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nilsavatar · 1 year ago

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DAY 18 - MIRROR SEX

Parings: Lo'ak x Fem!Metkayina

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI + 18, no use of Y/N, SMUT, ANGST, friends with benefits, hookups, enemies to lovers, revenge sex, anger sex, rough sex, mirror sex, P in V, cream pie, Lo'ak loves video games, they both have issues, both toxic. All characters are AGED-UP.

Word Count: 4,2k

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One nice thing about having a human outpost near the village? Video games.

Lo’ak was compulsively pressing his thumbs and index fingers on the PlayStation controller. It was outdated and small in his hands, but the rich assortment of games to draw from was worth the effort. His fingers scanned the incessant succession of attacks, parries, and rolls he forced his PC to perform sequentially. Attack, dodge, attack, then roll, move away and heal, repeat again. His agitation and nervousness were directly proportional to the passage of time, which increasingly made him hold his breath and twist his guts in on themselves. The boss he was fighting with was really tough, he had been defeated countless times, but never, ever, did he give up. On the contrary, every time he started the boss-fight he felt more and more charged and willing, and finally, all his willpower was about to pay off. It was knocking that giant bearded knight hooded in red down this time. The tip of his tongue peeped out from his contracted lips in pure concentration, and his fingertips pressed ever more neurotically on the keys of the joystick, which he brought closer and closer to his chest as if the proximity helped to increase the force of the blows he was piercing Gael with. He squinted his eyes, thumbs aching from exertion — if he didn't get tendonitis this time, he would never get it — when a sharp sound distracted him.

Dammit, not now!

Undaunted he kept pressing X, circle, R1, dodge, now loaded shot. It was close. Very close indeed, but the trilling of the doorbell would not cease, becoming more and more insistent, in a harassing call that seemed to drill straight through his brain, until it stopped in a dazed knocking.

What the fuck, she's going to kick down the door!

He had already figured out who it was, there was only one person who knew that when he was locked there, there was no other way to get him out. He got up from the couch huffing, and threw the controller between the cushions. His revenge against Gael had gone to hell and, stifling a few expletives, went to open the door, already ready to welcome his sister through his piqued tongue. But the outburst died in the bud as soon as he saw her face flooded with tears that gushed from her lower eyelids like waterfalls. He stared at her taken aback; he had never seen his little sister so upset. Usually, it was laughter that unmolded her face, not tears.

“Tuk…”

At the sound of her name, the girl threw herself on his lean chest, clutching his shoulders, and cried. Among the sobs, he recognized one sentence, "I am ugly. Ugly and weird." “Wait,” he pulled her inside the room, escorting her in the direction of the sofa, "Let's not talk on the door, sit down.” He then walked to the kitchen, where he retrieved a large glass of water and handed it to her as he took a seat at her side. Tuk looked at him for only one excruciating instant, before setting her sad, hard, candy-gloss eyes on the glass, clenched between trembling hands, but it was enough to chill him like a gunshot with a silencer. You don't hear the shot and by the time you realize it, it's too late, the bullet has already pierced your flesh and reached your heart.

“What happened?” She hesitated before spitting between her teeth, “Mawoë.” Lo'ak sighed, “What did he do this time?” “He said I'm weird,” she repeated bitterly, “That my kuru (neural queue) is repulsive.”

Big brother rested his elbows on his knees, gathering his head between his palms, raven braids covered his ice-cold irises. He took his time before replying; he didn't want to come across as too brusque or insensitive, not when his beloved little sister was shattered in front of him. It wasn’t so often that Tuk, like Neteyam, was targeted for her hybrid origins. Unlike him and Kiri, they did not have such obvious human traits. Although the avatars were produced to be virtually identical to the Na'vi, they had distinctive features inherited from the human genome. The most obvious were eyebrows, a firmer musculature, smaller eyes, a more pronounced nasal septum, and, of course, the infamous five digits on each hand and foot. Lo'ak owned most of these. But there was another, much more difficult to detect that was common to all four Sully siblings and that brought out into the open even those two for whom Eywa seemed to have had a keen eye.

The position of the queue.

The queue of an avatar starts at the base of the skull, whereas a Na'vi queue starts at the top of it. Although noticing it was not immediate, its conformation necessarily involved readjusting traditional hairstyles, which on them did not open up where they normally would. In a way, he was impressed that a child noticed, but the act of bullying was inexcusable. Not that he was surprised. The Metkayina had proved to be intolerant and closed-minded from the start, and this kid was the younger brother of one of Ao'nung's friends, one of those who had dragged him at the Three Brothers.

