"Well definitely not fun for me," Conor countered. "I'm quite keen on living, you know. And not that you'd probably care, but I imagine Management might be cross." And maybe one or two others, but Conor was used to counting the people who gave a damn about him on one hand.
He reached down between their bodies, taking hold of Byron and stroking him. They had to look like a scene out of a horror movie-naked, covered in blood, sporting cuts and bite marks. Conor's darkness had risen to the surface, thrilled to be let out after being contained for so long. It wasn't much compared to Byron's, of course, but it was there and making itself known. Conor couldn't even mind.