Stop, the voice says, and it manages to sink through the mud-thick cocoon of his rut-induced arousal. When Wyvern peels himself back, thighs still straddling the man beneath him, weight still bearing down, he straightens to a half-sit and looks down at Joshua with heat-dulled eyes and blood-smeared lips.
He wants to scream. It's wrong, all of it: how good this ghost feels, how he speaks to Wyvern with the name Wyvern wants to forget, how he's forced to feel when all he has anymore is pain.
"Joshua..."
His gloved hand slides over the outline of that pretty, pretty face. The curve of a soft cheek, the corner of one piercingly blue eye. The stranger wearing his brother's face is the most beautiful thing Wyvern has ever seen.
"My brother. My world." His eyes mist with frustration and adoration. "Founder, I've gone mad."
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Date: 2025-12-11 02:25 am (UTC)He wants to scream. It's wrong, all of it: how good this ghost feels, how he speaks to Wyvern with the name Wyvern wants to forget, how he's forced to feel when all he has anymore is pain.
"Joshua..."
His gloved hand slides over the outline of that pretty, pretty face. The curve of a soft cheek, the corner of one piercingly blue eye. The stranger wearing his brother's face is the most beautiful thing Wyvern has ever seen.
"My brother. My world." His eyes mist with frustration and adoration. "Founder, I've gone mad."