Haunted Wood Suck Shit and Try to Die

mom said its MY turn on the wheel of misery. for @Valour

It's fuzzy at times—his memory. It's almost like a constant itch...something right below the surface that he can't dig out no matter how many times he tries. And tried he did. Clay could keep count of all the times he tried.

But...Sometimes, scarcely, he's graced with it, a part—a piece. A missing shape that fits perfectly among the rest.

The shape of today was nothing more than a 'fuck you' shape. A reminder of how the scars that scratched deep within his hind and belly became to be; An evil face, an even eviler touch.  

It's almost as if the gods overlooked his sacrilege and were tired of seeing his depressed state. A bone thrown. A peace offering he guesses. Some type of backwards voodoo that Clay found too confusing to compartmentalize into the 'gift' or 'shit' boxes within his brain. Shit.

So he just sits there, awake, shaking slightly against the warm body at his side. He feels something stuck in his teeth, perhaps a fragment of bone that got stuck when he was chewing earlier. He digs at it with his tongue, and when that's not enough he bows his head and scrapes his paw against his cheek. He doesn't stop until the metallic tang spills over his tongue.

But even that sensation isn't enough to drag him out of his confusing state of organizing fuck-knows-shit within his brain.

He stands, leaving valour in favor of just walking out of the den to take a piss, the solar flare within his muscles doing little to stop him from moving.

Perhaps if he pissed enough he would understand. Or maybe he's just looking for an excuse to hyper-fixiate on something else. Like pissing.

Clay was trembling...

Valour groaned in his sleep and snuggled against the smaller male only a tiny percent conscious and thinking he was dreaming something entirely different. It was the repeated jostling of Clay scraping at his cheek that fully woke him up and he glared grouchily at the spot Clay had just been a few seconds before. "I like it more when you sleep" he grumbled before the small scent of blood brought the hazy recollection that Clay actually had been trembling. Leaping to his paws so suddenly that he scrabbled around before actually standing he hurried out of his den, head popping out like a gopher's from the low opening. Squinting bleary-eyed as he saw that Clay was only taking a piss he asked "You Comin' back to bed?" voice still rough with sleep, expression a little put off since he was not happy to be woken up with a needless close heart attack. He preferred the sensation of the pleasant dream he was trying to cling onto as he strode out into the darkness and planted his butt firmly on the ground with a yawn as he waited for the boy to finish. It was perhaps a little rude but he couldn't help having to keep an eye on Clay around here. Especially with that new attitude the boy seemed to have, delirious or stressed out Valour couldn't have him walking around in case he started screaming about filthy Nightwalkers again. Clay had been angry at him earlier and it had made him uneasy, only having their meeting in the meadow and how Clay's anger had been then to go off for expectations.

Twitching his ear to the sound of Valour following him out shortly afterward, clay turned his head to glance at him behind his shoulder. The male looked tired, his burnt fur faintly ruffled and eyes droopy. He felt a tad bad for waking the guy up, but Clay also wasn't one to turn down a conversation with the Nightwalker.

A lot had happened.

Perhaps they should talk about it. The fact that Clay prioritized seeing Valour once more over his own life, his own pack. He had scrambled to see the boy thinking he would die. be done. Dead-zo. In the ground.

But somehow- he wasn't. Perhaps he should thank the male for that—for saving him instead of letting him rot. Perhaps he should also what happened once he was on the border. The last thing he remembered was seeing valour and then waking up in his den only to be met with the sight of him and that other boy-clarence, flirting.

It sickened him to think back to that, his heart feeling cold one more. He turned away from the boy, giving him the sight of his ass instead of his face. Perhaps he didn't want to talk to him. "Depends," he answered. "Are you going to keep staring at me while im pissing? Its quite disrespectful."

And then he smirked, face still shielded away from the warlord. "Or maybe you're a pervert and just enjoying the view?" he sing-songed.

Squinty eyes went narrow as Clay turned his back on him, though Valour was quick to study the view and what he saw wasn't bad except.... except for the scars.

