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This did not look good—Lyon had fallen ill on the way back to Grado. The young prince appeared paler than usual, murmuring of hot flashes and painful waves that surged throughout his body. Of course, everyone in the escort party was used to Lyon’s shifting health as he did take after his sickly father, naturally.
And prince Ephraim of Renais was no stranger to his beloved friend’s fragility. Too often in their own boyhood did the sweet, demure Lyon collapse from overexerting himself and Ephraim, already so strong and bold, took the reins in tending to the neighboring prince. No doubt, if his twin sister Eirika had accompanied them back to Grado as well, she would stop the party all together and run off to find some medical herbs.
Unfortunately, the party could go no further; a flash storm had caught them off guard on route to the capital and it was Lyon’s aching headache that warned Ephraim to move everyone to an isolated shelter off the road.
The Renais crown prince held Lyon in his arms, his eyes switching back and forth from the servants setting up tents to the panting Grado heir in his lap. Lyon’s body was completely flushed over with an unknown heat and he whined with tears in his eyes; Ephraim cradled his head, gently tucking strands of lilac hair between the man’s ears before looking up and calling for more medicine.
There was not much they could do now save for waiting for the storm to pass. The minute Ephraim saw the rays of sun breaking through the clouds, he would urge all the horses as fast as they could to the capital healer. Until then, they rest. And they wait.
“W-What’s wrong, Eph...you’re as stiff as a board,” Lyon wheezed out, trying his best to laugh but it all came out in a soft choke.
Ephraim patted the prince’s cheek in a scolding gesture to shush him as he peered all around the darkness. The storm was still pouring down in sheets of pure, black torrents; the tents swayed and shivered beneath the force of the rain as the staff attempted to construct another temporary camp. Ephraim, who sat in the darkness of a small overlooking rock to the side with Lyon, watched all of the chaos unfold with a frightful alertness.
They were in the middle of bandit country and he knew it.
“Just go to sleep,” Ephraim urged beneath his breath as he brought a bundle of blankets over and secured it under Lyon’s head. He stood up, his eyes staring out to the chaos thundering outside their isolated rock. “I’ll go help the maids and I’ll see if our healer needs any herb gathered in the area.”
“Wait! N-No...please don’t leave me…,” Lyon gasped with soft tears in his eyes as he reached over and grabbed his friend’s sleeve.
However, the Grado prince was never the strongest person, always losing in sparring matches to Ephraim and Eirika in childhood. The Renais prince hummed, somewhat exasperated, and gently nudged Lyon’s fragile hand away. But he bent down low, his hand passing over Lyon’s frightfully cold cheek and caressed the skin in reassurement.
“I’ll be right back—I promise. Just go to sleep. The healer will be by to check on you real soon,” Ephraim said before pulling away and watching Lyon shiver from his absence.
“P-Promise?”
“Promise.”
And Ephraim never lied. When he made a promise, he kept it even in the worst of situations.
Lyon’s eyelids fluttered softly before closing all together, his head swimming upon an invisible sea as he listened to Ephraim’s footsteps die away in the rainstorm. He hated being alone; it was the most emptiest feeling in the world, even more so when he could not reach the Renais prince anymore. Even in childhood, he clung to him, always feeling rather shameful to force his beloved to slow down for him.
Whenever Ephraim was near, Lyon’s heart was at peace. He always felt a little stronger when he was around as though the strength of the Renais’ heir was contagious. Even still, Lyon had trouble drifting away as the sight of the pouring rain was the last thing he saw.
_______________________
You should tell him how you feel. You know he won’t mock you for it.
Eirika, please—what if he hates me?
You? No, never. He could never hate you.
How do you know this?
Are you kidding me? We were born into this world together, of course. Torn out of the same womb, kicking and screaming. At some point, we were once one. I know everything about him—how he acts. How he feels. What he thinks. And he could never hate you.
Ephraim might feel bothered…
Lyon, he will do everything for you—has done everything for you. There’s nothing in this world he won’t sacrifice to ensure your safety and happiness.
Truly?
Oh yes. Everything .
_______________________
Lyon woke up with a distinct violence singing at the back of his scalp.
Someone had viciously yanked the poor prince awake by the painful grip in his hair and Lyon gave a cry as his eyes opened, blinking rapidly to so many unknown shapes and colors that melded across his vision like an undone painting.
