Proko's mouth is a terrible vice, a tease, a black pool of desire. Jiang chases for a moment, though he gives enough space for Proko to haul himself into the back seat. He watches him, his pot-fluid movements, his bony legs.

He follows after him and, when he's near enough, in the dark of his backseat, he kisses Illya Prokopenko like he could sink into his soul, deep and filthy and a little possessive.