“We were playing when he picked up my tswin (queue, braid) and said it sucked. Everyone else started laughing at me, saying it was the aliens' tswin.” Her big yellow eyes filled with salty drips again, breaking her voice as her grip tightened on her glass. Lo'ak clenched his fists in anger and clenched his jaw. The urge to swoop out of the lab and smash someone's face becoming more impelling with every second. It was the reaction he would have for anyone, but to make Tuk Tuk cry like that was truly unforgivable. Evidently the famous Forest Boys vs. Fish Lips fistfight had not been enough; they needed a reminder.

He laid a hand on her shoulder, conciliating, and drew her close to him, letting Tuk rest his head in the crook of his neck, where she released a deep sigh, broken by the now exhausted weeping. “Everything will work out, I'll take care of it.” A final sob gave way to a weak laugh. The little girl guessed perfectly what her brother meant, but she simply nodded, snuggling closer to him, barely rubbing her index finger and thumb on the pendant he wore around his neck, “Will you let me play?” He puffed out a smile: his sister was back. “All right, but you should get Mom to clean you up. You're dirty with sand.” All perky the little girl rushed to the door, “Get ready to lose!”

He dropped sitting on the bed in the adjoining room, huffing in distress as he untied the band he wore on his left arm, which slid down to the floor as if it had a will of its own. He huffed a second time, stooping to the floor to pick it up, but his noisy breathing turned into a tremor the instant two tapering hands clutched at his chest, eagerly smoothing his entire torso from his pecs to the edge of his loincloth. The confusion and surprise vanished from his face at the exact moment when one of the hands seeped into the fabric, in a clear attempt to reach the manly part scarcely concealed by it.

“Tuk could be back any minute,” he chided in a gasp, blocking the hand with his palm, a gesture that only worsened the effect the girl was already having on him. The bulge between his legs was a glaring demonstration. His breathing became heavier as her delicate hands returned to caress his chest, while her lips lapped softly at the sensitive epidermis of his earlobe, where she whispered persuasively, “So? You've been playing for hours, completely ignoring me.”

From what pulpit, he would have liked to retort, but instead he replied, “You jumped on me as soon as I got here. Isn't that enough for you?” “I can never get enough of your cock,” she emphasized, wrapping his hard member with an eagerness that caused him to gasp and shudder down his spine. Only her touch could make him react like that.

You can do without me, though, can't you?

As much as Lula'ni's attentions were appreciated, if not coveted at this juncture, Lo'ak could not let go as usual. Not after Tuk's words; the pain that twisted her cute little face, and the feeling of helplessness still so vivid. They take hold of your being as if it were your own blood that drags them along the pathways that nourish the whole organism; oxygen that preserves and destroys life. For Mawoë was not only brother to that idiot who followed Ao'nung everywhere like a licker, he was also brother to the girl who was now pumping him at a slow and deadly pace, waiting for him to succumb to his own weaknesses.

Ironic, isn't it?

But after all, that was why their little game had begun. Lo'ak had seduced and deflowered her out of spite, to take some sort of revenge — he had failed with Tsireya, so why not try his luck with the sister of asshole No. 2? Lula’ni on the other hand... He couldn’t tell why she had been playing along; it was rather obvious that she was not naive enough not to see his real intentions masquerading as flirtation. It was probably because of his appearance, so unusual for a Na'vi, his outcast, alien aura. Out of curiosity and transgression. Enough to let that game go on until now and evolve into an odd friendship.

The young woman instantly sensed the disturbance and, understanding and sweet, she interrupted her warm advances, cupping his face between her fingers and forcing him to look at her. "Lo'ak, what's wrong?" His golden orbs were lost in the vast, calm waters that were her irises, but he found no peace in them, only lies and the terrible, vivid knowledge that he had wasted his time with her. How could such welcoming eyes, kissed by the kindness of a river, belong to such a cruel woman?

Beautiful on the outside, rotten on the inside.

Over the months she had only become better at making a pretty face. At least she used to show herself for what she really was and that was one of the reasons why, no matter how infuriating it was, she had always attracted him. Lula'ni felt no fear or remorse at being herself. She mocked him, at the time, for that very appearance that had driven her into his arms and impaled her on his cock. It was precisely her doggedness that made him question the motivation behind her inexplicable interest in tormenting him. To call it 'torment' was a bit much, but she loved to poke him, as if to nick him, to make him feel as small as an insect to be squashed. But Lo'ak was no insignificant bug. He was a wasp ready to sting. In fact, he never wasted any time in penetrating her soft, well-groomed skin, make it purple with its venomous forked tongue.

