Dan would still have a pretty strong conversation with God, on Marcus's behalf. He understands that the hardness of that life had formed the man he loves, but it doesn't mean Dan approves of it, in practice. The more gratuitous nature of some of that suffering, like the memories given to Marcus so recently.

He's not really thinking about that right now, thankfully. The moment holds his attention, and he's just trying not to shoot off like a teenager.

Dan applies himself to looking for just the right angle, the right fit of his fingers against the softest, slickest skin he's ever felt. "You're so-- so perfect," he breathes, "in any form."