#btw D and Ashrah re makingout bts

[tigorrrr]

𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗹𝗲 || prompt::casually putting a hand on the other's body

asked by @infinitnei

Ship(?): Diya & Baraka

Rated: fluff

Warnings: OOC?? Baraka gets soft here - i need my men like i need my coffee :: desperate for affection

           It has been too long since the Tarkatan desease. Excruciatingly long.

           Since Baraka lost everything he held dear, his family and his job, only a small colony of the infected is what made him to keep on living. His only purpose.

           Baraka himself kept any living thing far from him as possible if it can be helped, his reflexes tingling when one would be too close and their skins would connected.

           No one wanted to touch a disfigured, deseased man like him anyway. And he got used to it over time. Used to the lack of a human contact.

           But for the life of him nothing could prepare him for what came after he met a group of few Earthrealmers that were after Shang Tsung. The team's woman was unpredictable, too hands-y.

           One would wonder if she hadn't lost her sanity. Did she inhaled too much air in the presence of the Tarkatan group?

           When she got too near, Baraka wouldn't notice her until a second-too-late. Diya always hid in the shadows of others, she says they are warmer than those of an inanimate object, and quite literally appeared out of them.

           In all his life after Tarkatan he was never touched so many times a day. Baraka stopped counting after the number reached over five.

           Or was it Diya's way of taunting? Torturing him when she knew that this is the thing he will never recieve anymore, a one's genuine touch. But why would she risk getting contamined in the process?

           

           Baraka needed time to process it thoroughly.

           But fate had other plans.

           It was when the Zaterrian and the Tarkatan ran ahead to see the course of gourgling on blood and slashing, they came to face a Netherrealmer who was far from feeling like greeting them as befitting. The demon woman's sword was her greeting.

           That's when Baraka felt it, before he could do something about it he was being touched.

           A warm, pearly-white palm, feminine and gentle was placed right on his exposed breast, inches from the hardened bone spikes poking from underneath his skin on the right side of his chest.

           Diya appeared with the rest of her body from an abysmal mist in front of the deseased man that towered over her even with those 5 inch heels she only wears. She pushed back at his chest, unsheathing her wakizashi katana from behind her hip just in time to return the greeting.

           The sparks looked lovely in the Netherrealmer's eyes of eternal dark, is what Diya mused to herself.

           Before Diya countered the next attack, she looked back at Baraka and it was clear from the tiny wrinkles around her violet orbs that she was smiling underneath the silvery mask. "Leave her to me, darling."

           There was a nostalgic fluttering from under Baraka's ribs that caged the source. He didn't know what to do about that, yet. His hand wanted to touch that place that began to miss the heat of another, but he couldn't let his thoughts wonder.

           The two Outworlders watched the Earthrealmer's confident skill with swordsmanship. The Lin Kuei woman can hold her own in a battle, is what they both learned and admired that day.

           They began to be an odd bunch, their 'team'. Four Earthrealmers, two Outworlders, and a Netherrealmer. It's almost like a beginning of a joke...

           Now they all are playing happy campers in the forest of the Lost Souls. That's how Johnny quoted it.

           While others prepared some needed things or tended their blind comrade Baraka took it upon himself to gather some wood.

           Baraka was about to pick some dry sticks, kneeling on one knee, when she waltzed over with a hop in her step. Diya was light on her feet, no matter what terrain, no matter if barefoot or with whatever shoe.

           "I thought you'd like some company~" Diya chirped as soon as he looked in her direction.

           Shaking his head, he returned his attention back at the small branches.

           "I can handle this on my own—"

           Baraka's growly voice ended with a sharp inhale. He doesn't know when exactly Diya crossed the distance and now stood next to him, her long, slim legs in his view when he lifted his head to look up at her.

           She leaned against him, hand at his shoulder and her manicured nails teasingly dug into the side of his neck, if they were at his artery she'd feel his thundering bloodstream.

           "I may need a new pair after this..." Diya was checking the heel of one shoe, holding it by her instep and let out a thoughtful hum.

           Baraka stood abruptly and made sure no spike of his body nicked her fragile skin, she was a little started but didn't shy away from their close proximity - rather, she seemed like she's enjoying it. Their moving chests were so close they could brush against eachother, it made his thoughts conflicted.

           He stared her down, trying to decipher this enigma. But the more he gave Diya attention, the more she felt invited.

           "Why do you keep touching me?" his rumbly voice held a softer growl, his brows furrowed but he wasn't exactly glowering. This is far from looking threatening with his condition. Asking this, it stopped her curious fingers from reaching at the nummerous sharp spikes on his right pectoral muscle.

           Diya's brows slightly furrowed in concern. "I'm... sorry. Do you mind that?"

           "You should mind that."

           Her soft pout was replaced by a smile. She was plotting something. She shook her head as a responce, her gaze locked with the rubies that are his eyes. "So, you don't?"

                                                                          No.

           "Yes..."

           The hesitancy was not hidden enough for Diya not to notice it.

           "I am going to caress you now, stop me if you want." she informed him and her hand had already lifted towards his disfigured face.

           Baraka felt like his own thunderring heartbeat was whacking him, made him feel dizzy. He was too stunned to even think of a reply at her sultry brashness.

           Is this a dream? It must be!

           By the Elders, please let this be a reality!

           Baraka held his breath, his whole body tensed and he wished his eyes were open but they refused to do so.

           As Diya's pads of her digits ran along the line of his square jaw up to his earlobe he still thought of this as a surreal moment but when it was her palm that cupped the side of his face he wanted to grasp at her arm to make sure it was not an illusion, but a part of him still held back because of his long forearm spikes, afraid it would hurt her. Then she used her free hand to place it on the neglected, rough cheek of his.

           Diya's thumb ran across his face just above his teeth with gentleness, again and again until Baraka was melting in her grasp.

           At her mercy. Not wishing for it to stop.

           And Diya was more than happy to give him more.