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“My little black lamb, so lost and helpless. What luck it was to wander across you in the deep, dark forest. And all on your lonesome, too?”
Rover knows he shouldn’t enjoy the way Scar’s hand tightens in his hair, how those ombre gloves feel like both heaven and hell as they yank his head to the side, giving Scar more access to his sensitive throat. He knows he should fight back, try to regain some sense—any sense—of normalcy in this bizarre new world, because this isn’t what he’s supposed to be doing. The tree at his back digs in painfully as Rover writhes against it, but he knows there’s no use. Scar has his hands pinned above his head, other hand in his hair, and everything that could have gone wrong has gone wrong, and Rover doesn’t know what to do.
In any world, in any universe, Rover knows that this is wrong.
But then why does it feel so right?
Part of Rover wishes he listened to Yangyang about how dangerous it was to leave Jinzhou by himself, how doing silly little quest to help some kids find their pet bunny rabbit certainly could have waited until the morning when he could have asked Chixia or Lingyang to go with him.... though the chances of finding that bunny uneaten would have been slim to none.
And now I’m the one who’s going to be eaten by the big, bad wolf?
“It’s like you were just calling for me, weren’t you? Needy and yearning, how could I ever deny you?”
Of course, Rover knew this was a potential outcome for leaving. He considered it long and hard, staring at himself in the reflection of the crystal clear waters just on the edge of town. The moon, its all-encompassing glory, winked back at him as though sharing a secret only the night could ever understand.
He knows this is an inevitability, just like the sun rising and the moon descending to her slumber. He knows he needs answers, answers no one dares tell him, and the only person who is willing has been, since the beginning, Scar.
Did I find him? Or did he find me?
“Stop—”
Rover must sound as pitiful as he feels, but that mocking smile sends a thrill of something straight down his spine and right to his cock. Scar’s leg rubs against him just then, pulling out an excruciatingly embarrassing sound, somewhere between a moan and a keen. He tries to buck Scar off, but the tree behind him is too sturdy, and Scar’s leg between his thighs is even more so.
He’s pinned, like a butterfly to a corkboard.
“Let me go.”
“From how hard you are, something is telling me you very much don’t want me to let you go.”
Anger wells in Rover’s body as he spits out, “Fuck you!”
Scar bites down hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to bleed. The pain is something wholly unreal, and it only makes Rover harder.
“Oh, I won’t be the one being fucked, my little lamb.”
There’s something in his voice, something between a threat and a promise, and Rover just doesn’t know what to do with the fact that some visceral part of him enjoys how it sounds, enjoys the way Scar licks at the patch of skin he’s just bitten, the cool air a perfect juxtaposition to his hot, wet mouth. He even enjoys the hardness of Scar’s cock rubbing against his stomach, a perfect symbol that, yes, Rover may be turned on, but he isn’t the only one.
“Why’re you doing this?”
Scar hums as he tightens his grip on Rover’s wrists. They creak under the weight, and Rover can’t help but wince. “Because you feel it, don’t you? That electric pull between us?”
Rover wants to say no, wants to lie, but it’s true. He doesn’t understand it any more than he understands what’s been going on since waking from that terrible, beautiful, dream, but he can’t deny how much he wants Scar to touch him, to kiss him, to take him.
It’s writhing under his skin, a hunger that can only be compared to whatever thing in him that calls for him to consume the echoes of the tacet discords.
He needs this tenuous connection to his humanity, because if he doesn't... what would that make him?
When Scar finally kisses him, his mouth is like a cavernous maw ready to swallow Rover whole, and Rover wants it, needs it, yearns for it.
Scar tastes like blood and flame and sex, but underneath is a sweetness that is almost cloying. It’s like Scar wants to swallow him whole, and while part of Rover wishes he fell into the kiss despite this, he knows that, too, would have been a lie. He falls into the kiss because of this.
Scar’s desert dry lips drag against his mouth and Rover gives him access because it feels, inexplicably, right.
He’s so turned on it hurts, so when Scar grinds against Rover’s hard cock, he almost comes. The only thing that stops him is the gently cruel, sloppy kiss at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh, not yet, my dear. That would be too soon.”
Rover doesn’t know when Scar let go of his hands, but the sudden sensation of blood returning to his fingers is quickly eclipsed by those fingers forcing their way into his mouth. He chokes when they go too far in, but Rover is stunned when Scar growls into his ear.
“Suck.”
He complies.
By the Gods, he complies.
Slick saliva drools from the corners of his mouth, pooling on Rover’s chin. For a second he expects Scar to look at him in disgust, a pathetic and needy whore, but Scar only leans forward to lick a dribble from his chin.
“You look good like that, my little lamb. But I have a better idea what you can do with those lips.”
Rover’s knees go out from under him the second Scar’s hands leave his hair. The bark against his spine pulls the entire way down, his shirt riding up, showing the expanse of his stomach for Scar to stare at with wide, blown eyes. There’s something ethereal in the mismatched colors, and Rover can’t look away. Even as Scar undoes the zipper of his gray bodysuit, pulling out his already hard cock.
