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The blood in his mouth wasn't the nicest. He'd definitely had better. It tasted, somehow, a little artificial, and it wasn't nearly as hot as fresh blood should be. Well, at least it was still edible.
A drop of blood dripping down the side of his wrist was lapped up quickly by a barbed tongue; waste not want not. There was meat between his teeth, and stuck under his claws, and sitting heavy in his stomach. It probably wasn't very nutritious. No fibre, no vegetables, he wasn't getting much more than one food group in his system. He had some toast in his bag to wash down his meal.
No.
Not meal. This wasn't a hunt, wasn't prey for him to take down and use to fill his stomach for the night. He had a job to do. He needed to take down the Federation workers, he needed to send a message. He had to keep his family safe, his son, his husband-
"Cellbo? Gatinho? ¿Eres tú?"
Oh right. That's why he was supposed to be quick, no dawdling. There was a reason he hadn't taken his time yet, savoured the richness in his mouth.
He looked away from the hands buried wrist deep in the stomach of someone he didn't care about, and met the lovely eyes of his husband. He who was smiling fondly at him, not a trace of fear or disgust in his gaze.
The meat between his teeth was starting to bother him, but he wasn't done yet. There were entrails strewn around him, staining the grass of the lawn outside the Castelo along with his clothes a deep red.
At least he'd taken to wearing black, so the stains wouldn't be nearly as noticeable.
Roier was leaning against a tree, the light of a lantern surrounding him in a halo. He should always look like this, always be awarded the highest praise. Cellbit had never been particularly religious, but watching Roier step softly over to him made him understand why people said they believed in god.
"¿Qué haces?" Roier asked, sitting gently on the other side of the body across from him. He hadn't even spared it a second glance. Good, he shouldn't be looking at anything other than Cellbit. The filth between them didn't deserve to have Roier looking at it.
The smile creeping up on Roier's face wasn't the most comforting thing right now, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
"¿Acaso no te gustó la cena, gatinho?"
What? Cellbit's hands twitched. The blood was starting to dry on his wrists, and any sharp movements made it crackle and flake off. Answering Roier was difficult, his brain too stuffed with cotton to formulate proper sentences, his throat too coated in blood for any words to come out.
The grin on Roier's face widened at his silence.
"¿Quedaste con hambre, mi amor?"
Oh. Cellbit swallowed heavily. He wasn't necessarily not hungry. He was never really not hungry. Not for the past 15 years, not since learning how to pick someone apart for sustenance like he was doing right now.
The night air was cooling the blood on his hands and on his clothes and on his face rapidly. And the body wasn't faring much better. Cellbit's hands twitched again at the thought of letting a perfectly good meal go to waste. He hadn't actually gotten very far, had spent most of the time divorcing the body from its skin, fur and all. It always got stuck in the back of his throat, sharp and unavoidable, never a pleasant experience.
There was a hand on his, warm, moving, alive.
"Are you going to finish that?"
Why was Roier so close? Why was he always so close? Cellbit was so very aware of his teeth, how they all fit in his mouth. He couldn't focus on anything, thoughts slipping away like the blood running through his fingers.
His eyes snapped down to their hands once Roier started moving, hand rummaging around in the body. He was getting dirty, blood soaking up through the fabric of the sleeves that he hadn't bothered to roll up. Cellbit's hands felt so cold without Roier's hands on him. He always wanted Roier's hands on him.
The blood in his beard was starting to itch, and his jaw clicked when he opened it to try and alleviate the discomfort.
Roier was still elbow deep in the corpse, the red fabric of his hoodie growing darker and darker. Red always did look better on him. He stopped suddenly, Cellbit's eyes watching intently as his arms froze, then tensed, and then sharply pulled away.
With the motion came something so red it looked purple. A dripping mass held firmly in one of Roier's fists, something that itched in the back of Cellbit's brain as necessary. It should be pulsating, it should be run through with a sharp blade, it should be held in black tinged hands and pressed to his starving mouth in the middle of a war.
