[Sullivan's eyes stare into Zephir's, while his hands go to work - digging his thumb into Zephir's throat like the skin of an orange. He peels him open deftly, letting his blood run down between them - lips twitching, desire to drink it up forcibly cast aside as he brutalizes Zephir's shell to core him of the rotten weeds inside.
The purging won't stop but it'll be eased by his palm pulling the gory remnants of rooted plants out of Zephir, clearing his throat like a drain. He drops the mucky thorns to the side, and continues this process, never once breaking eye contact with his other half. His own hands are bleeding from the effort, mingling black with white into a muddy grey puddle between them.]
[ Blood is in abundance, stems and thorns spilling in a grotesque bloom. Zephir convulses with each pull, each assault coming from the inside of his own body, barely given a moment to breathe before another collection surges upward and outward.
It'll be hours before it stops, leaving them both in a pool of blood and gore but not the evidence of what caused it all. All of it has turned to dust, small wet piles where it gathered in his and Sully's blood by the time he's touching a healed up throat and taking ragged breaths.
Zephir is sweating. His throat feels empty but not free. Every word scratches it more. ]
[Sullivan doesn't blink for most of it - he watches Zephir convulse, purge and spit. He pulls string after string of thorny growth from him, like deep rooted plants from loose earth. It finally begins to end (fitting cycle to match them and their efforts,) and the scent of spilled blood between them is heavy. Heavier still is the brief silence, before Sullivan's voice follows Zephir's into filling the room:]
Not the first and not likely the last time someone tries to play with us.
[Tries to exert power over entities beyond limitation.]
[ Hand on his stomach over the place where he first felt the growths take over his insides, Zephir seems lost for a moment, hidden within himself. Blue eyes return to his other half, lips parted, lungs still relearning how to fill with air. Over the blood, Zephir crawls closer to Sullivan, wet hand on his cheek. ]
Can you taste it? How it taints me?
[ He searches his features, leans in to kiss him and give anything that might be left from the event. A deranged question asked with a soft voice. ]
[Sullivan's arms envelop him, tightly holding him - tighter than any average person would allow, but Zephir is his. He holds him as tightly as he can, not unlike the first embrace they had as separates, wondering if there was a way to merge together once again. He kisses Zephir hungrily, searching his mouth with his tongue and tasting the mix of blood and thorn.]
I taste it. But it's sour, even for me. Because it's not of me.
[It's pain, adjacent to rot - but it's not caused by his hand and so he detests it, just a little.]
[ That gets a look of disappointment, breathing hard, swallowing what still feels too thick to fit in his throat. Ghost sensations lingering after unimaginable pain. ]
That's a shame, my Death.
[ If it had been more worthy, the suffering would've been worth it. Now it's just a novel experience that got old as soon as Sully told him there's no enjoyment there. Another fake — or, if not fake, simply subpar. ]
Then let me give you something to drink.
[ As they both hold each other, wrapped together over a bloodbath and bits of gore, Zephir regurgitates all the black substance that resulted from hours of healing himself over and over. Plenty for his other half to indulge and lose himself in, to make this less of a waste of their time. ]
[When he sees pain on Zephir, he wants to be the cause of it - their pleasure mingles so well, but this is warped. He dislikes not being the root cause; not being able to fully drink this off of him like he does the oily black bursting past his lips, dipping to kiss him and suck that back into him with a throaty moan.
His hand slides down the front of Zephir's chest, as if to soothe the lingering rawness that lays within. Then Sullivan presses his fingers inward, crooking them through flesh and bone, determined now to make this his own - to pry from Zephir cries of his own doing, by wilting the flesh inside with a killing touch; flesh decaying around his fingertips, up to his embedded knuckles.]
cw: continued emeto + cannibalism ref + back to gore but make it romance
[ Zephir does cry out, darkness sluggishly dripping from his lips and jaw when he trembles all over, afforded the luxury of pretending to be surprised. His body seems to scream and delight itself in pain, violently welcoming the intrusion that starts to destroy him from within.
Lips pressed together, Zephir makes a haunting noise split between one sphere of emotion and another completely different one, before pulling Sully back in and cleansing himself of the damage inflicted. It starts as a kiss, sweat and blood mixing where Sully destroyed him, and then more black elixir pools in one mouth, poured into the other. Like they should've done from the start. ]
Taste it, [ Breathless, unclean. Death's essence shines on him like an oil spill while he bleeds in white. ] What you've taken from me.
