to love or to consume
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“What conclusion have you come up with?”
“Human custom would point to love,” Flins notes. Varka will laugh it off easily enough. Flins will suffer a moment of embarrassment, and it won’t matter at the end of the night. But his teeth ache and something stirs in his stomach, pulling at him, whispering something that sounds unfairly like mine.
A low, soft hum. “And what of the fae?” Varka asks.
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Flins doesn't want to love like a monster. Varka just wants him, however he is.Series
- Part 1 of to love or to consume
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“Surely you’ve been wanted before.” Varka’s voice is ragged. Flins is losing his grip, grabbing his loose threads and pulling his form back together, head buzzing, teeth aching.
“No,” he breathes.
Varka’s grip on his waist goes tight. “That can’t be true at all,” he says. “You wouldn’t know attraction if it broke your lantern.”
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Flins thinks his wretched fae nature has no place in a love like this. Varka disagrees.Series
- Part 2 of to love or to consume
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“I think you’re perfect,” Varka says as he catches his breath.
“You would be the first,” Flins tells him. “You would be the only.”
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Flins has taken to tracking the time—not impatient, barely eager, hardly waiting at all—between Varka’s visits.Series
- Part 3 of to love or to consume