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Sometimes Slit wishes Nux would be more cruel. Harsher.
Bruise his skin and make him bleed. Grab him like he meant to break his bones. Shove and punch.
It would be easier to handle. The bruises would ache less.
He gets into fights with the others more than he does with Nux. Nux doesn't seem to care. If mockingly cheering on his opponent isn't caring, and Slit doesn't think it is.
Sometimes Slit wants to attack Nux and really hurt him. He doesn't, but digs his fingernails into his palms and grits his teeth instead. So he takes it all out on his other brothers who suffer his moods and his quick, angry fists. So, he's not very popular among his brothers at the moment – most avert their eyes as not to challenge him as they pass him in the narrow corridors and vast halls, others curse him exasperated and in the open, some come up to him, looking for bloodshed and brawling.
There's always time for fighting. There's always audience.
His knuckles are torn and bloodied, hardly scabbed over, once again. One of his teeth still feels loose in it's fleshy pocket and he can't stop probing the dull ache with the tip of his tongue. Nux catches him, mid-thought, slaps him across the back of his skull and he is already on the edge, and he all but snaps his teeth at him.
” Hey! Ready for bathtime?” Nux exclaims cheerfully.
” Fuck off,” he snarls, ready to elbow Nux to his collarbones, but Nux is faster, reading his arm movement quicker than Slit would have ever anticipated and shoves him against the wall, his elbow pressed against the back of Slit's neck and his hand twisted backwards against his shoulderblade.
” Calm down, fuck.”
Nux looks at him, head tilted, questioning. Weighing the exact moment it would be possible to let him go. Slit presses his cheek against the rough surface of the stone and breathes out, long and exhausted. The pressure against his neck eases a little. Then Nux lets go just as quick as he grabbed him and steps back.
Slit wants to stay leaning against the cool of the stone a little longer but regains his composure and straightens his back, not looking at Nux. He's already half-hard inside his pants and it makes him desperately, irrationally angry.
He clenches his jaw. The pain in his tooth is a good place to anchor his thoughts: he bites his teeth together, hard. The dull, blood-bright pain clears his head a little.
” Ready,” he manages, a small peace-offering to his mate. His driver. Nux. His -
” Calm down, okay?” Nux pleads, his voice soft. His hand hovering over Slit's shoulderblades, but not touching.
Smart puppy.
Slit drags his knuckles against the wall as they walk towards the baths side by side. Nux looks at him, but doesn't say anyhting. The pools are crowded. The pain in his jaw combined with his knuckles scraped raw and skinless have eased the burn in his belly enought that he can take his pants off without further embarrassing himself among his brothers. They eagerly make room as he descends into the cold, white-grey water.
Usually they help each other clean up. Slit is quite sure he has no trouble keeping his brothers away this bathtime. Even Puck, the over-eager pup, keeps his distance. Slit's reputation has preceded him, it seems. He can live with it.
Not that Nux seems to care about Slit's reputation.
He's cupping his hands and dribbling water over Slit's huncehd shoulders, then rubbing with his palm, to get all the clay-paint off. Slit busies himself with washing his face. Keeping his face hidden in his hands and in the cool of the water.
Nux's water-slick fingers running down the shapes of the driveshaft scarred over his spine.
He twists away from the contact.
” Let me look at your hands then,” Nux simply says, holding out his palm, and then not waiting for him to offer his hand but grabbing his wrist and examining his peeled and bleeding knuckles. Furrows his brow and carefully laps water over his fresh scrapes, washing away the blood and the grit. Slit fights over the urge to rip his hand from Nux's grip until it gets too much, and then he does.
” Find someone else to wash your back,” he says, this time looking Nux in the eyes.
Nux lets his still outstreched hand fall. The expression of mild concern on his narrow face doesn't change as he regards this information. Slit turns his back at him and climbs out of the pool, now both his hand and his tooth thrumming-throbbing, the ghost of Nux's fingers around his wrist like a burn injury.
