Chapter Text
Thrawn had easily thrown Lila's limp body over his shoulder, giving the empty shell of the woman no more mind than one might a bag of trash that needed removal. While he headed off towards Eli’s cabin to deposit her with the others down in the dark of the pantry, Ivant began searching the house for the book that the doctors had consulted while examining Eli’s body. Eli hadn’t been coherent enough the day prior to be aware of it as he lay dying, but Thrawn had overheard it being talked about while he was lurking below and was extremely interested in getting his hands on the text. Ivant had a vague memory of the book - a much younger Eli had come across it once, fascinated by the various drawings found within the pages. Lila had been a small woman, not especially physically strong, and very sure of herself - she would have kept such an important object close by, but not so well hidden that it would have been a struggle to grab if she needed it for some reason.
“No comments, Lila? Odala? I’m going to find the book regardless, but please do feel free to speak up. Your help would be very appreciated,” Ivant murmured. He tilted his head, listening, but the Vanto women in his head were mostly silent for the moment. A smile spread slowly across his face, their discomfort clear even if not vocalized. “Fine. Time to go digging, then.”
He ran his fingers along the spines of the books - all real paper books, no datapads for Lila - on the shelf in the living area. The fibers of the bindings had been worn down by age and handling, but what he was looking for wasn’t there. Nor was it hidden under the bed when he ducked down to peer beneath it. Which left…
Ivant scanned the room, half with his partially lidded eyes, half with the faint memories he dug up within his mind, hazy from time. He felt and heard the ghost of cloth brushing against his skin, then vaguely recalled standing in a small, dark, close space...
He stepped to Lila’s closet, smiling as he felt a surge of dismay from the back of his mind. Ivant roughly pushed aside the clothes hanging within. The book he was looking for sat on a small shelf fixed to the back of the wall, hidden from sight but easy to access. Just as he had thought. Taking the old tome in hand, Ivant sat on the edge of Lila’s bed and absently paged through it. He couldn’t read most of the text - Eli had never bothered to study the old Lysatran dialect it was written in - but the images were just as he remembered: various strange-looking sigils scattered throughout, some diagrams of plants, and a few faded watercolor renderings that were supposed to represent the Chiss themselves. He scoffed at those, remembering how Eli had felt looking at them - scared by the faces and forms from the stories he knew so well, but also strangely excited by them in a way he wouldn’t understand until he was older.
A clear memory rose from mere days ago: Eli pressed back against his door with Thrawn crowding him. An errant thought as the Chiss leaned in, Eli’s pulse racing at the proximity: the drawings in the book did no justice to the real thing. Ivant agreed.
Closing the book and setting it aside, Ivant looked around the space for anything else that might catch his eye while he waited for Thrawn to return. His attention fell on the full length mirror that stood in the corner of the room. He slowly rose, watching his own movements in the glass as he approached it. While he had understood intellectually that his body had changed, he hadn’t yet gotten a full look at himself in this new shape. Ivant leaned in closer to more carefully inspect himself, turning his head this way and that to take in his new features and the alterations his existing ones had undergone. He recognized Eli as the base of the body, yes, recognized the angle of his nose and ears, the cut of his hair, the jut of his chin, the shape of his mouth and eyes and the tilt of his brows, but it was more than just the obvious blue skin and glowing red eyes that had changed between what he had been before and what he was now. His cheekbones had become high and sharp, the structure of his skull altered; the sensitive pads of flesh that adorned Thrawn’s forehead now rested on his own as well. He pulled back his wine-colored lips to examine his teeth, the canines and molars both white and sharp-edged; the interior of his mouth was dark, his tongue longer, thinner, and blue. Ivant smiled as he leaned in close to stare at his own eye, imagining he could see the faces of the women trapped in the glow, their discomfort and occasional cries turning to a wailing in his mind that rose in intensity as he did so. Thrawn had been correct: it was slowly becoming easier to ignore their voices as mere background noise when he wasn’t interested in playing with them.
