[OPEN]
{9th of April}
{late night/early morning}
{outside}
Stumbling out of a club or an alley wasn’t a big deal. Not for him. However stumbling out of an alley wiping away barely visible traces of blood wasn’t that common an occurence, even for him. At least not buzzed as he was, riding a high others did when eating too much sugar. Although his high was of a more sophisticated nature. His cold eyes and colder smile were a testimony as to how much he cared for others to see him like this and his mind sparked, eliciting small fires behind shut doors as he wanted, needed, craved…
It’s a jarring moment between seeing someone he thinks he might recognize- (a moment of sparking adrenaline, there’s something bitter clinging in the air and his fingers are twitching towards the inside of his sleeve, breath stilling in his throat)- and then suddenly he’s being crowded into and kissed by the stranger stumbling out of the alley.
He stiffens for all of a moment, torn between a strange familiarity and the sheer danger screaming at him- but it’s the blonde hair and the eyes that give it away, the feeling of lips against his that he remembers- and when the connection clicks, the tension bleeds away from his shoulders almost without him meaning to.
But that was fine- wasn’t this what he’d come out here for in the first place?
A moment later, indecision going out of the window, and he’s kissing back- tentative at first, before he forces the apprehension away and grows bolder, hands reaching up to grasp at the hem of Amycus’ jacket, drawing him in closer. He doesn’t know how or why Amycus is here now- doesn’t even want to, he can smell the blood in the air and it’s a metallic smell, drying musky and bitter beneath the sickly-sweet- and yet it only makes the want that’s been buried in him all day flicker and flare up, insidious in the taste it leaves in Regulus’ mouth, in the bitter and honey-sweet he can taste on Amycus’ tongue. It’s unavoidable maybe- all of this- it’s why he’s even out at this time of night, searching for a shady bar or the corner of some alleyway.
He presses his body up against the other man, searching for every inch of skin he can touch, every molecule of heat he can reach- he’s so aware of the heat suddenly, so aware of the cold around them.
A moment later- or maybe a minute- and it’s the dizziness that makes him pull away, the dizziness that makes him realize he hasn’t been breathing at all except for the air in Amycus’ mouth, and he takes a gulp of the chill air, almost flinches when it goes down his lungs freezing. “I- wall,” he mutters, an invitation or an order- potentially both- and he’s still light-headed, not quite remembering what else he should say, or how he should phrase the sentence. Already, there’s a shiver of cold on his spine, and he wills it away as he stares at the other man.