[ The crush of his lips overwhelms him, his hands reflexively gripping tight around Jack's thin arms, fingers digging in. In in his delirium it's deeper hurts suddenly dredged up faster than he can bury them again, the sudden remembrance of the last man he'd kissed and that life together, the way it had fallen apart in the end.
It's too much to hurt like this, in both body and spirit. But this isn't Viktor (isn't John).
It's Jack's lips pressed against his own. Jack who he loves as a friend, and once long ago more than that, a desperate plea behind his kiss that Kyle can only answer by feverishly returning it with a mouth that still tastes of blood from the cursed things that had torn their way out of him. His fingertips and palms leave dark red streaks across Jack's shirt as he pulls him closer, starving for every point of physical contact, even when it hurts. ]
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It's too much to hurt like this, in both body and spirit. But this isn't Viktor (isn't John).
It's Jack's lips pressed against his own. Jack who he loves as a friend, and once long ago more than that, a desperate plea behind his kiss that Kyle can only answer by feverishly returning it with a mouth that still tastes of blood from the cursed things that had torn their way out of him. His fingertips and palms leave dark red streaks across Jack's shirt as he pulls him closer, starving for every point of physical contact, even when it hurts. ]