[It was better. This was better. The praise that he'd received from all his past customers--he couldn't remember. Colorless, faded compliments. The red between them was brilliant and vibrant even if it shouldn't have been. Even if that vivid color draining out of him should have been causing him to languish, Cater felt more rejuvenated than ever.
Leona lowers him back and Cater raises his arms toward him, limbs an outstretched invitation, eyes full of so much of everything that should be fear but isn't. Lust and longing and eagerness. Lips parted and panting, Cater manages a hazy half-smile at the predator poised above him.
He's not running from this--but how could he? It didn't matter that there was no escaping when nothing about him wanted to.]
[did he need that invitation? it feels like everything to be welcomed into Cater's arms. he could tear this man to pieces— intends to!— and yet Leona finds himself pressing into him intimately, joining him there on the stone tile and pressing their foreheads together, nuzzling their faces. his body seeks the affection his mind can't remember it's allowed to find.
he draws his claw up Cater's chest in a line, and that bright neon blood follows it. why does this neon remind him of Cater, anyway? why does this blood feel so much like him? the more Leona presses against him, the more that blood spills from Cater, the brighter it glows— the more it feels like he knows him, like he's tasted Cater's kiss before.
what is this scent? why does he know it? why does he want it? why is he hesitating to turn this man to sand?
that glow contaminates the both of them with Leona's nuzzling, and with his hand coated in it, he presses his palm to Cater's cheek. while he settles between Cater's thighs, cock hard and flush against Cater's own arousal, he tugs Cater's face again into another kiss, revelling in Cater's embrace.]
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as you SHOULD
Leona lowers him back and Cater raises his arms toward him, limbs an outstretched invitation, eyes full of so much of everything that should be fear but isn't. Lust and longing and eagerness. Lips parted and panting, Cater manages a hazy half-smile at the predator poised above him.
He's not running from this--but how could he? It didn't matter that there was no escaping when nothing about him wanted to.]
no subject
he draws his claw up Cater's chest in a line, and that bright neon blood follows it. why does this neon remind him of Cater, anyway? why does this blood feel so much like him? the more Leona presses against him, the more that blood spills from Cater, the brighter it glows— the more it feels like he knows him, like he's tasted Cater's kiss before.
what is this scent? why does he know it? why does he want it? why is he hesitating to turn this man to sand?
that glow contaminates the both of them with Leona's nuzzling, and with his hand coated in it, he presses his palm to Cater's cheek. while he settles between Cater's thighs, cock hard and flush against Cater's own arousal, he tugs Cater's face again into another kiss, revelling in Cater's embrace.]