Written for comment_fic on Livejournal
Prompt was Adam/Sark, fine wine
Fine wine doesn't last forever, both of them know well.
It peaks.
After that, it will never be as good as it once was, back in that perfect moment of deepest and purest flavor.
They are much alike, Sark and Adam. Maybe even related, though of course distanced by dozens of generations. And their similarities go beyond the face and the body and even the voice. There's the cold ruthlessness of the eyes when the man fixed his aim on some worthy (or unworthy) task. There's the love of finery, of its textures and luxuries and plush comforts. And of course their values are similar, too: power is all, everything else is just for fun.
But there is one important difference between them.
Sark is falling apart.
Not visibly. But it's happening just the same. Cells ending their cycle. Skin losing elasticity. Every part of him getting older, every day, imperceptibly but inescapably. Constant motion toward an end.
Which is why Sark, and not Adam, is like a fine wine.
And why Adam intends to drink eagerly until the bottle is gone.