A mix of excitement and trepidation muddled the young immortals mind as he stared down the shaft to the lower chamber of his cell. His sleep had been restless, besieged by shivers and haunting sensations. His meal was more bitter than normal, the distasteful liquid struggling to mix well with his immune system. And now, he had been staring down into the faint glow for some length of time now. No sounds carried up the corridor, and he did not once see a familiar red haired Adonis looking up to wonder if he was about to descend. That left him all the more anxious.

There was something still wrong with him. Strange thoughts had been assaulting his mind since the events of their last interaction, and he could not shake the aching of his pounding heart. It made no sense, now that stimuli was removed, but it throbbed all the more voraciously as he considered descending into the depths of hell once more. Perhaps today, he would learn something new and useful. Those golden eyes would be waiting for him, he knew, would watch him with a hot allure that made him wish to strip down to nothing. Not that he was currently wearing much but a tunic styled shirt. The sudden rush of memory, the heat of hands caressing him, of a tongue swirling against his own, the foreigner invading his mouth and captivating him so effortlessly.

He swallowed hard against the swell of desire that such a thought roused in him, willing himself into his practiced apathy, and then made his way down. No matter what he wanted to pretend, he had absolutely nothing else to do with his life. He may feign an option, but there was never much of a question. The climb down seemed at once arduously long, and terrifyingly short. His chest tightened with anticipation, and when he reached the bottom, he hesitated. Was he ready to meet those golden eyes? Part of him screamed for retreat, which he very rudely denied out of sheer will and a rejection of cowardice, and the rest of him bubbled with excitement. He spun around.

No one was there.

The expectation that Angeles may be down there waiting was, perhaps, naive. It took great self control to keep the disappointment from crushing his spirit. Keeping his expression placid, he moved from the small hollow of the entrance into the breadth of the main chamber, his violet gaze searching around for the familiar figure, seeking the statuesque perfection beneath the azure glow. He did not find the object of his attention. Irritation bristled within him, some sense of pride wounded by this completely imagined slight, and he moved with a more haughty purpose.

Once he stepped around the marker of the center, that stony place of resting, his eyes alighted with ease upon the treasure he sought. Submerged within the pool to his waist, his legs lounging comfortably half folded in front of him, the crests of his knees rising out of the crystal clear water like wondrous new mountains birthed from a strange sea. Broad shoulders leaned back against the edge of stone, crimson hair spilling all around him in a bloody shroud. Head tilted back, his serene expression was breathtaking, and the irritation that muddled Kirin’s insides quickly morphed into attraction, the emotion just as burning against his demeanor.

Angeles could have been sleeping, by all appearances. His chest moved ever so slowly, every inhale leisurely taken, and he remained perfectly still even as the young man approached him. Kirin did not move with as much practiced silence as some of his kind. He had no reason to train in arts of combat or hunting. He had never been inclined to the sport, his interests always more internal, in music or philosophy. So he knew very well that his arrival could not have been missed, the soft steps of his bare feet resounding in the small cavern. Perhaps the prisoner here wished solitude, and that was what compelled him to feign sleep. Or was he truly resting in such chilling waters? The reminder of his own bath flashed through his mind - before and after - and the slight youth squatted down next to the water’s edge.

Though he was careful not to step on his companion, or muss with his hair, he was not so resolute about staying away completely. Fascination prompted him to lean forward, curiosity demanding that he take this rare opportunity to fully assess the man before him. Long scarlet lashes concealed beneath them what he knew too well to be startling eyes. The lovely olive tinge to his skin boasted a perfect complexion, and though he did appear somewhat pallid, Kirin could not help but note he did not seem so deathly white as the naturally pale creature that he was himself. His jawline was perfectly chiseled, with a delicious curve and masculine edge, sculpting his face against a long, thick neck. Before his eyes traveled down too dangerously, and his mind latched onto more ravenous contemplations, he lifted them up to study the lax, natural formation of his lips.

So often twisted into a mischievous smirk, or pulled in a sardonic appeal, they looked truly angelic in this sedate manner. They had a naturally robust shape and color, not so dark as a woman’s painted vanity, but enough to inspire the mind to consider more sensual uses than mere words alone. Unbid, his own mind began to whirl with curiosities he did not know himself able to fathom. Those lips exploring his body as though he were some delight to be cherish. The tongue within indulging generously of every knew flavor, lapping up the sanguine liquid that spills from a sliced abdomen. The way that mouth shifts when speaking his name... But also something terribly more frightening. A sincere smile, a laugh, the promise of a good night kiss and morning greeting.

Before he could will himself away, to escape the trail of his own design, he had already pressed his lips down in a kiss. It was not as hot or as passionate as those he had received, but a more tender connection. Warming and sweet, it coaxed a response from his partner with inviting ease, Angeles parting his lips, his tongue brushing against Kirin’s teeth as it welcomed itself into his mouth. Slowly, deliberately, it savored what he offered, and the young immortal gently begged for more. The gradual bloom of warmth in his chest, the giddy skipping of his heart, the tension that built from such sweet nothing affection was all a different kind of torment.

There was a sudden euphoria, a sense of exhilaration that surged into his system like some fresh high, twisting that sweet feeling into something darker and carnal. How unusual, he thought as he found his lips parting further, his tongue plunging into the moist, succulent depths of Angeles’ mouth, bolder and brash. He wanted to run from this feeling, some small part of him, that cautious self that knew the right thing even in the heat of the moment, but he willingly submitted to the urge, curious to explore its root.

There was a loud splash.

A sharp temperature change caused him to suddenly cry out, shock and outrage mixing together as a firm hold ensnared him, dragging his narrow form into the icy spring. Parting from the kiss, he stared wide-eyed at the culprit, finding those deep, liquid gold orbs just inches from his own. To describe them as mesmerizing was insufficient - they were hypnotic and ravishing, wise and wild. An unwary soul could be lost in them for ages, and never comprehend their depths - he felt this may be his future, the mere image of them stilling his heart and quenching the rage that such a change in his bodily state had arouse. Passively, he wondered if this stranger was testing him, feigning sleep to assess what he would do. Not for the first time, he wished he could understand the mind of such a foreign creature as this, and felt his arms lifting up from the water they had flailed into, curling soaked around this creatures neck.

Don’t do that, a small voice warned. Don’t fall into that abyss.