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It is dark and silent inside the sparse hallways of the Assassin's Guild.

Nevertheless, Havelock is even quieter and more careful than he had been outside. Assassins are creatures of the night, so running into another student or a professor is not at all unlikely.

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His breath is still slow, but unsteady now as Havelock traces those wings from base to tip. They feel alive under his careful hands, and warm.

Puck shifts against him, down a little so his fingers have room to slip under Havelock's waistband. His wings twitch as hands trail outwards from the base.

A quiet, gentle laugh as Havelock thoughtfully repeats the motion that caused the fae to twitch before.

He chuckles as the wings do, indeed, twitch again. And, because turnabout is fair play (and even if it weren't he'd hardly care), he slides off of Havelock a little, the better to reach further beneath his waistband.

The young assassin bites his lip slightly, but does not stop.

And neither does he.

His hand encroaches further, then halts teasingly. The fae's breathing maybe slightly shaky now at Havelock's caresses, he whispers to him, "I do hope ... that your fellows sleep soundly ..."

"Assassins tend to wake easily," he murmurs back. Though Puck likely knows this.

"But I doubt- any will investigate..."

And that is just as well, perhaps.