What will it be like?

Heaven.

White waters, chilled, brush against feet held in golden sand. A warm breeze engulfs the body while clothing and hair pick up softly to chase in the tranquil wind. Emotions of ever-struggling drain from the core. A happy emptiness holds the heart. It's touching, sending the mind into paradise.

The skies are always a beautiful vibrant blue, pressed as a painting frozen with blotches of puffy white clouds that drift without tension. A daydream that most often renews. Birds sing, flocking above without worry, without destination. Here, the sun doesn't hurt to look at, and the trees flow effortlessly. There is no worry because there is nothing to cause injury.

Every image before the body, beautiful. Entrapped by its grand design. Standing in a vast world, colors screaming with perfected shades, the sun never setting. The moon is only miles away, casting upon its own world: no worries, no pain, no loss. Lifted by staggering moments of bliss, mind sedated. Breathing easy, at no fault, no corrosion seeping beneath the skin. No envy, fury, or desire becomes a broken flask.

A purity only a child has ever experienced beneath a loving family. As gaze travels to take on everything eyes suddenly fall upon images of human figures all waving, with smiles upon their lips. They're waiting in the distance, all that one has loved, but no longer dwells amongst the living. 

Welcoming Crescent back home.

One step turns two-- scrambling to catch it. Left behind toxicity, and shattered walls as that once-built castle of glass implodes. Easy to forget, to reside, to crave its passion. It's the end of a final goodbye to darkness. A noisy call from a realm one can not dismiss.

Inhaling its sweet scent, tangled-- these webs of... sanity. Nothing more to wish for. Nothing more is needed.

Nirvana-- ultimate feelings of solace.

Sweet music beckons. Everyone in white, glowing without imperfections-- perfect. A world of everlasting... love, but why doesn't it seem.... real?

"Crescent...?"

Deep, made of soft charm calls his name from behind as if to warn him of his forward path. It isn't of this world; no, it doesn't match the scenery. He doesn't have a choice but to look back quickly, and search for it, eyes focusing on anything that will remotely resemble the alluring voice. So, familiar. He must've missed something when he landed here because there was no one there. It's reverberating hum blocking out the sounds in his pure world.

"Crescent...?"

It's anxious as it calls upon him once more, summoning him. The sheer hushed tone pierces him, forcing Crescent to feel what it's trying to convey and he can't ignore the anguish. Insisting, yet charming. It desires him. He knows it but across the water, they're waiting for him in the opposite direction-- his new life. 

Crescent begins to feel the conflict radiating through him. What was once certain, falls short inside of the aches in his limbs. He wants to go forth, but why can't he move? Raising a hand to his chest, a tightened fist comes to cup at the center of his torso, his frame slowly doubling over.

The beautiful sky begins to turn a darker shade as if caught beneath a fire it begins to peel, burn to ashes, and fade. He's caught off guard by the disastrous view, hoping what he's seeing is only a mere vision and not the cause of that sweet melody.

"Crescent!"

Another voice sends him to spin around, frantically searching through glass-coated eyes. As if a bullet has struck his heart, his body jolts and the desire to scream I am here swells within his throat, but Crescent holds back, only trembling anticipation. This voice is much lighter and much more demanding. Is the person behind it... crying? Crescent looks around at the darkening sky. His darting eyes know he will soon be left inside darkness crippling him in fear.

"Crescent!"

Echoing all around him. Driving him to feel again, but he doesn't want to! Not like this. When everything a few moments ago felt empty and for once peaceful-- these feelings of suffering again. He's felt them his entire existence without a moment's breath. 

It calls, his world beginning to crumble under his feet as the beautiful waters dry, and the sand falls into a dark endless pit. He steps backward, the ground peeling towards him. Beneath it-- abyss.

It's all disappearing! 

He turns in panic to glance behind, but it too has faded, so his gaze rashly turns to those who are waiting for him on the other side for an answer. They're still there, unfazed, waving, but their welcome now seems like a goodbye. Tears swell within his eyes, as a hand comes to reach for them, but they are too far away, and they will not be coming to get him. It isn't until everything is shrouded in complete darkness that he can now hear it, the soft beating of a faint heart. He's alone... again.

The thumping transitions loud enough to seek in the darkness, yet fearing he will fall-- he remains frozen. What world has he come into? What nightmare plagues him now? What heated core dares to torture him with its harmonious beating?

"Open your eyes."