Satisfied with his face, Ivant pulled back to take in his body as a whole. He was leaner than before; not more muscled, exactly, but the muscles he had were more defined, their shifting visible under his skin as he lifted his shirt, stretching and flexing to watch them bunch and relax with each movement. Even his casual motions, his step on the ground and the gait at which he walked, how his fingers grasped objects and his arms lifted had changed in a subtle way, becoming smoother and more graceful. Eli had spent his whole life being told to fear this thing that he had become, when the truth was Ivant felt far more comfortable in this body than he could ever recall Eli feeling. He was predatory. He was regal. He was -
“Beautiful,” Ivant murmured, trailing his fingers down his reflection.
“I agree.”
Ivant glanced up sharply at Thrawn’s voice, meeting the other man’s gaze in the mirror. He had been loitering in the doorway for who knew how long, watching Ivant admire himself. The shame that Eli’s memories told Ivant he should be experiencing at being caught in such an act did not appear - rather, he felt a surge of something else entirely: desire, and the heady rush that came along with the object of that desire clearly wanting him back. Turning away from the mirror, he took two steps towards the other man. Thrawn dropped the duffel bag slung over his shoulder and met him halfway.
Their mouths crashed together in messy passion, tongues pressing and sliding against each other, fingers clutching at backs and sinking into hair. Thrawn was the larger of the two, but Ivant was the stronger; when they broke apart, nipping at each other’s lips, Ivant shoved Thrawn - nearly threw him - down upon Lila’s bed. Thrawn’s eyes widened at this unexpected, but clearly not unwelcome, change in dynamic. He rose up on his elbows, a small smirk on his lips as he watched Ivant slowly crawl up his body. Hips and legs pressed together, Ivant braced his hands on either side of Thrawn’s head, looming over the other man. His eyes were sharp and bright as they roamed over Thrawn’s face; he leaned down, his breath trailing over Thrawn’s skin as his lips hovered just above his flesh but not yet making contact. Thrawn groaned at the denial, but Ivant ignored it. Turnabout was fair play, after all.
“Eli wanted you, you know.” Ivant softly spoke the words in Thrawn’s ear, then moved down to his lips, brushing against them as he continued. “Even as you slowly consumed him, even through his panic and fear.” Lower still, to the soft skin of the neck. “He wanted you so.. very.. badly.” Ivant punctuated the last three words with a press of his lips to Thrawn’s throat, sucking a dark bruise into his skin with each brief contact.
Thrawn made a sound deep in his chest, a rumble somewhere between a growl and a purr, and flipped Ivant onto his back in a single smooth motion.
“And you?” He leaned in, biting down on Ivant’s neck just shy of breaking the skin, making the smaller man squirm under him. He pressed his tongue firmly against the mark that was already forming there; Ivant whimpered softly as Thrawn questioned him again, voice rough with want. “Do you feel the same?”
Ivant grabbed Thrawn’s hair and wrenched his head back; Thrawn’s eyes flashed and he hissed in pain, his neck bent at an uncomfortable angle.
“Yes. No. I don’t know if this is all from me or still partially an echo from him.” Ivant tightened his grip and pulled harder. “Does it really matter?”
Thrawn’s mouth fell open with a groan as his scalp began to ache. Baring his teeth in a snarl, he balanced on one hand and pulled back the other, striking Ivant across the face with the back of his closed fist. The impact was hard enough that Ivant’s blue skin went white, then immediately bruised purple, the inside of his cheek splitting open against his teeth and his mouth filling with the taste of blood. He released Thrawn’s hair immediately, his eyes wide from shock and pain. Smirking again, Thrawn leaned back down and kissed Ivant possessively, their teeth clicking against each other as their mouths met over and over. Thrawn’s tongue pressed into the wound on Ivant’s cheek to taste the flowing blood, a pleased rumble rising in his throat. He rose to his knees and started slowly grinding his hips down against Ivant’s, eye-glow bright as he gazed down at the other man. Ivant hissed, baring his bloody teeth as his eyelids fluttered with pleasure. “Don’t.. Don’t stop.”
“Are you sure, Ivant? I certainly wouldn’t want you to be stuck in a situation that you don’t want to be part of.”