Oh, how it infuriated her at first; it was a sight! Fury that gradually faded into respect, into a continuous provocation aimed at teasing a reaction that had now become her drug. She liked the way he stood up to her, liked the painful stabs to her self-esteem. It brought them closer and closer. So much so that one day, hidden behind a palm tree, the sting found its way into the girl's battered heart, thanks to a sudden wet and messy kiss that later turned into a stolen virginity on the beach on a festival night. Lula'ni could make up all the lies she wanted, but he knew he was the first to take possession of that amazing body. He wasn't sure if he was the only one to have had her after that, but he was certainly the only one to have loved her in spite of himself. That was why she always came back to him.

“Don't you feel like it?” she asked offended. Lo'ak rolled his eyes. As usual, her insecurities, steeped in selfishness and narcissism, took over. She paid no attention to the little girl he had mentioned earlier. He was tempted to kick her out of his bed, out of the lab and finally out of his life, because he had reached the end of his tether. He could no longer tolerate the egocentricity of the beautiful girl in front of him. Being a secret was no longer enough for him. It was time to make a choice: come out or go their separate ways. Too many opportunities to be happy with someone else he had given up for her, it was time for her to get the two in spades.

But not tonight.

Tonight the hangdog expression seeking reassurance and those curves, hidden by the sheets, still had the effect of clouding his brain, of making his blood drain all over to fill his substantial shaft like a sponge. And why not? Make her pay for how Mawoë had mistreated Tuk. An eye for an eye.

A violent spark ignites the automatic motor that animates his primal urges. He lifted her easily by her ass and pushed her onto the bed, who giggled in satisfaction as she positioned herself between his thighs, already ready to receive him. She loved being taken like this, almost violently; it was a poignant sensation of submission that drove her mad, made her feel irresistible. As if she was able to activate those animal instincts that so many people try to put to sleep. And partly that was so, but not entirely; in this instant it was the desire to return to her at least an ounce of the suffering she had given him that moved him. All this time she had been using him; it was time to return the favor. He wasn't going to love her tonight, no, he was just going to fuck her, and then have her spit out the truth and thrown Lula’ni away if necessary.

Lo'ak hastily shrugged off the tewng with one hand as he unceremoniously sucked a couple of phalangi and stepped past the sheets, not at all surprised to find no barrier garment between his fingers and her intimacy. “I'm already wet,” she whispered sensuously in his ear as she clung to his shoulders with her hands. He said nothing to this sentence, didn't even nod, just pushed himself all the way in, not caring about her moan of pain and the nails that dug into his flesh. She liked it that way, brutal. Beneficial at the moment, it allowed him to pour all his resentment directly into her. He plugged her mouth with his palm to quiet her obscene and embarrassing cries, “They'll hear you,” he scolded breathlessly. “Who cares,” she huffed between uncontrolled yowls. He clenched his fists, imprisoning part of the mattress cover, coming almost completely out of her and then penetrating her with even more energy than before, totally shocking her.

“What's the matter with you?” she asked overflowing with lust from both her high-pitched voice and her shiny, gem-round eyes. “You don't care,” he thrusted even harder, “You don't fucking care about anything or anyone besides yourself,” he quickened his pace, ignoring her rebukes. He wanted to finish as soon as possible; he was hating every single moment when her tight, enveloping walls suffocated his manhood. At one point he felt a searing heat take over his entire lower abdomen, giving rapid convulsions of obvious significance; he was on the edge, endurance included. It came out of her in the midst of ejaculation, soiling the young woman here and there, who grunted in dissatisfaction. She sat down with her back resting on the backrest, bringing the bedspread down to cover her nakedness as his eyes of icy fire pierced her from side to side.

“Have you lost your mind?” she asked hostilely. “How long do we have to go on like this?” “Mind to be clearer?” she taunted him sarcastically. “I got tired of this back-and-forth, Lula. You don't want to be with me, but you won't let me live my life. When I'm finally moving on here you reappear, screwing everything up!” “Stop yelling.” “Are you afraid someone will hear us fighting? To be heard getting fucked is neither hot nor cold to you though. In fact, you like it.” “Lo’ak.” “Leave,” he chuckled coldly. “What?” she blinked a few astonished times, squeezing herself into the sheets. “Are you deaf? Get the fuck out, I never want to see you again.” “It’s not funny.” “It’s over, Lula’ni. This...,” he pointed alternately at their chests, “...indefinite thing between us is over. I’m sick of it. Find yourself another fuck buddy.”

