Page 193 of Discordant Cultivation

I’ll feed you poison honey and bitter, burning milk.

And when you wake, you’ll understand what I have always known:

Love isn’t meant to set you free—love claims you as its own.”

Vale couldn’t even focus on the ending vocalizations as Kieran played an inverse of the intro. Sobs bubbled out of him uncontrolled and undignified from the joy of being seen and understood so completely. Kieran had etched himself into Vale’s bones and restrung his soul. He would never know another lonely day with just the roses.

The crowd erupted as Kieran stood up, looking exhausted but radiant.

“Th-Thank you,” Kieran stuttered into the microphone with a grin. “Everyone should give a round of applause to the person I c-couldn’t have done any of this without.”

The cheers grew deafening as Kieran motioned for Vale to join him. Vale wiped his face, feeling like a lovesick teenager, and pulled down his mesh mask as he walked into the lights.

Kieran held out his hand as Vale approached, and Vale took it expecting the traditional bow. Instead, Kieran yanked him close, pushed up the mask, grabbed Vale’s face, and kissed him like he was starving for air.

Buzzing, stunned, unable to focus on anything but Kieran’s mouth against his, Vale barely registered Kieran saying goodnight to the crowd before being pulled off stage into the wings.

The moment they were out of sight, Vale crashed into Kieran with uncontained desperation. His arm swept across a catering table, sending bottled water and snacks clattering to the floor as a stagehand fled their sudden display of affection. Vale didn’t care about witnesses or professionalism or anything beyond the taste of Kieran’s mouth and the sound of his breathing.

I want you to sing those lyrics into my mouth while I fill you over and over. No one has made me cry like this since I was a child. I want to punish you and praise you and worship you while damning you.

Vale pinned Kieran back against the rickety plastic table, and Kieran seemed just as fevered, wrapping his legs around Vale’s waist and pulling him impossibly closer. The friction made Vale gasp between desperate kisses.

“I love you, I love you,” Vale managed when Kieran’s fingers tugged hard at his hair, the pain grounding him just enough to speak.

The crowd’s chanting penetrated their bubble—”ENCORE! ENCORE!”—and they both paused, panting and hard against each other.

“They w-want an encore,” Kieran said breathlessly. “We should p-probably do that.”

Vale sucked Kieran’s lower lip into his mouth before biting down hard enough to make him gasp. “Which song?”

Kieran’s smile was radiant despite his swollen lips. “T-Templeis the favorite. We should do that one.”

“Okay,” he breathed, nipping at Kieran’s ear with possessive teeth.

He began to pull back to let Kieran up, but Kieran tightened his legs around Vale’s waist and grabbed his wrist. His eyes were wide and bright, his skin flushed, looking like a fallen angel who’d chosen his damnation willingly.

Kieran guided Vale’s hand to his throat.

“Will you h-help me get to the right place for it?”

Vale’s heart soared as he kissed Kieran again, deep and claiming. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Then he squeezed.