Yanks his pants up and walks away, buckling his belts hastily and biting. His. Teeth.
Yet he goes exactly where he knows Nux will come too, when he's done bathing.
He's throwing small pebbles down. They disappear into the void opening beyond the ege of the catwalk. Sun is setting almost blood red. The light is stretched and tired but still offers enough warmth to dry off freshly washed skin. Even the winds are dying when the night begins to fall. It's a rare piece of quiet in their roaring world. Slit snorts. It's definitely a very Nux thing, to find a place like this and claim it as his own. A maintenance catwalk, on the lifts, facing west, to see the sun go down. Fucking soggy, if you asked him.
He closes his eyes against the dying light and suddenly the remaining sunlight feels like dozends of warm hands roaming his skin.
He wills himself to hate the need it rouses inside his guts.
He needs it too much. He fucking –
He pries his eyes open and grabs a fistful of crumbled yellow stone, and tosses them towards the sinking sun, almost hoping to blind the staring red eye of sun with the sharp-edged slivers of stone. His bad eye hurts and stings and he has to rub it with his palm, and it just stings worse.
Nux folds his long legs to sit down next to him.
Slit didn't even notice him climbing up there. He further pretends he doesn't notice Nux there, sitting cross-legged, mere inches away from Slit, their knees almost touching. Fuck if he's going to be the first to say anyhting.
He steals a glance and notices Nux did find someone to wash his back. His body is almost completely paintless, only traces of black smudges remaining around his eyes and in the groove of the scar over the bridge of his nose. He's squinting against the glaring sun, his eyes under the dark lashes turned bright and shining like polished glass.
Slit chews at the uneven line of the scar inside his cheek and looks away.
Feels like some small and awful predator has crawled its way inside his stomach and it's gnawing and ripping at his intestines with it's jaws.
He gathers some small rocks on his palm – too focused to seem nonchalant. Stares at the dusty pebbles on his palm and picks them up between his thumb and forefinger and flicks them, one by one, over the ledge.
Nux softly headbutts him on the shoulder, making him sway a little. Slit wishes he'd punched with a fisted hand instead. The headbutt is too familiar, too friendly, too gentle.
” If you want to hit me, just hit me,” he says bluntly.
” If I wanted to hit you, I would, trust me,” Nux grins.
What's with the headbutt then? What's with the – Slit wants to yell. Fucking fight me! Fight me! Hurt me in a way I can fucking understand! He doesn't yell. He turns and mows Nux down with his shoulder, like Nux was a bag of sand and wrestles him to the stone floor, pinning him down with his bodyweight. Nux coughs out the air in his lungs, out of the sheer surprise of the attack.
Slit wants him to fight back. To grab his throat or – sharply punch him in the ribs or knee him in the soft of his lower belly – anything.
” Fight me!” he growls, his face inches apart from Nux's. Nux frowns, the softly curving line of his mouth twisting downwards in irritation. His hands splay against the bones of Slit's hips and he makes an attempt to shove Slit off himself.
” I don't want to fight you, you idiot.”
He sounds unhappy. Slit doesn't feel like accepting that as an answer. So he slaps Nux. Hard.
Open hand across his bony cheek, the most humiliating motion he can think of.
However happy-go-lucky Nux might be, he won't take an insult like that – like punishing a ill-behaving runt of a pup with a spanking.
Nux gasps at the shock of the impact, his head jerking to the side. Then he spits, like a snake, baring his teeth. His whole body tenses and finally, he is going to fight back! But he's still not throwing punches – still not going for his jugular, teeth and nail.
They wrestle in a heap, both gritting their teeth, silent, except for their breathing growing heavier. Still Slit can't bring himself to punch first. Not when Nux refuses – refuses even when the red imprint of Slit's palm is burning angry on his cheek. There's a brief moment of Nux's forearm pressed against Slit's windpipe, long and hard enough to make black splotches bloom in his vision, and it feels almost like winning.
