Two Eyes Cenote [m] claw & silt

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: it's khusobek he is rated R

at ur leisure!

the whirlwind of fury and sorrow upon his hunt had left the crocodile seething and bruised, both without and within. he bound the superficial cuts upon his arm and pushed forehead against cool stone as he fought for a composure from an anger that would not abate, coursing him until he trembled with a killing rage.

and so he sought @Eset almost blindly, almost completely by scent, head ringing until eyes were half-shut with the pain of a furious headache.

khusobek wanted to be unraveled into an automaton.

He appears in the frame of her room. She startles, lifting her eyes to fix upon what is brightest, the match of warmth over coolness. No words engage but the room in her ears is loud as her pulse tenses. She fears this fever, does not understand it, and still lifts from the edge of her bed.

She senses something different in him that stays her timorous step. When he breathes it is deep enough for her to feel the old anger of a war he’d been fighting over and over, before he was even born. It is pain. The wounds of servitude intimately known. Breaths catch over the constriction in her chest. Instinct lowers her sight to their feet on the ground.

She had not known.

Slowly, methodically, she nears. Her lips begin to find each shallow cut, brushing against broken skin in a barest kiss. The lightest touch for his paw, his arm, his shoulder. When at last her eyes seek his ice they are brimming.

“Was there no one to protect you?”

"i did it to myself." her softness was honey; he wanted fire, and yet he softened beneath it. for her. 

he reached for eset in turn, roving in the eternal search for the heat of her lancing affection; he could not bring this part of himself to any marriage, for he had long realized it belonged to her.

his anger was glass, and she a glassmaker who sculpted khusobek into even temporary peace.

Eset has no fire.

What he looks for in her has gone. All that is left is something she has no name for, and cannot explain. But it prevents her from glimpsing the world through veils, and for once she does not wish to.

“What happened to you, Khusobek?” She stands in the interval of this silence, upon her own fault line, but with amber eyes that seek to understand.

"where to begin, eset," khusobek shot back, but there was no malice in his words, only weariness. surely she did not mean his small wounds, the ones already forgotten.

if she could not hold him in this moment — he pressed spine to wall and crumbled in slow pieces at her feet, eyes staring at nothing.

"i loved the wrong woman. i let her use me. now i have nothing to give a woman who loves me. inji — wants to marry, eset." his breath held in a sigh. "what happened to me was loss. i am empty. and she cannot see it."

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: heavy suggestion & language

She watches, not touching him, and not trusting herself to speak. When his eyes go vacant something in her chest flares. Khusobek had laid himself bare upon a stone table, called for service, betrayed by someone he loved. It was abuse, the kind that alters all function. He had not deserved it. Her limbs tremble, she wishes to voice the words that can mend- but she does not know them. Eset was only inherently broken; she could not be believed because the wound to her heart was also to her mind.

Lambent eyes find the spill of red fur on the back of Khusobek’s neck and she severs the line of thought, stepping implacably into the space framed by his heavy paws and lowering her body to encircle his front.

He would be married, a sharp jealousy bore into her chest. She knew it was unfair to feel. He deserved to find peace and healing with Inji, with children and a family and shared dreams. All things wanted by their kind. All things she could never give.

And they would not be permitted to touch each other again.

Her eyes seek his face as they always had, hungrily, savoring his edges. Her mouth finds the coarse underside of his jaw, smothering the objective reality where time did not wither like a dry field in the fire created from the heat of his press.

And because it was safer to say “fuck me” than “I know how it feels”.

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: heavy suggestion

khusobek could not have forsaken eset, not for a moment. he knew this was the last time in the way she stepped toward him, enfolded herself between his forearms until she was the lithe curve of hip and a breath that caught him afire, kindling in a broad field.

time had no existence, nor pain, nor sorrow; she drank it all from him, a reliquary which pulsed in soft pink and held all the tattered ventings of what khusobek was able to feel.

the drive of anger, the draw of rage, the tangle of his halting breath against the side of her throat.

but it was not only darkness which poured from khusobek; it was the crystal-locked pierce of the only thing he might ever feel which touched affection, the warped shape of his love.

the crocodile, unmade, remade, Set if it had been Eset to repair him, if Osiris had been the one forgotten.

When it is over her eyes are full of terrible confessions and her floor is sown with abandoned tresses in red and black; the debris of her pursuit. She cannot look at him but watches a pulse in his leg, the evidence of a heart matching her own thrumming beat.

For a moment there is only the cadence of them alone in this room, an intimacy she would taste twice; now, and in retrospect.

But he would never be her’s, and when he was gone she would be alone again with everything she could not say.

“You’re not empty,” her voice punctures the stillness. He had to know it.

how can you know?

there was no response for a time, none verbal and everything in the clench of his arms and the tightening  of his belly, the harsh exhale of breath as he closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, exhaling shakily into her fur.

these moments he never wanted inji to see, and so he gave them to eset;

to have and to hold, so that he could be strong for those who would rely on his love.

who needed its sup as she did not.

it was for this he moved until they faced one another and their hearts found a similar cadence. 

"you fill me."

I am the worst, I'm so so sorry ebony!
He mouths her neck slowly; everything goes slowly as she’s coaxed to face him. Eset finds herself looking up into fervent steel eyes. For a moment her mind is abandoned, given itself over to an anticipation of where his next kiss might land…

It is his breath that compels her away, entering her ear before his voice does.

She understands. It is not she who fills him; his feelings are not mixed. He does not love her. It is not her he wants, but perhaps, only to be filled with this intimacy.

Eset- she was naked, trembling, not only for the remaining pulse of pleasure. Love, its eminence, was a thing she had lost. Khusobek would have been endorsed had he shared his mind. Love was a thing she forbid herself to need.

And now she forbids a betrayal of feeling too, turning her face away.

“Thank you, for the amber flower. It’s impossibly beautiful... like looking into the sun, or something.” More beautiful than the scent of roses in the cenote. But roses in the cenote did not make her heart rush.

ur not!! we can continue or fade <3

he might never know the exquisite anguish of those blown-glass thoughts, and perhaps it was for the best. khusobek only knew one way to vent such emotion, and it was her within his arms and he a carved idol to be wielded in any way she desired.

"i am glad you enjoyed my gift, eset," and his mouth performed a lazy pattern along the roundness of one slim shoulder. "i knew it could only belong to you."

what was love if not worship; he knew the hard and the driving, the heated, the moan, and these were the limits of the crocodile's language.

"when you see its heat, i want you to think of me," strong arms pulling her astride as if he was only a chariot of the finest order, and now his own eyes asked that she allow him to coax a new hymn from her pretty throat.

<333

Part of her wanted to draw this moment out, to be near him a while longer, listen to the rough burr of his voice, and feel his mouth on all the most sacred parts of herself.

No good could come from this- no good.

Eset wanted to be good.

For a long moment the golden of her eyes held his ice, the juncture of their bodies stirring within her that deep and endless ache. Back in Akashingo, back in a long time before, he was to be jodai and she hebsut. Her hand touches his warrior's cheek, and she bows her head against his, reliving it.

“Senebty, Khusobek,” Eset whispers, pulling her arms from his.