Whether taken with the edge of a blade or with centuries of apathetic wandering, neither of them would ever know what could even constitute 'enough'. So much drives them apart, but their appetites...
That's something Solomon can't seem to restrain, despite himself. In moments like these, with his hand guiding Takasugi's head aside and his lips warm against his neck, he becomes his hunger.
Quite a bit of Solomon has been left behind, blood dissipating in fetid swamp water. Of course he needs to replenish himself, and what runs hot under Takasugi's skin is a tempting source of nourishment. An easy excuse-
Lips parted, Takasugi groans. Relaxes his shoulder, his jaw. It's not going to be enough. Solomon could drain him dry, and they'd be no closer than they are now, festering between the jungle and each other's heat. A shiver descends from the crown of his head to his feet, body adjusting to the loss of blood.
Comfort clashes with his nerves, dulled then suddenly urgent.
Takasugi raises his hand. Clasps the back of Solomon's neck, tense fingers digging into the warm skin. Holding him in place, pressing him closer.] I don't want those bastards coming between us.
If you want me to share your curse, do it yourself. [Diva has mentioned the ability to turn people, though she'd bemoaned the Natha's interference with it. Appealing to them isn't something Takasugi intends to do, but Solomon has the social graces to weather such embarrassment.
no subject
It would never be enough.
Whether taken with the edge of a blade or with centuries of apathetic wandering, neither of them would ever know what could even constitute 'enough'. So much drives them apart, but their appetites...
That's something Solomon can't seem to restrain, despite himself. In moments like these, with his hand guiding Takasugi's head aside and his lips warm against his neck, he becomes his hunger.
Quite a bit of Solomon has been left behind, blood dissipating in fetid swamp water. Of course he needs to replenish himself, and what runs hot under Takasugi's skin is a tempting source of nourishment. An easy excuse-
Lips parted, Takasugi groans. Relaxes his shoulder, his jaw. It's not going to be enough. Solomon could drain him dry, and they'd be no closer than they are now, festering between the jungle and each other's heat. A shiver descends from the crown of his head to his feet, body adjusting to the loss of blood.
Comfort clashes with his nerves, dulled then suddenly urgent.
Takasugi raises his hand. Clasps the back of Solomon's neck, tense fingers digging into the warm skin. Holding him in place, pressing him closer.] I don't want those bastards coming between us.
If you want me to share your curse, do it yourself. [Diva has mentioned the ability to turn people, though she'd bemoaned the Natha's interference with it. Appealing to them isn't something Takasugi intends to do, but Solomon has the social graces to weather such embarrassment.
Maybe he'll be rewarded if he does.]