#max loves it

A very special thank you to the lovely @pchberrytea for the tag! Another bit from my Max fic because... something, something, sexy priest.

One particular punch catches him in the nose and she can feel something crack. Max doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even attempt to stem the profuse stream of blood seeping from his nostrils, just lets it gather in the cracks of his lips, lets it pour down his chin in thick lines.

It’s an image that sears into her mind, the way he glares at her; wild and uncontrolled.

Lou thinks of weeping statues inside churches, of calcified rivulets carved through moss laden stone. She thinks of those old oil paintings, of martyrs and saints and severed heads on silver platters, of starved bodies up on crosses.

Brutal, severe, and holy.