Clay's voice drew his attention away and while the attitude normally would have pissed him off, from Clay he found it appealing and kind of scary. Where did the boy who sought his protection and snuggled in the meadow go? What had he done wrong? "You are peeing right in front of my ​den" he drawled in a an exaggeratedly tired tone as if being rude wasn't something he cared about. A smirk formed his own lips as he laughed at the accusation of being a pervert and rolling his eyes he growled playfully taking a small step forward "What if I am?" he asked trying to mimic the charming tones he'd heard Santiago and Abaddon purr in before intent upon causing mischief and riling Clay up some more since he was already too awake to think about actually sleeping.

Clay winced at his friend's tired tone once more, ears falling back slightly as he thought about being nicer. Perhaps Valour was too exhausted to put up with his attitude. Or maybe not, given the next words out of his mouth followed by a growl. If it was any other the Easthollian would happily rip their throat out.

But it was Valour. Sweet, handsome, sexy Valour.

Wait- Handsome? sexy? Clay furrowed his brows at the thought, concerned for his own brain. What was WRONG with him? Why was he thinking of something like that at a time like this? "Idiot," he mumbled, unsure if it was directed at himself or Valour.

Maybe both.
 
"I can't walk very far with my wounds; Would you like me to go mark where someone else can smell it?" Clay dropped his leg at that, done relieving himself and instantly tucking his tail under to hide any wandering gaze. He still felt the odd feeling of arousal between his legs, hating it deeply. For some reason, ever since that day in the meadow he couldn't stop thinking of the agouti boy in that way. It was sickening.

"what if i am?"

"Then i'd ask you to go continue fucking that Clarence boy of yours. Surely he'd be more willing to bend over for you." The prince snorted, still turned away from Valour in seething anger.

"Idiot"

 His smile vanished instantly as the word processed, leaving him stunned by the rudeness.  Bad mood or not the name calling wasn't appreciated and it stung rather harshly seeing as he was going out of his way to help Clay out and hadn't even gotten a thank you yet.  Ears pressed back he stood up limbs rigid as he let Clay snark at him staring in silent confusion as the hurt turned to anger. First the glaring in the den and now this, he was starting to get pissed off himself. "If you want to do that be my guest" this time the growl underlining his tone wasn't playful but a warning of his slipping patience. The fact that they were friends wouldn't keep Clay safe if he didn't watch his mouth. Which was exactly what the Easthollian didn't do as he spat an accusation about him screwing around with Clarence.  "What? Seriously?" he blurted out laughing quickly pulling himself together and then putting two and two together, no longer feeling as amused "We're not fucking" he said exasperated and circled around to try and get Clay to look at him. "You saw him helping me tend my wounds...I couldn't get to my ear" there, easily explained right? He sighed, still angry as hell about  Clay's mouth which done it's own damage that  he wasn't as keen on forgiving easily like he had been in the meadow. Not without getting some payback at the least by continuing to taunt the clearly addled boy "Why does it matter anyway Clay, afraid you're not the only one sighing my name?" yeah, he was aware that delirium and fever were a thing but surely it had to still be embarrassing to hear. Even though it was something that tormented Valour's dreams every night as he slept by Clay's side.

A growl sounded—deep and reverberated. It caught Clay off guard, throwing him mentally sideways in shock and fear. He had only heard that sound come from Valour once before—the meadow.

And then a laugh. Clay drew his brows at that, ears flicking back more to announce his displeasure with the confusing set of noises coming out of his friend. A growl, not playful, a laugh, not entirely happy to his ears. "Well," he replied, tongue-tied in his words and feeling foolish for misunderstanding. "What else was I supposed to think when that boy flirts with everyone, including me, and then I wake up to him licking your ear!"

He lowers his voice a few octaves to a small whisper. "You could of asked me to do it." Clay feels stupid for his outlash, for his stupid emotions, his stupid anger, his stupid crush. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But what really shocks him is Valours next words; an attack. Clay stands up at that, flustered as blood rushes to his face. His cheek fur puffs up, as well as his tail and spine. "W-WHAT!?" How could Valour know!? He never talks in his sleep, hes always kept his feelings locked tight. "I DO NOT!" he lied, shoving his face upwards in an attempt to be eye level with Valour.

