[ right, he did say the books, and he was rather insistent that he himself is not a clean person. nikolai remembers, but he doesn't fully agree. fyodor is otherworldly, like a fairy or a demon - both pure creatures at their core.

nikolai might not fully understand fyodor, nor does he want to, but he's gotten pretty good at reading the air when they’re together. in a twisted way, knowing each other's intentions means there's no secrets between them - at least, none that matter. he would never kill fyodor in such a mundane way, and he's sure if fyodor wanted to kill him he'd be dead by now. it gives this moment a special meaning; fyodor rarely gets to experience pain, and nikolai gets to be the one that fulfills that bizarre need.

when fyodor turns to face him completely and presses his arm further, nikolai pulls the arm he had around him so he could hold onto fyodor's with both hands, his face heating up with excitement, almost salivating. ]

You're wonderful, Fedya. Beautiful and intricate, like a maze of pure marble where all the exits lead to an infinite sea of ink-black waters.

[ he presses his tongue on his wrist again, this time aiding himself with his thumbs to coerce more blood to spill from his bite mark. when it feels like it’s about to run dry, he sinks his teeth in again— hard, letting a thick stream of red run down his skin before drinking that as well with slow, deliberate laps of his tongue, eyes closed, his breath shaking in ecstasy. ]

Ahh . . . Fedya . . .