Jason was Jean-Claude's pomme de sang. I didn't fight the fall, I used it. He wanted to be there on his knees, he wanted to lick my wound, taste my blood, maybe widen that wound with sharp teeth. Jason leaned into me.
He shoved us back down, and I had a moment to feel the potential strength. It was all we could do with Vittorio so close. Besides, a little fully clothed cuddling under a blanket seemed pretty tame after what had happened earlier tonight. With blood, steel, and salt, I bind you to your grave, Edwin Alonzo Herman, go, rest, and walk no more.
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