The first thing he did was call for Ephraim’s name weakly while his vision composed itself. The darkness was still there, edging at the corners of his eyes, but an unfamiliar sight had completely jolted the Grado heir fully awake with stunned distraught.
All around him, large, bulking men he had never seen before in his life. They crowded the sleeping prince, draped in worn-down leather armor and an array of weapons strapped around their hips and backs. Men who sneered and smirked, the white of their teeth revealing an unknown hunger that made Lyon shiver terribly—their eyes were practically pitch black in the night as the sky roared above them.
And he could see it; the remnants of a camp burning behind them. Dark lumps lying down all over the mud with sticks poking out of them. Lyon’s heart was beating with such a strange, bottomless violence that the prince hardly reacted when he was yanked up to his feet by a bulking man whose laughter rang in his ears like a broken church bell.
“Well, well, well, look what we have here: a sleeping beauty,” the bandit sneered as he dragged Lyon’s face closer to his, licking the frightened noble’s cheek—he smelled putrid, like blood and rainwater and something burnt, and Lyon resisted throwing up as he felt a big hand palm his clothes hungrily. “We never expected to find two treasures here this evening, especially that of royalty.”
“T-Two?” Lyon stuttered before hissing as the surging pain at the back of his head.
The crowd of bandits chuckled to themselves, clearly amused as they parted to one side, allowing passage to one of their comrades in the back.
The man that came through was huge, probably their head fighter and a former executioner in a more stable, civilized life. He peered down at Lyon struggling against the bandit holding him close, gave a cruel sneer, and threw something down right in front of the Grado prince with a thick splash into the mud.
Lyon’s breath stopped right at the pit of his throat, choking out with a hiss. His heart stopped and the words came out in a horrified murmur.
“E-Ephraim…”
The crown prince of Renais laid in the mud, completely beaten over with fresh blood still trailing down his face. The man gave a low, broken moan, shaking weakly as he lifted his head and looked around with a disoriented gaze. His eyes were uncoordinated, a certain murkiness that came from stress and near-death, but searched eagerly for Lyon’s near-crying voice as he finally found the captured prince.
They stared at one another from across the small field, Lyon completely stiff and white as the bandit that held him still chuckled darkly in his ear.
“That Renais scum gave us quite the fight during the ambush. Took down some of my most promised men. Now that isn’t very nice,” the bandit hissed hotly, his laughing tone teetering to pure, malevolent spite.
His grip in Lyon’s hair grew tighter until the poor Grado heir saw flashing stars in his vision—but he kept his eyes straight at Ephraim’s wounded form lying in the mud, even as he felt something distinctly sharp and cold touch the underside of his throat. “So, I’m going to take something away from him.”
“N-No!” Ephraim suddenly gasped, holding a single, shaky hand and out towards Lyon.
The prince’s eyes were wide and glassy and for the first time in Lyon’s life, he recognized that absolute and utter fear had taken over his beloved friend and love in such a frenzied manner. Ephraim heaved violently, practically choking and coughing as he forced himself on his knees to bow towards the bandit leader.
“P-Please...not him. Don’t hurt him!”
“Oh? You care so much for this sickly little thing?” The leader said with a cruel laugh, angling the sharp side of his sword into Lyon’s neck as if to remind the immobilized prince of death hovering right then and there. “What would you give us to let him live? Hm? We already killed all of your servants, stolen your gold and food and medicine. What could you give us that we can’t just steal away, hm?”
A moment of silence. Only the rain passed through that eternity, soaking the bleeding ground all around them. Ephraim was still, not so much in the shock of his beating but a slow, gradual determination that showed on his face—utterly calm and resigned. His eyes were looking at Lyon, looking past Lyon, and somewhere far and beyond.
And Lyon trembled in near-tears. He knew this look. This dangerous, selfless look. The kind of look Ephraim took on before giving himself up wholly for Lyon’s well-being, whether that was taking the fall for a broken vase in the castle during their boyhood chases or dropping everything to defend Lyon’s honor in front of visiting delegates.
As Eirika once said, their blood was that of the old Renais hero—so utterly and devastatingly sacrificial for the ones they love.
“N-No...Eph, no—”
“You can have me. A-All of me.”
