magicalglowstick | Ryslig Inbox

[ Bright pinpricks of pain lance up from the small of his back, above his hip, making him grunt into Fenris's mouth— But not more than that. The sensation is almost...dulled, a calculating and rational corner of Rafe's mind pointing out that it ought to hurt more and wondering why it doesn't. Another side effect of the transformation? Deadened nerves to match a deadened body?

A thought that Rafe immediately shoves away, a willful refusal as he squeezes tighter and kisses harder and chases after every other sensation he knows he can feel, has to feel just the same as he did before, won't allow this to be taken from him again now that he's gotten hold of it. Even as Fenris leans closer for that press and ends up, yes, with that size and momentum leading him to indeed pin Rafe against the wall, it's all more sensation for him to cling to.

Better to focus on every inch of contact and the heat scorching off of Fenris's scales, the simple annoyance at the realized lack of leverage, of control due to this blue idiot's damn height. ]

[Heat builds up inside of Fenris's gut, which is normal enough, but it becomes so intense he finds himself a little too aware of it. It doesn't stop him from dragging his claws up Rafe's sides, or continuing to press his body against Rafe's until he's up against the wall, but after a moment he has to pull back for air — a strong huff escaping his lips but mostly through his nose — oddly hot air, funnily enough.

Fenris's chest heaves and his green eyes fleck with bits of blue glow like his markings. It's then when one of his hands change course and he hooks a long claw on to the hem of Rafe's pants, tugging him forward as he walks back towards...well, he has no bed. But he wants to get comfortable. A pile of soft things on the floor is good enough, right? Right.]

[ Again, the sensation that isn't— Rafe can feel the skin tearing beneath those talons, thinks he can even hear it shred past the... the lack of blood rushing in his ears. No. No, no, not that, focus on something else. Fenris's weight pushes him backward, up, no practically about it because he's on his tiptoes like some schlocky made-for-TV romcom. The indignation at that thought is as good as anything else to carry him through the haze of wrong that kicks in at the worst time.

Which means he has the wherewithal to bite down on Fenris's lip as hard as possible as he pulls away, bright white teeth adding to the abuse suffered by his own fangs. (Much better than getting caught in the stark contrast of Fenris panting like a furnace bellows and himself who's— not.) But he releases once he realizes where Fenris is set to go. ]

About fucking time,

[ Rafe mutters darkly, but sure as hell not unhappy. In fact, he plants a hand square against Fenris's chest to nudge him along faster and then shove him down into the jumble of whatever shit he's made this nest out of.

Yeah. Definitely need to get a bed up here.

His hands twitch towards his shirt but then. Stop. Habit had Rafe ready to yank his shirt up and off, have it out of the way now rather than be a hindrance later, but...but that was before. No. No reason it can't stay on a while longer. To cover the hesitation (barely half a minute but still) he quickly follows Fenris down, straddling him in one easy motion before getting back to that kiss. ]

[That bite earns a grunt, but other than that Fenris's only reaction is for his tongue to slide out and swipe at the blood returning from his previous self inflicted bite. He's far more focused on keeping the pace Rafe sets as he nudges him closer towards the "bed". When he's shoved his heart pounds wildly as if behind him wasn't a mess of blankets and pillows but a cliff face or a pit of snakes.

The moment of genuine fear takes him aback some, but he pushes it away, at most looking more surprised by the shove. He forces his mind to quickly move on and focus on the moment. He wants to grab at Rafe's shirt, barely noticing the hesitation (he doesn't even notice the torn flesh under his claws), and takes the opportunity when his partner is back on top of him to grab at Rafe's shirt to get it off.]

[ It doesn't take much to make it happen— Fenris had already torn up the sides in his earlier excitement and even if he hadn't? It's simple cotton against monstrous strength. Rafe is soon left with nothing but what cloth hangs from his back and the only consolation is how dim Fenris keeps it up here. True, there's the glow from all those tattoos but the blue and the shadows combine for gentler illumination than they might otherwise have: what necrotic skin still clinging on is only barely distinguishable from the darker dermis beneath it.

He sits up again, a palm splayed against Fenris's chest as his shoulders curl in on himself in some half-assed attempt to... To hide. Fuck. His eyes flicker down at himself, jaw clenching against embarrassment before cold implacable logic creeps to the fore. Fenris had said this was what he wanted, hadn't he. May as well let him see the whole of what he's signing up for.

But all the rationality in the world is enough to make him sit up and put it on display so instead he remains as he is. Hunched over on top of a crystalline croc in severe need of a manicure, still expecting Fenris to come to his senses. ]

You're going to be hell on my wardrobe.

