*stretches again*
Nov. 30th, 2007 03:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
emeraldembersWell.
:).
I'm feeling accomplished.
But seeing as NaNo's still not finished, in the meantime, it's about time I did a catch-up on my commenty snippets!
Seraph seemed a little puzzled at David's presence, though certainly not displeased. He had not been enlightened; had died violently, in the arms of a sobbing... woman, Seraph decided, given Jenna tended to identify with such.
"Why have you not returned?" Seraph asked after what might have been nanoseconds, might have been eternities of quiet.
"I don't know," He mused in return. "I feel no need to for now. I was happy when I died."
"You were hurt," Seraph replied; though that in itself was no reason - Serph might have been in relatively good health, but Sera had been almost decomposing. "Why are you at peace?"
"Love, maybe?" He shrugged, folded his arms behind his head to lean on although truly, there wasn't anything to lean on around here, physical form more an afterthought than necessity. "Love that counted for something. You look like Jenna, you know."
"That's to be expected, given -"
"I know, father and mother," David cut across. "I wonder if you could ever have turned out like her."
"How do you mean?"
"Well..." David rolled onto his side. In theory. There wasn't anything to roll onto anymore than there was something to lean against. "Before I enrolled on research projects I was fascinated by genetic memory. And by the nature versus nurture debate. I suppose we'll see the results from here, won't we? With Heat and the others."
"We'll see," Seraph replied before looking back at the world again, wondered what would become of her father/mother, amongst others. With David, she had been in love to the point where his loss broke her for good. She would not have that option with Gale; Seraph had noticed, both as Sera and as Serph, where Gale's tastes lay.
Funny. After years of being a scientific experiment, she never expected to be conducting one.
"Um," was the first remotely close to intelligent sound that had left Tifa's lips in about five minutes.
This was mostly on account of the first five minutes involving her walking in on Sephiroth and Cloud up to Interesting Activities Indeed, followed up by their discussing - without her managing to gather her brain cells, which had scattered in response to the decidedly pretty sight before her eyes - whether or not she should join.
Finding Cloud had been a nightmare, and truth be told, she had to actually be thankful to Sephiroth for once - the blond did all he could to avoid his friends but seemed to have some sort of beacon that attracted Sephiroth's attention even when they'd been on opposite ends of the galaxy. The two of them just zoned in on each other constantly.
If said zoning in led to more walking in on Interesting Activities Indeed, she wasn't going to complain.
And again, as much as she didn't like owing the silver-haired man anything, she had to be thankful for his prompting Cloud with "I think we can fit one more in here", and oh. Fitting in? Very much worth it. There'd never been any doubt as to why Cloud was so fond of Sephiroth given that leather trousers didn't really hide all that much, but to give him credit, he didn't just let size speak for itself; he'd acquired a clever tongue that, coupled with Cloud pushing into her from one side, pretty much sealed her inability to comment on anything coherently for another three or so minutes.
She'd always liked Cloud - who wouldn't? He needed looking after, and had grown up seriously hot despite the angst. Sephiroth she'd always instinctively avoided, though; everyone in the worlds knew that once someone started spouting on about 'darkness' it was generally best to keep a good distance. Pity no one had mentioned that Sephiroth actually had a vague idea of what to *do* with breasts; instead of just kneading or groping them aimlessly and hoping for the best he kept her guessing, pinching and rubbing and licking and squeezing in turn, even nipping at one very memorable point that led her to the first orgasm of the evening.
Being somewhat of a gentleman despite the psychosis, he didn't even complain or say anything vulgar after Cloud came inside her and he took his turn, nipping at her ear, her neck, generally giving the lie to anyone who'd said he was only into Cloud because everything he was doing screamed I know women, and it was nice digging her fingernails into a broad chest that didn't go red at the slightest pressure. Sephiroth's paleness was unnatural and the way in which it showed? Not really something to complain about.
They'd both snickered when Cloud started snoring, although she did the decent thing too by ordering Sephiroth not to do anything violating to the blond while he was asleep. After all, it was only fun when he knew exactly what he was being shocked about.
You had to hand it to Snape, he knew how to hold a grudge. Not only was Remus leaving Hogwarts but, for the time being anyway, he was leaving Snape's potions behind which meant losing his mind during the transformations and...
