Chapter Text
ODAXELAGNIA
(N.) sexual arousal from biting or being bitten
HEMATOLAGNIA
(N.) sexual arousal by the sight, smell, texture of blood
SADISM
(N.) the tendency to derive pleasure, especially sexual gratification, from inflicting pain, suffering, or humiliation on others
MASOCHISM
(N.) the tendency to derive pleasure, especially sexual gratification, from one’s own pain or humiliation
“You let me violate you
You let me desecrate you
You let me penetrate you
You let me complicate you”
Closer, Nine Inch Nails
One More Score to Settle
He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. The chaos, the violence, the blood, it all screamed at him from every direction, rattled his bones, and bounced around his skull. It was like bees buzzing under his skin, pricking through the surface and electricifying him. Frozen claws that grazed the skin and left an icy fire behind but somehow didn’t break the skin burned deep inside of him.
Zanka had never met anyone like Jabber.
He’d heard of people like him before but he never believed they were actually real. No way, absolutely no way anyone actually felt that way, did the things that he did, and was actual flesh and blood. It was like someone flipped the script on him, showed him something terrible that he could only imagine and then said “psych!” Except they didn’t say psych, they shoved him in a room with the terrifying, imaginary creature and said “play nice!”.
There was no playing nice with Jabber, there was only violence. The promise of it made his knees weak.
Zanka gripped his Lovely Assistaff harder and glared.
When his eyes met Jabber’s, he pretended not to notice as the other man’s demeanor seemed to shift. Jabber's manic smile lit up his whole face. He raised his arms in celebration and motioned to Zanka.
“Oh, look. It’s Mr. Bad Attitude! What’s happenin’ gorgeous?”
Zanka gritted his teeth at the nickname, and the compliment. Narrowing his eyes, he zeroed in on the rings on Jabber's fingers. He had no intention of being sliced by those fuckers again and he wasn’t gunna allow Jabber to activate his instrument. He had strict orders from Enjin: keep Jabber distracted, kick his ass into the dirt, however long it may take. Just keep him distracted.
“Tck. Come on man, I’m trying to be nice here! And there you go again, looking at me like that.” Jabber’s eyes crinkled as his smile turned sinister. His teeth glinted in the dull light. “You’re making me shiver.”
Zanka ignored the slight purr in Jabber’s inflection. It was always like this when they fought. Jabber would tease him, compliment him, push all his buttons until he couldn’t take it anymore and then they’d clash. They’d chase each other in circles, beat each other within an inch of their lives, and then Zanka would be lying there on the ground, paralyzed, and Jabber would be there next to him giggling and licking the blood from his lips, thanking Zanka for a good time.
A good time?! The fucking audacity hit Zanka like a freight train every time. God he hated him, hated how he made him feel incompetent, like he didn’t know how to fight, or even know how to finish one! Zanka was no genius but he knew how to fight, he knew how to kick someone’s ass so hard they could feel their teeth for weeks after. He knew how to leave bruises that would stay for months. He knew how to break bone for fuck’s sake! So why, why couldn’t he beat Jabber?
It was his fucking rings, he knew it. If he could just get them off he could beat him, he knew he could do it. If he could only get the rings…
Zanka let his own smile spread across his face as he stood up straight and looked Jabber directly in those violet eyes of his.
Jabber was a close up and personal kind of fighter, he liked to get in your face and sink his metaphorical teeth in, and his very literal claws in deep. Zanka on the other hand used his staff to deliver heavy blows from a distance, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t throw a punch.
I hope this fucking works.
“Alright you fucking maniac, I’ll cut you a deal.”
Jabber looked at him, tilting his head to the side, like a puppy hearing a strange noise for the first time, or a lion stalking its prey.
“Oh this is interesting, very interesting! Finally down to talk, it only took what? Six or seven dates? Alright Mr. Bad Attitude, let me have it! I’ll hear you out!” Jabber lifted his hands up to his head, instrument still not activated and said, “I’m all ears, my guy!”
Zanka felt his eye twitch at the word “date”. If you called the six or seven altercations that left them both bruised and bloody a date then sure, yeah. God, this guy really was insane.
With a hard swallow, Zanka rested his Assistaff against a nearby pillar, laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, before raising his hands in surrender.
“Huh? Awe, that’s not what I wanted to see”, Jabber pouted, sinking down to the ground into a deep crouch. “That’s no fun at all.”
