Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: drugs, sexual themes, & murder

he's thinking about gregory. he hasn't seen absynthe in some time, but that doesn't matter; he needs to find gregory, he needs to finish what they'd started. the male is nowhere to be found. there's a rising agitation in his chest, bubbling until he thinks his skin will burst and spill his rancid guts across the forest floor. he wishes it would.
the flowers appear like a blessing, but there's no time to contemplate it. he can't get the seeds down his throat fast enough, launching into a fit of coughing and choking in the process— dry, his mouth is dry. he's forced to turn his head to glance around the area, suddenly aware of how close everything is to him; the trees, the plants, there's leaves touching him and he can't stand it— but he needs water.
he sees the creek a distance off and doesn't hesitate to snatch a poppy to take with him on the short trip, inexplicably possessive of the plentiful herb. when he gets there, he drops the flower carelessly and dips his head to drink, shivering in anticipation of the high to come.

he misses the approach of the other, but the scent comes to him in time. he's slow to react, lifting his head lazily and turning to fix the stranger with an unblinking inkjet stare. small, aged, and unimpressive. "what do you want?" he asks irritably, too lazy to convey true hostility. he gestures to the flower, irrationally paranoid. "this?" just his luck— some old junkie who can't pick his own damn flower.

he sighs at the response, allowing some time to pass in silence. when he finally speaks, his gaze has drifted to the poppy. "rough time, huh?" his tone is softer now, almost sympathetic. "me too. hey, i'm sorry i snapped. why don't you take some?"
he nudges the flower closer. "it helps sometimes." he dips his head to drink again to hide the eagerness in his gaze, pulse quickening slightly. take it, he urges silently, take the flower.

he watches from the corner of his vision, a smile curving one side of his mouth. "you and me both," he agrees quietly, snaking closer to the male. he lets silence settle between them for several minutes before he speaks again, inching even closer. his voice is almost a whisper. "i bet you've seen a lot in your time, old man. you ever meet a witch?"

he grins, almost close enough for their fur to touch now. "depends," he murmurs, watching the stranger's expression carefully. slowly he leans closer, bringing his mouth right up next to his ear. "do you want me to teach you?" he's still and unblinking, breath held; waiting.

he presses even closer, his own fur mingling with the stranger's red. he buries his muzzle into the man's scruff without hesitation and inhales his scent deeply. his legs tremble. he thinks about gregory, drawing his muzzle through the other's fur. without warning, his teeth close around fur and flesh, and in a moment he has the stranger by the scruff. his heart is racing.
he forces him down, throwing all his weight against the other wolf and moving quickly to straddle him. he's standing over him now, belly pressed against his back, holding him over the edge of the creek. he feels him struggling against his chest, feels the warmth of their bodies pressed together. only centimeters separate the man's face from the water.
"tell me you love me," he rasps, muffled by the flesh between his teeth, and grasps him tighter, piercing the flesh now.

it's beautiful for a moment, just a fleeting moment. he savors it, breathing in every lovely deceitful syllable, and when it's gone it cuts deeply. his teeth tighten further, grip as crushing as the agony rippling through him at the loss. he's pushing him under before he realizes what he's doing, throwing all his weight into the action.
even as the realization strikes him, his grip doesn't loosen. he wants to let go— he's hurt this man enough, he's had his fun, it's time to let go. it doesn't cross his mind that he could kill him. he's never done it, so it won't happen, can't happen, right? but he's frozen, and seconds turn into minutes, and only when the struggling slows and then ceases does he loosen his grip, glossy-eyed and breathing hard.