Well. Better not to think about it. Besides, he could complain about his lot in life as much as he liked - it would never begin to compare with Sirius' lot.
Out in the forest by his current residence, not really seeking anything other than time away from people who knew quite enough about werewolves from what they'd read in the newspapers, he could have beaten Sirius to death for sneaking up on him. Not just for the surprise but for the stupidity - short of visiting Harry or Dumbledore, who in god's name would be a more obvious choice to visit than Remus?
And in between punching him in a chest that was too sunken, if not as painfully so as the last time they had met up, Remus found himself falling to his knees with Sirius and realised he'd dragged the man down with him, gripping tattered clothes in his fists and holding them close, and Sirius stank, stank of dirt and weeks, months, years of sweat and pain and misery, and he couldn't stop shaking as he held tight. Twelve years. Peter - fucking Peter - had left Sirius in Azkaban for twelve years, left Remus alone and in pain for the transformations and worst, worst of all, thinking the last good constant in his life had been a traitor, betrayer, and murderer.
And he'd believed that. He'd never wanted to, but he had - he'd been sick with it, sobbed to sleep over it, torn bedsheets in human hands and upended rooms. And words beyond "Sorry, I'm so sorry, oh god I'm sorry," refused to come, words that could say what it really had been to go mad with it all, but Sirius just kept holding him as tight, burying his face in Remus' hair and sniffing deep, shoving his hands into robes and Remus could feel them shaking with frustration and anticipation as they tried to find skin, and in the end Remus pushed Sirius off long enough that he could strip, slinging his clothes over a thorned bush nearby and straddling Sirius, slipping his own arms under Sirius as they ground together like teenagers just figuring out how all this worked for the first time, and Sirius' hands, Sirius' expression made him want to sob because he loved this man and he'd forgotten what it was to be loved back with hands that worshipped.
"Beautiful," Sirius stammered out, shoving his own clothes off impatiently in brief movements, never taking either hand off Remus for long and never taking both off, as if scared doing so would make Remus disappear, make him be nothing more than a vision or ghost. "So bloody beautiful."
Remus bit Sirius' shoulder and felt an entirely human howl rising in him, pain and desperation and tears and want feeling it couldn't be expressed any other way, and it was too messy and too brief and it wasn't fair that this was all they had, all they could ever have if Pettigrew wasn't found - and even then, Remus would always be a werewolf, always have that agony to deal with.
Sirius finally managed to free his erection and as soon as he had Remus took hold of it and met his eyes, freezing for a moment as the touch was reciprocated and remembering. The first time - first time they'd ever - it had been not so different from this, though their positions were reversed. Remus had been out in another forest, knowing the full moon was getting closer and hating it, and Sirius had found him and he knew, he knew that Sirius knew and it terrified him but something had happened and Sirius was on top of him and they'd kissed, and he'd expected Sirius to run away but he hadn't, he hadn't, he'd stayed and there, in the mud, they'd finally done what James so often snidely commented they'd do and that didn't fucking matter because they were more than a dirty rumour when it was real.
He'd hated James for that but loved him for so much more and he was gone too, and everything was in ruins but Sirius was here, against him, hot and real in his hand and he didn't complain when Sirius came so quickly because he wasn't much better, his skin had forgotten how good it felt to have someone touching it who liked it, and he was coming and it was a muddy floor again and he'd have to make up some story about tripping in the forest - not so far off the truth, really - but he didn't care. "You've got to go, before anyone finds you, you can't do this," Remus said, hating every word but knowing he had to say it because Sirius' safety was more important than sex or love or having him there could ever be.
"I'll be back for you," Sirius promised, kissing Remus over and over as he dressed, not letting Remus grab a single item of clothing before he left, heaven only knowing where he'd hidden Buckbeak.
Remus made sure to muddy his clothes before heading back towards the house on shaky feet, something to make his cover story more plausible, but turning away from where Sirius had been hurt.
He wanted him gone because he loved him, he couldn't risk him getting caught, couldn't expose him to that danger.
But god, to do what he wanted, he was sacrificing everything he needed.