The crowd around them began to murmur excitedly among each other as the bandit leader arched a single brow, both intrigued and incredulous. However, the man’s breathing audibly tightening in Lyon’s ear was dangerous, the implication of dark want dripping down like venom.
“Is the Warrior King’s crown heir pledging to be our personal whore? Is that what I’m hearing right now?” He said loudly, catching his men’s attention back to Ephraim bowing submissively in the mud.
Lyon opened his mouth, ready to scream at his friend to run and leave him, only for the leader’s gloved hand to roughly grab his lower face and keep him bitterly silent.
All eyes were on the Renais prince, who was heaved quietly in the middle of the lion’s den. Even from here, Lyon could see Ephraim shaking a bit, as if the idea scared him more than going to battle, and then, without a word, the prince lifted his head up and gave a resolute nod.
His eyes were clear—he already made peace with himself. And Lyon began to openly weep against the leader’s hand.
“Please...promise me you’ll let Lyon go, safe and sound,” Ephraim said with a heavy breath.
“Well, that depends, of course. If you’re a good, submissive little pet, I might think of just tossing the pale thing aside without slicing him open.” The leader said, chuckling as the dark implication of his threat hung oppressively over the two captured princes. “Why don’t we give you a test run, your highness? See if everything is in order. Because, if we find any fault with you whatsoever, well...Emperor Vigarde is going to receive one unpleasant present on his doorstep tomorrow.”
“No! Ephraim, don’t you dare listen to him—”
“Silence!” The bandit leader violently knocked the hilt of his sword against the side of Lyon’s head, sending the poor prince down to the mud with a singing pain blossoming wetly in his skull. He felt the tinkle of blood kiss the rain—kiss his flushed skin in trails before being kicked down and strangled beneath a harsh boot pressing against his wound. Ephraim stumbled forward on his knees, gasping with his hand stretched out.
“I’ll do it! I’ll do whatever you ask. Whatever you want. I won’t ever rebel—please! Just leave him be…,” the Renais heir begged, his usual strong and stoic voice breaking down to a bitter sob—one that broke Lyon’s heart worse than the pain pulsing at the side of his head.
And the leader threw his head back with a laugh, his broad shoulders shaking before snapping his fingers at the hulking bandit that dragged Ephraim to the crowd in the first place. The man’s eyes were cold and unmoving and regarded the head bandit in an eerie, silent respect as though he was not even human.
“Heyo big guy! Why don’t you have the first taste of our ‘hero’ here. Consider it a prize for defeating him, my friend.” The leader grinned, a cruel white crescent in the darkness as he rubbed the sole of his boot deeper in Lyon’s hysterical face. “Go ahead—warm the whore up for us. Tear him apart.”
Without warning, the giant stepped forward and practically snatched the bowed prince in the mud up with a single hand. Ephraim’s eyes widened white as he felt the powerful hands claw at his broken, torn-up clothes and ripped everything off right in front of a jeering, whistling crowd.
Lyon watched in utter despair, his breathing hysterical before trying to push himself up—the leader’s boot violently pushed him back down in the mud and a hissing, irritated voice stung in his burning ears.
“No. Watch.”
Lyon’s teary eyes finally riveted back and Ephraim was dropped back down to the ground. The prince was suddenly shivering, now fully exposed with his tight, slender form and shame out for the world to see in the cold rain.
His gaze was both panicked and disoriented and he tried to steady himself as he was unceremoniously picked back up again. The giant forced the prince’s trembling white legs open, watching with such a dark glee as Ephraim gave out a loose moan at the fingers pressing and trailing down his thighs. And the crowd whistled at the sight of Ephraim’s cock twitching excitedly from the unwanted touch and attention.
Lyon’s breathing stilled, his eyes locked onto the shivering, naked sight of his secret love—presented open for the world to see. It was clear that Ephraim was trying his best to calm himself, but the shame of being exposed like this at the hungry gaze of the bandits gave the prince a look Lyon had never seen before—his usually calm face was completely flushed with a feverish sickness both known and unknown to him, and his beautiful, muscular form was held up and debatched against a larger, bestial body.
“Such an eager whore,” the leader murmured, licking his lips as the giant opened his breeches and pushed them down his ass.
