His body had been driven to the brink, and he needed release - even if that meant delving into the depths of murky, unknown waters with this enigmatic, puzzling man. Though he loosened his hold as Angeles straightened, those golden eyes alive with fresh vitality, with a fierceness renewed as they looked down upon the smaller man, his tongue flicking out over his lips in a deliciously seductive manner, catching a stray drip of blood from staining his features. Kirin resolved to have satisfaction, pulling himself up, pressing his lips against the other’s, sudden and demanding, seeking to fill that emptiness, the lack of warmth and tingling that his body screamed for. He thought that he may have briefly seen surprise play upon the immortal’s carefully crafted visage, but he was not looking for long, quickly becoming lost in the press, the subtle pain of the kiss that stole all attention, the drove away any embarrassment he may have felt at displaying such shameless assertion.

　　Whenever a proposition is made, there is always the risk of rejection. In Kirin’s life, he had faced it only once, and then it had meant very little to him. However, he felt that if he was pushed away just now, rejected after being used so perfectly, he might crumble. That after the imprisonment, the indignation, the vulgarity and inconsistency, the mystery and perversion, that would be the last straw. He had become so desperate in the feeling of longing and need. Why? It must have been the sharing of blood. Is this how humans felt, and why so many became addicted to the act? Why so many became besotted with their master, why they confused love and lust and desire with the simple carnal act of feeding? What a scary thought.

　　He was not rejected. Angeles opened his mouth to the kiss readily, and Kirin could taste his own blood, acrid but sweet, mingling with the saliva of the other man. It was even sweeter than before, and his body reacted quickly, growing warm from the sensation of another person’s affection, from the intimacy and pleasure such an act naturally brings. Angeles’ arms shifted, one gripping tightly to the slight abdomen that Kirin possessed while the other lowered itself, trailing over the white shirt that he, himself, bestowed upon the younger male, finding the curve of his rump and clenching onto the mound of flesh there.

　　Kirin shuddered, gasping into his partner’s mouth, pressing his body closer with an urgency he didn’t understand, but felt the need to explore. Their tongues blended together once more - so soft, so hot. Twisting and twining, filling up his mouth with a decadent flavor. It was thrilling and alien all at once. His cursory senses told him that they had shifted, lowered, his legs parting more completely to ensnare the waist of his companion, but he was beyond caring.

　　Steamy, moist, passionate. He groaned into Angeles’ mouth, impatient and entreating all at once. The feeling of detachment yielded fluidly into the lust he was suddenly enjoying, and he felt his mouth becoming ravenous, the craving of a very base, carnal being taking control. The throbbing in his groin begged for more, and he acquiesced by grinding his hips against the fellow man’s. Part of him, some quiet and still rational part, knew this was wrong. Felt he should stop. Did not understand what this would mean, if it would be anything, but was cautioned away from this person he could not fathom. It felt ludicrous to that small, logical self to indulge so readily, but then he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it. He had never felt so elated, so stimulated, had never been witness to the new and strange sensations his body was experiencing.

　　It was about then that he remembered he wasn’t wearing pants - or rather that he was quite pointedly reminded, as Angeles reacted to the grinding of his hips by slipping a hand up his thigh. The intimate contact was shocking, sending thrilling sensations up the muscle, causing that lump between his legs to twitch eagerly. He gasped sharply, a moan roused in his throat that forced its way out, and both sounds were devoured by Angeles’ unyielding kiss. His own lips would be sore after this, bruised and battered as they were, already feeling extra sensitive, but he did not care. The desperate need for breath compelled him to pull back, his eyes opening, their deep, fathomless purple depths blurry with passion. The face of a demon met him - beautiful, deadly, the temptation of every pleasure in the world at the cost of every sin. Something within him knew this instinctively, but he still wanted to fall into the devil’s hold. It felt sweet. And, for a fleeting moment, he fancied what it would be like to stay in these arms forever.

　　The thought brought a sudden skip to his heart and a burning flush to his cheeks.

　　There must have been something amusing in his gaze, for Angeles chuckled slightly, his voice a tender caress against Kirin’s very being - though for a paranoid moment, he wondered if the strange immortal could read his thoughts, was laughing at his ridiculous fancy. “You are actually quite a lovely creature, aren’t you? I must insist you wash here more often. Though I wish you’d let me do it next time in earnest...” Before Kirin could protest, for his nature was simply stubborn in that way, Angeles’ hand had moved to a particularly sensitive area - trailing an electric sensation up his thigh, slipping onto the inner, more tender skin, and curling around the hard shaft guarded there.

　　A whimper escaped his lips, the sound pleading, full of the desperate longing that motivated his actions, and he felt the fever rise within him as piercing pleasure assaulted his senses. More, his body urged, “More.” The sound escaped without his intention of doing so, but it was such a soft, delicate sound, the reaction he elicited was quite immediate. Those fingers, lightly trailing claws over the flesh, shifted from playful tease, tempting the twitching member alluringly, to grasping it firmly, and rubbing upon it masterfully. Angeles panted heavily against his lips, the kiss having been broken by his own statement, and only then did Kirin realize how far the other man had also been pushed.

　　Finally, he released his anxiety and indulged - the other was too intoxicating and inviting, and both had been too long deprived of physical contact and pleasure, an escape from the dull nature of their existence. Though Kirin denied full intercourse - having only a vague understanding of it - the pair was otherwise shameless in their exploration of one another. It was some time before the ragged breathing ceased, before the pair had indulged their appetites to the fullest, before the wetness of their forms was allowed to still and dry; the pair of prisoners, such perfect strangers, allowed themselves to discover one another curiously until the day’s desire was well and truly spent.