Belle chewed her lip in thought, knowing full well her loyalty lay with Beast, but unable to get the mental images out of her mind. She had been waiting for his return for some time, and she had been bored. Besides, it wasn't as if she could do much with Beast until his curse was lifted.
And this young man had promised to bring her more books in exchange for this... odd request.
Oh, boy.
Belle looked up at the decidedly taller and more solid man who'd been quietly accompanying the smaller one and figured that taking no for an answer wasn't in his genes.
"I don't see why you can't do this yourselves."
"We could," Zexion declared, shrugging out of his coat and looking so delicate she wasn't sure how the larger one hadn't accidentally broken him at some point. That said, people probably thought the same of her and beast. "But Lexaeus' arm is a little too strong and I'm not that much of a masochist."
Belle pouted thoughtfully for another moment, before making her mind up, sighing out loud, and raising the book she had in her hand. "Zexion, you have been a very bad boy," she declared, bringing the book down hard on his pert behind.
Bibliophiles. Looked like they were odd in every world going.
Heat spat on the floor before announcing "I'm not staying to watch this shit", headed off in search of the nearest terminal. Serph followed shortly after, assisted by Cielo, the burns he'd sustained in the fight looking dangerously close to fatal if he didn't find assistance soon; Argilla's sense of helplessness at her low mana reserves was near tangible.
Heat aside, no one had anything to say about Gale's stroking of Cerberus' wounded flanks, the way the dying beast nuzzled him back with its remaining head. Gale had the least to say of anyone, too angry for tears, stripping away his own armour before curling his body against Cerberus' stomach. Still hot, fiercely so, fire in its belly and blood pumping heat to flesh that couldn't contain it any longer, crimson puddling beneath them both. Gale didn't want Lupa to die, but knew enough of honour through him to know better than to go against his wishes and leave him undevoured. Vayu already screamed to be let out, to tear into what was soon to be a carcass.
The smell of musk was strong here, Cerberus' erection seeming inappropriate but Gale had seen enough death already to know how the two things were often related. He let one hand trail over it, tried to soothe himself by resting his head against the too-warm fur of Cerberus' stomach, his free arm curled around the demon to hold him and it in place; unlikely that it could roll and crush him, too much pain for movement and no true sidewards movement anyway in this form.
"You don't - have to -" growled Lupa through his demon's voice, but Gale shushed him with quiet, breathy noises - nonsense sounds he couldn't remember picking up - and sped up his hand movements, found himself rubbing against fur that should have been hard for defense but was soft, phenomenally soft. Cerebus' breathing was already shallow and unsteady but Gale felt the deepening of breaths taken by bruised lungs anyway, closed his eyes to quell the stinging in them.
"For me," Gale said quietly, felt liquid hot as Cerebus's breath slick out across his hands, and he was arching then against the beast's belly, stomach uneasy as breath stilled more than it ought to.
Vayu quietened until he was through, perhaps respecting its host for once, perhaps biding its time.
Gale had sworn to defeat the Karma Temple for this, but he'd wait until the body cooled first.
He could let himself wait this once.
Keeping Heat and Harley apart had become damn near a full time job since Serph had dragged the Vanguards' leader back to their base. Keeping Harley safe at all was a full time job; the Karma Temple wanted the other Tribe leaders dead and there were members of the Embryon wandering around who trusted in the Temple more than in Serph. That would need to be worked upon later.
Harley curled up against the wall in his room despite having the relative comfort of a bed available to him. On a certain level it made sense - tucked into the corner like that he had only his front to defend. Gale doubted that was the sole reasoning behind Harley waiting there, dragged the fallen Maribel member he'd brought back to keep the Vanguard leader's hunger in check behind him before dropping it without ceremony on the floor. Might have been a male, might have been a female; the scent was indiscrimate, as happened with a surprising number of the Maribel.
"Eat," Gale urged, closing the door behind him; last time Harley had been brought food he'd thrown it outside, ungrateful, leaving the Vanguard to be devoured by Embryon. Perhaps he still had some sense of loyalty to his Tribe, despite it having fallen. It was a foolish notion, but something about it stirred Gale's sympathies, though he quickly brought them in check when a sense of something more rose inside him.
"No," Harley insisted, "I can't kill -"
"They are already dead," Gale pointed out before folding his arms. "Have you forgotten how to feed?"
