You may have me. How many times has Clove dreamt of those words alone? How many nights did he lose to sleeplessness, to loneliness? He must have lost count by now. They haunted him, those words, left a jagged hole in him no amount of blood and lust could sew back together. Yet here they were, given freely, sweetly, by a stranger who knew nothing of him. He thought of Tiernan, then, without meaning to, imagined his parted lips, his curls, his breathy sigh on his neck. There was a universe between him and what he wanted, what he needed. There was an ocean, a storm, a broken mirror reflecting nothing but black, black, black. If he were a stronger man, if he'd been a different man, this night would have ended differently, but he was not and therefore it would not.
Instead he did the weaker thing, he gripped the back of the man's neck, tilting his soft mouth up towards his, you may have me, all of me. Then have he will. He'll drink his fill. His lips hover over the stranger's, a breath apart; he smells like tears, like devastation made flesh. Did he know? If Clove bit him, would his tongue come away open and raw? He shuddered with the wanting of it, the burn of a cut to wash the rest of his pain away.
His pulse hammered beneath his finger's, unraveling, yearning. He was so blue, Clove thought, so blue in a room full of red. He closed his eyes and pressed his mouth to his. Once, when Clove hadn't been careful about taking only what he needed instead of what he wanted, humans came in crowds, torches bold and blazing in their hands. They looked so small outside his home, so insignificant against the size of him. When they came to burn him to ash, he'd let them, he'd begged them. Take it all. Have it all. The home burned, bright as the stars in the sky, except when the sun came up, the flames did not go out. It grew and grew and grew. His mouth was ash, his heart a hole, his limbs burning, burning, burnt. Tiernan had come to drag him out, to save him or themselves, he will never know for sure, but he knows this. Those flames, that fire liquid and smooth as it ate everything around him, those torches that tore right through him, that, now that was this kiss.
He crushed him to his body, one hand behind his head, the other snaked around his waist. "I'll take it all," he breathes out, his mouth bruised and wanting as it traveled down his jaw, to his neck, to the pulse that thundered there. The tip of his tongue swipes across the skin, quickly, tasting of salt and something else, something sweeter--warmer. Maybe it's poison, he doesn't know, he doesn't care. He can't think when he's so close, when he's so warm, so warm. "Come home with me."
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