#mvjerbs

Ballister eyes shoot open, like the dead violently brought back as flashes of last night danced in his mind.

“Ambrosius-“ he sighed, feeling the cold air shift and the warm breath of his husband hot against his throat like a brand.

“Yes, Naekkeo?” Ambrosius nearly moaned the question, placing kisses along the other man’s collarbone. His hands traversing the still, stone cold form of his husband, mapping out his body to follow with his mouth.

“Last night-“ Ballister struggled to say, as if recollecting the horror from before, “Khavind, last night you were unhinged. You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me.” The dark man gasped as his husband’s hand ghosted over what was left of his right arm, playfully circling the stump as he traced his mouth from the collarbone to the lightened and raised skin there. Hot breath ghosting the flesh in worship, but Ballister doesn’t have much patience when he is wanting. His left hand griped the man’s hair, causing the blonde to moan in delight.

“Do it again, Khavind.” He said, with cold and loving authority. Relishing in the devilish grin that spread around his husband’s face.

“Naekkeo, you know what your voice does to me when you speak Urdu,” he purrs. Bringing his face close to his lover and inhaling the musk of fresh burials and hidden secrets. “I was meant to be yours, Ballister.”

“Hamain aik saath hona chahiye tha~” Ballister replies cheekily, groaning at the bruising kiss pressed by his husband as warm hands ravenously explore what was hidden under the blanket.

“Indeed we are, Naekeo,” Ambrosius growls in agreement, before words became a very small concern, and a pink child blearily wakes up to the sound of heavy creaking and screams.