Harley looked away, almost childlike in his stubbornness.
What was a child?
Gale tucked that thought away, pressed one foot firmly down against the corpse and took hold of one of its arms, wrenching it out of its socket and offering the wet end to Harley. "If the smell provokes my hunger it seems likely it should provoke yours. If you do not eat, you will go mad. Eat."
"I can't," Harley whined, and Gale walked over to him, knelt over the Vanguard leader's legs and trapped them between his own. Not a particular difficulty; Harley was a distance fighter by nature, likely knew how to use his arms better than his legs.
"Open your mouth," Gale ordered, pressing the bloody stump of tattered shoulder against the Vanguard leader's lips before sighing quietly in frustration at the continuing protests, ripped a strip of flesh off the arm between his own teeth and swallowed it. "You must feed -"
Split seconds passed, in which Harley lunged for Gale's mouth, licked away what blood he could, and swiftly found himself with both of Gale's foot-blades sitting either side of his neck. "I'm sorry, I -"
"What is 'sorry'?" Gale asked, wiping Harley's saliva from his lips before blinking in slow recognition. "You will not kill, but you need live meat."
"It's better warm," Harley said with a quiet grumble that might have been a complaint from his throat or his stomach, he wasn't quite certain.
Gale shrugged and settled back into straddling Harley's legs again, tearing a second strip from the arm between his teeth and holding it in his mouth for a moment before pushing Harley's lips open with his hands and pushing the warmed meat into the Vanguard's mouth, careful not to let teeth snap shut until his tongue was safe. Harley struggled to spit the meat out but Gale was persistent, holding the man's lips together firmly with one hand and stroking his neck with the other until he swallowed. "Will you feed yourself now?"
"I can-"
Gale sighed quietly again and tore another piece off the arm before raising an eyebrow at the slight hardness evident through Harley's clothing, repeating the feeding process again. Slight hardness had become a distinct hardness.
Normally that was Heat's trait, when it came to feeding; pity the two were so different in temperament, else Gale might have finally been able to find someone else to take care of Heat after battle.
I'm off to bed now. I'm *knackered*!
:).
I'm feeling accomplished.
But seeing as NaNo's still not finished, in the meantime, it's about time I did a catch-up on my commenty snippets!
Seraph seemed a little puzzled at David's presence, though certainly not displeased. He had not been enlightened; had died violently, in the arms of a sobbing... woman, Seraph decided, given Jenna tended to identify with such.
"Why have you not returned?" Seraph asked after what might have been nanoseconds, might have been eternities of quiet.
"I don't know," He mused in return. "I feel no need to for now. I was happy when I died."
"You were hurt," Seraph replied; though that in itself was no reason - Serph might have been in relatively good health, but Sera had been almost decomposing. "Why are you at peace?"
"Love, maybe?" He shrugged, folded his arms behind his head to lean on although truly, there wasn't anything to lean on around here, physical form more an afterthought than necessity. "Love that counted for something. You look like Jenna, you know."
"That's to be expected, given -"
"I know, father and mother," David cut across. "I wonder if you could ever have turned out like her."
"How do you mean?"
"Well..." David rolled onto his side. In theory. There wasn't anything to roll onto anymore than there was something to lean against. "Before I enrolled on research projects I was fascinated by genetic memory. And by the nature versus nurture debate. I suppose we'll see the results from here, won't we? With Heat and the others."
"We'll see," Seraph replied before looking back at the world again, wondered what would become of her father/mother, amongst others. With David, she had been in love to the point where his loss broke her for good. She would not have that option with Gale; Seraph had noticed, both as Sera and as Serph, where Gale's tastes lay.
Funny. After years of being a scientific experiment, she never expected to be conducting one.
"Um," was the first remotely close to intelligent sound that had left Tifa's lips in about five minutes.
This was mostly on account of the first five minutes involving her walking in on Sephiroth and Cloud up to Interesting Activities Indeed, followed up by their discussing - without her managing to gather her brain cells, which had scattered in response to the decidedly pretty sight before her eyes - whether or not she should join.