“Shut up, I haven’t even offered you the deal yet”, Zanka scoffed, rolling his eyes. “We always play the same game, today I wanted to try and play a new one.”
Jabber narrowed his eyes, his mouth pulling downward into a frown. He tilted his head to the side again, a few of his dreads fell into his face and he tossed them up and over his shoulder. He seemed to be sizing Zanka up, letting his eyes drag over him from head to foot then back up again. He blinked several times then bit his lip.
“Okay Zanzan, I’ll bite. What’chu got for me?”
Again, he tried not to show his annoyance at yet another nickname and let his gaze fall on Jabber’s rings.
“No tricks, no treasures, just our fists”, he said with a carefully measured voice.
Jabber's eyebrows hit his hairline, his mouth popped open into a little “o” shape.
“First one to get knocked out wins.”
Drool dripped from Jabber’s lips, his pupils were blown wide as he stared at Zanka. He was quiet, not even trying to hide his shaking legs as he continued to measure up the Cleaner in front of him. Then he was smiling, quickly wiping away the spit with the back of his hand and licking the rest from his lips, laughing maniacally all the while.
“Oh man! That is WILD Zanzan!” He jumped up from his crouched position and bounced on the balls of his feet. “You really wanna get all up close and personal with me that bad huh? Okay! I’ll play! On one condition.”
Jabber held up a singular, slender finger. The metal of his rings caught the light and flashed brilliantly. Zanka instinctively took a step back, readying himself to dodge if need be, but Jabber was still grinning devilishly at Zanka when he wiggled his fingers and finally told him what he wanted.
Zanka blanched and stiffened. He stood up straight out of pure shock, a reflex ingrained in him from the past. “What?”
Jabber's teeth flashed. “Is that a yes?”
Zanka opened his mouth to say something but his mouth was suddenly dry. Did he just hallucinate, did Jabber nick him with his claws when he wasn’t looking or was he more insane than he thought? Because that just didn’t make any sense.
“Why?”
“Look man, don’t be boring and just say yes. It’s not like you can activate my Mankira.”
Zanka spluttered. This is exactly what he wanted. He wanted to get the rings off Jabber, wanted to make it impossible for the other man to win by poison yet again, but this? This felt too personal.
“But-but they’re yours! Why would I want to wear anything of yours?”
“Ugh!” Jabber let his head fall back in exasperation. “I thought we were gunna have fun! This is boring! Just say yes!”
Before he could say no Jabber had leapt acros the space separating them, he was barely a few inches away, and was pulling off his rings. Zanka tried to back away, but Jabber was too quick and he snatched up Zanka’s hands and pulled him closer, then pushed the rings onto his fingers. The metal was cold, despite having just been on Jabber's hands, and to his surprise fit his fingers comfortably. They were not ten separate rings like he had thought they were, but instead were in fact ten sets of three piece silver rings. Thirty rings total. He flexed his fingers, trying to get used to the weight of them.
When he glanced up at Jabber the man was looking at him already, a feral gleam in his eye.
Then he was on the ground, pain exploding across his cheek as Jabber laughed and was practically dancing above him.
Heat flooded Zanka’s face and his stomach turned in rage. He pushed himself up off the dust covered ground and bared his teeth.
Jabber bit his lip, still grinning, and motioned with both of his hands. Come and get me.
Zanka didn’t waste any time. He had spent years training in various forms of fighting. Boxing, martial arts, he knew what to do. But so did Jabber.
He rushed forward, not giving Jabber a chance to react, and landed a solid punch directly on Jabber’s jaw. The impact was sharp, the rings making the punch hurt that much harder but Jabber barely staggered. Instead, he wrapped a hand around Zanka’s wrist and pulled him in close, so close that Zanka could smell the blood beginning to leak from the corner of Jabber’s mouth.
“Again”, he purred, then used his knee to kick up into Zanka’s stomach.
“Ack!”
Zanka spit, then wrapped his arms around Jabber's waist and used his weight to shove him backwards into a pillar. Jabber’s head slammed hard against the concrete, a moan escaped from between his lips.
“Fuck, that hurts!” He shook his head back and forth, still, he was smiling.
“You really piss me off”, Zanka sneered.
“Oh yeah, baby. Keep talking so sweet to me.”
