If I could figure out what _happened_, I'd have a story
Fire is beautiful.
Jeong Jeong cannot believe he ever forgot that. He cannot believe he once hated the crackling lick of fire, detested the smell of smoke and burning, loathed the sight of flames dancing. How had he gone so wrong? How had either of them gone so wrong?
Piandao smiles now, though, and his hands tangle in Jeong Jeong's hair. Dampness rubs off against the ashen strands, and Jeong Jeong knows they're being painted in blood.
His lover does love to kill. So much.
Jeong Jeong just wants things to feed to the fire.
Jeong Jeong cannot believe he ever forgot that. He cannot believe he once hated the crackling lick of fire, detested the smell of smoke and burning, loathed the sight of flames dancing. How had he gone so wrong? How had either of them gone so wrong?
Piandao smiles now, though, and his hands tangle in Jeong Jeong's hair. Dampness rubs off against the ashen strands, and Jeong Jeong knows they're being painted in blood.
His lover does love to kill. So much.
Jeong Jeong just wants things to feed to the fire.