He would lock eyes with the boy whether he liked it or not; big, doe-eyed emerald pools swirling with emotion at the Warlord's slated blue ones. He was still shorter than Valour, less muscular and more twig like. But that didn't mean we would allow the male to think hes better. "I do not sigh your name! Where did you hear such a rumor? Tell me!"

He pounded his paw on the ground at that, impatient and fueled. He was fire, and Valour? He surely was his gasoline.

Clay was embarrassed, utterly so. And as he sought to slam his paw on the ground once more pain shot up through his leg, ripping his wounds open and causing him to stumble forward where his nose pressed firmly against the larger males.

It was a relief to have the matter dropped so easily though now there was the idea of Clarence flirting with Clay pissing him off. "I'm not interested in him" he stated tensely. Whether the spotted wolfdog ever flirted with him or not, he would never have enough to openness to the wolves of Nightwalkers to let one occupy space in his head. There was only one wolf who ever caused him sleepless nights and he was currently shouting, apparently the mention of his swooning hitting it's mark. Before he could react Clay's puffed up face was shoved in his and Valour found himself up close and personal with beautiful eyes, as angry as the expression was. His eyes went wide as Clay demanded he tell where he'd heard it from confirmation that Clay had no memory of how he'd swooned and breathed his name as if he were the best thing in the world to Clay. It was another dose of hurt, for some reason he'd hoped that it had been real. Clenching his jaw he stared down lips curling up into a smirk "Right from your mou-" he sneered, cut off as Clay stomped his paw the scent of blood hitting just before Clay's nose pushed against his and all anger rushed out leaving him wide eyed and stunned.

His heart thumped heavily in his chest as time seemed to stop for a moment. His own face flushed and he tensed up instantly incredibly aware of everything from Clay's scent to his breath blowing against his muzzle. The moment fogged his brain and he leaned in closer to Clay for a moment trailing his nose along the puffed up fur of Clay's cheeks toward his ear "You did, You swooned and sighed my name a few times" he murmured wanting him to remember so badly that he didn't think first about the fact his touch may not be wanted. 

Turning away from the other boy just as fast as they'd come together feeling ashamed that he'd started nuzzling him like some kind of creep. Clearly Clay was appalled by the mere idea of saying his name in such a way, why else would he be so angry?
Stepping away he avoided Clay's gaze unsure exactly how to approach conversation now and feeling himself begin to shut down his emotions "I shouldn't have taken anything from it, you were delirious" the words came out cold and he still turned away, refusing to let Clay see how hard it was to say.

"Right from my mouth?" He gasped. Valour had to be lying, there was no way he would ever let his guard down and do such a ridiculous, let alone childish thing. To swoon was for ladies—she wolves! Not males like himself.

A frown pulls at his face as his tail rises with aggression and confusion. He was embarrassed if what the male said was true. It made his chest tight, his fur on end, and all Clay could hear within the rapid beats of his heart was his mind telling him to either run or snap; to force the boiling anger out of his body in blind aggression. He didn't know why his body chose such a reaction, it just did.

But then Valour leaned closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of his ear. It broke Clay out of his rage, and while the anger and heat had subsided a new feeling made itself known. Yet again! Why did weird stuff happen to him when Valour was around!? "No," He said firmly once Valour turned around. "Come back here,"

He had never witnessed the agouti be the one to turn away and hide. He was mostly the one to stand up and speak his mind, to draw Clay in and calm him down. Clay had never expected he would be the one to return the favor.

Normally any who dared to order the young Warlord around would get at the least some form of attitude but once again this situation was proof of how differently he considered Clay compared to everyone else in the world. Despite assuming Clay wanted to continue to tear into him he did what was asked turning around and shooting him a wary look, brows furrowed in confusion. Nothing else was said about the accusations tossed back and forth, he didn't know what was circling inside of Clay's mind and that was the worst part of it all. What if he was just standing there silently judging him? "Say something other than denying it then" he knew he was walking a risky line pushing Clay so much but he couldn't help it, his emotions were not as easily controlled around the ashen prince. "You afraid you might have been a little too close to a guy?" he asked tone mocking though his expression was more sad and hurt.

Valour's words stung him, and Clay, quick to anger at the slightest jab or tease bit his tongue and furrowed his brows more. 'What am i doing?' he questioned, taking in a breath and snorting it out through his nose while stubbornly looking away.

