The Medicine Seller's own smiles were usually sharp, thin, and chilly affairs. But with Arthur, they are warmer, softening his gaze as he admired the other man before leaning in to claim his lips in a fierce and hungry kiss.

He didn't linger though, dragging his teeth along the man's bottom lip, moving on to nip along his chin and neck before settling at that soft spot at the juncture of his throat and shoulder, and clamped his jaws down firmly, just shy of drawing blood and sucked a bruise onto the skin.

There were many marks on Arthur's body; echoes of past hurts. He wanted to leave his own (albeit far less permanent) marks; a reminder of pleasure. It seemed only a good thing that he would have to renew them every once in a while.