Zanka surged forward again and Jabber met him with tangible enthusiasm. It didn’t take long before they found their rhythm, it never did. Zanka dodged Jabber’s fists, ducked as Jabber threw punch after punch, as he kicked every kick, all the while his laugh echoed in the dusty chamber they found themselves in. Every punch seemed to be drawing them closer, not in proximity, but in something darker, more feral. The sound of the rings now adorning Zanka’s fingers striking hard into Jabber’s flesh, the hiss of breath with each heavy blow Jabber landed into Zanka’s side, it was tearing something free from within them both.
Zanka’s right hook came crashing forward again and cracked hard into Jabber’s mouth, the rings on his fingers leaving a streak of red where they made contact. For a moment they just stood there, breathing heavily as Jabber spit blood into the dust. When he looked back up and grinned, his teeth red with blood, Zanka felt something flutter in his stomach.
Zanka licked his cracked lips. “Giving up?”
“Tck! It’s like you don’t even know me”, Jabber teased.
Jabber’s eyes flicked down to Zanka’s hands, no, not his hands. To the rings. There was something in the way his eyes gleamed as he looked at them, it was almost predatory. Zanka flexed his fingers then pointed upwards with his pointer finger.
“My eyes are up here.”
Jabber met his gaze, his violet eyes sparkled and Zanka felt that flutter again as a line of red dripped from Jabber’s lips. Zanka let his mouth fall open, felt his stomach drop. The corner of Jabber’s mouth quirked upwards as he cocked his head to the side.
“My, my”, he said tauntingly. “What’s that look for, Zanzan?”
Zanka shook himself to clear his head and frowned. “Don’t know what you’re talking about”, he growled, then rushed forward.
The fight continued, this time it was more frenzied than before. It was no longer about fists meeting flesh, it was something darker, headier. They pushed, they shoved, they kicked, they hit, and they collided over and over and over again. Each time one of them landed a hit Zanka felt the fluttering in his stomach spread. Soon it was like his entire body was buzzing. It wasn’t butterflies in his stomach, it was more like bees buzzing under his skin. He was itchy, hot, and sweating, and trying hard to catch his breath. Sweat mingled with blood and he tried hard not to lick it from his lips.
Zanka cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, his eyes never leaving Jabber as the other man shook out his hands at his sides and bounced up and down, like a boxer just warming up. Zanka took advantage of the small break in the fight to assess his opponent. He could see bruises blossoming on the other man's cheekbone and jaw, and took note of the cracked and bloody knuckles. He didn’t miss the bands of pale flesh around each of his fingers where his rings usually sat either. He absentmindedly brushed his own fingers where Jabbers rings currently sat.
It was a mistake.
When he looked back up Jabber was running at him, his eyes crazed, his smile even crazier. It looked like he was going to be done for. But then he saw it, it was small but it was there, an opening. Zanka ducked just in time and took the opportunity to land a punch square to Jabber’s ribs.
“Oof!”
Jabber doubled over and Zanka quickly swept his leg underneath Jabber’s and shoved with all his strength. Jabber hit the ground hard, his face scraped against the cement, but he was still laughing as he clutched his side.
“Ow, ow, ow! Oh man, that really fuckin’ hurts. Think you might’ve broken another rib, man.”
Zanka flipped his bangs from out of his eyes. His chest rose and fell with anticipation as Jabber rolled onto his back. His dreads fanned out from around his head, the gold beads glowed in the dull lighting, and seemed to form a sort of halo around him. Zanka swallowed hard.
“That all you got?”, Jabber said from the ground. His voice was tired, but there was something in it that set Zanka’s blood on fire.
He stood over him and watched as Jabber's chest rose and fell. His cheeks were flushed from the fight.
“I fucking hate you”, Zanka said.
It was flat, barely any emotion as he uttered that statement, and yet his stomach flipped as Jabber met his eye, a giggle escaping from between his lips. Zanka swallowed hard.
Jabber smiled, teeth still stained red with blood. “Liar.”
Before he could stop himself Zanka was straddling Jabber. His hands wrapped around Jabber's neck and he squeezed. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, the metal of the rings dug into his fingers as he squeezed harder and harder. Jabber's legs kicked around him as he tried to buck his hips up to throw him off. He felt Jabber's hands hitting him, scratching at him, clawing at his clothes, but he didn’t loosen his grip. Zanka screamed in frustration and brought his face down to Jabber’s, so close that their noses bumped together and their foreheads touched. Tears leaked from the corners of Jabber's eyes as spit leaked from the corners of his mouth. Zanka screamed again through his teeth as Jabber’s fingers somehow made it into Zanka’s hair and he felt as the other man pulled hard enough that he let out an embarrassingly loud moan.
