[ John doesn't bother answering either of those questions aloud. The things he wants to do to Iggy do not involve devouring, but he also isn't at all perturbed to watch his fingers come back lesser. It feels syrupy-sweet pleasant, no pain at all. Still, those disfigured fingers are very careful when his hand cups Iggy's face.
John leans in and kisses him, slow, his beard bristling across Iggy's mouth. Deep affection that when he breaks back pulls a small smile over his features. ]
You look hungry.
[ Something in the eyes. John thinks there's something very erotically Catholic in offering himself up, cake instead of bread instead of flesh. ]
no subject
John leans in and kisses him, slow, his beard bristling across Iggy's mouth. Deep affection that when he breaks back pulls a small smile over his features. ]
You look hungry.
[ Something in the eyes. John thinks there's something very erotically Catholic in offering himself up, cake instead of bread instead of flesh. ]
Don't you want a little more?