The huskier voice calls and so he does without hesitation, slowly. The real world. The world above him is in a blur, and Crescent squints to focus. Oh, was that just a dream? What would it feel like if he had died? A rush of chill hits, now aware that his whole body feels clammy, and restricted, but there is a registering warmth of a close being. Crescent was in a dark cold world when he fell under the water.

He's tired. Crescent doesn't want to move.

"Hey..."

The male greets him with the sultriest sound. So welcoming, Crescent finds his figure turning naturally to seek solace, spent, but nestling into the male. Warm breath of lips so close brush against his cheek, before the male lets off a soft sniff, inhaling Crescent's scent. Crescent runs gaze towards the personal space invader, catching in clearing eyesight the faint dance of white strands picked up by a weak wind.

His focus lazily holds the other's parted lips, a soft coating of saliva dampening them from being recently licked. Staggering beauty, those softened ice blue eyes looking into him desperately, concern riddled through them. They are hungering for him to answer. It has been ages in which he could fall into those eyes again.

They tell a story, that plumped pink lips will never whisper. They want him in every possible way. With every blink, thick dark lashes hide their beauty only to glide open, revealing them as hidden gems with pinpointed pupils.

Crescent can't look away from their faint glow under the night sky.

"Kisha..." Crescent mouths in a dry whisper. "You're so pretty." He can't escape him, huh? Even in death, does Kisha win? 

Kisha nods in response, his eyes slowly narrowing at Crescent's words. Though not often accepting of such feminine-directed compliments, he finds himself lacking any need to protest. The tragic focused stare mirrors Crescent's image. He wants to say much more, yet Kisha's lips are sealed. He can't. Not only are they not alone, but he also doesn't have the courage to and that presses an unwanted heat to stir within him. Without realization, his arms slowly wrap around Crescent's small frame in a tighter grip.

"Cresceeeennnnttt~"

A whining voice causes Crescent to turn his head unexpectedly, spooked by the disturbed broken high pitch. Ahni's bawling his eyes out. He's holding onto Crescent's hand tightly, squeezed, brought up to his lips as he's blowing warmth or rather life into his brother. Such an ugly expression stuck to his face. Ahni looks a mess from this angle. His hair is ruffled, his cheeks are bright pink, and his face is covered with snot and tears. Such a baby.

"Don't... worry Ahni..." Crescent calls with a snicker.

He's too tired. Crescent's body aches and he has no strength. Crescent's eyes flutter shut, his head falling to one side as he goes unconscious.

Ahni looks up at Kisha, who too meets him in stare. They both hold each other, unable to clarify the situation, but it is clear that they are both in the same boat, just taking it differently. Ahni can't understand what had happened. Who could've done this?! Who would've wanted to kill his brother? He's been asking Kisha about this the entire time, but Kisha has done nothing but cause further worry with his silence. 

When they came rushing to the docks, Ahni's crying aggravated Kisha, making him believe that something awful had happened before they could even assess the situation. Kisha even tried to cover Ahni's mouth out of desperation, which caused Ahni to cry quietly, backing away from the villain. It didn't help at all. 

"Please... Help him L-Locklear! He's all I have! He's my brother! There's no one else!"

Not one for comfort, Kisha's eyes frantically travel around Ahni in hesitation, trying to take in the Deja Vu. Ahni often seems as if this reaction is his normal go-to. His comfortability in letting go of his manly walls and adapting to childish emotions. What is he truly supposed to do right now? What is Ahni searching for inside of him? Kisha can't understand it, but it causes him to want to pull away. A brother whose image resembles a child is kept in the dark by his older sibling and everyone around must put up with the mess these family affairs make.

Ahni doesn't know anything. How much his brother had already fallen to the darkness. How the one Ahni begs to save Crescent is the reason he's hurt in the first place. Kisha knows this is ultimately all his fault. The attacks are targeted against him. Meant to sway his authority, and find a weakness. Now, he has one.

Kisha's desire to never admit it to Ahni and remain a hero in his eyes-- a lying hero.

If they had never met-- if he had never started to bond... If fate decided on another path for them both, where would Crescent be now?

Kisha would remain incomplete and safe as Crescent... free?

"Please, Locklear!" Ahni pauses, releasing his uncontrollable cries, voice squealing. He's pushing himself too much. So much pain is pouring out of him and his broken breaths now turn to uncontrollable pants. His caving chest renders it hard to breathe, as he's trying to force Kisha to say something... anything!! 

