[some distant part of his brain--the part that is watching this unfold from a detached, horrified distance--wonders when he should stop. the rest, however, is sure that this is where he will stay forever. this is the only thing he has ever wanted. why would he ever stop?
Zhas is heavy and leaden against his chest. he smells like smoke and sweat and now the flooding smell of wet coins. he couldn't be closer to him. he has him. it's perfect.
the only thing picking at his attention, interrupting the euphoria filling flat, cold veins, is the warmth running down his chin. it's sliding down his neck. he tries to shift his prey higher against him, dig in deeper, but his shirt is wet. he's wasting it.]
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Zhas is heavy and leaden against his chest. he smells like smoke and sweat and now the flooding smell of wet coins. he couldn't be closer to him. he has him. it's perfect.
the only thing picking at his attention, interrupting the euphoria filling flat, cold veins, is the warmth running down his chin. it's sliding down his neck. he tries to shift his prey higher against him, dig in deeper, but his shirt is wet. he's wasting it.]