The Metkayina bowed her head on the blanket clutched to her chest and, in a whisper, asked, “What if I told you I didn’t want to be just bedfellows anymore?” “I wouldn’t believe it,” he spat, “To you I’ve always been just a skilled plaything between the sheets.” “N-no, that’s not—.” “Don’t add any more bullshit. I know way too well someone like me has nothing to do with someone like you. The whole clan hates me. Demon blood. Alien. That’s all they see. It would be a snub to your image, I get that. And I was okay with it at first; a friendship with benefits. After all, what else could I expect from you? Normally you wouldn’t even look at me.” “So you were with me just as a sort of payback.” I was with you 'cause I fell in love even with your malignancy, “You were with me just to comfort yourself, my feelings never mattered much to you. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice my interest in you.” “Y-yes, but—.” “But you don’t reciprocate and you took advantage of that. That’s all,” he concluded disappointedly, rising from the bed in his birthday suit. His back facing her as he looked out on the placid sea out the window, dominated by a red sunset, which gave the room that cozy warmth typical of the seaside. All around was calm and still, not a breath of wind shook the foliage of the few trees around there, as the first lights of the village were beginning to come alive. Awa’atlu for a small village on an islet was quite lively at night.

Lo’ak leaned against the window jamb with his right hand, arm outstretched to support himself, back hunched as if a cramp was bending him in two. The girl’s hand rested delicately on his deltoid, stroking it up, reaching the upper edge of his left shoulder blade, grazing its outline to his right one, and then slipping over his ribs, while her other hand smoothed his lats on the other side of his torso. Her fingers cautiously tickled his epidermis, going to place on his pectorals. Lo’ak felt himself being pulled backward, and in the process he felt her breasts adhere to his back and her lips rest on the center of his spine.

“Why are you still here?” He wanted to loosen her grip, tug her away, but he couldn’t; the dull ache he felt was too great. “Because I love you,” her mouth was so close to his skin that he shivered. “Stop fooling me.” “I’m not,” she lifted herself up on her toes and placed a kiss between his shoulders, “I love you. I’ve always loved you, but for too long I was attached to the ideal of the popular girl, to the image I had to maintain. I don’t need that anymore." He turned just enough to look over his shoulder lit by the faint blush of the dying sun; the light was so faint that it showed almost no color. “With you I'm happy, you are the only one who understands me and I want everyone to know we are made for each other.” He stared at her open-mouthed and she smiled with that sweet, sincere grimace that only with him had she allowed herself to show, moving to face him truly naked for the first time.

Lula’ni had emerged from the chrysalis, the pupa had become a butterfly.

“Can you forgive me for all the harm I have done to you, and to your family, with my stupidity? Will you start afresh with me?” The Omatikaya framed a hand at the height of their navels with a sly smile, “How do you do? I'm Lo’ak.” She laughed, with that crisp, slightly squeaky laugh that always infused him with warmth, “Lula’ni.” When their palms met, he drew her to him and then gathered her face with both hands, shaking out her silky hair, and kissed her slowly and softly, without that cupidity that used to queen their entwined tongues. Tonight, for the first time, he kissed Lula’ni as one kisses a bride, not a lover. And finally he smiled, resting his forehead on hers, as a couple of joyful tears watered his half-closed eyes, “At last you're mine.” “I’ve always been yours.”

Maybe it was from joy, maybe it was from their unclothed bodies brushing against each other, but Lo’ak felt something firm and substantial pull him toward her belly, who giggled with amusement and a hint of mischief. “Are you about to apologize for just now?” she asked, teasing his dick with a sharp fingernail from the base to the tip. Automatically his hands went to squeeze her rear, forcing her back to the center of the room, “I’m going to make you forget all the nights we were just friends.” Lula’ni arched an eyebrow, encircling his neck and caressing the hair on his nape, as she gave herself the momentum to let him take her in his arms and feel the urgency that pervaded her. “Let’s go to the bathroom,” she said defiantly.

He set her down on the shelf where the sink was embedded, stripping her of her chest cover as he greedily kissed her cleavage. The girl abandoned herself against the surface of the mirror, sighing the moment the laces of the tight loincloth unfastened with a snap, exposing her naked, hairless womanhood, moistened at his mere touch. “Come in,” she whispered in his ear, clinging to his neck; with her fingers twisted in his raven hair, she spread her thighs to make room for him. No need to have her repeat herself twice, because he penetrated her and her voice filled his hearing with guttural murmurs, cadenced by the rhythm of his lunges.

Suddenly, Lula’ni let herself slide down the shelf and his phallus capitulated inexorably out, during a stifled but overflowing ‘no’ of disapproval. With a wry grin plastered on her face, the girl turned around, leaning forward, putting her butt in plain view. The message was clear. He grabbed her by the side with one hand and with the other held his erection, which, after a couple of attempts, returned perfectly to its place. To feel so wrapped up and warm was wonderful. Lo’ak began thrusting again, and with each thrust, Lula’ni’s throat ripped with moans that were increasingly high-pitched, but also choked by the extreme proximity between vocal emissions.