“Open your mouth, darling dear,” Scar teases, and the little contrarian voice in the back of his mind whispers no—make him work for it.
Make him yearn for it.
Scar tsks, letting his hands drop to Rover’s head. They cup his cheeks, fingers rubbing comforting circles against his skin. The wetness from Rover’s spit wipes under his left eye, and it’s only then that Rover realizes he’s crying.
It isn’t the hard, pained cries of someone in pain. It isn’t the cries of anger, either.
No.
These are tears of humiliation and deep, unending desire.
Rover hates himself, just a little, when Scar grabs hold of another fistful of his hair as he forces his thumb into his panting mouth. Rover opens his lips, barely enough for Scar’s thumb.
“You can do better than that, can’t you?” Scar says it so softly, so sweetly, that Rover doesn’t deny it. His lips quiver for just a moment before, compliant, he opens wider.
“That’s a good boy.”
That endearment is enough to break whatever resolve Rover has, whatever small part of him wanted to fight against Scar. With those words came a smile, so genuine it was like a gut punch.
The hot, silky-smooth skin hits Rover’s lips and tongue, and Gods, Scar’s cock is almost too thick for him to take in his wide mouth. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, but Scar wipes them away with his spit-slick hand. It leaves his entire face wet, but that’s not what’s important.
No.
“There you go, darling. There you go. Take it all in.”
There’s a feeling of fullness that radiates down from Rover’s jaw to the very back of his throat. Reflexively, Rover tries to breathe, only to swallow around Scar’s cock. There’s no space, no air, no way he’s going to make it out of this alive—
And then Scar pulls his cock out just long enough for Rover to catch his breath, then thrusts back in. Rover tries to swallow, tries to cough, but his throat is no longer his; it belongs to Scar, all of him belongs to Scar right now and there’s nothing he can do because there’s darkness at the corners of his eyes and he’s not sure what will happen if he dares to close his eyes.
His own cock aches between his legs. Feebly, Rover tries to palm himself through his pants, but the sudden jerk of Scar’s cock from his lips and the smack of the heel of Scar’s hand against his face shocks him back to reality.
It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, not really, but the way Scar’s face changes makes the warmth of blood from his nose almost burn.
What am I doing?
There’s something unspoken in those moments, tentative in a way that is almost baffling, as Scar leans down to rub the blood from his nose. His fingers are delicate as he wipes, yet the metallic taste lingers even when Scar leans down to kiss him.
When he looks back down, Rover’s blood blooms across Scar’s mouth like a rose.
“Let’s not do that again,” Scar murmurs, “though I have to say... you look good in red.”
“Who am I?” It comes out like a whisper, but it feels like a scream.
Scar tucks a wayward hair behind Rover’s ear. “Not yet, my little lamb. Not yet.”
He’s not gentle—Rover doesn’t think Scar knows the meaning of the word—but he’s far more careful as he lines his cock back to Rover’s lips, pushing just the head in. There’s a salty tang to it, one that mixes with the blood into something heavy and heady, and though Rover is harder than he’s ever been in his entire existence, he doesn’t dare touch himself.
He can’t.
There are words of encouragement, words that are kind but are laced with blood, words that are angry and yet feel like a summer breeze. Rover falls into the sensation of Scar’s cock against his tongue as the pre-cum and saliva dribbling down his chin, at the comforting rhythm of Scar’s breath as it reaches a staccato. Scar’s close to the edge of oblivion, and Rover is at peace knowing he is the one to take him there.
It’s the most human he’s felt since waking.
When Scar comes, it’s the kindest he has been all night. Instead of pumping his throat, Scar chooses to cum across his lips. Hungry—for this entirely human connection, for companionship, for even a moment of oblivion—Rover opens his mouth wider.
It’s done too soon, and Scar’s already zipping himself up. He pauses, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side before he kneels before Rover. Scar threads his fingers through Rover’s hair like a love would.
“I’ll tell you who you are, but you may not like it. You may even hate me for it.” His other hand slowly makes its way down his chest, toward the hem of his pants. There’s a look in Scar’s eyes, one that promises something more, and Rover’s ready for this, whatever this is.
When the echo of his name calls out from the distance, for the first time all night, Rover isn’t the lamb.
Scar snaps to attention, pulling his hands away as he spins up, head snapping to the side.
Without the support, Rover falls back against the tree again. “W—wait,” Rover begs, hating how his voice breaks.
Scar, however, only manages a smirk before he pulls out his deck of cards. He leans down, sliding a single card into Rover’s breast pocket.
“To remember me fondly, my little lamb. Next time... I’ll be sure to repay the favor.”
Scar doesn’t kiss him, instead wiping cum and blood from Rover’s bottom lip. Holding his hand to the moonlight scattering through the canopy of leaves above, Scar examines it for a moment before wiping it across his own lips.
With a wink and a flash of a portal, Scar is gone and with it any last shred of Rover’s dignity. With no time to spare, Rover grinds his hand against the front of his pants once, twice, and he is gone into that agonizing bliss.
By the time Baizhi and Yangyang find him, Rover knows he is lost, because the shade of red across Scar’s lips will haunt him like an echo until his dying day.