Chaos

You Taste Like New Flesh

He wasn’t raised to be a predator. But he was prey that fought back. Zeffeero wasn’t helpless. If anything, he considers himself the opposite. The former Empress raised him well to defend himself along with her own daughters.

A gesture she did not have to make, to take in a young boy deprived of his birth mother and a god of a father that wouldn’t even bless him enough with the presence. Yet, he learned not to care.

His sisters were kind. They always tried to reach him. But almost every time, Zeffeero would crawl away before they could get any closer. Deep down, he felt something burning in his chest, against the current of his cold heart. A ripple in a still lake. A desire for more than he had.

And he took the risk without thinking of consequence. And his mother no longer called him son. And his sisters no longer call him brother. He didn’t think she would die, it was not his intention. But it didn’t change what he had done. After all that was provided to him, in his efforts to obtain more, he just lost all he had in the process of trying.

Zeffeero refuses defeat. If he lost a family then he will get the power he damn well deserved for his selfish actions and sacrifice. Forever will he refuse that it was the wrong choice, or admit to wrong. And his eldest sister cast him out, no longer Prince, and no longer safe from the jaws of predators.

Reiko was brought up a predator. Never falling to become prey. Havik learned to parry those who prayed on him and learned to bite back. The hunted became the hunter. And the two intertwined, sickly devouring each other. Couldn’t get enough. Hurt and tore at flesh, never close enough. Between their bared fangs and sharp claws, nothing was gentle, love was violent. But they were violent creatures, and that’s how they loved.

Zeffeero didn’t love like a predator. Not initially. An elk in the clearing, grazing peacefully. No herd in sight. Left alone, abandoned, vulnerable. But no elk was without his antlers. Yet, it wouldn’t stop the wolves from coming.

Two wolves, bloodied with the fluids of each other. They left their pack, and found within where they wandered together, tearing each other apart, a warm body. Dangerous yet alone. Prey to devour.

And the wolves circled the elk. Their maws agape and their tongues lolling between cracked fangs.

And then, Zeffeero learned how to use his antlers. Instead of soft nuzzles and the loving embrace of a mother, he felt teeth sink into his flesh, nails gripping his chest, hands around his throat and rough wrestling between sheets. Soft touches limited. All he felt was stinging pain as the two wolves devoured him. And he grew fangs to bite back.

One would be sick to call it love. Zeffeero wanted to refuse it. It had hurt, his body scarred and mauled. But it felt nice. A contrast to what he was given. And it was something. Havik and Reiko had no intentions of releasing their elk.

The three became possessive. Just because it was rare doesn’t mean it never happened. A night alone where they hid in a rough abode. Planning their uprising. Among the bed they shared, all three heavily gasping for breath, and no longer had the strength to tear or bite. And it was dormant.

Havik had laid himself against Zeffeero’s left shoulder, his arm over his chest. A scarred face against his skin accompanied with faint rugged breaths. The mage had his head against Reiko’s lap, he felt usually bloody nails and rough hands run through his hair, not gripping, no pulling. A gentle touch, as if handling something delicate. No one spoke, there was no need. There will be no violence tonight. Their jaws ached, there will be no biting.

The mage felt his muscles loosen, a hand slipped up against the back of Havik’s head, a light pull to press their bodies impossibly closer and a slight arch in his back for the hand against his own scalp, almost yearning for more contact. This was the love he knew. It was gentle. He didn’t exactly miss it, but it was familiar. Confusing, even. That all mutually agreed they were tired of tearing, tired of being bitten. Ripping each other open had no front here right now. Later it might, down the lane the cycle will continue. But once every rare moment, by themselves, all were quiet. All was bliss.

Zeffeero let his eyes close, inhaling slowly. Havik was slowly becoming more slack against his chest. Reiko’s free hand moved and his fingertips traced the rough scarring and bone of a burned face, his hair down and over his eyes as he leaned over, watching his own hand traverse softly across the features of the two men. Eyes wide but expression unreadable. As if confused by his own actions but made no motion to try and stop himself. Observing outside of his body. All such unfamiliar territory. Gestures such as these were never commonly shared, if not at all for the soldier. Even as a boy, he was strictly disciplined, his only reward for success was keeping his life.

But there was no consequence in the moment. There was no fear of one of them or both of them leaving, because Reiko wouldn’t allow it. Just as Havik would cage him like a bird if he flew too far, or how Zeffeero would pull him under the current if he tried swimming the other direction. Reiko’s hands trailed down from the hydromancer’s face to the base of his neck and the span of his bare chest, his other hand against Havik rubbing against his back in the space between his shoulders, knowing which scars were inflicted by him on their bodies and running over them once more in a practiced motion, but not to reopen this time.

This bond was a rush of adrenaline or an influx of fatigue. Even if pain were afflicted, it was enjoyable when muscles tensed and relaxed after every bite and relishing in the sores after. It was usually Reiko and Havik that stayed behind with each other in a bed. Zeffeero would usually be the first to slip away and relish in his own sores on his own, but was never far. It was a matter of preference, but that didn’t mean when the mage did stay they took it for granted. Even when half asleep, Havik was over half way on top of Zeffeero, an arm wrapped under his arm and gripping from under his shoulder with his chest against the other. Reiko silently watched as he saw the scarred man drift and his head fell lower against Zeffeero’s shoulder and the crook of it, feeling a slight arch of his back into his hand, Reiko responding in kind, as his breaths slowed. When the soldier looked back at Zeffero on his lap, his eyes were closed, but only in light sleep. Reiko trailed his hand back up from the mage’s chest from where it came back to his face, running against the side of his face and lightly pulling his head closer, turning it to the side against him. And Zeffeero didn’t stop it, if anything he leaned into it, shifting ever so slightly as much as he could with Havik and his tight embrace against him.