[PRP] Sleepers Just Don't (MengSeng - 2pg134u)

[keiifuu]

Desperation cut deep, and made fools out of even the most noble of men. After all, that was the root of their reason for finding each other here wasn't it? That was the tiny seed that had been planted into their marrow, that had grown into their bones and created chaos, insecurity, anger. They were seeking shelter from a storm, and they had found it in each other. And was that irony at work? Senga's expression shifted, his lips curling into a sad, protective, sheltered expression.

Just as Mengyao wished in some way to destroy him, to snap his bones and tear away at his skin and leave him as nothing but ashes and dust, so did Senga want to feel that mans skin beneath his own fingers and feel the way it moved. He wanted to dig into Mengyao the way the Noble wanted to do the same. And he wondered absently if this craving was how they would eventually end it. If one day they would snap, and this fragile bond that they had would descend into chaos, until they were left shadows of what they had once been.

"There - " Senga hissed, but his tone was nearly aching, his eyes flashing a vibrant amber-gold. "There is no logic in who is worth and not worth saving." He laughed, and the sound was like shattered glass. "To want to save someone - that is a purely selfish idea. To want to take them away from their path, to give them what they had - that is desperation, bred of protectiveness and emotional whim." He shuddered, closing his eyes. "Perhaps I care for you, Mengyao. Perhaps you've caught me, prey within a trap."

And perhaps all of that was true, because Senga that sad gaze on him and it made him want to howl. To chase away all of those things that made Mengyao as sad as he was. To bring back the things he loved, the people he loved. But he couldn't. He was a wolf, running endlessly. But the woods were empty, and all of those bad things that haunted Mengyao chased at his heels, nipping at him and urging him to run faster, faster.

He growled gently against Mengyao's lips, a vibration of sound like thunder, like lightning just before the storm. And he pressed back, because physicality was something he understood so much better than words themselves. He slid his nails against the fragile of Mengyao's skin, and tangled his claws in his hair. So this was a promise. So this was his deal.

He sighed, biting Mengyao's lower lip just enough so that it bled. Pain for pain. A promise sealed in the only way they knew how. Because beneath all of their fancy words and snapping motifs, they were at their base animals. Volatile, physical. Tonight they were tame, their carnality controlled beneath the shadows of night. But when would they be again? And when would they rip and tear at each other another time, until the world spun and everything blurred into darkness.

"Further into the darkness then," He hummed gently, and let his head fall, resting it in the crevice between Mengyao's neck and shoulder. "Until we become little more than ghosts, and eventually part of the shadows themselves." He laughed, and the sound echoed hollowly out, a mechanic gesture burned into him by years and years of running and never looking back. "I'm sorry," He said, barely above a whisper, "you deserved so much more than this."

And then he let the silence fall.

There was nowhere left to go.

kurotomato

walks right off after you

 

[kuropeco]

There was a part of Mengyao, laid deep within his bones, that was repulsed by the idea of the War clansman currently in his arms; disgusted that he had sunk so low, that he had allowed himself to get to this level at all. But it was a small part, a part drilled into his head by the constant reminders of those he had grown up with, of those who had told him that Conquest remained the greatest clan of them all. And perhaps he still believed that, in some way or another.

Or perhaps he knew now that it was a lie, along with everything else in his life.

Senga's voice reached his ears, low and rasping, and Mengyao closed his eyes, idly smoothing his thumbs along the underside of the wolf's jaw. A laugh escaped his own throat, but it was a bitter laugh, tinged with harsh amusement, and when Mengyao opened his eyes again, they were oddly bright, shimmering in the watery moonlight.

"Caring will get you nowhere," he said, and his throat felt dry, his words coming out almost shakily, though the smile was still there. He pressed his forehead against Senga's and then shook it slowly from side to side once. "Caring does nothing but make you miserable, make your heart ache and your chest feel as though it will collapse from the inside out."

It hurt to talk, so he stopped, sinking into the blackness, his fingers sliding around so that they were pressed against the nape of Senga's neck, their shared promise still on his mouth, a low hiss escaping at the bite. He licked his lips and tasted blood again, and Mengyao closed his eyes yet again, unwilling to see what was right in front of him because it hurt too much.

I am already a ghost, he thought, his arms sliding around Senga's waist. He turned his head slightly, his lips ghosting over one of the wolf's ears, eyes still shut, and he lifted a hand, stroking it down the back of his head in an almost tender gesture, his fingers slipping through the pale, tawny strands.

"No," he said softly, and dropped his hand, pulling Senga against him and pressing his face into the place where his neck slid into his collarbone, just where Senga's was currently against Mengyao's. He held on tightly with shaking fingers and breathed slowly, shakily, and there was a wetness on his cheeks that had not been there before, galling him in shame.

"I do not deserve anything anymore," he whispered, and sank deep into the darkness, into the silence, into nothingness.

keiifuu

i d e k