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Kayne struggles up. He wants to be the one to drag Arthur down to his level. A slight giggle coming out with the blood clots. Arthur isn’t entirely disgusted, despite his best attempt. His smile barely falters at his own efforts.
It’s too much energy to not let Arthur have the hand. There was a saying about that. He couldn’t quite remember which hand it referred to, but it didn’t matter, did it? John had Arthur’s left. It was probably left. How meaningful.
Kayne stares at Arthur. Seconds or years pass. Maybe minutes? It’s been so long since he experienced linear time. Arthur was still holding his hand. Torn off. The warmth of it was wonderful. He might’ve been crying.
“Artie-” He opens his mouth to ask Arthur and oh! Arthur is sticking his hand in there without a single worry. His blood drips from Arthur’s hands back into him. “I’ve heard cake is more traditional,” he tries through a mouthful of blood and Arthur, “though you didn’t do that with Bella did you?”
Arthur yanks a tooth out. He really had something for teeth. It's cute. Kayne’s were probably better than Arthur’s. Maybe he could convince him to replace them? Gifts were supposed to be before consummation, but Kayne wasn’t one for tradition. It could be right now.
“Am I special?”
“Shut up.”
Oh! Arthur’s ripping at his clothes now. Kayne didn’t think he felt the same way at all. Tearing the coattails off. Wasn’t the right place to tear at all. Kayne opened his mouth to tell Arthur. It’d really been so long since Arthur had done this sort of thing, completely understandable that he’d lost some of the finer details.
His hands were back in Kayne’s mouth. Kayne spat out a few teeth to make room. Arthur obliging stuck his fingers further in. Kayne sucks at them. He couldn’t figure out what Arthur could possibly be hoping to accomplish with this. Beside Kayne’s own pleasure.
Oh! Oh! Arthur was being creative. Probably not going to work. Unless he loosened his form up a little. And why not? There was a faint tinge of regret in his mind. He could almost feel it. If he really tried. It left with the tongue Arthur pulled out.
He shoves the coattails in. Wants to concentrate on his work. Hard to do with too much babbling. What an artist.
Arthur goes slow. Which oh! He’s blushing. How sweet of Arthur to do something like this after all that had happened. His hands shook slightly. Trembling with excitement. He wanted to reach out to reassure Arthur, but he’d cut off every avenue for that. No room for hesitation.
He doesn’t tear off limbs. He’s savoring it. Small pieces. Kayne is trying very hard to prevent himself from melting over Arthur. He’s mostly succeeding. Closer to the consistency of fall off the bone ribs than anything else.
He very badly wants Arthur to try some.
Arthur slowly works Kayne apart. Tearing pieces of flesh from him with the rush of opening a present. He’s surprisingly delicate with it. A few pieces make their way into Arthur’s mouth. He doesn’t notice.
Kayne does.
He never quite managed to shake off the hunger he left the pits with. Kayne leans in to give Arthur greater access. He doesn’t like the squirming. He pushes Kayne down. Fingers sinking into the meat of his shoulder.
Arthur plays with the ligaments for a moment. Idly. Kayne can feel him savoring the way Kayne writhes with every tug. He is being so delicate. Like he cares. He leaves them hanging out obscenely, but unbroken.
Neither of them is quite ready for this to end.
Kayne wishes for a moment that he wore shoes. Because then Arthur would take them off with the same violent grace he’s been taking Kayne apart with. Then Arthur would slide his hands along his legs, leaving bloody trails and indentations in the soft flesh to pluck the garter off.
He rolls up the pant leg. Scratching chunks down from the knee. Pushing his bones uncomfortably into flesh and pushing them back in again. Carving new empty spaces to miss the warmth he left.
Up a little further to recreate the femur. And Kayne hadn’t even done that. That was all Arthur’s doing. But to be wrapped in all that- for Arthur to tell him with the strongest words, no words at all, but another wrenching motion to dislocate his leg, that he thought of Kayne that much. That Kayne was enough of a presence in Arthur’s life- it made him shudder, a few tears rolling down amidst what was left of his face. A gasping cry. He liquifies, momentarily.
Arthur’s hands faltered. Pausing.
How he could feel guilty at a time like this, Kayne couldn’t know. He arched upward, letting Arthur’s fingers curl inside him. They wriggled unpleasantly, painfully. Little shrieking cries. There was that bloodlust Kayne so loved.
Arthur puts one hand over his eyes. What a gentleman. He wanted to keep things exciting.
He caresses his foot, searching. It’s nice and- oh! Oh! a little higher and Arthur shoves a finger through the navicular. He’s teasing. Kayne chokes on another laugh, blood filling his lungs. He breaks through. A nice Christian upbringing.
Shame he couldn’t do the hands.
They rest for a moment. Days. Hours. Seconds. Years. Arthur’s only mortal. Weak. He slides down to rest. Pulling Kayne in.
He’s glad for a moment to pull himself together.
A hand rests across his chest. The pressure forcing Kayne’s heart to beat. It was Arthur’s once upon a time. And then it became Kayne’s. He hadn’t liked it after that. Arthur listens to it for a moment. Lets his fingers graze over it.
They both know what’s going to happen.
He waits. Lures Kayne into a false sense of security. There’s a world outside him. He’s real again. Arthur breathes quietly next to him. Trying to keep his breaths even so Kayne doesn’t suspect anything.
He’s warm.
Arthur’s hands push the warmth further. Snaps his bones so they jut out, reaching heavenward in search of the warmth of the sun. He preferred Arthur’s. Heating the cold, dead thing he called a heart.
He lifts it upward.
Raises it to his lips. Chews, leaning downward so they’re just inches apart. He wants Kayne to watch. It’s a mockery of communion.
It’s the closest Kayne has ever been to someone.
Arthur’s face contorts at the taste of it. Blood dripping from his hands to Kayne. From his lips to Kayne. He’s connected them. He swallows, painfully, before taking another bite.
Kayne is touched. And touched again when Arthur leans down, lips pressed to his, and shares.