Ravensblood Forest there is lightning in this room, above our heads waiting to strike

continued

It takes a few hours for him to calm down. By the time the tears stop, he's red-eyed and exhausted, face fur ruffled and damp with tears. He doesn't bother to clean up before he goes to find @Kratos, though. He feels too hollow by now to really care whether his mate knows he's been crying.
When he finds him, his heart clenches at the sight, and he forgets all the things he'd planned on saying. His mind is blank as he halts several feet away, but somehow he still feels overwhelmed, as if a million thoughts are racing through his head. Do you think I'm ugly? The words that slip from him aren't what he'd wanted to say, or really what he means, either. What he actually wants to know is if his... defect is the reason behind Kratos's earlier reluctance — but he doesn't know how to ask that directly. Because I'm... different. He adds after a beat, and decides it's close enough to what he'd intended. Nevermind that both questions are rather ridiculous, given their relationship status; for the boy who spent his childhood thinking his entire family hated him without any real evidence, it isn't much of a stretch.

He spends his time alone, at first enraged by the circumstances and how they fell. Yet, with time and a few destructive blows, Kratos calms—he is lying underneath a tree when Zephyr finds him. The silver’s fur unkempt and the signs of his distress clear.
Kratos doesn’t lift his head.
No. If anyone is ugly of the two, it is him. Just wanted to know more about you. And in ways, he guesses he does—knows that the subject is taboo.

Kratos's lack of movement is disheartening, and it only further confuses Zephyr when he responds. If the answer is no, how did they get here? Then why didn't you want to... He trails off, unable to find the word he wants to use at first. After a moment, he settles for something easier. Why didn't you want me?

Kratos himself is confused, by how his words could be taken as not wanting Zephyr.
Never said I didn’t, he argues back, I did. We sparred last time, and we used to before in general. The rust colored male hadn’t seen it as an issue, since before it went well—yet it seems he continued to make the wrong choice, and he gets the feeling he still is.

It makes sense after a moment, and Zephyr immediately feels the shame and regret of the misunderstanding. His gaze drops for a moment. Oh... He breathes softly, unsure what else he can say. Should he apologize? Offer to try again? After a few beats, he sits abruptly, gaze still trained on Kratos.

Kratos falls back to silence—both of them in their opposite corners so to speak. It is unknown whether the explanation made sense, or if it only brought about more turmoil for the silver. Kratos is getting frustrated by the second—he’s never been good with feelings.

The silence starts to get to him after a few moments, but he doesn't know how to break it. Eventually his patience wears thin, and he crawls forward, pressing his nose directly to Kratos's for a moment in a gesture bolder than he's feeling right now. I still want you, He offers quietly, nipping at one of his paws as he pulls away; an invitation to start that spar Kratos had wanted before, albeit from an awkward position.

Both of them are stubborn in their own ways—give and take a balance that needs to be found, yet eventually one breaks. Zephyr moves, crawling towards him as if careful he’d snap. Kratos lifts his chin from his legs, one swollen.
His tail tip sways. I do too. The press of their noses is welcomed, tension ebbing away from his muscles, yet they dance a different tune once more; where the silver is willing to compromise, he, too, has been willing. Fortunately the nip is given to the uninjured paw.
Kratos rises to his feet, sluggish and lazy in his movements with his head slouched. Pale gold eyes rest on his mate.

Relief washes over him as Kratos responds positively to his attempt at reaching out, and he's quick to follow suit when his mate rises. He steps forward with an undertone of urgency, nipping at his neck this time and leaving a trail of kisses to follow. From the moment of that first touch, all else is forgotten. The gentle snap of his teeth turns harsh after a few moments, not meant to hurt but to provoke. In the next moment, he flits away on light feet, briefly dropping into a play-bow that melts away when Kratos presumably comes after him.

A barrage of nips and kisses filter up his neck towards his cheek. Kratos leans into them, enough that he steps forth into the touch just as the teeth turn harsh and Zephyr zips from his space. A half-grin curves across his lips. Instead of his usual tactic, he takes the slow approach, turning towards Zephyr’s right, and abruptly lunging out towards his right forearm.

His mate's slowness throws him off, and for a moment he hesitates, a smile tugging at his own features in response to the half-grin. Somehow, he still manages to evade the lunge at the last moment, darting to the side with a laugh and then abruptly surging forward. He aims for Kratos's uninjured leg in retaliation, stretching his jaws to fit it in his mouth for a moment just to see if he can.

Wow, what fun new random fact. Zephyr gets his opportunity to see if that leg does, in fact, fit in his mouth. Kratos isn’t as swift as the steamline silver and takes the first hit of the brawl.
Fortunately, this leaves his mate wide open for an attack of his own. Following suit, Kratos swings his hips to the side a bit to get a better position to chomp on the side of Zephyr’s scruff closest to him.

He's proud for a moment when he finds success in his endeavor, but it doesn't last long. Kratos's teeth in his scruff quickly bring him back to the moment, and he lets out a deep huff, squirming a little in his grasp. When he realizes he isn't getting away (as usual), he reaches up to snap at whatever he can reach — and finds only thick fur between his own teeth.

Teeth snap up towards him, but Kratos is determined to keep his hold; smug as he is to have successfully grabbed the quick silver. Tail lashes behind him, raising a hair in dominance as a playful growl rumbles in his throat and he tries to use his hold on Zephyr to force him down.

He goes down, but not without a fight. He snaps continuously as Kratos slowly manages to force his front end toward the ground, snagging fur here and there but little else. He's ready to fling his weight to the side in an attempt to break the grasp his mate has on him, but something stops him. The warmth of a foreleg laid across his back changes the tone in an instant, and his earlier desires come rushing back to him. A breathless growl slips from him, and he goes still, though he stays tense in his efforts to keep at least his back end off the ground. It strikes him suddenly how suggestive this position is, and the heat spreading across him intensifies, leaving him shifting impatiently as he waits for Kratos to take advantage of it.

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: implied sexy times

With one touch, the mood shifts. Adrenaline pulsing through his veins from their spar turns to a desire and need for Zephyr—their first coupling had been wanting, but he feels it even more here. Could even say he is intoxicated by the feeling.
Teeth become gentle nips upon Zephyr’s scruff, and his touch trails from it along his spine, until he is able to position himself proper. There is no hesitation this round, only pleasure.