“A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism.”
Logan turned to me, and I paused as I heard that. “What?”
“I read that, in a book I got from Charles.” He continued, walking over to me.
This was weird, the weirdest thing to say right now. We had been lost in this stupid subway station for three fucking days. We were filthy, covered in blood and dirt and sweat.
I was leaning against the still subway wall, the whole train thing still for what seemed to be well past 10 years.
It was mucky down here, no exits, and spray painted walls and floors, the subway trains doors open but unmoving so we could go in and out as we pleased.
And Logan was just sitting there, one of the seats in the subway cart. I had been leaning against the wall outside the subway.
“Logan, in the nicest way possible, how the fuck does that relate to what we’re doing?”
And by that I meant surviving. But Logan just chuckled and I looked up to see him walk out of the subway train.
“A kiss,” he repeated, “is the beginning of cannibalism.” He walked to me.
When he kissed my nose, I grunted, pulling away. I didn’t want to kiss right now. But he didn’t seem to bother.
“Eating your lover whole.” He said, “it sounds so fucking stupid.”
“And tempting.” I sighed. I kissed his jaw. I pulled away again.
“You know I love you.”
I sighed. “Unfortunately. And I am tied to you like misfortune is to saints.”
“Then let me kiss you, let me taste.”
I nodded, he kissed me. “You taste good.”
“I taste like sweat.” I snorted. “And spit and blood and dirt.”
I kicked off the wall and walked away towards the subway. The mossy green vines grew out of it, i traced my hand over some of the faded graffiti.
Perhaps I walked away from Logan because he kissed me with a bit more want than I liked. He was going to be the death of me.
Suicide was bad, but he’d live his entire life thinking he hadn’t done anything. But don’t think you havnt committed murder when you’re the one who cocked the gun and placed it in their hand.
I frowned, I couldn’t actually kill myself. And even if it was possible, I knew Logan wouldn’t hesitate to follow.
My thoughts stopped as Logan’s arms wrapped around my waist from behind. “It’s been three days Wade.” He grunted in my ear. His voice was scruffy and rough, just like I knew it.
“Mhm, I know. Im dying too.”
“I’m hungry,” Logan said “I know we can’t really die but doesn’t take away the hunger.” He growled, and I realized he was becoming bloodlust, by the way his claws unsheathed and were slowly sinking into my torso.
I let him continue. “I want to split you open, eat you like the books say. Like-“
“-a pomegranate.”
Yes, I knew of what Logan had read. I was stupid hit im not an idiot. It was ancient love he longed for, one that was sealed by stronger than fate. Destiny would be jealous of us.
I looked down, let his claws sink deeper. If I were to die, then any God up there knew it would be by his hand. Id let him cut me open and make me choke on blood. Let him shove a pistol down my throat. Let his claws rip me till I spilled, then I’d apologize for bleeding on him, and I’d ask for more.
So I turned, “Then do it”
And Logan had me pressed to the subway train, kissing me. And it didn’t feel good, because I was too focused on the pain in my torso, but it was comfortable.
The kiss was filthy, a tongue tasting blood and grime. But it was his lips, that heaven could cure a rotten fruit and make it taste like the ripest.
He stepped forward and backed me up and into the open subway door, let me fall back onto one of the chairs.
“On the floor,” he mumbled in the kiss. So I lay on the dirty floor of the subway train, just looking at him. And it was good like this, as he crawls onto me, as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“Wade?”
“Logan?”
He pulled back momentarily, letting himself sit on my stomach. I watched him pull a small little vial from his little pocket on his belt across his suits waist.
“Remember Stryker?”
“Mhmm”
“He, well when I was weapon X, he created a formula. It didn’t kill me but it stopped my healing.” Logan said softly, rolling the small vile between his fingers. “I wouldn’t die, but he could take a knife to my chest and split it open, and I wouldn’t die but I’d bleed out. It couldn’t close.”
I nodded, I knew what he wanted. so I reached up, slowly pulled to vile from his hand, and drunk it. I downed every last drop, with a seething hiss and then finally a pant i let it fall to the floor beside me.
“Okay.” I breathed heavily, feeling heavy acid twist my insides. “Okay, okay.”
“I care about you.” Logan mumbled as he leaned back down to kiss my eyelids. Both of them, like they were precious. Like gemstones.
“I-I care about you.” I repeated my words back.
He slowly peeled away my top half of the suit with his long claw, watching as the fabric fell apart. He stared at my scarred chest for a moment.