Nux is straddling his chest, his knees pressing Slit's arms helplessly against the ground, hunched, slowly easing the pressure on his throat, the weight of his lanky body surprisingly heavy on Slit's ribcage. He gasps for a gulp of air, his lungs straining against the pressure. He jerks his whole body to throw the weight off him, but of course it's no use. Nux might look like someone built out of leftover bird bones but he is pinning Slit down with ease.
” Don't slap me again,” he hears Nux say, somewhere near. ” I'm – I'm not.”
The black blooms slowly wither away one by one. Slit blinks his eyes, half-dazed, half strangely satisfied.
” Fighting you. I don't want to --” Nux says, his voice gone strange, strained and small.
If Slit's hands were free he wouldn't know wether to shove Nux off his chest or. Or grab him. His hands are big and Nux's waist is so thin. Unmarred skin and those long, sleek muscles in the small of his back -
” Then get the fuck off me,” he growls, sounding too out-of-breath even to his own ears.
Red sundown paints black shadows on Nux's face looming over his.
The edge of the high cheekbone drawn out with a thick scar, the bump on the bridge of that otherwise small nose revelaing an old injury. The sharp line of his narrow jawbone. The humorous curve of his upper lip against the delicious swell of the lower lip, the pale scars only accentuating the strange loveliness of that mouth.
He purses his lips, the pink colour draining away, his face odd without the paint, eyes looking darker, somehow, those big, pretty eyes, still alight with the embers of the fire burning inside that lean, long body, however slowly it's wasting away. His chest heaving. The stupid faces tattooed on those tumors on his neck.
He's hard, he's achingly hard inside his cargo pants and he wants – he wants the weight on his chest lower, he wants Nux straddling his hips instead of this chest but his hands are still pinned down and it feels like acid pooling inside his stomach, potent enough to peel the paint off a car. Scalding him from inside out. Searing at his straining lungs.
This is exactly the opposite of what he wanted, this... this what turns him so fucking soft and helpless, somehow, clumsy and guileless.
The fucking sight of Nux's lips parting, just a little, makes him feel like he can't even breathe. He can't look away from that mouth, his own mouth opening too and he doesn't even realize, in anticipation, in the haunting hope that Nux might –
Nux falls down like a bird of prey and smashes his mouth on his, hard enough to split a lip. Their teeth collide, and it hurts like an electric shock shooting through their skulls, but it doesn't matter.
The remaining breath escapes Slit in a long, shaky exhale, his chest feeling like it's caving in on it's own, even without the weight on his ribs. Through the electric-shock-haze Slit feels Nux moving, rearranging his weight, releasing his prickling arms from under his knees. He hardly feels his hands but he grabs Nux – his waist, thumbs on protruding hipbones, can't decide whether to pull or to push. He's hardly aware of his hands. His whole consciousness has shrunken into one bright spot, like a hole in the sky. Their lips, mouths, tongues, melding together. Nux kissing him without gentleness, hungry and furious.
Nux might seem clumsy at times, like his limbs were too long and not entirely a part of his body, but there is nothing clumsy in the way Nux handles him. The way he stretches Slit's body under himself until he's satisfied with the offering of naked, paintless flesh spead on stone.
Now latching his mouth on his throat, wet and hot, dragging his teeth and tongue along the narrow bunch of muscle and tendon on the side of his neck.
Slit is lifting his jaw, offering his throat to his teeth, not caring that his skull is scraping against the hard stone beneath, unable to open his eyes and the dark under his eyelids blooming in colours.
Nux bites obediently, and sucks, and then, suddenly, smoothes the pain with forgiving, barely-there touches of his lips. Then bites again. Sharp, hard. And then presses his whole open mouth against the ache. Flattens his searing tongue against the pulse of blood pounding in his veins. Probably listens to his breath, ragged and stuttering, as he tries not to make a noise.
All of a sudden Nux jerks his head up.
He slams his sand-gritty hand over Slit's mouth and listens, eyes wide.
