[Were Barnabas a man who cared what others thought of him, he might think better of this display in public. As it were, he did not much care about the opinion of much of anyone at all, least of all the companion bots that spotted them and are now pointedly keeping busy with a task back the direction they came from.

No... In this moment, all that matters is the heat of Mythos against him, the hard press of their bodies, and that intoxicating scent... The hint of fire to the natural musk of him.

It is enough to drive any red-blooded man wild, but Barnabas is not quite that, now is he?

Still, he cannot deny the emphatic swell of heat he feels stir within him, and how it battles with his blessed ataraxia... how it is not only heat that begins to swell, particularly with that hand in his hair, the arousing pull of it, and Mythos' defiance... That much is apparent with how he presses against him.]

Mythos...

[It is said in a scolding tone, yet there is a thread of something else within it. Want, perhaps? Desire? Barnabas would deny such, and he has to deny him here too. Thus he uses that hold on Mythos' arm to twist it painfully behind his back further, pulling him back before slamming him against the wall again with his own body.]

This impetuous nature will avail you naught. I am not wont to reward a boy who rebels so. In time... you shall have me, but not this night.

[However much his body might want it.

With that, however, he releases Mythos' arm.]