"Don't let him die! Promise me!"

The despairing rasp in tone, Kisha's heart skips in beat with a flow of uncertainty. He isn't a doctor. He doesn't have that sort of power. To save someone will ultimately end up on luck and timing. Kisha never considers himself a hero. In their world, anything that can't be licked with time and sleep means death. It is that simple.

Kisha lives selfishly, not minding others and hurting those who get in his way. Is he capable of helping anyone? He looks from Ahni's overwhelming, piercing stare to settling the uneasiness within his chest, finding familiarity in those who are more emotionally controlled-- his pack.

"Fuchsia... Take Ahni to the office. I'll take Crescent. Instaya, Ehma... Continue to search for Ralp..." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soft like a cloud, heated. It's like laying in a bed of shaven hay in a field during summer. It's great compared to the cold, dark, wet depths. Suffocating.

Crescent wants to stay forever here, but a heavy creak as another's weight joins his space, forcing his eyes open, taking in that he's still alive.

A larger back doubled over with hands holding his head, braced at his knees. Silk strands of untied hair fall, bunched to one side of his body pool until running over the edge of the bed. The dark grey windbreaker, a single white stripe down the only arm in his view.

The body rises and falls-- shallow, panicked, unsure breathing. Crescent weakly crawls his hand from the blanket, exposing it to the cooler air. He ventures until his fingertips scratch at the figure beside him.

Kisha perks up, turning around to see Crescent has finally awakened. He stares blankly, eyes running over Crescent in worry.

The emotions that Ahni portrayed bothered him and he's honestly glad to have gotten away. Feelings of loss are something he tries to forget, but Ahni reminded Kisha how vulnerable-- how being connected to someone can make a person feel-- hopeless.

How much they don't have control over their lives. Losing Crescent? The only thing that makes him feel any normalcy besides Saikai's friendship? He doesn't think about it. How can one ever think when surviving? Don't dwell.

"I'm cold..."

Crescent's raspy, inviting tone breaks their silence. His throat is dry, and a small cough emits from a heave of breath buried within his lungs. Lying blatantly obvious due to him being tucked beneath a very thick blanket; however, he receives a response.

Kisha climbs fully onto the bed without hesitation as if he has been waiting for something like this. He sits, his back leaning on the headboard, close enough so that Crescent can feel him. Though unsure of the closeness or even what to do with his limbs, he thinks maybe this will be enough, so his arms are awkwardly placed beside him. Setting the blanket onto his lap, only his legs under, Kisha's waist snugged at Crescent's cheek.

"Just sit still--" Kisha tries to speak not only to keep Crescent from moving, but also as a warning that this is all he's going to tolerate, but his arm is brought up suddenly as he feels a head weakly pushing beneath it. A brunette hair-filled object comes squirming through the heaviness. Crescent grabs hold of Kisha's jacket, yanking to drag his weight in position only causes Kisha to bend down supporting him.

Crescent pulls himself until he's tucked, face first in Kisha's nape. His breathing increases momentarily in small but hard exhales as Crescent tries to catch his breath. Moving this much only tires him out. All of the thrashing and holding onto Ralp has his limbs feeling exhausted.

Crescent's head falls weakly until it rests, his hand on Kisha's chest, the sounds of a pounding heart and paused breathing becoming comforting along with Kisha's heated temperature. The rapid rise and falls of Kisha's chest are similar to that of a mother's rocking, slow, and soothing.

This closeness is in the care of another figure. Sharing such intimacy, how long has it been since anyone has ever offered Crescent anything?

He can always hug Ahni, but this feels different. This is specifically for him. Due to his struggle, he receives the much-needed TLC and it's finally coming from Kisha. Something he can get used to.

What's so pleasantly funny about it all? Kisha's composed, yet sweet display of shyness. He's trying to cover it up, but it only makes Crescent want to snuggle him more. Kisha often huffs from his nose uncomfortably, and his arms are hovering as if they don't want to touch Crescent at all. The most undeniable symptom is the anxiety-filled heart flutters. They are so loud.

Kisha looks down at him, unable to move his head. He can feel against his jaw, Crescent's damp hair, and the smell of salt water still coming from him. After returning from the docks, he wiped Crescent down as much as he could muster. Not one for nursing, but he failed miserably because Crescent still stinks of salt water.