[Said with a gasping breath all his own against Zephir's lips, the filth expelled between them dripping down their chins from their lips as he laps it up with a swipe of his tongue. He twists his hand in Zephir's chest to elicit another raw sound, eyes closed until they reopen - sclera black, teeth sharper than they were moments before.]
[ He sees Sullivan like this, turning his vessel into a monster one part at a time while they both shed the pretense of humanity to drift closer to the vicious cycle of death and life; stealing, thriving, destroying off each other. Death cannot happen without life; life uses what's left behind by death to thrive again.
He grabs Sully's wrists, brings his hands and claws deeper into his chest, kisses and spills into him from his mouth and with his blood. Indulges and feeds them both, shoves him down with a body fueled by a nightmarish miracle and demands to be fucked in both familiar and grotesque ways. Once again, there will be too much for staff to clean in the morning. ]
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no subject
The purging won't stop but it'll be eased by his palm pulling the gory remnants of rooted plants out of Zephir, clearing his throat like a drain. He drops the mucky thorns to the side, and continues this process, never once breaking eye contact with his other half. His own hands are bleeding from the effort, mingling black with white into a muddy grey puddle between them.]
Breathe in for me, deep.
no subject
It'll be hours before it stops, leaving them both in a pool of blood and gore but not the evidence of what caused it all. All of it has turned to dust, small wet piles where it gathered in his and Sully's blood by the time he's touching a healed up throat and taking ragged breaths.
Zephir is sweating. His throat feels empty but not free. Every word scratches it more. ]
… Another surprise for us, my love.
no subject
Not the first and not likely the last time someone tries to play with us.
[Tries to exert power over entities beyond limitation.]
It's tainting you.
no subject
Can you taste it? How it taints me?
[ He searches his features, leans in to kiss him and give anything that might be left from the event. A deranged question asked with a soft voice. ]
no subject
I taste it. But it's sour, even for me. Because it's not of me.
[It's pain, adjacent to rot - but it's not caused by his hand and so he detests it, just a little.]
cw: pseudo-emeto
That's a shame, my Death.
[ If it had been more worthy, the suffering would've been worth it. Now it's just a novel experience that got old as soon as Sully told him there's no enjoyment there. Another fake — or, if not fake, simply subpar. ]
Then let me give you something to drink.
[ As they both hold each other, wrapped together over a bloodbath and bits of gore, Zephir regurgitates all the black substance that resulted from hours of healing himself over and over. Plenty for his other half to indulge and lose himself in, to make this less of a waste of their time. ]
cw: whatever this is
His hand slides down the front of Zephir's chest, as if to soothe the lingering rawness that lays within. Then Sullivan presses his fingers inward, crooking them through flesh and bone, determined now to make this his own - to pry from Zephir cries of his own doing, by wilting the flesh inside with a killing touch; flesh decaying around his fingertips, up to his embedded knuckles.]
cw: continued emeto + cannibalism ref + back to gore but make it romance
Lips pressed together, Zephir makes a haunting noise split between one sphere of emotion and another completely different one, before pulling Sully back in and cleansing himself of the damage inflicted. It starts as a kiss, sweat and blood mixing where Sully destroyed him, and then more black elixir pools in one mouth, poured into the other. Like they should've done from the start. ]
Taste it, [ Breathless, unclean. Death's essence shines on him like an oil spill while he bleeds in white. ] What you've taken from me.
[ The elixir. His blood. His body. ]
no subject
[Said with a gasping breath all his own against Zephir's lips, the filth expelled between them dripping down their chins from their lips as he laps it up with a swipe of his tongue. He twists his hand in Zephir's chest to elicit another raw sound, eyes closed until they reopen - sclera black, teeth sharper than they were moments before.]
You belong to me. And I to you.
🎀 💀🌳
He grabs Sully's wrists, brings his hands and claws deeper into his chest, kisses and spills into him from his mouth and with his blood. Indulges and feeds them both, shoves him down with a body fueled by a nightmarish miracle and demands to be fucked in both familiar and grotesque ways. Once again, there will be too much for staff to clean in the morning. ]