It wasn't the sting of the twin piercing points that he dreaded--it was the rush.
The rush of his blood getting drained away, and the rush of the sweet poison flowing back inside his vein. It was reeked of desire, of mindless carnal indulgence. Yet it seeped into his soul and took hold.
Took hold of his mind, muddled with deafening fireworks and blinding lights. Took hold of his senses, shivers crawling along his spine and across his bare skin. Took hold of his breath, boiled down into mere gasping and writhing sound; pleading, airy, breathless.
"E-Eru..."
The only thing he could manage between his lips, aside from choking gasps and mindless moans, was of a single name. But even that was getting shoved back inside his throat by invading fingers pressing on his tongue and grazing his palate.