[ Course it'll take more than that for him to stop running his mouth. Or to stop from rolling his hips down in a rough and filthy grind against Fenris's crotch. If he's told to get off, he'll get off but until then he's here. ]

[His heart pounds against his chest again. Not from excitement but something else — he ignores it of course, being far too used to his mind trying to psyche him out or hold him back. He spent years ignoring his gut and listening only to what others told him, so it's not a difficult feat to push these thoughts away.

Luckily Rafe gives Fenris something else to think about when he rolls their hips together. He sucks in a breath, this time feeling a more familiar heat as opposed to the one that makes his scales warm to the touch. His fangs bare and he yet again greedily decides he hasn't had enough. Rafe is hunching over him and the room is barely lit, he can't see enough. His eyes are alight with both glow and hunger (not that kind of hunger, thankfully) as he attempts to sit up — not to push Rafe off of him, but just to get closer. To see more. To take in his body, uncaring about whatever it has become. He's not sure when he stopped caring about the gruesome appearance of an undead. Sloughing skin, gaunt features, eerily stillness from a lack of a need to breathe...all of those things should bother him. But somewhere along the line Fenris stopped caring.

Or maybe because he started, and therein lies the crux of his undead blindness? The reason he can look at Rafe now like he wasn't turning into a monster. The reason Fenris feels more like he is the one who would be self conscious about his descent into beasthood. Because he has spent his entire life around people who didn't see him as a person but an animal, and now that was coming true, and it fills him with an odd sense of shame. A shame Rafe hasn't once made him feel. Maybe that's why he can reach desperately for his partner without a second thought as he tries to rise and get closer.]

[ Fenris rears up like a striking cobra, causing Rafe to sit back heavily in his lap only partly to keep his balance. Much more than that is the surprise that leaves him reeling because while Fenris hasn't shown one ounce of hesitation since first laying hands on him, it's still impossible to wrap his head around. He's spent three months staring down his reflection in disgust, itching to peel off his skin until he found himself again, yet here Fenris is. Eager. Hungry. Barely able to keep his claws off of him.

It doesn't make sense and the disconnect leaves him staring in blank surprise before again, that clenched jaw, that determination sharpens his features. He can dissect this all later, tear it apart and piece it back together in a way that he can but right now—

Control. He's had almost none since washing up in this place; now that he's faced with an opportunity for it, he won't let it slip through his fingers. It's as heady a sensation as anything physical and he chases headlong after it, one hand curling at the nape of Fenris's neck to pull him into another demanding kiss while he continues that unforgiving grind. ]

[Fenris feels a wave of relief wash over him when the fear abates and gratification moves in. His legs instinctively wrap around Rafe's waist like a lifeline, mouth opening to invite the demanding kiss — and it's the feel of that demand that makes his heart skip a few beats while his body responds like an eruption from the aggressive friction. It's good. It feels good. The way Rafe's hand curls around the back of his neck like he needs this kiss, and the way their hips desperately press together—

—his heart doesn't stop pounding. It almost hurts. It feels so familiar and he wants to yell at himself, at his mind, to not do this now. But he can't stop the flashes from coming; memories from the past, once buried, choosing now to resurface as a reminder that Fenris is a broken, unworthy, mess of a man. His arms which had wrapped around Rafe to hold onto go rigid, as well as his legs, his body stiffening as he tries to will these thoughts away. Instinctively, he focuses on continuing, not wanting to ruin a moment he's not sure he'll get back. He counteracts the images flooding in his mind with Rafe, with what they're doing, with any and everything leading up to this point, even.

As is habit, he deals with it.]

[ Even without the hyperawareness, the overanalyzing scrutiny of every little detail and what it could mean and how to react, it'd be pretty goddamn difficult to miss the sudden shift in Fenris's everything. Rafe lets the kiss ride another moment before withdrawing, leaning back best he's able considering the rigor mortis hold keeping him in place.

In a way, it's a relief. A return to the order Rafe has come to understand here in Ryslig. Fenris had a good run, kept up the act a fair while but there's only so far a dry spell's desperation could take him when he's staring down a dead body in his bed. ...Nest. Whatever. ]

Thought I made it clear. [ His expression is closed off, eyes hard and words clipped and casual. ] If you're not into it, you're not into it.

[Exactly what Fenris had feared happening...happened. When Rafe pulls away from the kiss it takes Fenris a moment to catch up his mind with what's happening, even Rafe's words seem distant when they leave his lips, despite their proximity.]