"We can't..." He reminds Crescent in a defeated whisper. Being so close tests his willpower already, killing the need to keep the appropriate amount of space between them.

The Fever. 

"It's ok, right? I almost died, didn't I...?" Crescent mumbles for an excuse.

"Yeah..." Kisha spits back instantly, sounding disturbed by Crescent's clear attempt to rope him in. Is that still a good enough reason to agree? His expression never changes, but he watches over Crescent in concern. Eyes unable to stay still left to rapidly take in every move, twitch, and nudge that Crescent hands his frame. The touching is creating some unwanted friction and some unwelcoming thoughts.

"Ralp saved us. Where is Ralp? I gotta thank him."

The truth was the chains that tied them together were snapped. Crescent's lifeless body was found face down near the dock.

Being tough to smell underwater, Ralp's scent was lost the moment he went under, but the distressed howl Kisha pinpointed. Kisha only guessed by the way the chains looked-- Ralp wanted them to find Crescent.

Kisha is thankful for Ralp's courageousness. Sacrificing for what? His undying loyalty to Kisha. Ever since the day Ralp found out they were the same, he sought Kisha's every approval.

Though he didn't like to be bothered by Ralp's lack of confidence, he felt gratitude for his heroism, but Ralp wasn't approved to just fall off the planet like that.

"I don't know," Kisha whispers.

A tremble at such words drives a jolt of anxiety through Crescent, using Kisha's chest to push himself up. His face curls, head shaking slowly. Those fiery eyes lock into Kisha in disbelief with furrowed brows and words unspoken. What kind of an answer is that?! Nonchalant and as if the other person's life means nothing?

No, he can't blame this on Kisha.

It's all Crescent's fault. He should have kept the job a secret. It's best to face whatever Asho throws at him on his own. No one needs to be dragged into the confrontation, but still, this reaction from a leader can't go unnoticed. Is this how Kisha feels about his pack? That hurts.

"No. We were together! Ralp went under first!" Crescent's voice strays in pitch, too high, and a sudden coughing fit erupts. Kisha moves swiftly placing a hand on his chest as if to force the coughs from his lungs, but to Crescent, it isn't welcomed. He pushes it away immediately.

"Ralp had the biggest weight on him. We fell into the water by the dock! I tried to hold--"

The rush of his emotions tumbles into his mind, the memories of the fight he put up. He was more worried about saving Ralp and yet that fool would do something like this. His head falls in defeat. What was all of this for? Crescent draws his bottom lip between clenched teeth. A palm pressed at Kisha's chest turns into a fist and weakly begins to pound on Kisha, trying to find an answer. Crescent isn't strong enough to protect himself, let alone someone else.

Weak.

What is the reason? Why is everyone stronger than him?! A small shrimp thing like Asho can lay those kinds of misfortunes on him.

Why is life painted in such a way that the more he desires to want to live, and protect-- the more it wants to take everything from him?

Who created this fucked up world?! It's rotten. His heart heavy, nausea running laps inside his stomach as his features curl to a suffering expression. What makes them all different? They are nothing but humans. Everyone bleeds the same and lives the same. They breathe as he does, but they are stronger; are harder to defeat.

They are also important...

Kisha raises his hand, cupping Crescent's jaw out of concern for despair has desperately taken over Crescent's being, leaving him in broken silence. These expressions aren't the things that Kisha wants to see riddling Crescent's face right now. An unsettling desire to bring him out of his internal emotional struggle sets in. Kisha feels he can at least try something with Crescent if no one else is deserving of his comfort. 

This is again humanity. Caring for individuals who are nothing but strangers in ways that cause such sadness. It's a reminder of what took the two most important people away in his life. They all share such similarities, but can Kisha stop himself from losing Crescent too?

The softness of his palm, Kisha's aching warmth holding so much, it captivates Crescent almost instantly and with sorrow laced at his eyes, drifting until they rest weakly to hold the image of Kisha's slightly interested face, did Crescent stare with selfish intention.

"You're always so... pretty." Crescent mumbles.

Washing away worry as rain does the earth's past, Crescent wants more of this glue. Feed his mind with nothing but this presence. Touch every doubt that courses under his skin with these rough large hands and whisper how much it's going to be ok with this deep, loving voice.

And like that... he suddenly mellows out, forgetting the plaguing failure and Ralp's predicament.

