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    Summary

    And this is what it feels like. Etho's skin itches, crawls when Joel's blood-red gaze rests on him, heavier than lead.

    It's different from what he had with Bdubs, of course it is. Back then, when they skirted around it, when Etho stood on one side of a fence placed more for peace of mind than efficacy and stared across it into the eyes of a man who wanted nothing more than to consume him whole, there was a forbiddenness, a sense of wrong, and whenever they touched Etho would pull away like he'd been burned, unwilling, or maybe unable to let himself fall, headlong, into that crimson unknown, the drag behind his ribs like leaning off a clifftop.

    He had never been a brave man. 

    Language:
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