Zanka relaxed his grip from around Jabber's throat then, and the other man stopped kicking to draw in a long, ragged breath. He didn’t remove his hands from Jabber’s throat as he gasped for air. Instead he breathed in every single one of Jabber’s breaths as if he were his own, feeling his chest rise and fall over and over again in quick succession, all the while keeping his eyes squeezed shut.
He was still straddling Jabber, and Jabber’s hands were still tangled in his hair. Their foreheads were still connected. Zanka’s heart beat still pounded in his ears, and he could feel how hard Jabber’s own pulse was underneath his fingertips. Hell, he could feel how hard Jabber was, period.
Zanka licked his lips and felt the breath from Jabber’s mouth tickle his tongue.
“Come on”, Jabber teased, his voice froggy. Zanka could feel his lips moving, barely a hair's breath away from his own. “Hurt me more.”
Zanka snarled, then caught Jabber's bottom lip with his teeth and bit down hard. Blood welled up around his teeth, and Zanka could taste the iron warmth of it. Jabber hissed in pain, then laughed and swept his tongue up and into Zanka’s mouth to get a taste of his own.
It wasn’t exactly a kiss, but it wasn’t not a kiss.
Zanka leaned into it nevertheless, and sucked greedily on the taste of Jabber's blood coated tongue. His teeth knocked into Jabber’s as he snaked his hand up to squeeze Jabber’s jaw and force his mouth to open wider. With another laugh, Jabber pushed his tongue up and out to rest against his bottom lip.
“You’re disgusting”, Zanka said harshly, then spit directly into Jabber's waiting mouth.
Before he could swallow it, Zanka placed two of his fingers into Jabber's mouth, playing with his own spit on Jabber’s tongue. He pushed his fingers around, feeling the way Jabber’s tongue moved around in his mouth and pushed the spit back, back, and back until he could feel the back of Jabber’s throat working. Jabber gagged against the feeling, and when Zanka moved to pull his fingers out, Jabber captured them in place with his teeth hard enough to make Zanka wince.
Like it was a knee jerk reaction, Zanka cracked his hand against Jabber’s cheek hard enough that he let go of Zanka’s fingers and blinked up at him dazedly. Before he could apologize, Jabber laughed and reached up with one hand to flick one of Zanka’s earrings.
“I knew it”, he croaked.
“Knew what?”, Zanka asked.
Jabber let his hand fall and rest on top of Zanka’s, then he slowly positioned Zanka’s hand so that it was holding his throat again. Jabber tapped his fingers against his rings, his rings that Zanka was still wearing. His rings that were now stained with his own blood.
“I knew you liked me.”
Zanka’s nails dug into the flesh of Jabber’s throat. He opened his mouth to deny it but found he couldn’t. His skin flushed, and his skin was still buzzing, electric. He could still taste Jabber, and if he was being honest, he already missed the warmth of that taste.
If he was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to the other man. Objectively speaking, Jabber was beautiful, with his honey-bronzed skin and his bright, violet eyes. Zanka had caught himself more than once admiring his perfectly straight teeth and slightly elongated canines, and his long slender fingers. He even liked the way his bangles looked on his delicate wrists.
Not that anything about Jabber was delicate, the man was a viper waiting to strike at any moment! He was dangerous, feral, he was a fucking Raider for fuck’s sake!
But he was tall, and he had nice cheekbones, and Zanka wanted to know what sounds he would make if he tugged hard enough on his dreads, and-
Fuck! What the hell was wrong with him? He had a job to do! He needed to distract-!
Oh.
Well…
Enjin did say to distract Jabber, no matter what it took, and however long it would take. He never explicitly said how to distract him. And he did already kick his ass into the dirt, so…
Zanka squeezed a little harder and added a little pressure to the hand around Jabber's throat, this time he didn’t suppress the smile that broke across his face at the look Jabber was giving him; eyes slightly crossed, his cheeks flushed, his own smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.
“Oh yeah”, Zanka crooned. “This is gunna be fun.”
***
Jabber had lost track of how many times he’d intentionally pricked himself with Mankira over the years. Of course he always told Zodyl it was to test new poisons, it was always good to know exactly what he was inflicting on enemy parties, whether it was purely just to make them hurt or to send them on some kind of psychedelic trip. Lately, however, he’d been doing it to experience this.
