It wouldn't have been like this in San Fransisco, Daniel just some kid. Enthusiastically offering himself up to be used so that he could get drugs, and the release of a desire he kept hidden in the night. And it wouldn't have been like this in Dubai, with Daniel too fragile, too useless, to do anything but be held carefully. Through it all, fifty years, Louis is unchanging—

No, that's not true. Louis has been in flux the entire time Daniel's known him, struggling to free himself of the very pretty net laid over him. Now here he is, and he and Daniel are something like equals, and the desire and affection courses between them like sunlight. Like sunlight should be, clear and warm.

"Don't say it like that," he breathes out, shaky. Waiting for him. "You couldn't have been, Louis. I."

Emotion chokes him. Buried deep in Louis, he ducks his head down, overwhelmed. Deep breath in and out, settling himself, clutching close and trying not to do something tragic like cry. Who else does he have, besides Louis? His kids are better off without him, Armand is a fucking nightmare. It's Louis, it's been Louis since that horrible apartment, becoming his lifeline.

"Okay," he whispers when he can, finally. "Yeah."

He kisses the side of Louis' face, artless, mindless, as he slowly rocks into him.