Malachi was fast, but Arthur moved faster.

They were even closer than before. Too close. He could feel Arthur’s breath between them, and knew his own could be felt the same. As far back as he pressed against the door, the doctor was right there, looking up at him.

His heart skipped a beat.

Wordlessly, the priest raised a hand. His thumb gently traced along the line he’d made in Arthur’s neck, nail pressing lightly into the recovering flesh. From one side of it to the other, his touch dragged; inspecting, admiring, admonishing.

“You would like that far too much,” he murmured, lifting his eyes back to the doctor’s face.

“Are you that ready to end things so soon?”