Ivant growled in response, the sound that came from him something that would have raised the hairs on his arms if he had still been human. He sat up suddenly, the motion unbalancing Thrawn, who wrapped an arm around Ivant’s waist to keep from toppling over backward. He continued rolling his hips and leaned in again, his mouth seeking Ivant’s, only to be stopped by strong fingers wrapping around his throat and squeezing tightly.
“A situation that I don’t want to be in? My entire existence is something you decided. You never asked Eli if he wanted this, not once.”
The words came out in a soft hiss, the bite of them tempered by Ivant’s growing arousal; the flush of purple coloring his cheeks, his increasingly rapid breathing, the bright glow of his eyes. He loosened his grip on Thrawn’s throat, his head falling back as a powerful surge of pleasure spiked through him and a strained moan escaped his lips. The pressure in his groin was increasing, his pants far more frustratingly constricting than he remembered ever experiencing as Eli. Thrawn encouraged him to lean his weight back against the headboard, then reached out to run his fingers along the sensitive crests on Ivant’s forehead, making him involuntarily gasp and shudder under the other man’s featherlight touch.
“Eli had every chance to turn me away. He knew what I was. But who cares about what he wanted? He is gone, his purpose served.” Thrawn leaned in, nipping his way up Ivant’s neck and along his jaw to his ear, his tongue snaking out to trace along the edge. “If you don’t like it, my Ivant, I can stop at any time.”
Suddenly, Thrawn ceased all movement of his hips and hands and mouth and pulled away, shifting to climb off the bed. Ivant responded with a needy, pathetic cry and grabbed desperately at Thrawn’s shirt.
“No! No.. Don’t. Please.”
Thrawn laughed, low and dark, and leaned in to drag his tongue slowly up Ivant’s throat.
“I didn’t think so.”
Thrawn continued to nibble and nip at Ivant’s flesh as Ivant reached to pull Thrawn’s shirt off, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He ran his hands along the forearms braced against the headboard on either side of him, savoring the feeling of hard muscle and smooth skin under his fingers as he slowly caressed from Thrawn’s hands to his shoulders. The touches earned him a soft, pleased sigh and a harder press of hips against his own. That sigh turned to a hiss when Ivant dug his nails into Thrawn’s shoulders and dragged them down his back, lines of thick red-black blood appearing in their wake; the nips against his throat turned into a proper bite, sharp teeth sinking into his flesh. Thrawn pulled back after a moment, his eyes narrowed, and took a handful of Ivant’s shirt in his fist; the sound of tearing cloth filled the room as he casually ripped the garment away, leaving nothing adorning Ivant’s upper body. Rather than dropping the remnants of Ivant’s shirt to the floor Thrawn balled it up and shoved what he could of the fabric into Ivant’s panting mouth. Taking both his wrists in a durasteel grip, he placed Ivant’s hands firmly on the mattress. Releasing him, Thrawn sat back up again and resumed slowly grinding their hips together.
“Ivant.”
Ivant looked up at his name, his eyes widening at the sight of the needle-like knife that had appeared in Thrawn’s hand, the ice edge smoking in the heat of the room. He started to lift his hands -
“Keep your hands where they are.” Thrawn gave a thin smile as he spoke the command, gaze sharp, voice low and dark. He didn’t say what would happen if Ivant did not do as he was told; it was obvious that at least part of him wanted Ivant to disobey and find out. A not inconsiderable part of Ivant wanted to, as well.
He was no longer the small, weak human he had been made from; why did he have to obey any will but his own? Brows furrowing in a flash of petulant anger, Ivant was about to lift his hands again in defiance when the blade touched his skin. His sudden sharp inhale was a result of the burn of the knife as much as the feel of Thrawn’s hand in his pants, lightly caressing his lower abdomen and groin. He had been so focused on the dagger and his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed the catch of his trousers being undone.
All thoughts of defiance vanished as Thrawn stroked his finger along.. Wait. Where was..?
Thrawn laughed at the look of confusion and sudden concern on Ivant’s face.
“It’s still there. Just inside you, now.” He pressed his palm down on the closed slit at Ivant’s groin, the increased pressure making him groan and lift his hips to meet Thrawn’s hand in an effort to increase the sensation. The Chiss laughed again softly at Ivant’s muffled sounds of desperation as he resumed stroking along the warm, soft skin, dragging his fingers through the wetness seeping through the seam and painting it along the still closed length. “Let’s see if we can tease it out, hmm? Your body doesn’t seem to know what to do yet, but it will learn.”
