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Blood

Somewhere deep inside, Yazoo knew that he understood why he liked to fight - why the sight and smell of blood pulled at baser instincts. Not a drop of the crimson staining him was his own, he knew, yet Loz...

Loz had panicked for just a moment, crying for Kadaj before Yazoo hushed him.

And now he just slowly took off his boots, wiggling his toes for a second. Loz hadn't changed his focus - watching carefully as though suddenly a wound would be revealed.

"Yazoo..."

"I'm not hurt," Yazoo replied, wondering if he really needed to prove it in the middle of the day. But he undid his coat, letting it slide away and onto the floor. Everything would need to be cleaned anyway, someday, if everything even lasted that long. "See?"

"All that blood," Loz said as he finally reached to touch Yazoo without the hidden implication that Yazoo might just break.

"Not mine," Yazoo commented almost playfully as he pulled off his pants. His blood had been flowing, yes, but not out of his body. Not to paint the ground. Not to gleam red in the midday sun.

"Ah..."

"Shh, you wanted me like this." Yazoo dropped to his knees, pulling at Loz's pants to confirm an echoing bulge. Kadaj was probably still pouring through those hundreds of files they'd stolen. Probably in the next room. Probably listening to them.

Softly licking Loz to full arousal, Yazoo reached down to stroke his own erection.

And deep inside, he knew why he liked to fight.