They are beautiful like this; moving against and between the sleepy haze of candlelight. Their shadow, which is barely separate from the prominent cocoon of outer darkness, is their only known companion during this time of heat and need and want.

But you are there. And even though you think this is not for you, you take it anyway, and stand unmoving, unnoticed, in the dark doorway of their stolen moment.

Your hands are empty, but still you feel the cords of muscle and skin moving beneath your fingertips. Standing silent, the sharp moan that rises from across the room, which is pain or pleasure but really both, feels pulled from your chest, and your throat aches from the phantom force of it. Your tongue is swollen and dry at rest behind your teeth, but it remembers or imagines the glistened tang of sultry sweat, which beads and slides around their connection.

He looks up, finally, and sees you seeing them, and understands, and forgives, and accepts. Because you are Nakama, and that means everything, including this, and you are privy to all treasure in Your World.