Reno's hands transport him to the most beautiful place. While he's caught up in the idea of really doing it, slamming his feet down and pitching them off this edge to see what it's like to float together, Reno reminds him of those hours before the darkness enveloped him, and it is no comparison. He'd trade all the trees and lights and music in the world for another chance to revisit that bloody floor, with Reno's hands twisting those vital pieces within him like he meant to reconfigure Tseng to perfection. And it was perfect, even though he can't quite remember in as much vivid detail as he would like. All he is sure of is that Reno knew just how to hollow him.
His eyes are drifting shut at the memory. For all that he should have suffered, he'd never known peace like it was that night. Even before the Turks, he'd never been offered comfort like that, not with hands smoothing over his face, with voices drawn soft and low and soothing. It wasn't anything that he longed for, not that night and never before, but Reno had offered it as readily as he had a quicker, more merciful end. Reno recalls it now, and just the memory of it lulls him into a place he's always been afraid to go, one where he is too comfortable, too serene, too calm. If they misstepped now and fell, Tseng doesn't even think he would open his eyes.
They're meant to go somewhere. And on top of that, there are duties that take priority over whatever it is that he feels, as if that ever was important anyway. But Reno pets and talks him into a fugue, and it's all that Tseng can do to blindly drift forward, his seeking of Reno turned automatic, instinctive, until their foreheads tip together and gently crash.
"I want all of it again," he murmurs from somewhere far away. A furrow of pain manifests between his brows, because the image in his head is turning the blood coursing through his veins molten in a flash. "I have so many regrets. If I'd come sooner—if you'd arrived sooner— I would have liked to spend those hours with you. It wasn't enough."
He catches Reno's wrist with a rough snatch, drags his fingers to his mouth and kisses the prints on them one by one. If he imagines it, he can almost taste the blood on his hands, and his tongue stabs greedily, searching.
"I want you clawing me apart inside," he says, the point of his canines sinking in when the memory of it is too much to stand. Every breath he takes becomes a low hiss. "I want to press my mouth to yours and swallow your blood until we drown together."
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His eyes are drifting shut at the memory. For all that he should have suffered, he'd never known peace like it was that night. Even before the Turks, he'd never been offered comfort like that, not with hands smoothing over his face, with voices drawn soft and low and soothing. It wasn't anything that he longed for, not that night and never before, but Reno had offered it as readily as he had a quicker, more merciful end. Reno recalls it now, and just the memory of it lulls him into a place he's always been afraid to go, one where he is too comfortable, too serene, too calm. If they misstepped now and fell, Tseng doesn't even think he would open his eyes.
They're meant to go somewhere. And on top of that, there are duties that take priority over whatever it is that he feels, as if that ever was important anyway. But Reno pets and talks him into a fugue, and it's all that Tseng can do to blindly drift forward, his seeking of Reno turned automatic, instinctive, until their foreheads tip together and gently crash.
"I want all of it again," he murmurs from somewhere far away. A furrow of pain manifests between his brows, because the image in his head is turning the blood coursing through his veins molten in a flash. "I have so many regrets. If I'd come sooner—if you'd arrived sooner— I would have liked to spend those hours with you. It wasn't enough."
He catches Reno's wrist with a rough snatch, drags his fingers to his mouth and kisses the prints on them one by one. If he imagines it, he can almost taste the blood on his hands, and his tongue stabs greedily, searching.
"I want you clawing me apart inside," he says, the point of his canines sinking in when the memory of it is too much to stand. Every breath he takes becomes a low hiss. "I want to press my mouth to yours and swallow your blood until we drown together."