Finding Cloud had been a nightmare, and truth be told, she had to actually be thankful to Sephiroth for once - the blond did all he could to avoid his friends but seemed to have some sort of beacon that attracted Sephiroth's attention even when they'd been on opposite ends of the galaxy. The two of them just zoned in on each other constantly.
If said zoning in led to more walking in on Interesting Activities Indeed, she wasn't going to complain.
And again, as much as she didn't like owing the silver-haired man anything, she had to be thankful for his prompting Cloud with "I think we can fit one more in here", and oh. Fitting in? Very much worth it. There'd never been any doubt as to why Cloud was so fond of Sephiroth given that leather trousers didn't really hide all that much, but to give him credit, he didn't just let size speak for itself; he'd acquired a clever tongue that, coupled with Cloud pushing into her from one side, pretty much sealed her inability to comment on anything coherently for another three or so minutes.
She'd always liked Cloud - who wouldn't? He needed looking after, and had grown up seriously hot despite the angst. Sephiroth she'd always instinctively avoided, though; everyone in the worlds knew that once someone started spouting on about 'darkness' it was generally best to keep a good distance. Pity no one had mentioned that Sephiroth actually had a vague idea of what to *do* with breasts; instead of just kneading or groping them aimlessly and hoping for the best he kept her guessing, pinching and rubbing and licking and squeezing in turn, even nipping at one very memorable point that led her to the first orgasm of the evening.
Being somewhat of a gentleman despite the psychosis, he didn't even complain or say anything vulgar after Cloud came inside her and he took his turn, nipping at her ear, her neck, generally giving the lie to anyone who'd said he was only into Cloud because everything he was doing screamed I know women, and it was nice digging her fingernails into a broad chest that didn't go red at the slightest pressure. Sephiroth's paleness was unnatural and the way in which it showed? Not really something to complain about.
They'd both snickered when Cloud started snoring, although she did the decent thing too by ordering Sephiroth not to do anything violating to the blond while he was asleep. After all, it was only fun when he knew exactly what he was being shocked about.
You had to hand it to Snape, he knew how to hold a grudge. Not only was Remus leaving Hogwarts but, for the time being anyway, he was leaving Snape's potions behind which meant losing his mind during the transformations and...
Well. Better not to think about it. Besides, he could complain about his lot in life as much as he liked - it would never begin to compare with Sirius' lot.
Out in the forest by his current residence, not really seeking anything other than time away from people who knew quite enough about werewolves from what they'd read in the newspapers, he could have beaten Sirius to death for sneaking up on him. Not just for the surprise but for the stupidity - short of visiting Harry or Dumbledore, who in god's name would be a more obvious choice to visit than Remus?
And in between punching him in a chest that was too sunken, if not as painfully so as the last time they had met up, Remus found himself falling to his knees with Sirius and realised he'd dragged the man down with him, gripping tattered clothes in his fists and holding them close, and Sirius stank, stank of dirt and weeks, months, years of sweat and pain and misery, and he couldn't stop shaking as he held tight. Twelve years. Peter - fucking Peter - had left Sirius in Azkaban for twelve years, left Remus alone and in pain for the transformations and worst, worst of all, thinking the last good constant in his life had been a traitor, betrayer, and murderer.
And he'd believed that. He'd never wanted to, but he had - he'd been sick with it, sobbed to sleep over it, torn bedsheets in human hands and upended rooms. And words beyond "Sorry, I'm so sorry, oh god I'm sorry," refused to come, words that could say what it really had been to go mad with it all, but Sirius just kept holding him as tight, burying his face in Remus' hair and sniffing deep, shoving his hands into robes and Remus could feel them shaking with frustration and anticipation as they tried to find skin, and in the end Remus pushed Sirius off long enough that he could strip, slinging his clothes over a thorned bush nearby and straddling Sirius, slipping his own arms under Sirius as they ground together like teenagers just figuring out how all this worked for the first time, and Sirius' hands, Sirius' expression made him want to sob because he loved this man and he'd forgotten what it was to be loved back with hands that worshipped.
"Beautiful," Sirius stammered out, shoving his own clothes off impatiently in brief movements, never taking either hand off Remus for long and never taking both off, as if scared doing so would make Remus disappear, make him be nothing more than a vision or ghost. "So bloody beautiful."