Then Slit can hear the racket from below – a group of their brothers have come to the lifts, probably to check and reload the cars for the next day. They're whooping and singing and yelling, and can't hear them, there's no way they could have heard them from up there, from the small and shallow maintenance catwalk carved high up over the giant cogwheels and pulleys.
Still Slit can feel the blood rushing to his face, burning his cheeks and swelling in his throat in sudden embarrassment.
Nux looks down at him, and he's grinning happily, eyes sparkling. He's very close and leans even closer, until his mouth is pressed against the back of his hand over Slit's mouth. The tips of their noses are touching. It's ridiculous. Slit finds himself grinning back at Nux.
” Shh,” Nux whispers, there's laughter in his voice, and then slowly draws his hand away from between their mouths and slides his lips agaist Slit's, softly. His big eyes still half-open and devastatingly bright.
Slit has to close his eyes because it feels like – it almost feels like the time he was stabbed but this time the blade is in between his shoulderblades and threatening to stop his heart. The sudden raw pain almost makes him recoil from the touch.
The noise somewhere below continues and they kiss breathlessly, and kiss, and kiss.
Nux's lips soft and quiet, his hands on Slit's face, palms against the rough, numb texture of his scars. Fingers tracing the grooves and contours of his ears, soft as a feather.
Feels like someone is tightening a rope around Slit's neck, slowly and steadily, and the rope is burning into his skin. His hands are on Nux's hips. Resting there. Holding. Grounding him to the weight and presence of his driver's body, half-lying on top of him, half straddling his hips.
The rope tightens. Soon he will be gasping for air.
This is why he prefers honest punches and blows. An invisible blade on his back and a strangling rope around his throat and all the strength in his limbs draining away like he was a punctured tyre running out of air.
He grips Nux tighter, digging his fingers into the muscle. It must hurt. Nux kisses him harsher, breathier, open-mouthed. Grabs his head and pulls him deeper into the kiss.
A strangled, desperate sound escapes his throat and tries to swallow it back in vain.
Nux responds by arching his back, lean muscles moving under his tightly gripping fingers, and canting his hips against Slit's. Slit pushes back, against the pleasant weight, and Nux breathes in deep though his nostrils. The acid-burn inside Slit's guts is simmering down to something less cruel, mixing with something far sweeter and more pleasurable.
Nux pulls away from the kiss with a gasp. Props himself up with one elbow and slinks his free hand between their bodies. Slit has been staring transfixed at his mouth, pink and open, thoughts turning into a jumble of obsceneties, blood thrumming almost painful in his groin.
Nux's hands go for the belts in his pants, Slit's gaze drops and obediently he moves his still-grasping hand to make space. The long fingers stop their fumbling and hesitate, and Slit glances carefully up at Nux, hovering over him. Nux shifts his weight and leans slightly on the side and then the fingers are on the mess of the scars on Slit's stomach and then stealing their way under the waistband of his pants. Thumb already working open the top button.
Slit's thighs fall open like he is not completely in command of his body any more. Maybe he isn't. With confident hands Nux works his pants open, pushes them down from his hips and pulls his cock out into the cool air. He's so hard he's seeing stars.
Nux seems to stare in fascination, moving his loosely fisted hand infuriatingly slowly up and down his straining length. Curious fingertips touching the heated, hard flesh, running softly over the topography of veins on smooth skin. Cupping his balls, making him gasp in turn.
He starts tearing at Nux's pants impatiently. His hands are shaking, but he manages to open the belts and slide the fabric down the bony hips. Nux's cock is long, and pale, and pretty, like the rest of him, the round head dark pink and glistening like the inside of his lips.
Slit wants it in his mouth. The surge of the insane want makes his ears ring and burn of embarrasment and his cock cradled in Nux's hand twitch violently.
All this time the noises from below keep them company, echoing up the walls and the roof of the cavern high up. They make Slit's skin crawl and ears prickle anxiously in fear of getting caught, and at the same time, the anxiousness seems to turn into an electric current running straight down his spine and into his cock, making him even harder and almost oversensitive.