Crescent leans into the caress, lips parting when his mouth rubs at Kisha's coarse thumb as a huff of heated breath dances between their attachment. The skin is wrinkled by prolonged exposure to water. The urge to lick it, kiss it, make love to it, pull it inside, and suck on it only to watch what will become of Kisha evolves his intrusive thoughts.

Crescent shifts his weight, on all fours he crawls beneath the covers, the fabric sliding from shoulders to expose his attire and small frame.

Dressed in Kisha's oversized short-sleeved grey shirt, he's engulfed. Not even Saikai has the proper size for Crescent's frame-- not that Kisha would put anything of Saikai's near Crescent. Bare small legs poke out the bottom of the shirt, which stops just below his underwear. 

He straddles Kisha, seated directly on top of his lap with his palms resting at Kisha's belly button. His actions meet a puzzled response, the stiffening frame to support his weight as Kisha's forced to exhale harder than he'd like to. The fever is but an unfamiliar mystery, not knowing what it could bring--

"Kisha... Let's have sex."

Words so bold catches Kisha off guard and he breaks his gaze, looking away from Crescent as irritation casts his once calm demeanor off the nearest bridge. Kisha pulls his hand back as a way to reject the proposal, curling digits into his palm. What was he thinking about bringing him here?! Leaving him in the care of someone else is what Fuchsia urged, but Kisha thought he needed to be the one.

Instaya would've watched over him if Kisha told him to, but Kisha's desire to protect Crescent was greater and now he was reaping what he sowed. He had forgotten the risk. Nowhere near in the clear, the slow days passed by even slower which left Kisha to count the minutes. He had been warned of the time bracket in which he would be most dangerous. When he seemed normal...

That time is now.

"Don't you ever listen?"  Kisha's voice snapping them back into reality.

"I'm not scared of you, Kisha." Crescent's voice low, tongue tracing the syllables in Kisha's name.

"You drowned..." Kisha answers matter-of-factly, trying to not feed into the amateur sweeping gestures beneath his feet-- his self-control being pulled like Jenga pieces just feels wrong.

"The more reason to give me what I want." Crescent sounds desperate for a resolution. 

"I could be dead tomorrow... You'd miss the chance to have sex with your mate... Neither of us wants that, right? Your fever is still active. Maybe someone, somewhere is trying to tell us something. You never know."

"Crescent--"

Kisha turns his head back to address him, listening to the childish words as if they make any sense at all. He's heard enough, but Crescent moves so swiftly that Kisha's unable to register what is happening until he feels the hungry planting of warm lips. The sight before Crescent had become too appetizing, and the moment had been seized. He presses firmly, lifting to his knees, his arms sliding up Kisha's frame, collecting his shirt with a starving need.

The feeling of rough contracting muscles, solid, only moving with small breaths entices Crescent as Kisha's calm attitude seems to be cracking. A spark they both feel. Crescent can remember how good this firmness feels. Etch it into his brain whenever Kisha decides to get close to him. He's been wanting it even more.

Crescent follows the path until his fingers interlock at the back of Kisha's head, taking a handful of hair with them. His nails dig into Kisha's scalp, Crescent huffs from his nose, pulling back with clenched teeth, and narrowed eyes. The soft lips he always wants to taste are like he imagined.

A lick of hunger settles on his lips, closing back in for another kiss, this time pulling Kisha towards him in pure aggression. What will it take to start this dominating being? Get him to understand that there is nowhere to go. He traces a small circle on Kisha's bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, asking if he can enter, even threatening to suck on it, but Kisha hesitates to allow him access. 

"Please..." Crescent's heavy pants hit Kisha's moist lips, "Kiss me back..." Crescent pecks again, his eyes closing as he lowers his head a bit, rubbing against Kisha like he's trying to ignite a spark and feed the growing pains erupting within him. "Kisha--" A small whimper is cut off.

Their tongues meet, Kisha driving their assault-- famished for the intimacy that he's been denying. 

Crescent allows the roughing with as much eagerness as he's given, his hands traveling from Kisha's head to hold tightly around his neck, squeezing with a begging that he wants more. It feels good to be desired as such, kissed with so much life and need by the very man who deems all but a figment inside of his world, listening to Kisha's sharp inhales and low unsettling growls of lost self-control-- all because of him.

Crescent no longer wants to contain himself, deciding to plant his frame boldly down on top of Kisha's groin, eliminating any space between them as he slightly arches his back. His knees dig into the bed; the heat he feels rising from between their clothes only warms him in such a way that it begins to excite him. A slight rock in his hips slowly, rubbing against the sleeping beast in hopes that it proves him to be the reason Kisha aches between his legs. 

