Not as fluffy as the others. Aah, sorry. Haha.

--

He always submits himself to the overpowering smell and taste of vodka. He can understand why he drinks so much of the alcohol - even the slight taste of it on his lips is enough to send a dizzying wave of heat rush through his body.

Clinging to the large coat, he arches and gives a small moan when hands run through his hair, and then grip it harshly, and then his mouth is on his again. There it is again - the bigger taste of alcohol, and he knows that now is his chance - he can kill him right here, right now, have his freedom and return back to the blonde. . .

Ivan pulls back, and still, Toris is clutching at him, wanting the burn of alcohol and the cold of his hands and lips. But instead, Toris stares at Ivan - the oddly childish face, the wide violet eyes, and strange enough, he finds his heart breaking for the man who has seen so much blood and murder. . .

"I should kill you. I can kill you," he whispers.

Ivan smiles, and traces a freezing finger across Toris' throat.

"This is where I would carve your second smile."

Toris shudders at the thinly-veiled violence, anticipating the promise, and pulls the other man down for another kiss.