Claws scrape over delicate flesh; causing crimson to weep from the marks they leave behind. Quiet whimpers loud to sensitive ears. A pleading heart. Crying eyes. A comforting hand to dry the tears. A brief moment of pain, a silent scream, and then unfathomable pleasure; like a car careening out of control only to break through the guardrail moments later and into an ocean of brilliant colors. Dancing. Exploding. Before the shattered windshield; like an eruption of fireworks. The impact is great, yet there is no pain. Only the sweet agonizing bliss that can only come from release. Whether through death or granted by a lover's provocation. Thus is the art of making love.

When it's all said and done, the lovers lay side by side, basking in the shared afterglow. They're silent for the longest time and then one looks over to the other, and in a voice not quite his own, whispers,

"I love you, Todd."

To which the other responds,

"I love you too, Victor."