Wh...why did you stop? [He's breathless but he tries not to show it, tries to control his voice and even it out the best he can. His gaze lowers and he tightens his hold on Rafe again, ignoring this assertation that he wasn't into it and focusing more on the fact that he clearly made Rafe unhappy.] Please, just keep going.

[ Fenris trails after him for half a beat and Rafe plants his palm square on his chest to keep him right where he is, his own undead chill warring against Fenris's scaled heat and sending up the barest tendrils of steam as a result. ]

I stopped because you're locking up like a tetanus shot and I'm sure as shit not about to keep going with that kind of participation.

[ He squares his shoulders for the inevitable. ]

So this is where you speak up and say what the issue is.

[ And finally proves Rafe right. ]

[The panic doesn't necessarily subside — lessens maybe, but it doesn't go away. His fear now just moved from one issue to another...he disappointed Rafe. He upset him. The cold hand on his chest tells him that much, and his markings subtly pulse for a moment in shame. He still can't meet Rafe's gaze, though he graduates from staring down at his chest to up more...around his mouth, not quite able to make it further.]

I'm sorry. [It's a hushed apology, like someone could hear them. He only manages to meet Rafe's gaze again when he tries to press forward, against his hand, signaling that he was ready. It's fine. Just give him another chance. Don't be mad.] I've been awaiting this moment and I'm...ruining it. But I'm fine now, I swear it.

Not what I'm asking.

[ As if Fenris doesn't know better by now that once Rafe has zeroed in on something, he won't be deterred. Temporarily deferred, maybe— the slightest kind of maybe —but it's never put aside.

Which is why he doesn't budge in spite of Fenris's pleas or pushes, why he doesn't let his gaze waver for a moment through Fenris's meandering route to meet it.]

Why weren't you fine a minute ago.

[He does know Rafe is an insistent bastard, and that's why the panic returns to him.]

As I said...it won't happen again, so it doesn't matter. Just drop this...please.

[But even as the words come out of his mouth in a strained plea he knows Rafe isn't just going to let it go. He's stuck between detangling himself and crawling into a hole and just sitting perfectly still until he literally turns into a statue and Rafe stops trying to talk to him about this — naturally the latter is the easiest option.]

Quit dodging the question.

[ Easiest, sure, but it hinges on both parties allowing it to happen and again. Fenris knows better.

The last thing Rafe wants right now is for Fenris to try and force the action again, a physical distraction to placate him and put him off, so instead of simply holding him off... Now he presses forward, forcing Fenris flat on his back and bracing his forearm across his chest to keep him there. It's not a move that would usually work, not with Fenris's clear advantage in sheer size and muscle, but with the way he'd latched onto Rafe it's a simple matter of leverage. And now? There's nowhere to go without answering Rafe — short of bodily tossing him out the bed. ]

[Something comes out of Fenris's mouth — a sound that was probably meant to be a word — cut off by the sudden movement of him being shoved onto his back, the forearm across his chest feeling as if it was going to crush his ribcage, and if he could think clearly he would realize it has nothing to do with the pressure Rafe is putting on him and everything to do with his body trying to shut everything down so he doesn't have to deal with this. His chest only continues to tighten until he's forced to breath heavy, shallow, breaths.

His gaze slowly shifts, almost looking as if they're going to roll to the back of his head, but really just settling anywhere but directly on Rafe. While his body momentarily tenses in its struggle after a moment he just goes limp, clears his mind, and hopes Rafe gets pissed off enough that he realizes it's useless dealing with Fenris right now and leaves.]

[ Rafe's eyes are still narrowed but now it's less confrontation, more confusion tinged with some concern as he watches Fenris twitch and slump beneath him. That is... What?

The knowledge of his own repulsiveness is still fixed in his head, unshakeable, undeniable, but Fenris's reaction isn't repulsion. Isn't disgust. What it looks like a case of physical shock and yeah, Rafe is gross as hell, but to that kind of extreme?

(Shit, he hopes not.) ]

Fen. Fenris!

[ He shifts his weight to his knees, easing the pressure on his chest until it's a point of balance rather than support. Makes it possible to release his hold on the back of Fenris's neck and use that hand to lightly smack his cheek. Cheap attempt to snap him back from wherever the hell he's gone to inside his head. ]

[Fenris doesn't have many memories of his youth, but he can almost see it clear as day right now. He can feel the sting on his face, his cheek left red, his head snapped to the side, eyes wide. The reprimand whispers into his ear, stern and dangerous, and Fenris swallows his anger the best he can — but it's not enough.

His teeth clench together and his arm raises...he remembers how many times he stared at the cheese knife on the side table, how he wanted to grab it — he never had the nerve to turn it on Danarius but he almost feels like he has the courage now.