Every deep exhale that escapes Crescent's lungs as their lips follow a rhythmic appetite pushes into his mouth, Kisha returning his own huff. Kisha is more skilled at this than Crescent believed him to be. The way his tongue is searching within his mouth, finding its attention to intertwine with his and dance as he swallows their mixed saliva. The build-up, small smacks with every suck. This feeling-- dangerous--

Drawing back in a heavy inhale, following an unwanted hard swallow of regret, a trail of drool falling from Crescent's lips, Kisha places a hand on his shoulder to sever both of their desires.

"E-Enough..." Kisha chokes hush, head falling to one side. The feeling inside of his stomach keeps gnawing at him to go further than what is right and Kisha can't take it. The lustrous look burns in Crescent's eyes. The smell of their heat colliding. Kisha's dying to contain his control, and kissing isn't enough, not that it ever was. A fine ten-star meal layered out before him who hasn't eaten... ever.

If he doesn't get away now, while he's aware, this will not end well.

"Don't move me." Crescent reacts before he can be picked up, wrapping arms tightly around Kisha's neck he forces him into a hug. A long exhale pushed through pursed lips,

"I'll keep begging for you, Kisha." Crescent's head slams into Kisha's nape, a thin line of sweat dripping from his forehead as it runs down to the pink hue plastered across his cheeks to his ear. "Please. I want you... and I know you want me to..." 

A soft voice beckons him, Kisha's reasoning draining from inside. The hand placed at Crescent's shoulder falls limp, with no strength to continue fighting. Fighting for what, exactly? To deny something between them that has been boiling ever since he's laid eye on him in the auditorium? Denying his capabilities to prolong a suffering that is beginning to change the way his body responds to this human. The answer to everything within this small frame, willingly throwing itself at him and he's trying to protect whom again? Though his mind fights to keep his emotions at bay, he can't move. His heartbeat plays like a cursed tune through his chest, senses diving into overdrive.

Crescent lifts his head to kiss him again at the corner of his mouth, their drool left behind on his lightly coated lips. The action pulls Kisha from his frozen stance, forcing his head to turn, meeting Crescent in another kiss, but this time slower. These creeping sensations of a strong need to subdue control flex Kisha's fingers. His mind fires a few blanks as he watches Crescent's eyes flutter close. Such a sweet taste.

The excitement bares too much, a small growl makes Crescent pull away again, but what he sees before him only surprises him. Those eyes, dead, dull in hue but still conscious, stare blankly at him. The sweat he thought was his, riddles Kisha's face. The room has an air conditioner, always set to 66, and yet Kisha's temperature is rising.

"Kisha?" Crescent whispers worriedly.

Hearing his voice, Kisha moves, hands placed on Crescent's shoulders. Kisha pushes him to his back. Following their positions, Kisha's on all fours, but Crescent's legs are peeled open willingly as he looks for Kisha's next move, exposing the garment beneath the shirt.

It's embarrassing, having Kisha between his legs and his body so submissive, but it's hot knowing he's finally getting an answer. Kisha lowers his weight quickly, melting completely on top of Crescent's small frame with their waist colliding first before their torsos subdue the rest. The heavy dry hump presses Crescent into the mattress firmly, locking him into place. 

Between his legs, a thin layer, the only guardian of Crescent's growing erection. He can feel even through Kisha's thicker sweatpants, the stiff object prodding him. It's the same thing he felt when he was rubbing their bodies together earlier. He had the courage only moments before, but now seeing what he's gotten himself into, Crescent isn't sure of what to do.

"You're fucking heavy. I can hardly breathe."

Kisha's frame drifts downward ignoring Crescent's protest. His tongue slides from his mouth lazily, licking Crescent at his collarbone first as he takes in whatever chemical is dampening the skin. Rough, as if licking the blood of an object he's about to eat, he leaves a red streak behind. His tongue traces a path to Crescent's ear. The heated wet object sends a shiver down Crescent's spine, listening to Kisha open his mouth wider before collecting the skin at the base of his ear and smirking.

"Enough of the games." Crescent's eyes roll while a soft mumbled, unwavering demise spews from his lips.

(((A/N

OH! Is this finally it?

I'm not sure... let's find out, yeah?

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