"No. You don't. You wouldn't." Dirk manages to sound only slightly bitter. "Which is--again--my point. It's--" He cuts off, his stamina for this revelatory exchange burning out suddenly and with only a moment or two's warning. Seconds ago he was pulled taut--a weapon primed to destroy, the hair-trigger of his mind drawn back like a piston, ready to pulverise a man who had just too much goddamn humanity to connect the dots from what Dirk has been to what he is.

He'd been so excited to strike. And now he just feels raw. Stuck. Frustrated with how much he's suddenly being put upon to explain that--from his perspective--has already been explained.

He shifts in the bed, angling his head to rest the top of it against Ranboo's chest, his jaw pressed back, working silently as he turns this shift in himself over in his mind. He's no less tense, he's just.... on the precipice. He pried himself open and stayed like that for too long, his nerves exposed and wires tangled and smoking.

"...would you still fuck me?"

It comes out entirely too honestly for his taste.