This was their favorite position. And if merely having her in such a submissive pose already aroused him, the presence of the mirror, the sight of their bare bodies, their faces rouged by exertion and deformed by unbridled lust reflected back, so much went to his head that he lost what tiny shred of lucidity he preserved. Ferment that went hand in hand with the borderline absurd little games she played with her pelvic floor muscles, which widened and tightened to her liking and the cadence she wanted to give them, clamping them until they almost pushed him out and then sucked him in. And the attempt to control his orgasm went to hell as well; it poured out with such impetus that it surprised her in a final painful plunge, which made her cry out in pleasure, coming sitting upright.

Lo’ak slumped on his back exhausted, his forearms trembling with fatigue, anchored to the edge of the granite shelf. “You looked like a crazy pali’ (direhorse),” she breathed, “Amazing!” Lula’ni’s subtle laughter broke violently into one last high moan, and the ecstasy on her expression was so sublime it went to his head. Her back collided with a sticky clatter against his chest, and her fingernails crawled over the basin in a vain attempt to hold on to something, clouded by the frenzy. But the release was still far from over; it was creaming on him as if he were an icing cake.

For a nanosecond his sister’s face flew over his mind. Kissing his now-girlfriend, he cast a very brief glance at the door, as if he could look through it, and formulated a single thought.

Hope you’re not coming right now, Tuk. Sorry.

Special thanks to @pandoraslxnafor the prompt!

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dirtwatchman · 8 months ago

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PARTIES: @dirtwatchman and @disinfernus TIMING: Current SUMMARY: Two people are up to nefarious business. One chickens out and runs into the other who, as always, keeps their cool. A deal is struck but deals don't mean exemptions from a fae's natural impulses. CONTENT WARNINGS: Unsanitary tw, allusion to domestic abuse tw

“A simple address and I will be gone. You won’t see me again. A simple address and I can make all of this… stop.” That wasn’t a lie. While the shadow nymph could lie, there was always some sort of repercussion that fit the size of the lie. There was no wince to be found, no headache that throbbed or stomachache that threatened their dinner. But without that address, the knife that had buried itself so deeply into the man’s gut would only go further and twist tighter. There was a refusal and a curse through the pain; they were brothers, after all. There was no way any of them could give up family to a stranger.

The middle-aged man, peppered at the temples and in beard, groaned when Dīs gave another twist. With that address, he could live, but a too big heart got in the way. All they wanted were some answers — that was it. “You’re the one who put that knife there when you tried to attack me with it. This isn’t my fault,” their hand went to their chest, offense in fabrication only. Without that address, things would end with more bloodshed and a corpse on the ground. And that lead would be severed. Unfortunately, they couldn’t get much further when they suddenly felt someone else’s eyes on them.

Business like this was conducted under the guise of darkness and usually in nondescript locations, usually when everyone else was already tucked away in their beds. There was an unusual amount of nocturnal in Wicked’s Rest, but truthfully, they thought they did a good job at choosing somewhere with less foot traffic. Apparently they were wrong.

Dīs turned away from their suspect in a way that concealed most of the damage done to his abdomen, but still used their power to strengthen the shadow between them. They did hope that this was just some lowly and boring human, otherwise the smell of blood could be a monkey wrench in the illusion. They nodded politely to the stranger as they passed, hoping dearly that nothing seemed amiss to them — aside from the blanching of the man’s skin and blood upon the ground.

In all the time that Caleb had been thinking of doing the unthinkable he found it so fascinating that his mind had not yet gone to the one person that deserved death more than any other. That day with Gael, the day he had rushed away from the man who seemed so concerned, the zombie had spotted someone from his past and knew in his heart that the man needed to be a life that he snuffed out, a life that was owed to Caleb and Caleb alone. But with that realization came another. He didn’t have the nerve. After following Gary that day and reliving the past trauma the man had put him through, it was discovered that he couldn’t even show the older man his face. It was the most disappointing, soul crushing event that had happened to him recently.

So, instead Caleb followed. For days now he’d been following his foster dad through the street’s of Wicked’s Rest, getting quite good at ducking behind walls or lowering his head behind a newspaper to keep from being detected. It was satisfying, watching Gary getting more and more paranoid as the days went on, and so Caleb kept aggravating that paranoia even further. A small noise near an alley, a chuckle that reverberated off the walls of the close buildings, all small tricks he had picked up from movies. It was so nice to watch the slow mental decline in his foster father that Caleb was slightly worried about his own mental state and how much he was…enjoying this game of cat and mouse.