Remus bit Sirius' shoulder and felt an entirely human howl rising in him, pain and desperation and tears and want feeling it couldn't be expressed any other way, and it was too messy and too brief and it wasn't fair that this was all they had, all they could ever have if Pettigrew wasn't found - and even then, Remus would always be a werewolf, always have that agony to deal with.
Sirius finally managed to free his erection and as soon as he had Remus took hold of it and met his eyes, freezing for a moment as the touch was reciprocated and remembering. The first time - first time they'd ever - it had been not so different from this, though their positions were reversed. Remus had been out in another forest, knowing the full moon was getting closer and hating it, and Sirius had found him and he knew, he knew that Sirius knew and it terrified him but something had happened and Sirius was on top of him and they'd kissed, and he'd expected Sirius to run away but he hadn't, he hadn't, he'd stayed and there, in the mud, they'd finally done what James so often snidely commented they'd do and that didn't fucking matter because they were more than a dirty rumour when it was real.
He'd hated James for that but loved him for so much more and he was gone too, and everything was in ruins but Sirius was here, against him, hot and real in his hand and he didn't complain when Sirius came so quickly because he wasn't much better, his skin had forgotten how good it felt to have someone touching it who liked it, and he was coming and it was a muddy floor again and he'd have to make up some story about tripping in the forest - not so far off the truth, really - but he didn't care. "You've got to go, before anyone finds you, you can't do this," Remus said, hating every word but knowing he had to say it because Sirius' safety was more important than sex or love or having him there could ever be.
"I'll be back for you," Sirius promised, kissing Remus over and over as he dressed, not letting Remus grab a single item of clothing before he left, heaven only knowing where he'd hidden Buckbeak.
Remus made sure to muddy his clothes before heading back towards the house on shaky feet, something to make his cover story more plausible, but turning away from where Sirius had been hurt.
He wanted him gone because he loved him, he couldn't risk him getting caught, couldn't expose him to that danger.
But god, to do what he wanted, he was sacrificing everything he needed.
Belle chewed her lip in thought, knowing full well her loyalty lay with Beast, but unable to get the mental images out of her mind. She had been waiting for his return for some time, and she had been bored. Besides, it wasn't as if she could do much with Beast until his curse was lifted.
And this young man had promised to bring her more books in exchange for this... odd request.
Oh, boy.
Belle looked up at the decidedly taller and more solid man who'd been quietly accompanying the smaller one and figured that taking no for an answer wasn't in his genes.
"I don't see why you can't do this yourselves."
"We could," Zexion declared, shrugging out of his coat and looking so delicate she wasn't sure how the larger one hadn't accidentally broken him at some point. That said, people probably thought the same of her and beast. "But Lexaeus' arm is a little too strong and I'm not that much of a masochist."
Belle pouted thoughtfully for another moment, before making her mind up, sighing out loud, and raising the book she had in her hand. "Zexion, you have been a very bad boy," she declared, bringing the book down hard on his pert behind.
Bibliophiles. Looked like they were odd in every world going.
Heat spat on the floor before announcing "I'm not staying to watch this shit", headed off in search of the nearest terminal. Serph followed shortly after, assisted by Cielo, the burns he'd sustained in the fight looking dangerously close to fatal if he didn't find assistance soon; Argilla's sense of helplessness at her low mana reserves was near tangible.
Heat aside, no one had anything to say about Gale's stroking of Cerberus' wounded flanks, the way the dying beast nuzzled him back with its remaining head. Gale had the least to say of anyone, too angry for tears, stripping away his own armour before curling his body against Cerberus' stomach. Still hot, fiercely so, fire in its belly and blood pumping heat to flesh that couldn't contain it any longer, crimson puddling beneath them both. Gale didn't want Lupa to die, but knew enough of honour through him to know better than to go against his wishes and leave him undevoured. Vayu already screamed to be let out, to tear into what was soon to be a carcass.
The smell of musk was strong here, Cerberus' erection seeming inappropriate but Gale had seen enough death already to know how the two things were often related. He let one hand trail over it, tried to soothe himself by resting his head against the too-warm fur of Cerberus' stomach, his free arm curled around the demon to hold him and it in place; unlikely that it could roll and crush him, too much pain for movement and no true sidewards movement anyway in this form.