Now they both were ignoring each other.

And as clay stubbornly stood away from Valour, tail flicking in anger and eyes tracing every default crack in the earth in a poor excuse to hide from this conversation, he wondered what would Polaris say. The dove had given him many thoughts, and he couldn't help but see her in a little bit of Valour—both of them so eager to whiplash him with ideas of he-wolves being allowed with he-wolves.


He didn't understand.

He didn't understand why he was like this.

Seething, he shook his head. "I said come here," he reiterated to the Nightwalker. "Come here or im leaving," he lied. He would never leave Valour again, but he needed to throw a bone to the warlord. Something to make him TURN AROUND because he sure as well wasn't going to do it himself.

As the silence stretched on his senses focused on everything but the fact that they were fighting. The moonlight shining between tree branches. Rustles of small creatures running about in the dark. An Owl hooting. Then came the same command followed by words that stabbed him right where it hurt most. Whipping around Valour marched straight in Clay's direction furious and hurt  "how could you say that?!" he shouted in a snarl pulling back just short of actually bumping into Clay. Silently he took a few breaths trying to slow his heartbeat and cool down before he blew up. His stung and began to moisten with tears that he was quick to blink away not bothering to turn his piercing stare away "What do you want?" his voice was dead quiet, lips quivering as he stared with everything he had. All the anger. The hurt. The confusion.

Valour turns to him and suddenly everything was wildfire. Orange and red bleeding together. Heat. Ferocity. Blazing and unkept; yet another surprise to the young prince which leads him to question that perhaps he didn't know Valour as well as he did. 

Or maybe he was the man's catalyst.

He doesn't like the feeling that brings.

Licking his lips he breathes shallowly, breath rustling the whiskers of the man that confuses him. The man that was so close it wouldnt take more than a step to kiss him. But... Was it the fear making him thirsty? The snarl? Valour wouldn't hurt him but even so... he feels it just below his skin. The beating of his heart, the tired in his legs. And something more. 

He ignores the first question, not wanting to admit he's lying. 

"So, I can do this." He mutters in a hushed tone before closing his eyes and slowly leaning in, rubbing his nose at the underline of Valours jaw. A kiss he supposes, a real one—not a nose smash. But its cold and gentle and He's surprised at the softness of the nightwalkers fur, the heavy scent and... the smell of hurt?  He wants to ignore it. Perhaps he should. 

But..

He noses down the mans neck in question, nose poking at the fur, parting it and breathing in his rich scent till he finds the fresh duo of holes. They're not even scabbed over, and clay wonders who did this.

Who hurt his Valour? 

The jealousy is a new feeling, and it makes him want to mark his own pair of wounds into the male. Perhaps over the existing ones so that he may claim he was the one. He wants to. 

So he does— clamping onto and slotting his fangs into the open wounds. His teeth aren't as big, but they tear the clots open enough for him to feel the snugness and the warmth that pools over his tongue.

He can't help but let out a small purr-like noise.

There was a time for him to notice things that caused fire to spread through his limbs and even in his anger Valour knew this was where it sourced from. Sliding down the silver face he caught the swipe of pink across closed lips and swallowed thickly suddenly aware of the tickling against his whiskers and the closeness that teased the tension. Nostrils flaring quickly as he exhaled in soft quick bursts the reply caught him off guard just as much Clay leaning in and-

Oh man..

Suddenly there's nothing else in the world. No Nightwalkers and no ranks. The sensation of Clay's gentle touch trailing along his skin was unlike anything he'd ever felt before and he was helpless against the slow shiver that ran down his body prying the softest of sighs from his mouth. Looking down dazed and taken by surprise the fire burned hotter as the man explored his skin trailing down his neck. Mind spinning in circles there wasn't time for him to put mucu thought into why Clay had stopped and was looking at his wound. Blinking he opened his mouth starting to mutter something about being attacked when he was silenced once again. Pain quick and fierce where Abaddon had bitten him had a loud growl tear from his throat cut short by the unexpected sound of pleasure from Clay. All at once he came undone and lowered his maw to clay's shoulder lips and fangs preening the fur and murmuring the only thing his brain would provide to him through the chaos of hormone and emotion "shit...Clay." 

