"Say my name," breathes Freya.
I always come back with sentence memes
In this room are two carnivorous beasts.
They eat from the same tablecloth, even if they look nothing alike. They delight in the same pleasures, though they do not share the same maiden tongue. They smile and they growl and they want and they kill in ways the other adores, though it was only the unholy hand of Fate that decided to stiff the rest of the world by pushing them together.
She's digging her nails into his shoulders.
He's biting her neck.
Monster and monster, this is how they will stay.
For a time, there is nothing but the friction of clothes shifting and skin rubbing together. Jhin holds Freya to the wall by hooking his arms underneath hers, pushing her forward with a sickening vigor. His hands are already stained, not unlike hers-- but the blood is not Freya's.
South of the beasts is a victim, long since passed.
Long being-- well, fifteen minutes. The rest? Fallout.
Hand it to the beasts to be only truly excited when undunated by the bits and mess of another's life gone snuffed.
When she whispers into his ear, short and sharp and breathless, Jhin only bites harder. He stops only when he is sure that his teeth have joined his hands in stains. Pulling back for only a second, he shoves his head to her shoulder.
This time there is no bite. Not even a kiss.
He wrings his arms closer around her and squeezes, as if he is trying to break her ribs.
"Freya," Jhin rasps.
You're mine. All mine.
He does not know if the thought is hers or his.