"You don't - have to -" growled Lupa through his demon's voice, but Gale shushed him with quiet, breathy noises - nonsense sounds he couldn't remember picking up - and sped up his hand movements, found himself rubbing against fur that should have been hard for defense but was soft, phenomenally soft. Cerebus' breathing was already shallow and unsteady but Gale felt the deepening of breaths taken by bruised lungs anyway, closed his eyes to quell the stinging in them.
"For me," Gale said quietly, felt liquid hot as Cerebus's breath slick out across his hands, and he was arching then against the beast's belly, stomach uneasy as breath stilled more than it ought to.
Vayu quietened until he was through, perhaps respecting its host for once, perhaps biding its time.
Gale had sworn to defeat the Karma Temple for this, but he'd wait until the body cooled first.
He could let himself wait this once.
Keeping Heat and Harley apart had become damn near a full time job since Serph had dragged the Vanguards' leader back to their base. Keeping Harley safe at all was a full time job; the Karma Temple wanted the other Tribe leaders dead and there were members of the Embryon wandering around who trusted in the Temple more than in Serph. That would need to be worked upon later.
Harley curled up against the wall in his room despite having the relative comfort of a bed available to him. On a certain level it made sense - tucked into the corner like that he had only his front to defend. Gale doubted that was the sole reasoning behind Harley waiting there, dragged the fallen Maribel member he'd brought back to keep the Vanguard leader's hunger in check behind him before dropping it without ceremony on the floor. Might have been a male, might have been a female; the scent was indiscrimate, as happened with a surprising number of the Maribel.
"Eat," Gale urged, closing the door behind him; last time Harley had been brought food he'd thrown it outside, ungrateful, leaving the Vanguard to be devoured by Embryon. Perhaps he still had some sense of loyalty to his Tribe, despite it having fallen. It was a foolish notion, but something about it stirred Gale's sympathies, though he quickly brought them in check when a sense of something more rose inside him.
"No," Harley insisted, "I can't kill -"
"They are already dead," Gale pointed out before folding his arms. "Have you forgotten how to feed?"
Harley looked away, almost childlike in his stubbornness.
What was a child?
Gale tucked that thought away, pressed one foot firmly down against the corpse and took hold of one of its arms, wrenching it out of its socket and offering the wet end to Harley. "If the smell provokes my hunger it seems likely it should provoke yours. If you do not eat, you will go mad. Eat."
"I can't," Harley whined, and Gale walked over to him, knelt over the Vanguard leader's legs and trapped them between his own. Not a particular difficulty; Harley was a distance fighter by nature, likely knew how to use his arms better than his legs.
"Open your mouth," Gale ordered, pressing the bloody stump of tattered shoulder against the Vanguard leader's lips before sighing quietly in frustration at the continuing protests, ripped a strip of flesh off the arm between his own teeth and swallowed it. "You must feed -"
Split seconds passed, in which Harley lunged for Gale's mouth, licked away what blood he could, and swiftly found himself with both of Gale's foot-blades sitting either side of his neck. "I'm sorry, I -"
"What is 'sorry'?" Gale asked, wiping Harley's saliva from his lips before blinking in slow recognition. "You will not kill, but you need live meat."
"It's better warm," Harley said with a quiet grumble that might have been a complaint from his throat or his stomach, he wasn't quite certain.
Gale shrugged and settled back into straddling Harley's legs again, tearing a second strip from the arm between his teeth and holding it in his mouth for a moment before pushing Harley's lips open with his hands and pushing the warmed meat into the Vanguard's mouth, careful not to let teeth snap shut until his tongue was safe. Harley struggled to spit the meat out but Gale was persistent, holding the man's lips together firmly with one hand and stroking his neck with the other until he swallowed. "Will you feed yourself now?"
"I can-"
Gale sighed quietly again and tore another piece off the arm before raising an eyebrow at the slight hardness evident through Harley's clothing, repeating the feeding process again. Slight hardness had become a distinct hardness.
Normally that was Heat's trait, when it came to feeding; pity the two were so different in temperament, else Gale might have finally been able to find someone else to take care of Heat after battle.
I'm off to bed now. I'm *knackered*!