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Graphic gore. Rape.

Once again he is familiarizing himself with the rich iron taste of blood. Except- this time it isn't his.

He sucks greedily at Valour's wound, digging his teeth into the flesh, tearing the muscle open and letting loose more of that bitter liquid. He doesn't enjoy it exactly, it makes him feel a bit sick as it settles in his stomach, taking up space and weighing him down like a brick. The only thing keeping him going is his possessiveness, the instinct to mar this wolf so that he may leave his own scar—his own touch. No one will touch Valour again.

Valour is the only good thing that has happened to him.


"Only I can touch you," He declares into the flesh before slowly releasing pressure, lifting his fangs away careful not to tear the wound bigger. He's quick to lap at it, to press his tongue to the burning flesh so that he can stop the bleeding. And it's only when his frenzy subsides that he notices the tug of Valour at his shoulder.

It makes him shiver, his head dizzy and jaws falling open as he pants. He's confused, he feels overly hot but bitterly cold as well and he's—

Gone.

All he can feel is that weight above his body, crushing him enough to force a bow; a presenting pose that makes his cheeks burn with shame as teeth mar his scruff into a tight hold. He's fruitless in his efforts to get away as he's shoved forward with every thrust of the monster behind him and he's—

Back.

Panting and eyes shut closed as he digs his face deeper and deeper in valour's neck, the warmth grounding him as he gulping down breaths of air that are too big and too large for the tightness in his throat and lungs. Maybe was screaming before into the Nightwalker, maybe he was crying. He's confused, scared, and unsure which is up and which is down but he knows Valour is here. Valour. Valour. Valour.

His Valour.

"You're mine, okay? You belong to me (as I belong to you.),"

A rush of air left his lungs blowing hot against silver fur and the skin beneath as he pressed his muzzle deep into Clay's fur. It took effort not to lose himself in the pain and to remember who it was latched on to his flesh the growl rumbling and his body quivering intermittently from the confusing sensations and physical trauma. Instinct wanted him to rip the Easthollian apart, it told him that this wasn't his friend but someone who would kill him. The only saving grace was the fact that there wasn't a thing in the world that could make Valour want to hurt Clay, not even the fact the man was tearing the small bite into a rather decent one. Catching the muffled declaration there wasn't much he could do but give a heated groan as he felt the jaws release his flesh providing instant relief. The lack of pain and the rather possesive claim left him standing there his breathing ragged and silver eyes saucer wide. Still he lowered his maw to quickly lap the bleeding wound, movements slow as if he were in a daze not wanting to bleed everywhere and draw attention to them. There was a few moments of silence and the young agouti king came down enough from the pain-pleasure induced high to realise that somehow he had missed the man begin to have a breakdown. Immediately he was focused on Clay laying his chin on the soft back of his neck and holding him close silver eyes closing as he nuzzled the overwhelmingly emotional man. 
"you're mine okay?" 
Unknown by Clay that was already pretty true. There wasn't a single person he knew alive that he cared more about than Clay. Heart thumping like a hammer against his chest Valour nodded while still holding Clay close "yeah" he murmured gently the fact that they'd gone from violence to this in mere moments leaving him reeling as if he had whiplash "I'm yours" he agreed without issue turning his head so that his muzzle pressed just below Clay's ear as the fire grew as if confirming it.  "That was dramatic. when do I get a taste?" of course it had taken all of five minutes for him to be over it and back to teasing Clay with a smirk though he hoped at this point the man knew he had no actual intention of biting.

He was still trembling, shaking in the sea of fur pressed to him.

But at least Valour was there.

He savored the warmth that permeated off his king, nuzzling into it deeper only to draw back and take a shaky breath before resuming. Leaning away, leaning in, leaning away, leaning in. He supposed it looked a bit silly—doing something so outwardly childish. But he didn't care.

For the first time, the easthollian prince did not care.

Gone were the incessant tings in his brain telling him how to act, how to carry himself, how to speak, how to be. He was Clay. Clay Apaata of Easthollow.