Roier brought the heart up to his own face. Cellbit's eyes followed the motion carefully as his husband raised the heart to his lips and then slowly took a bite out of the unbeating muscle. The red coated his mouth like lipstick. He looked beautiful in the light of the setting sun that managed to filter through the leaves. He was breathtaking, always breathtaking, and so very red. Red on his face, on his hands, on his clothes, in his hair. Cellbit wanted to tear open his own chest and offer his heart to him.
He was startled out of his musing when Roier's empty hand reached across the body and cupped his face. It was so warm. So caring, so gentle with him, something so broken and violent. He liked being held softly, he wanted to become someone worthy of being held softly by Roier.
Roier was leaning forward and tilting Cellbit's face to the side. Cellbit's lips parted instinctively as Roier's touched his. He breathed deeply into the kiss, blood smearing between the two of them as they moved together. A noise was torn from the back of Cellbit's throat when Roier tightened his grip on his face and pulled him closer. Always closer. His tongue was pushing something into Cellbit's mouth. Something colder than Roier, both more and less familiar. Something tangy and artificial and delicious.
Cellbit groaned as he moved around Roier's tongue to take the meat fully into his own mouth. Roier was refusing to let up though, still trying to make out with him despite the Federation worker's heart between their teeth.
It was getting hard to breathe, Cellbit's lungs aching in protest the longer the kiss lasted, but he was finding it hard to care with the noises Roier was making.
After what felt like an eternity, Roier's grip tight on his face and Cellbit's hands swimming in organs, Roier finally pulled away. Cellbit unconsciously chased after his lips, panting heavily, heart still cooling on his tongue.
Roier laughed at his expression, probably somewhere between confused and lovestruck, while still looking immaculate himself.
"Close your mouth when you eat, man. I don't wanna look at that." The hand on his face loosened its grip and patted him once, twice on his cheek, before parting entirely, probably covering his face more than it already was in rusted brown.
Still dazed, Cellbit shut his mouth, primed to listen to everything Roier said. He chewed slowly, teeth piercing the meat easily, and then swallowed.
"Tastes like shit," Cellbit's voice came out hoarse, not helping his image in the slightest.
Roier laughed again, throwing his head back and raising his empty hand to clutch at his stomach. "Yeah no shit, pendejo, you didn't even season it."
He was stunning. There was so much red on him, even his bandana looked red in the darkness, and his eyes were sparkling with mirth. Cellbit was obsessed with him, how could he not be? What with the way he stopped laughing and looked down at the heart in his hand, grimacing in disgust and then tossing it to the side. He didn't even care that he was covered in blood. He was perfect. Cellbit surged forward to capture him in another kiss, pressing firmly into him and finally, finally, bringing his own hands up to cradle him close, running his sticky fingers in Roier's hair.
Roier moaned appreciatively into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Cellbit's waist and tugging him closer. Cellbit was so lucky, and so very in love.
They were both, however, also very much covered in blood. And it was starting to become too uncomfortable to ignore.
Roier drew back first, Cellbit unwilling to part with him for any reason, and raised one of his hands to smooth back Cellbit's hair.
"Vamos, gatinho, a casa." They helped each other up, Roier's arm on his waist proving useful when Cellbit's knees nearly gave out on him. He had no clue how long he'd been kneeling on the grass, long enough that his legs had gone numb. He pretended Roier wasn't laughing at him as they both stumbled their way through the forest to the elevator that would take them up to the entrance.
They could clean later. Probably. Unless the Federation got to the body first.
"Let's take a shower and then I can cook you something actually good. No esa mierda que estabas comiendo," Roier mumbled against his neck, holding him close as they crossed the dining room to get to their bedroom.
Mm. A shower sounded nice, and so did a proper dinner. Cellbit licked thoughtfully at the blood crusted around his lips. Roier was right, definitely needed more seasoning next time.