[ Once, a long time ago, Kalim found an errant strike of whimsy and spent the day researching everything he could find about vipers. Every snake, he quickly learned, is carnivorous. They can eat anything from insects to baby hippos, depending on their size. But their hunting methods vary widely by species. Constrictors snare their prey and coil around them, squeezing and strangling until there's no life left in their victim. But vipers don't need to expend that kind of effort; they simply sink their teeth in and let their venom do the killing.
How is it that Jamil can manage to do both? How is he such a brutally efficient hunter? He curls and winds, grips so tightly -- so intimately -- Kalim suddenly loses his breath. And that would be enough to fell him, except that he swears he can feel Jamil inside of him, pulsing through his veins like his own lifeblood, singing in his heart, subtle venom that pushes through every part and leaves him weak in its wake. No one ever told him that poison could taste like honey on his tongue, that this venomous touch could feel like holy hands on his skin, that succumbing to its grip could feel like flying. No one ever warned him that love could feel like death.
Kalim's shaking, legs threatening to give way when Jamil kisses him deeper. This is new. They've kissed, but it's never felt like this before; like every touch is feeding into this cyclically agonizing desperation, and Kalim needs in a new and terrifying way. Moreover, he feels needed in turn, and that's only fuel to his fire. But this need... What does he need? What would be enough? He doesn't know how to ask for it, doesn't know what he's even asking for.
It surfaces as a deep moan, half desire and half frustration, hot between the air they're sharing. ]
Jamil...
[ Kalim clings to Jamil's hood, holds him captive and close even when he draws back enough to look him in the eye. And his own? Only a pair of questions beneath blazing fire rubies. ]
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How is it that Jamil can manage to do both? How is he such a brutally efficient hunter? He curls and winds, grips so tightly -- so intimately -- Kalim suddenly loses his breath. And that would be enough to fell him, except that he swears he can feel Jamil inside of him, pulsing through his veins like his own lifeblood, singing in his heart, subtle venom that pushes through every part and leaves him weak in its wake. No one ever told him that poison could taste like honey on his tongue, that this venomous touch could feel like holy hands on his skin, that succumbing to its grip could feel like flying. No one ever warned him that love could feel like death.
Kalim's shaking, legs threatening to give way when Jamil kisses him deeper. This is new. They've kissed, but it's never felt like this before; like every touch is feeding into this cyclically agonizing desperation, and Kalim needs in a new and terrifying way. Moreover, he feels needed in turn, and that's only fuel to his fire. But this need... What does he need? What would be enough? He doesn't know how to ask for it, doesn't know what he's even asking for.
It surfaces as a deep moan, half desire and half frustration, hot between the air they're sharing. ]
Jamil...
[ Kalim clings to Jamil's hood, holds him captive and close even when he draws back enough to look him in the eye. And his own? Only a pair of questions beneath blazing fire rubies. ]
I want more of you.