Lyon went still and Ephraim paled considerably; a monstrous cock twitched malevolently, hard and girthy, glistening with thick precum trailing down the bulbous head. The Grado prince, especially, began to squirm, panicking in place of Ephraim as the frozen prince simply allowed the giant to spread his legs wide apart, and angled his ridiculous length right along his entrance. Ephraim’s resistance came and went almost immediately, the prince first shaking his head and thrashing a bit before stopping dead at the sight of Lyon pushed down in the mud.
Their eyes met, Lyon’s already wet with tears and the distraught paleness of Ephraim’s. But then, the Grado prince shut his eyes in a silent defeat and lulled his head against the giant’s chest; he was lowered down against the throbbing head.
The giant licked the prince’s face with a feral grin and then forced the pliant body down against his giant cock. And Lyon watched, the heat in his stomach growing and growing with an unwanted sensation as he stared at the visible transformation on Ephraim’s face—from defeated calm twisted up into a wide-eyed, breathless cry. The Renais prince’s pupils blown over and he went so deadly still as his body was fully speared on the giant bandit’s excited length.
A faint shape of a cock bulged against his stomach and Ephraim threw his head back to a withering cry, his thighs quaking violently in the bandit’s iron grip. His chest rose and fell with every shuddering breath as his hands uselessly pawed at the giant’s powerful forearms.
“That’s right, bitch. Scream! Scream your head off! It just makes my cock harder,” the hulking bandit uttered deeply in Ephraim’s ears as he began to bounce the smaller body down on his length, sending wet, filthy noises to the possessed crowd who began to ready themselves by stroking their own members viciously. “So fucking tight. I’m going to shape your guts until you go cock-hungry, little royal slut. Take this!”
The Renais prince quivered while being viciously pounded in the ass, his walls fluttering tightly around the monstrous cock with the unwanted heat swirling in his loins throbbing painfully. The bulbous head curled up, brushing against his prostate so mercilessly that Ephraim came prematurely a few times, screaming out as his cum sprayed all over the mud.
He opened his eyes, blinking away the madness momentarily as he caught Lyon’s gaze from afar. The Grado heir was still pressed to the ground, the head bandit watching Ephraim’s rape with a crazed, intense look.
Lyon, on the other hand—his expression was unreadable. Neither grief or mourning or defeat. It was a look that suddenly made Ephraim scared and he opened his mouth to say something until the giant’s grip holding his thighs apart tightened.
“Look at you,” the man hissed in his ear with an animalistic laugh and began to brutally slam his hips up into that tight, wet hole, setting a violent, relentless pace. Ephraim’s eyes rolled on the back of his skull and he let his tongue out, moaning shamelessly. “The famed warrior prince of Renais? All I see is a common whore—not with a hole this tight. No, you were meant to be fucked.”
“N-No, please—”
It all died on a whorish moan. The man holding him was fucking him so hard, pounding right into his prostate that Ephraim only saw flashing lights as he came again. Saliva drooled down his loose tongue, which hung from an open mouth, and his hands clung desperate onto the bandit’s muscular forearms. His chest was so tight, Ephraim wondered if he was going to explode, but instead, he kept moaning and gasping every time he was split apart by the thick length.
The prince’s mind was millions of miles away.
Lyon was watching. He could not move—always too weak to move, and watched with a long, eerily emotionless stare. His body was cold and still and gave no reaction when the leader’s heel dug deeper against his head and the cruel, laughing voice came back to mock him.
“Isn’t he a sight? So goddamn strong and beautiful. Oh, he’ll make a wonderful whore for us,” he said with a sharp smile. “I can see it in your eyes—have some feelings for the prince? Shame you can’t do anything about it. You always were a weak, useless royal. At least Ephraim can fight—now he’s ours.”
“Shit, he’s so fucking tight,” the giant gasped breathlessly. He lurched his head back, pressing Ephraim’s fucked form against his chest as his movements suddenly became desperate and eccentric with the thick girth of his cock thrusts in and out of his abused hole. “I’m close. I’m so fucking close!”
Ephraim, already at a loss of words, begged with a slurred tone and moaned out as pounding came jagged and out of sync. The hulking bandit gripped his hips and angled the warrior prince down until he was fucking him forward—transforming the royal into a living cock sleeve. The angle directly allowed the rapist’s cock to fuck against that sweet spot and Ephraim screamed out, with rare tears running down his face.