Until the tables turned. It wasn’t as fun after losing the man in a crowd that had come out of a closing bar and the paranoia decided to transfer from fake father to fake son. Had Gary spotted him? Was Caleb about to be hunted down and thrown right back to his twelve year old state where he couldn’t fight back? That man had an iron grip in the form of fear locked around Caleb like a snake coiling around its prey and the panic sent him fleeing.

He was in a seemingly deserted alley leaning against a brick wall, his head slamming back into it as the force of his body connected. It took several minutes for Caleb to calm his nerves only for him to notice a couple of people who seemed…not in great spirits a ways down the alley. A deserted alley that wasn’t so deserted was never a good sign. All he had to do was pass though, his lips pursing into what he hoped was a smile though it was so tight that he knew it couldn’t possibly resemble one. The zombie placed his hands in his pockets and started to move to get past them.

Even with his poor eyesight, Caleb could clearly see that the ground was wet beneath one of the men and nowhere else. Either the man had messed himself after drinking too much or…well, he didn’t want to think of any other alternatives. He had every intention to keep walking but his dead heart still seemed to beat in some metaphorical way. Two steps away from them, he slowly turned to face the one who had nodded as he passed. “Um, are you both okay? Because…it doesn’t seem like it...” His eyes went to the one on the ground as the words trailed off, the sallow skin a dead giveaway that something was amiss. ‘All you had to do was keep walking…’ “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Why them? Why did it feel like every time they had someone on the ropes, someone had to come in and ruin it? Where were all of these good samaritans even coming from anyway? The tall fae mentally cursed the stranger and hoped that their position was enough to keep anything too incriminating from view. Naturally, the wetness of the blood that had pooled between them was noticeable by the toe of Dīs’ shoe.

They tried not to show their irritation with being interrupted on their face, they really did. It was probably inevitable, at this point, considering how close they were with, hopefully, getting an answer. There wasn’t much hope, with how reluctant their victim seemed to be, but maybe with a bit more prodding and twisting, something would come to light. Now with this audience member, however, they weren’t sure if they’d get the chance.

“Yes,” “N-no..” “We’re fine, we appreciate it.” Their voices overlapped a tick and Dīs drifted their gaze to the man who currently sheathed their knife in order for him to get the hint that he really needed to keep his mouth. “Ple..” “We’re just.. Having a bit of fun.”

This didn’t look like fun. The man on his knees was almost whimpering, not able to get out his answers as the other person spoke over him. The wetness on the ground, the fear Caleb could now see…no this wasn’t fun for at least one of them. Why he felt the need to continue interfering was beyond him and yet the zombie took another step towards the two. “He doesn’t seem okay though.” Blue eyes went to the ground and Caleb took in that wet spot again, dark but with the little bit of light that was coming into the alley he could see a red hue this time. Shit.

“Maybe we should call for an ambulance?” His eyes lifted to the person that was standing, an urgency now appearing in them. Giving the person an opportunity to come back from this, it was more than most people got in this town. Then again, Caleb had no clue who or what this person was and he was most likely making a grave mistake of his own. His only advantage was they didn’t know what he was either.

He looked at the man on the ground again, they’re eyes meeting, and he wondered if he’d done anything for this to happen or if he’d just been an unlucky victim. Then it occurred to him that it shouldn’t have mattered, right? Caleb’s thoughts were starting to mold themselves around his reasonings for his own chosen victims…or victim at this point, and it was a little scary. “I think he’s hurt.”

Dīs tensed their jaw. They felt a tingling just at the edges of their eyes, the burn from their light that wanted nothing more than to escape the magic of the glamour and bare itself into the man before them. But there were still too many passersby, too many opportunities for someone or something to see their most successful disappearing act.

They had to do something.

“He is hurt,” they admitted. The truthful angle could work, if they used the right cards and pulled on the right heartstrings. If this young man was eager to help someone out, maybe the shadow nymph could turn that compassion towards themself. “But he deserves it. He killed my family.” Their previous facade of playfulness melted away into a tone of vengeance laced with grief.

“N-n.. No.”

“No. I’m not too keen on calling an ambulance for him.”

The story was compelling, that was for sure, but was it true? Trust was hard to come by and when you come into a situation where someone has one leg up over another already it was hard to believe anyone who said it was at the fault of the person on the ground. But then something in Caleb told him that he could be in this situation someday himself, that someone could come across him stalking the man who had tormented him his whole life or even trying to get rid of him, and if they didn’t believe the zombie when he told the tale then he would be screwed. Or maybe he just wanted a reason to believe this person. He wanted a reason to tell himself that hurting someone else could be justified.

