[With Riddle’s hand finally in his own, Floyd doesn’t hesitate to nibble, teeth scraping across juts of bone and a fluttering pulse. He doesn’t need magic to leave a mark. Instead, Floyd picks a spot on the inside of Riddle’s wrist and chomps down, quick yet hard enough to raise blood to the surface.
The bitter tang of iron to accompany the sweet symphony of Riddle’s cries— He’ll take this over a feast of octopi any day.]
Sooo, that means my promise to satisfy you doesn’t mean anything too, right?
[After lapping up a few pinpricks of blood, Floyd considers dropping Riddle’s hand… only to delicately trace along the length of them from base to tip—a short journey, but soft and intentional nonetheless. If he tries to interweave their fingers, he wonders… Well. The only thing to do is try, he thinks.
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The bitter tang of iron to accompany the sweet symphony of Riddle’s cries— He’ll take this over a feast of octopi any day.]
Sooo, that means my promise to satisfy you doesn’t mean anything too, right?
[After lapping up a few pinpricks of blood, Floyd considers dropping Riddle’s hand… only to delicately trace along the length of them from base to tip—a short journey, but soft and intentional nonetheless. If he tries to interweave their fingers, he wonders… Well. The only thing to do is try, he thinks.
So he does.]
So we should stop.