I felt ashamed, I let my eyes look away.
“Look at me,” he said softly. A bit too soft.
I met his gaze. “You’re beautiful, Wade. Every inch.” He looked down at my chest again. “Your skin without scars is like the sky without stars. Incomplete.”
He pressed a kiss to my collar bone. “And you have this skin, and I find it beautiful.”
I closed my eyes, let my head rest back against the subway floor. Let myself feel the warmth of his hands.
And then he bit down. I let a sound escape my lips.
I had only felt true bliss once, the first time he held me after I cried. And now, as he tears the flesh from my bones. As he cracked open my rib cage, as strangled gasps and a mouth full of blood came, I felt it again.
My eyes facing the ceiling, a hand in his hair. He had cracked a rib, and I knew that pain. But there was a new pain in the way he broke them all and dug his claws so deep and then just teared them out.
I let tears fall and small screams come as well. He had only opened a fraction of me, and as I felt his warm wet tongue on the inside of my rib cage, I knew I never wanted this to end.
I felt the warmth of blood pool, and not having it stitch up was a weird sensation. He dragged his tongue over each broken rib, the flesh on it too. I knew it tasted foul, at least the top of my skin, but he looked as if he hadn’t tasted anything finer.
He was doing a lot but he wasn’t doing enough.
“Dig your teeth into me. Come on, I dare you. Take a bite.” I breathed. “Open me up: raw and candy floss, pink on the inside. Make it hurt. I figure, you’re going to hurt me one way or another. Might as well be with your mouth.”
And so I felt him peel away my skin like pomegranate. He traced the road maps of blue veins in my skin, muttered a bit about how hungry I make him, that he’d eat me if he could. I wordlessly offer him my arm.
“Go ahead.” He gives it only a soft-mouthed bite, but I would probably let him tear me apart, if let him do anything.
And so with half my rib split open, blood forcing out of my mouth, spilling out my chest, i watched as he sunk his teeth into my arm.
My mind went hazy. It wasn’t pain or pleasure. I felt stupid. It was everything and nothing. I felt drunk. Cupid could make people fall in love, but Cupid could not make this.
I let him cut open my arm, dip his tongue into it and around my veins as red scarlet liquid dripped down his chin and mouth. His filthy tongue biting at the flesh and then he tore it off. A mouthful of flesh, and he ripped it. I choked back blood, a noise coming out.
My arm felt set on fire as I watched this beast, this animal devour a piece of my scarred flesh, I watched him bite down and swallow.
We held eye contact, my face was numb with silent tears.
He kissed my tears away with the same bloody mouth he ate me.
And slowly he cracked open every part of my body. My other rib, until he spread open my chest like a prize. Until he dug his tongue into every bloody place and watched as it poured out in gallons.
He dragged his tongue over my organs, whatever he could reach. I felt his warm tongue.
I want my body to be his body, and inside his body, and for my skin to be his skin, and for me to be trapped under it, and slowly dissolving into him, and pulsating along with the beat of his heart, and I want him to grab me and shake me and say you’re mine, you’re my own, we are one in the same, come move into my chest, come rearrange what’s inside of me, I breathe for you so let me do it on your terms. take my heart, take it, I’m afraid of it. Replace it with something easier to understand. Maybe a fist.
But instead, he peeled back more flesh, and clawed out my heart. And I watched him, watched him devour it. Watch him split it open like a pomegranate. Let him, I thought. He was like a religious icon to be worshipped, dripping red from every part of his body.
I was in awe, he was mine. I love him, I let him eat my heart, my liver, my fingers and the soles of my feet. Let him consume me whole.
You may love too, but we are not the same.
You want to fuck him. I want to consume him i want to inside his skin like a beast in the walls of his house. I want to be his birth and death and beginning and his end and his undoing and his Armageddon and his divine creator. I want to eat him while I want to be his life I want him to tear me apart. I want to create worlds out of him and destroy them and destroy him and have him wake up in the morning next to me. I want to call him pretty I want to brush his hair. I want to crack him up I want to choke him I want to make him bleed. I want to kiss the blood from his skin. I want him buried deep inside there wound of desire. I want him to be my best friend I want him to loathe me. I want my mouth on his jugular I want to be the one thing in between his life and death external I want my teeth in him I want I want I want
And I want
And I keep wanting as he keeps eating.
And I have never loved a man more.
So I lay there on the subway train floor, getting broken and eating and destroyed by the only one that ever gave me life.