He grunted as Valour claimed it was dramatic, swiveling his ears and reaching a paw up to half-hazard swipe playfully at the nightwalker's leg as if to say shut it. "It's not," he claimed, puffing his cheeks and curling his nose back in a pout akin to that to a whelp. He remembers doing it so often when he was under the ruling of Vengeance.

"And yes. You may have a taste—a small one. You haven't worked nearly as hard in my standards in order to earn the right to mark me." He proclaimed snobbishly, turning his head and angling it downwards as to look at the ground and give the warlord room. In all honestly, he wanted to male to do it, to mark him and claim him just as he did. He wanted to parade it around, to show that he finally had someone that was his.

He wanted it.

But once more he was chained to the societal norms of his pack, his culture. It would be indecent to go sleeping allowing whoever wanted a piece of him to have their pick.

Clay also liked to tease Valour and was interested in seeing how far he would go.

The heavy throbbing in his shoulder hinted at days of pain if not a longer recovery but that was forgotten in favor of the petulant sulk that had taken form on Clay's silver face. Eyes crinkled ever so slightly he struggled to try and appear cool even though the added protest of 'Its not' didn't help make it less funny and honestly....cute. As the cycle seemed to go, the next bit kind of spoiled that cuteness and Valour narrowed his eyes feeling a bit put off. Here he was bleeding and worse off than when he'd been curled up inside his den. 

But he hadn't done enough. Sucking in a deep breath he stepped closer and pressed his chest to the smaller silver Male's his tail flagging up, the only sign that his temper was really starting to peak. Something snapped within him and he acted on impulse, the anger mixing with the confusion over his desire for the prince stoked the simmering heat higher. Acting on impulse he lowered his muzzle so it pressed against Clay's ear and licked his tongue pressing hot against the soft skin before moving just slightly away to speak "And what about my standards Clay?" His voice was soft, a whisper against Clay's cheek as he moved his muzzle lower. He didn't mean it to be cruel but was he asked for his consent on anything thus far? No, it'd all been taken and surrendered without argument. Before an answer could be given he parted his jaws and wrapped them around Clay's neck, gripping him tightly but not even close enough to break the skin. "You're mine" he growled around the skin possesive and dark as he gave the boy's throat the slightest of squeezes his tail wagging behind him as he released him without a single mark "I don't want to hurt you" he said simply with a shake of his head. He didn't need to mark the boy anymore. If he ever disappeared Valour would find him again....vanishing wasn't an option when the Easthollian took his heart and sanity with him.

Sadly Valour did not go far.

A tight squeeze of his neck, a whisper of words that made his limbs feel like water and threaten to give out. It made his face flush, his blood boil, and a small-hearted whine escape his jaws with need. He didn't mean to release it, but the series of events have led him here. To Valour. Flush against him with the man's jaws wrapped around his neck.

But Valour had pulled away, and instantly Clay turned his head with a murderous glare towards the king. 'No!' his mind screamed. 'Come back!'

But he didn't voice it, only swallow and closing his eyes to compose himself with a long bated breathed before nodding. "I am yours. And you can never hurt me." It was more of a statement of fact rather than comfort. Clay wanted to believe this agouti could never hurt him. Would never hurt him.

He was stronger than that. He wouldn't allow it.

Getting up, he stretched his limbs, surely making a show to the Nightwalker before walking past—his tail slinking under Valours jaw only to depart as he padded back to the den to sleep.

That whine.

Fur rising slightly along his spine Valour stared with a developing smirk into angry green eyes. Nodding silently to confirm the repeated words he watched still smirking as Clay stretched, eyes roaming over the other boy's silver and grey fur without shame. Ruining the bold display his tail slowly wagged at his ankles as he appreciated the small and whispy frame that somehow held a ton of weight behind it. Already moving to follow Clay his breath caught within his throat as Clay's tail brushed under it, ears falling against his skull as he groaned softly. Exhaling through his nose he shook his head and playfully snapped for Clay's tail intending to miss as he trotted up behind him and slid against him brushing up body to body before slipping inside of his den and laughing softly as he curled up on the pelts layed out. Chin rested on his forelegs he peered up with big silver eyes, smiling mischievously unable to help himself. His heart was racing a mile a minute now and sleep was the farthest from his mind but once the other was curled into his side he'd drift off into a peaceful slumber.