All Soul can manage now is stuttering out Crona's name, over and over, scattered moans. He ain't gonna ever be able to look at that piano the same way again, and maybe that's what the other boy means to caus, but he don't really care about -motivations- anymore.

He wraps one arm around Crona's waist, trying to help the speed even faster, while the other's in the guy's hair, trying to encourage a harder bite. Jesus christ, this is --