His claws go right for Rafe's shoulder, digs in and pushes, trying desperately to give himself some space...time...a moment of defiance even if he'll pay for it later. His eyes are wide and they glow, a lot of good it does now, but somewhere else in his mind he's reaching inside, twisting and clawing, clenching and tearing muscle.]

[ It isn't just in Fenris's mind. His new claws are sharper than his gauntlets, sink into dead flesh even more readily than if it were living. Earlier, Rafe had panicked at the lack of pain when those same claws shredded at his skin; that's no longer an issue as pain blooms and he can feel talons scrape along his collarbone worse than nails on a chalkboard. ]

Shit!

[ Fenris put enough force behind the strike to shove him away— And it might've worked... if he weren't caught on those claws. Instead he's left jostled and half-dangling at arm's length, dully dead fingernails uselessly scrabbling at Fenris's scaled arm to get off— no, out —of him as he beads of brackish red water drip down his chest. ]

[Good. Good.

As soon as his claws sink into flesh Fenris feels better, safer, even if he knows he'll pay for it later. Unfortunately, that means his mind and body have done its job in protecting him, and so he slowly returns to the present. The screaming magister fades away and the hard, cold, surface of marbled flooring becomes soft like pillows and blankets—]

...Rafe.

[Rafe.

A horrified gasp escapes Fenris as he yanks his claws out of Rafe's shoulder, beads of the dark water rolling down his arm. The realization of what just happened hits him hard, fills him with regret and frustration, guilt...he fucked up.]

I'm sorry — I didn't—

[ Rafe bites down on another yell as those claws rip away, hand immediately up and pressing on the wound to staunch the—

That's not blood. Christ. Fuck. No, no, not now—

He sucks in an unnecessary breath to push through the pain and the flinchingly familiar unmoored sensation of being a stranger in his own skin. Assess. Prioritize. Act. All doable. ]

You're back. Good. [ The words are grit out behind clenched teeth as he methodically picks himself up off Fenris's legs to better sit on the next nearest bit of nest. ] The shirt should be around somewhere.

[ Talking, apologies, explanations, all of that can come later once they've got something wrapped around his shoulder to catch...whatever is leaking out of him. ]

[Fenris is back, but his reaction time is a touch delayed, eyes still wide and posture so tightly wound he shakes. But once Rafe's words finally reach him, Fenris shakily crawls over to Rafe's shirt and grabs it — it's already torn, at least, so that'll make wrapping it around his shoulder move a little quicker.

Speaking of, he's going to go do just that, seeing as how it's probably easier than Rafe doing it himself. Though he shows a mild bit of hesitance, expecting Rafe to push him away, and he wouldn't blame him. But he wants to help fix the mess he just caused.]

[ That hesitation earns a hissed huff of a sound, his usual smirk straining round the edges. ]

If you're expecting an engraved invitation... You'll be waiting a while. Calligraphy's kind of weak right now.

[ Translation: hurry the fuck up already. God. He swears he can even smell a difference in whatever the hell is leaking out of him. ]

[Okay, he's not telling him to fuck off. That's...good. But his penchant for being injured and making terrible jokes is yet again familiar and comforting in the most upsetting way — but setting that aside he tears a little more at the shirt to make it easier to wrap Rafe's shoulder up...to which he tries to do carefully, given his claws and everything.

He tries to ignore the dark water dripping down both of them now.]

I wasn't thinking — I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.

I'd hope not. Christ knows you've had plenty shots already without resorting to all this.

[ As if Fenris were the type to lay low that long waiting for an opportunity rather than making one for himself. It's part of what makes them a balanced pair, a solid partnership, Rafe's ability to wait out the long con tempering his brash into-the-fray mentality.

Once the bandages start winding around his shoulder, once Rafe knows it's being taken care of, it's easier to place the pain into its own box and put it aside. Still there, still throbs in time with a heartbeat he no longer has, but manageable. Minimal. He reaches for another scrap of cloth to blot up what's...splashed down his front. While he's glancing down at himself, he tacks on in that same casually strained tone what may well be another joke from how lightly he says it, how unimportant it is that he can say it off the cuff without meeting Fenris's eyes. ]

For a second there, thought you were having a, uh. Rather extreme case of buyer's remorse.

[ He's guessed otherwise by now but. Haha. It's funny. Total joke. ]

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cw: body dysmorphia, skin horror, implications of past sexual/physical abuse, past slavery, ptsd

cw: body dysmorphia, skin horror, implications of past sexual/physical abuse, past slavery, ptsd