“N-No more! N-No, I can’t take it anymore!” The prince cried out, half laughing as he was being violently rocked back and forth into the man’s length. The drool from his open mouth trickled down his chin as his back arched beautifully—how his legs numb from the suspension.
The bandit holding him gave a sinister grin and veins bulged all through his powerful arms as he began to violently chase his pleasure. “As you wish,” he whispered in Ephraim’s ear and then, gave one final last thrust as he slammed his hops all the way in and bottomed out violently with a mighty roar.
Ephraim’s eyes rolled back around his head and he screamed, shivering from being utterly filled out with his guts painted white. There was so much spent that it bulged against his stomach and shot out of his ass, coating the bandit’s cock white as he pulled out of that abused, leaking hole. The prince quivered uncontrollably as he was dropped back down to the ground.
The hulking man stepped back, heaving excitedly, and turned to his brothers with a wide, sweeping gesture.
“The royal bitch is all warmed up. Have at him!”
Almost immediately, the crowd descended upon the mind-fucked prince; the leader gave a loud, boisterous laugh, yanked Lyon’s limp body up on his shaky knees and forced the Grado prince’s head right at the terrifying sight before him.
Ephraim—brave, strong, beautiful Ephraim, was caught in the middle of a violent pile of enlarged cocks slapping his body lewdly with their girths as rough hands held his arms and legs down. Bodies upon bodies fucked the poor prince on all ends, his mouth stuffed full a length as two powerful warriors slammed their thick cocks into his tight, cum-soaked hole.
A few bandits gripped the prince’s own weeping member, stroking with a laugh as the other slapped their lengths teasingly against his nipples.
They moved as one, jerking and pounding and stroking, and Ephraim took it all with his eyes white and unseeing. Someone roared, cumming down the prince’s throat and spraying all over his broken face; the bandit pulled away and another replaced with an even larger length, giving Ephraim no chance to breath as his mouth was being fucked once more
“Fuck, this one really was born to be nothing than a hole!” One of the bandits cried out before burying his girth deep inside the prince and emptying out, his seed joining his friend’s from earlier. Ephraim shuddered, moaning whorishly around the cock stuffed in his mouth, and went limp as another bandit slotted between his legs with another brutal fuck.
Lyon said nothing. Utterly nothing. The leader arched his brow, leaned down and caught the low mantra of something dark and sinister leaving the fragile prince’s lips—something close to a curse seeping out and slipping into the heavy air. Suddenly, Lyon was pulled back before being slammed back down in the mud, the thin prince choking on the rain and mud.
“Have something smart to say?” The leader growled, his eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Admit it—you wish you were fucking the Renais boy right now! But you’re too fucking weak. Always was a straggler. But worry not—I’ll take real good care of your knight in shining armor for you.”
Then, the leader’s harsh grip left Lyon’s hair and the shivering prince lifted his head up, suddenly snapped from his state. He reached out, begging with a choke as the bandit waltzed right over to the gangbang. Ephraim was fucked out of his mind, stuffed and covered in everyone’s seed from both ends as the prince moaned lewdly around the cock that was shoved down his sore throat.
Upon the sight of their leader approaching them, the rest of the bandits slowly dispersed, leaving Ephraim limp on the ground in a pile of spent, blood, and rainwater. The prince’s eyes were so far away and foggy that he appeared like some discarded doll and he did not move, even as the leader bent down and picked him up.
He went limp in those arms, teetering between extremely loose consciousness and pure unconsciousness as he was slotted down with ease on the leader’s hardened length. The head bandit hissed in his ear before nibbling on the earlobe; his hand reached over his stained chest and tweaked his reddened nipple, pulling and flicking until the broken prince let out a mechanical moan.
The leader began to bounce the limp doll on his lap, facing inches away from Lyon’s horrified, white face. The feeling was back—this dark insurgence within the Grado heir that ushered him to thoughts so far beneath him, sinister and malevolent.
“Fuck, you boys made this one too loose. I don’t even think he can feel a thing anymore,” the bandit said with a derisive chuckle as he slammed his hips into that pliant, filthy body.
Lewd, moist noises of cum being fucked back into Ephraim’s hole filled the air and the prince kept moaning, letting out short gasps with uncharacteristic begs along the way here.
