( no, this is it. this is exactly what he wanted. affection he craces yet doesn't deserve, and a rush of nostalgia—
because this, too, is a memory. it isn't always his hand. there was his eye, once, at the very beginning, and that bad been a compromise, for esi had wanted both. blood, always given freely. ribs. fingers. teeth. kirma has never been anything but a collection of parts to split and parcel out, and esi merely saw fit to claim them all— an arrangement that is mutually beneficial, in the end. the recollection makes him shiver, whispering something into the kiss he can't quite hear over the pounding thrum of his pulse beating against his eardrums.
there is a part of his mind that stays wandering these halls of memory. does esi know the selfishness that underscores everything he's ever given him, he wonders. if he does, does it matter? he'd still been happy to take anything from him despite it; and by that same token, he would be nothing without him, son of a nobody, failed experiment, worthless tool—
kirma's lips curve up into a genuine smile. perhaps it's the blood loss, but the agony is no longer without its gratification, a twisted sort of almost delight that has him gasping into the kiss with a needier bent than he'd anticipated. for each spasm of pain, he rocks forward, chasing esi's tongue with his own; his hand makes it up to esi's cheek, and the smear it leaves matches the color of the marks under his eyes exactly, and he remembers, another detail.
neither makeup nor a tattoo, but something with far worse implications than either. oh. but then... even that chilling revelation isn't enough to pull him out of this bloodsoaked reverie, and he grabs esi to hold him close with a renewed vigor. )
Finish it already.
( it's meant to be something forceful, a command, almost, but there's a sharp whine in his words, plaintive, desperate. he may as well have said please again. )
no subject
because this, too, is a memory. it isn't always his hand. there was his eye, once, at the very beginning, and that bad been a compromise, for esi had wanted both. blood, always given freely. ribs. fingers. teeth. kirma has never been anything but a collection of parts to split and parcel out, and esi merely saw fit to claim them all— an arrangement that is mutually beneficial, in the end. the recollection makes him shiver, whispering something into the kiss he can't quite hear over the pounding thrum of his pulse beating against his eardrums.
there is a part of his mind that stays wandering these halls of memory. does esi know the selfishness that underscores everything he's ever given him, he wonders. if he does, does it matter? he'd still been happy to take anything from him despite it; and by that same token, he would be nothing without him, son of a nobody, failed experiment, worthless tool—
kirma's lips curve up into a genuine smile. perhaps it's the blood loss, but the agony is no longer without its gratification, a twisted sort of almost delight that has him gasping into the kiss with a needier bent than he'd anticipated. for each spasm of pain, he rocks forward, chasing esi's tongue with his own; his hand makes it up to esi's cheek, and the smear it leaves matches the color of the marks under his eyes exactly, and he remembers, another detail.
neither makeup nor a tattoo, but something with far worse implications than either. oh. but then... even that chilling revelation isn't enough to pull him out of this bloodsoaked reverie, and he grabs esi to hold him close with a renewed vigor. )
Finish it already.
( it's meant to be something forceful, a command, almost, but there's a sharp whine in his words, plaintive, desperate. he may as well have said please again. )