After all, it’s what he’d been trying to work up the nerve for himself. It was most likely the wrong move though he found himself not backing down, but not without another question.

“Are you going to kill him?” The nerves that had been coursing through him were only getting worse but he needed to know for multiple reasons. Caleb didn’t want to help with the murder if that was what was coming but the clean up? Yea, he could be a part of that purely for selfish reasons. If this was inevitable, which it seemed like it was, there was no reason to waste the meal that could come out of it. “I might…have a deal for you if you do.”

“A deal?” The man suddenly started squirming, objecting to being killed. Dīs had no idea who this inquisitive stranger was or why he would want to make a deal after the deed had been done (usually people liked to make a deal in favor of the other person’s life, not against it), but they would be lying if they weren’t interested.

One of their hands went up to cover their victim’s face, muffling him, but not silencing him completely. “No. Shut up,” the lampade commanded, though they didn’t take their eyes off of the brunette before them. “What kind of deal?” Death left the limp body - its bones, organs and tendons and blood. Is that what he wanted? The corpse afterward?

Truthfully, it mattered not to Dīs what became of the body, as long as they were able to get the information before his last breath. That’s the only thing they cared about.

The protest of the man whose fate seemed sealed had his stomach sinking so low. Why was he doing this? The man was bleeding but not dead yet and it seemed Caleb had been the last factor to his impending doom. It didn’t feel good. He was already starting to regret the words he’d previously spoken but he had to push forward or he could meet the same fate…not that a stab to the gut would do much to him. It could certainly send him after another though and cause more pain to unsuspecting victims.

Looking up from the victim’s covered mouth to the person standing over him, Caleb stood his ground. The underlying anxiety would have been so much worse had his heart been able to beat as fast as it probably wanted to. It became one of those rare moments where he was glad he was dead or else his body would betray him. “My silence and my services for his body. I’ll take it off your hands, clean up your mess. Just don’t touch the brain.”

There it was. If this person had any inkling of what went on in this town, knew anything about the undead, Caleb had just revealed exactly what he was to them. Why was it so much easier to tell a complete stranger what he was and not the people who cared for him? Probably because this stranger was in a predicament of their own. He briefly glanced to the man on the ground, seeing the fear in his eyes grow, and looked back at the other before the zombie could change his mind. “What do you say?”

“My silence and my services for his body. I’ll take it off your hands, clean up your mess. Just don’t touch the brain.”

There were probably a plethora of uses for a human brain, more than any that Dīs could procure, but their most immediate thought led them down the undead route. More specifically, the zombie kind. Now, they weren’t about to play a rousing game of Twenty Questions with someone who was so willing to take the body off of their hands once they were done with it. Why ruin a good thing with questions? But this seemed to be in line with their assumption and what limited knowledge they were going on.

The nymph regarded the other man for a quiet moment — as quiet as it could be with the human man’s muffled sounds of pain and disagreement. He started to fade, quickly, which left them with little time to get the answers they needed. They needed to get better at where they stick the knife or how long they hold their stare for. They needed to fine tune their interrogation skills as it seemed they’d just ruined another one.

Dīs then looked to their captive with a rather listless expression. “I think that’s up to him,” they started and raised a brow. “What do you think? Address or would you rather go with our new friend?” A spat of blood was their only answer, despite the obvious fear that reeked off of him. What a waste. Was all of this as dead of an end as it seemed? With a sudden and twisted thrust of the knife that was already embedded in the man’s body, he was dead. A few sputteres escaped his open and bloodied mouth, but that was it.

The knife was pulled and held gingerly while the now corpse dropped to the ground and uttered its last remaining heartbeats. A disgruntled sort of sound escaped the nymph; they were disappointed, to say the least, and it showed on their face. “There, take it. I’m sure you will find more use for it than I could.” The blade was then wiped on a black handkerchief and stowed back into an inner pocket in their long robes. They then gave pause and turned their gold eyes to the young man who so graciously offered their… help. Or hunger — it mattered not to them.

“How might I find you, if I have more?”

‘Just give them what they want.’ It was like Caleb was trying to put the thought into the other man’s mind, the phrase repeating over and over while he stared down at him. But the efforts were lost, the man only spitting out the contents of his mouth in their direction, and he knew right then what was about to happen.

Knowing didn’t stop the flinch of his body as the stranger sunk the knife deeper, his eyes closing but the unmistakable gurgle of someone’s last breath thick with blood still filled the air. His heart sunk so low that time that it felt like it had left his body altogether, the void of not feeling only there for a split second before it all came rushing back again. He wished it had stayed gone, wished he had stayed numb to it all. Instead, when his eyes opened at the sound of the thud on the ground, Caleb’s chest started to ache at the sight in front of him.