Thrawn drew a long, shallow cut across Ivant’s chest with the ice-knife while pressing his thumb against the tight muscles at the top of the slit that held Ivant’s cock at bay. The combined pain of the cut and the intense pressure at his groin made Ivant moan again, desperate. Three more slices, shorter and more shallow, accompanied more light, teasing touches and gentle massaging from Thrawn’s fingers along his swollen and aching slit. One long, thin finger eased in the tight space and brushed against his cockhead; Ivant felt himself open, a gush of warm, slick fluid bathing his lap as his cock emerged from his genital pouch. The relief of the hard, throbbing organ finally being free from the confined space in his body was strong enough that he swore around his gag and slumped back against the headboard, much to Thrawn’s amusement.
He watched through half-lidded eyes as Thrawn resumed removing the trousers, then leaned back to take off his own. His slit was already open and his cock exposed, slowly dripping lubricating fluid onto the bed. As Thrawn twisted to free his legs from the fabric, something else caught Ivant’s attention. He glanced down at his nails and fingertips against the mattress, confirming that they were still stained with Thrawn’s dark blood.. yet Thrawn’s back was smooth and unmarked. The bruises on his throat were also missing. Ivant’s own chest was still covered with a series of slowly weeping cuts in addition to the multiple aching bruises on his face and the bite marks on his neck. Why..?
“You’re observant, even in the grip of lust. Very good.”
Ivant glanced up, surprised at Thrawn’s pleased expression and spoken approval; the confusion of his realization must have shown on his face.
“Let’s get you back to pristine perfection again, shall we?” Thrawn’s voice became a soft purr as he settled back down to straddle Ivant’s hips, the sensation of his hard, slippery cock rubbing against Ivant’s own making both men moan softly. Thrawn slid his pelvis back and forth, the actions frustratingly slow and deliberate. Ivant’s eyes rolled back as the new, sensitive ridges that ringed his shaft rubbed and pressed against the identical ridges on Thrawn, beads of slick emerging from them to smooth the motion. Ivant became vaguely aware of a feeling of cold against his cheek and pulled his attention there with considerable effort, drawing in a sharp breath as he realized Thrawn now held the knife with the point aimed directly at his eye.
“You’re full of souls, Ivant. Use them to heal yourself.”
Thrawn drew the tip of the dagger down Ivant’s cheek, laying open a thin line. Without instruction given nor the ability to ask for any, Ivant simply did what felt natural. Feeding had been like unraveling a complex weave; why shouldn’t the same apply now? He drew on the cluster of souls within him like a spool of thread and visualized the cut on his skin being sewn closed. It took a few clumsy attempts - Thrawn’s constant stimulations and harsh breath against his ear did not help his concentration in the least - but eventually his skin did begin to knit together, with the added advantage that the voices of his former family crying out in agony and fear were finally quieted as bits of them were torn away to render him whole. He filled the new silence with his own muffled voice as Thrawn wrapped his hand around both their cocks and stroked them in tandem. The speed and pressure of his grip increased as Ivant slowly and distractedly healed the rest of his injuries, his hips bucking as he chased the sensations brought forth from Thrawn’s skilled ministrations. He fisted the sheet, the fabric tearing under his clutching fingers from his effort of keeping his hands down; he was rewarded with a low chuckle and a hot mouth on his neck, teeth on his flesh, the wetness of a tongue; words he didn’t understand murmured against his lips that sounded foreign and familiar all at once.
Ivant’s abs tightened, his body taut and trembling as his orgasm crested and broke. His vision went white as pleasure ripped through him, his release nearly painful in its intensity; his hot ejaculate painted his cool stomach, joined several moments later by Thrawn’s as he climaxed as well. Ivant’s head tipped back as Thrawn pulled the gag free and pressed their mouths together in another passionate kiss before collapsing down on the bed. Ivant used the damp gag to wipe himself off, then sank more comfortably down onto the mattress. He felt long fingers entwine with his own, then Thrawn leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, the gesture gentler than Ivant expected from the man. He ran his thumb over Thrawn’s lower lip, and Thrawn laid his palm against Ivant’s cheek; they lay there together for some time, silent and still.
