The dark heat of his lover's mouth stirs up a cauldron of heavy, bubbling liquid in his stomach. Lips soft and hard yield against the onslaught of his tongue in frantic groans and desperate whimpers. The world is at an end and he'd gladly close the gates of The Black City behind them if it meant an eternity wrapped in this man's embrace.

His hands find perch in rough bristled cheeks and he drinks the heady flavor of Duncan into his mouth – inhales the pungent aroma of leather and sweat as if it were a woman's sweet perfume.

"Duncan." he sighs in a heaving whisper sucking in the warriors bottom lip, his eyes clamped shut against the world so that it's just this moment, this instant branded in his memory.

He opens his eyes and the world drives a blade into his mind, splitting it open and insinuating itself into the present.

He looks down at the white fabric clutched in his hands, and squeezes it. His head falls back in a rage-filled primal howl which even the Maker cannot ignore. His shoulder sag and his body wracks with silent sobs as he tears a piece of the white cloth.

He weaves to his feet and lurches back to his horse, hands still clenched around the tiny bit of white.