and so you should
Hanschen grasps at ecstasy, so close to him, just beyond his reach. He kisses Ernst with a gentle fervour that masks his strange perversity, his delight in that which is most sinful. Ernst is a child of fourteen; he hasn't yet learned of the treasures that lie just between the rules. What a shame, for Ernst's dream, holiness, is merely an illusion, a well thought-out shield, that separates eroticism from every day life. Poor thing.
They break apart for a moment, sucking in air and delight. Ernst's large, dark eyes travel up Hanschen wool vest, past his damp, sweaty neck to his face.
"Ernst, my friend," Hanschen says coldly, "don't you adore me?"
"Um…yes,"
Hanschen smirks triumphantly, touching Ernst's shoulder with a quiet sarcasm.
"I know."