In the cabin on the edge of the wastes, three pale, skeletal bodies waited in the underground pantry, unseeing eyes stared into the dark that was now their tomb. Too empty of souls to even attempt movement, they remained slumped over where they had been dropped, cast aside like broken playthings with no further use. One by one the women took their last pained, ragged breaths, then they also lay there together, silent and still.
------
Ivant stood at the fence at the edge of the Vanto property, feeling the warm, weathered wood under his hands and the mild breeze blowing in from the scrublands on his skin. He could see so much more now than he ever could - the bodies of small creatures moving in the brush, the softly glowing rocks and boulders that were still slowly releasing the oppressive heat of the Lysatran sun even now, a few hours past midnight. He heard the whisper of a footstep and glanced back, smiling as Thrawn paused behind him, wearing what Ivant identified as Jhorim Vanto’s clothes, eyes glowing from what he presumed was Jhorim Vanto’s soul. Eli’s father had rushed home only to meet the same doom as the rest of his family. At least they were all together now. Mostly.
He turned to face Thrawn, leaning back against the fence as Thrawn stepped forward to pin him in place with his body; pressed close enough together that their breath was shared, close enough that their faces were awash in red from the glow of the other’s eyes, bright and strong. Thrawn lifted his hand and stroked Ivant’s silken hair, his expression both haughty and pleased.
“I knew when I first saw Eli here, in this place, that he was meant to be mine. I called, and he answered. I took him and remade him into you; free to do as you like, no longer bound by any obligation or responsibility. Does this please you?”
Ivant ran his fingers along the back of Thrawn’s neck, and up into his hair, the touch gentle. He tilted his head and smiled. “Yes. It’s.. liberating.”
Thrawn closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss Ivant’s forehead before pressing his own against it briefly once more. “Good. There’s so much I want to show you, Ivant. So much for you to experience. Shall we begin?”
Ivant nodded; Thrawn hefted the duffel bag over his shoulder. They climbed over the fence, and walked together by the light of the moons out into the wastelands.
They did not look back.
------
Time passed, and the people of Nyssa tried to forget about the mysterious deaths on the Vanto homestead, determined to relegate the event to nothing more than a strange and horrible footnote of the town’s history. Despite their efforts, however, there was another tale that began to spread over the years. Every decade or so there would be rumored sightings of figures with glowing red eyes lurking about the homestead: one with a razor-edged knife, the other with a smile just as sharp that called out in the voice of a Lysatran of Nyssa to those that wandered about after the moons rose and the cold winds blew in, and any that answered that call were never seen again. The story was spread through whispers amongst the townsfolk and warning tales told to wide-eyed children, and when red eyes were seen in the night the people of Nyssa would lock their doors and give thanks when the sun rose that they had been spared from the torments of the creatures that lurked in the dark, and that the Chiss had vanished back into the scrublands and the desert and the places beyond, going wherever it is they go when they are not preying upon the good people of Lysatra.
After each sighting there was always talk about knocking the old Vanto homestead down, but in the end the decision was always the same - better to leave it be, lest the creatures for some reason take offense to its loss. For who can begin to guess the motivations of the Chiss?
In the end, it didn’t matter. One day Nyssa was as it had always been; the next, it was empty, or so it seemed to be. No comms were answered, no eateries or cantinas opened, no shipments went out. As word spread of the silent town, people from outside came to investigate, and were horrified to discover the truth: houses filled with bodies, skeletal and pale, from the oldest man to the youngest child.
No one knew for sure what happened, but some suspected. No vultures or vermin were present, nor insects; no one wanted to touch the unnatural dead and bring their fate back with them to their own cities and homes and families. Nyssa was quietly removed from the maps of Lysatra and deliberately forgotten; left for the sun to bleach and the wind to smooth away, to be swallowed up by the dust and the sand and the scrub, its secrets held forevermore in the deep embrace of the empty places.