Nux seems to be reading his mind. He puts his mouth against Slit's good ear.
” It's better to keep really quiet, ” he says in a low voice.
It's a taunt and a challenge.
Shifting his weight and moving his hips slowly until their cocks are touching – warm, shy, painfully smooth and soft. Slit tries to grab Nux but Nux shoves his hand away and aligns their cocks until they're nestling together – then wraps his long fingers around both of them and squeezes, and pulls.
Slit's hips jerk upwards to match the movement, and Nux sighs into his ear and moves his wrist – hard heat against his, sleek and hot and – Nux's fingers around both of their cocks together – hastily spreading the wetness leaking out with his fingers, making them cool and slippery - pushing his hips into his grasp and against Slit, rubbing their lenghts together.
Slit grabs Nux's small, round arse and fucks into his fisted hand, trying to keep control of his rolling hips. His whole body is trembling with effort.
Nux mouths at his ear. Suddenly he bites, hard, sending a shockwave of pain and pleasure through his entire body, rendering his limbs limp and useless for a short moment and messing up his rhythm.
Nux laughs breathlessly and bites his earlobe again, revelling at the sound Slit's helpless, husky groan – after just telling him to be fucking quiet, the little shit – then licking and nibbling at the whorls of his ear until Slit is. Blind, and foggy, and half-delirious with unbearable, shameful pleasure, starting from where Nux's mouth is and bleeding and pooling everywhere in the contours of his body.
Nux drags his mouth over Slit's mouth hanging open, and stifles a cruel giggle.
” Shut up, ” he whispers against Slit's lips, laughing. Doesn't stop moving his hand or his hips, and Slit tries to catch up with the rhythm again, feeling dazed and oddly boneless in his effort. Nux isn't helping with shutting up, mouthing at his neck again.
Slit turns his head, stretches his neck and then sinks his teeth into the junction of Nux's shoulder and neck, prefectly offered as he's hunching over Slit, his face buried against Slit's neck.
Nux yelps. Something below them falls and clatters, a piercing sound, followed by a sudden, baffled silence.
Nux freezes. Slit feels a grin climbing up his face. He grabs Nux's waist and pushes him down as he cants his hips up. Nux grunts softly, almost surprised. The grasp of his grabbing hand tightens around their cocks. The feeling is intensely sweet. Slit finds himself not even caring if their brothers heard them.
” Fuck you!” Nux hisses, barely more than a movement of his lips against Slit's ear.
” Please, ” Slit says, quiet, still grinning. Nux lets out a trembling breath and pushes hard down against him.
” Ah – you, you - -”
He stutters, feigning annoyance but relenting into silent laughter. Breahtless, his face hidden against the curve between Slit's neck and shoulder – Slit's hand against his ribcage, his chest rising and falling rapidly under his caressing palm, breathing turning uneven and ragged.
” I, I, what, puppy?” he whispers, his lips against the pink ear.
His hand now on the slender neck. Other hand still groping the delicious globe of his arse. Pushing against the gently pulsing cock and into the trembling hand still moving purposefully but erratic between the press of their bodies. Nux's nose and lips against the tender skin on his neck, his mouth falling open, breathing hard, raddled, and he tenses, back arching.
Stops breathing altogether. Grabs the back of Slit's neck at the base of his skull. Slit fucks against him as good as he can.
Wracking tremors run through Nux's long, lean muscles – and he comes, spilling in luscious, hot bursts against Slit's stomach – now panting, panting, extatic, in breathy, silent gasps against the side of Slit's neck, his breath as wet and hot as his cum pooling on Slit's lower belly. Cradling Slit's head against his own, until the tremors slowly die out and he tries to calm his breathing.
For a short while they lie still.
