Shivers grow across spine, fingers reaching to claw against pale shoulders, They dig, press, beg for the sweet touch of fire against his own frozen skin. They worship the labeled god above him, touch of lips against his throat eliciting prayers any scion would be envious of. It burns, scalds, && gives way to the demons beneath his chest; clawing, scratching, devouring spirits he has fought to keep at bay. Yet here, they are free, his heart no longer shackled and body alive. Eyes close in this testimony of peace && sanctuary, breathing stopping as pulse jumps and hunger grows.
‘ You have always had me, Thexan. ‘
A truth that stings; words cauterise the open wound he knows can only be rectified with the other. This communion, this yielding of purity, will haunt and carry yet caution is avoided, lips forming the other’s name as if in holy && damning invocation.
( and if this is the only affair that forces fear && anger to fade, if this is the only way eyes may clear and head may regain some form of sanity, then so be it. for this is agony; an affliction that may never cease, never truly dissipate even as touch and devotion, dedication, is given without restraint. )
Body moves, twists, as it begins to demand, no longer able to lay idle in the other’s grasp. He is no captive, even in this. Here, he is commanding, force and stature the tools of such joining. He is as he is elsewhere; brash, selfish, ravenous. He is starved as he is in all things; affection, praise, acknowledgment. There is no peace in his want, his greed. And so he climbs atop his other half, takes arms and pins them to sheets too white, too sterile for such a devious act.
Hands push, force unrestrained in the face of his equal. Thexan can handle it, can take what he gives like no other. It forces eyes open in a flash, the beast inside identical hues so different to the ones he now connects with. There, they are a sea; calm && stable. Yet, there is fire nonetheless. Within his own he knows there is a fire unyielding, uncontrollable; the sin of his own downfall. It takes and takes and takes, and never does it have enough. They speak of this foul thing, this force of inhuman qualities. But tonight is not a night for talk, for the shattering truth he chooses to ignore.
Tonight, they will ignore their sacrifices.
‘ And yet, even with my warning, you still take far too long. I think you enjoy my temper. You seem to inspire it often enough. ‘
‘ ––––––––––––––– i know. ‘
soft, barely above a WHISPER ––– truth rings clear as glass.
they BELONG to each other, wholly &unquestionably ; a fatal flaw in such AUSPICIOUS shared ambition.
(& yet, how little GUILT there was in completing one another –– morals cast aside in favour of what closeness could be garnered amongst aching, encompassing MISERY. )
hands clench burning &HEAVY around his wrists like chains ; he bends into the touch, instinctive& desperate, fingers splayed wide &disarrayed against the mattress. ( vise grips even around his HEART ––– beat skipped, although whether out of anticipation or something else entirely, he is unsure. )
he was DROWNING, choking on the way their gazes met –– outward image spoke not for what lay within, & he forgets to breathe, lost in the INTENSITY reflected in those eyes –––––– ; but the way lips part, the way his hands dig into the bedding –– –––– –––– it begged the question ; had he been BLIND to the water rising, or had he instead ignored it in pure & unadulterated naïveté?
( there was nothing chaste nor innocent in the tilt of his hips, throat BARED& vision blurry. )
STEADY, calm, stable. he was his brother’s unfailing COUNTERBALANCE ;yet that tone cast aside all placidity, hitch in the quiet gasp that follows, skin nothing short of FEVERISH.
‘ & if i said i did? ‘
COQUETTISH turn of his mouth, daring him on, inhibition lost within the intoxicating tremor of his voice.
‘ would that serve as further INSPIRATION, brother? ‘