Something told him that the callous way the person spoke of him afterwards meant he wasn’t getting much more of this story. It would have made him feel better to know if the tale of this man killing the other’s family was true. He assumed it wasn’t since an address was the object of their desire before. That didn’t seem like something a person full of grief needed unless they were going after others.

Others. Caleb swiftly looked up at the word ‘more’ with shock that probably should not have made an appearance. What made him think this would be the last of this person’s transgressions? It was said so nonchalantly, like they were making a business deal, which the zombie surmised was exactly what they were doing. “How many others are you planning on killing?” It was the wrong question and he knew it as soon as he’d said it. Did it matter? Not really, not when they were already implicated together. What was another body? Besides, wasn’t he doing this same thing with Anita?

Maybe…maybe this was the business venture he needed.

“You know what? I don’t need to know that.” He shook his head, looking back at the body on the ground while knowing he didn’t have too much time before rigor mortis started to set in and it would be even harder to move. He didn’t want to give them the funeral home’s business card, that would unnecessarily put people he loved in danger, so instead Caleb pulled out a random rewards card to an insignificant shop from his wallet. The pen was in the dead man’s front shirt pocket but he only hesitated for a moment before he was pulling it out and writing his cell number for the other. “You can reach me here if you have more.” When. He should have said when. He knew how this went. “I’m available…most of the time. What was your name?”

They were glad that he quashed his own curiosity, though they weren’t abashed enough to tell him to mind his own business if the question still stood. Dīs wasn’t ashamed of what they did, not in the slightest, but they weren’t going to have a full blown discussion about their plans with someone they’d just met, even if they both seemed to share similarly questionable morals. This wasn’t the place for it, anyway — it was much too public despite their shroud darkening the area. Maybe one day, if their nefarious no good deed were to ever cross paths with four walls and no wandering eyes. But until then, a made deal was enough to trust him with their leftovers.

It wasn’t like they were going to do anything with the bodies, anyway — these corpses weren’t special, they weren’t sought after. They were all killers, in their eyes, and they didn’t deserve a place among the decaying remains or jewels that littered their old, decrepit home. At least the nymph’s scraps would go to use elsewhere.

Dīs turned the piece of thin cardstock between their fingers and read over the phone number once before sliding it into a pocket. The rewards card was inconsequential, a throwaway, like the corpse before them. The nymph would save the number and the card would find its way to the bottom of a garbage bin. “Most of the time? I will leave my voice messages vague, then, if need be.” They stepped around the body to give the young man room to do whatever it was he was going to do. It would make sense to take the bounty home and then to take care of it, but they couldn’t exactly blame him if any… urges… became overwhelming.

“It is Dīs. That is what you may call me,” they answered coolly and smoothed out a wrinkle in one of their sleeves. There was always the opportunity, especially with people they’d never met before — gratitudes and greetings were plenty and easy to procure. The nymph could practically feel the inkling and goading of magic; a want, almost like an obsession, that tempted them to take and take and take. “And you? May I have your name?”

Deals did not mean exemptions. But that’s only if the fineprint went unread.

“Yea, I do have actual jobs too.” He hadn’t meant for the words to sound harsh but for some reason that was how they came out. As many dead bodies as he’d seen, as well as the few murders he’d already committed, it was completely different to watch someone else do it intentionally, to see them take that light from a person. He’d always thought the worst part of seeing someone die was watching that life drain from them. It wasn’t the before or the after that bothered him but the moment when the before became the after, that one second where everything went dark. He’d closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see it this time but Caleb’s mind was still replaying its own version back to him over and over which was unnerving to say the least. “Maybe just, say a location, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll forget your voice.”

Dīs. A name for the face of his newest client, the face of someone he hoped he didn’t have to see kill another again. The after was where Caleb belonged, where he hoped to stay, and if this were to become his new business venture he really hoped that the after could become his new home. “Of course, yea…” Hopefully this time his voice didn’t portray how shaken he was, his hand reaching out to shake that of the killer’s before him. “It’s Caleb.” Not realizing what it was that he had just done, the zombie turned back to the body and tried to think of the best way to start this clean up. His truck was a couple of blocks away, he’d have to move it closer to the alley, possibly back it in if he could. All the possibilities were whirring inside his brain while oblivious to the fact that he’d just given Dīs more than a new business agreement.

#Threads #Thread: Dis #The Before and the After #unsanitary tw #domestic abuse tw

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