Nux hasn't removed his hand off their cocks. Immobile, but he's still half-hard somehow, against Slit's rock-hard shaft, now deliciously sticky-slick with Nux's cum. Doesn't remove his warm hand but slowly starts pulling again, searching for the right pace. Long fingers covered in cooling slick, rubbing-running them over the tender head of Slit's cock. Determined. Rolling his hips, pushing down.
Slit pushing up against him.
He's vaguely aware of Nux propping himself up and leaning on his elbow, hovering above him in the disappearing light. Watching him. If there are any other sounds than their breathing, Slit doesn't hear it. His vision has gone blurry from sheer blinding, all-consuming lust.
He wishes for Nux's mouth on his neck – on his ear, but asking – no, the mere memory of that shocking, sweet pain of his sharp teeth sinking into delicate skin is apparently enough to make his breath hitch and his heart stumble in his chest, and the simmering warmth that has been pooling inside his belly turns into a full-blown guzzolene fire.
Nux muffles his moaning by pressing his palm against his mouth, yet is still coaxing him further with his hand, wringing him gently and relentlessly through the throes of orgasm that leaves him breathless, blind and hoarse in his throat.
Even in his sweetness Nux is fucking merciless.
It takes forever to be able to draw a proper breath again. At some point Nux takes his hand off his mouth and lets him catch his breath, straightening his back, still straddling his hips. When Slit finally comes to, he becomes aware of fingertips trailing the still-recognisable scarifications among the messily healed gahses and burnscars littered across his stomach.
With a nasty twinge he remembers when he felt Nux's scars, while he was out cold. Didn't expect to think about that. Not now and actually not at all. Pulls himself up, making Nux lose his balance.
Slit grabs his arm to help him keep steady. To keep him where he is. Nux looks at him softly.
It feels like the rope tightens around his throat again.
Slit arranges his legs so that Nux can sit on his lap, his impossibly long legs loosely around Slit's hips. His lower belly is a mess and he contemplates the repercussions of buttoning his pants. Nux tries to buckle his belts with one hand, keeping his cum-messy hand stiffly up in the air.
Slit snorts and grabs his wrist and unceremoniously starts licking his fingers clean.
Nux crumples his face in an expression of pure horror.
” Oh for fuck's sake! You're disgusting,” he whispers, but there's reluctant awe in his voice.
Slit shurgs stubbornly, then nudges his head towards the chasm of the lifts opening next to them.
” Are they still there?”
Nux nods silently. Lets Slit lick his hand clean, observing him quietly the whole time, his face relaxing into an incredulous smile. Lets him put his fingers into his mouth. Gasps softly though parted lips when Slit sucks at his thumb. The blade stabbed in Slit's back sinks a little deeper. The acid-burn is back in his belly.
Slit lets Nux have his hand back and pretends to be interested in finally buttoning up.
Nux grabs his face and presses his lips against the harsh line of his mouth.
What can he fucking do? When Nux just – he doesn't even care that he just – licked – and he's, he's already heating up again, wrapping himself around Slit, eager and intoxicating, all warm skin and promise.
With the acid scalding the echoing hollow of his chest and climbing up his throat, he opens his mouth to Nux and lets him in.
Because he tastes soothing as milk. His mouth is the softest thing Slit can think of.
Like hands closing around the base of his throat and squeezing, crushing his windpipe with fatal determination.
The sun has shut it's staring eye and finally fallen below the horizon. It's getting colder. He holds him close, arms around him, to keep warm. Nux pets at his scars. Runs his thumb over the staples and down the deep-etched groove of the scar twisting the corner of his mouth. Makes him hurt with his touch. Speaks, quiet, mumbled words, half-formed thoughts.
” You look weird without the paint,” he says. Yeah? So do you, your eyes are fucking huge. It can't be normal.
And
” Your hands.” What about your hands? Your insanely long and nimble fingers. The thought of fucking which keep me up at night?
And
” You.” Me? You, puppy. You.
Softly against his lips, and he can't say anything out loud, except answer each kiss with clumsy, helpless affection.