The words would have been an insult coming from anyone else.  The words should have been an insult, but they were said to one Arthur Adams, who never claimed to be anything but sick his entire life.

"Just over your body," he whispered.  "That's all I want."

Under his shirt, his shoulder continued to ooze.  The blood slowly spread over his white shirt, and he could feel it dripping down his back.

Malachi was so close.  He was so tempted to lean in and close the distance between them, bite and bruise those lips anew, but he wanted an agreement first.  He wanted Malachi to admit that Arthur was right, that he was depraved, that he was a liar and a whore and that he was disgusting, just like Arthur had said he was, and he wanted Malachi to admit that he liked it.

"I'd like very much to devour you, every inch of you.  And in return, you can devour me, too."