“Such a good slut. Look how eager you are for my cock.” The bandit forced two fingers into Ephraim’s mouth and he sucked instinctively, moaning and tonguing the thick digits. “So well trained too. And here I thought we would have to break you properly. You were waiting for a day like this, weren’t you, Prince E-p-h-r-a-i-m?”
“Stop! Please, he’s had enough!” Lyon cried out, shaking his head back and forth as he tried to crawl forward. But his wounds were too great and he collapsed back down in the mud, trembling like a wet dog.
“Ah-hah. Not yet. I still had yet to fully taste your love,” the leader said, grinning white, and turned back to Ephraim whose body laid limp against his.
His gloved hand roughly grabbed the prince’s wet chin and gently forced his head to the side. The bandit leader eyed Lyon with dark glee, as the Grado prince stared with pure, dark eyes from the mud. And then, with a malevolent smile, he slipped his tongue in Ephraim’s open mouth and kissed him with a tight groan.
Ephraim moaned back, his white eyes fluttering like the takeoff of a bird’s wing, before shutting completely and melting into the kiss.
Lyon stopped breathing. The small, dull flame inside of him exploded; his body trembled, overwhelmed by a painful heat he could not control or make sense of. Everything hurts. Everything stung. His head was soaring somewhere far and distant and remote.
And just like that. He could not make sense of his own body anymore.
It was all but gone.
_______________________
Lyon, you’re so small. And skinny. You need to eat more so you don’t faint!
Ephraim, you know I won’t be as strong as you...no matter what I do.
You’re worried about that? Lyon, you’re plenty strong!
Nonsense.
No, really. Think about it. You’re so smart and basically know everything. You read and practice magic all the time while I can barely make a flame. You’re the one who warns me on what mushrooms are poisonous so I don’t get sick. And you taught me everything about history—about Renais, Grado, about the five heroes and sacred stones. Without you, I would have just ran straight into danger and died a long time ago,
Ephraim, don’t say that!
But it’s true. You’re so smart—you’re the brain and I’m the body. You’ll think for us; I’ll fight for us.
What about Innes?
He’s the mouth because he doesn’t ever shut up. But you...I don’t mind hearing you talk all day. And I will protect you for as long as we’re together. So please, eat and take care of yourself.
Ephraim...Ephraim, I….I
Yes?
I lo—
_______________________
love him?
If you love him, you must be stronger than this.
Yes...I will lend you my strength for now. But know this, human. I will return...and collect the debt.
Now go.
_______________________
When Ephraim woke up, he was staring up at a cloudless, colorless sky.
He was somewhere else mentally for he could not feel his body. He could not feel a thing save for someone caressing his head like an attentive mother. When the prince blinked his vision back in place, he carefully craned his neck up, peering up and over at a familiar face.
Lyon smiled back at him, the fragile prince of Grado appearing healthy and flushed than what the pale sickness that had taken him earlier. In fact, Lyon looked so free and happy, it brought a small relief to Ephraim’s heart. The two princes stared at each other as Lyon’s warm hand cupped Ephraim’s cheek, squeezing affectionately.
“W-What...what happened?” Ephraim finally asked. His voice came out incredibly hoarse as though he were undergoing a severe cold. His throat even stung a bit and he winced.
“You were having a bad dream, Eph. Meanwhile, the storm got so bad that it washed everyone away.”
“A-Are you okay?”
“Me? Oh, I’m fine! But I think you caught my cold.” Lyon’s thumb rubbed Ephraim’s bruised lips gently as a sad, far-away smile slit across his beautiful face. “But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you. And I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever.”
The voice inside Lyon laughed—this hollow, inhuman sound that sent cold waves throughout the Grado prince’s skin. Suddenly, he left like a stranger in his own body, as though he no longer had any full control over it. Despite this detachment, Lyon felt no fear.
Ephraim watched him with a soft gaze and a lazy smile before he sighed and fell back asleep. They were resting near the capital, miles away from the burial grounds of Lyon’s rage. No doubt the bones would be picked clean by now for he left when the vultures flew overhead.
And none of it mattered not. For as long as he was Ephraim, he would give up everything.
His body. His soul. His humanity. All for the shining light of his life.
Lyon leaned down, whispering a confession that would never come, and pressed his lips to Ephraim’s with a smile. His heart was beating violently of a thousand drums as the voice in his head laughed and laughed and laughed.
Oh, you poor love sick fool.