The way Malachi ripped into his shoulder was worse than Arthur's own fingers.  He clenched his teeth against the pain, the agony, but it wasn't enough.  His head fell forward and onto Malachi, biting down on the other man's shoulder in retaliation, even as he didn't try to get his hand away.

"Fine," he growled around a mouthful of fabric and skin.  When he pulled away, he was surprised to feel wetness on his face - Arthur looked up to see is maybe Malachi's blood had dripped onto him, but he saw nothing.  He wiped his face and only then realized they were tears.

Tears!  Malachi had actually managed to make him cry.  A response to the pain, sure, but it was crying nonetheless.

How embarrassing.

"Fucking hell."  Arthur shook his head and kissed Malachi again, wrapping a hand around his neck.  Not hard enough to choke, not this time, but hard enough to let the other know he could.  His other hand, weaker every time he saw Malachi, pulled at his cassock.

"I want to see you," he said, "are my marks still there?  Let me see them, Malachi."