How many times had he fantasized about this very scenario? How many times had he skipped joyously towards the fight hoping Zanka would be there? He was always ready to beat him into the ground and inflict his own kind of punishment onto him. Jabber clocked him immediately for what he was. How long had it taken Zanka to figure it out for himself?
They were a match made in hell, and Jabber couldn’t have been more ecstatic.
The feel of Mankira pinching into his throat along with Zanka’s own fingers sent a chilling sort of thrill up his spine, but nothing could beat the gleam in Zanka’s eyes as he grinned devilishly down at him.
“Oh yeah”, he said. “This is gunna be fun.”
Jabber was shaking underneath him. He’d fantasized about this so many times he’d lost count, but nothing could compare to actually getting to live it. To feel it with his own hands. It was everything he’d ever wanted and more.
Zanka was heavier than he’d anticipated, but he liked the way he felt on top of him. Solid, unmovable. The way his hands fit perfectly around his neck had him relaxing into the dust covered concrete in a way he was never able to in his own bed. He was putty in Zanka’s hands, ready to be molded in any way the other man deemed fit.
Zanka seemed to sense that, because he was pushing his fingers back into his mouth and pressing down onto his tongue again. Jabber wrapped his tongue around his fingers, coating them with as much spit as he could. That seemed to be what Zanka wanted ‘cause he smiled cruelly down at Jabber before removing his fingers from his mouth and smearing the contents over Jabber’s lips.
Zanka played with Jabber’s mouth like that for a while, pushing his fingers in and out, playing with Jabber’s tongue and smearing the spit all over his mouth until his lips were puffy, red, and shining. It wasn’t long before Zanka was pinching his jaw and forcing his mouth to open up wider again.
Zanka tapped onto one of Jabber's canines and said with wicked calmness, “No biting.”
“Wha’ happen’s if I do?”, Jabber teased.
Zanka’s fingers dug in harder into his cheeks and his jaw. The pain was sharp, and Jabber shivered in excitement.
“Then this ends. Right here and right now. And you don’t want that, do you, huh Wonger?”
Jabber’s throat seized at the sound of Zanka saying his last name. He never said his name, ever. He was always Dreads or shitbag or genius, never had he ever been called Wonger by the other man, let alone Jabber. He liked how it sounded, his last name coming out of Zanka’s mouth. He may have just discovered a new addiction.
“I mean, if this is anything to by.”
Jabber jerked at the feeling of Zanka’s hand cupping him through his pants. He never kept it a secret that pain turned him on, but he never would have thought Zanka would be so forward as to grab his dick, regardless of the fabric separating them.
Zanka dug his nails in then and Jabber whimpered at the pressure.
“Yeah”, Zanka said with another hard squeeze. “You don’t want this to stop.”
He removed his hand, then shoved his fingers back into Jabber's waiting mouth. Jabber sucked on them greedily, careful to not even let the barest scrape of his teeth touch Zanka’s fingers. Maybe if he was good enough Zanka would bite him.
“Don’t make a sound”, Zanka said softly, a mean edge to his voice.
Before he knew what was happening, Zanka removed his hand from around his jaw and pushed his fingers to the top of his head and gripped his dreads and pulled. Jabber moaned at the sharp pain, and Zanka removed his fingers from his mouth with an obscene pop. Then, as if he’d done it a million times, Jabber felt Zanka wrap his wet fingers around his dick.
Zanka’s grip was hard, harder than was comfortable, and the way he was pulling on his dreads was sharp enough that Jabber’s eyes pricked with tears. The pain was glorious. The calluses on Zanka’s hands were rough against the hardness of his dick, and the slick of his spit only made the friction of his pace chafe, as he dragged his hand up and down Jabber's length. It didn’t help that anytime Jabber so much as let a heavy breath escape or a soft moan slip out, Zanka pulled hard on his dreads and immediately stopped any and all motion. It was torture. Sweet, sweet torture.
Zanka’s words were just as hard.
“You really are the worst. Look at you, you talk a big game but the minute I touch you, you melt. How pathetic.”
The words sent shivers down his spine and made his knees weak. It took all of his control to not make a sound, to not push back against the mean words coming out of Zanka’s mouth. He didn’t want Zanka to stop touching him. He wanted him to touch him more, he wanted to be out of these hot clothes. He was sweating from how hard he was concentrating, despite the cool concrete underneath him. He watched Zanka’s hand move up and down at a cruelly slow pace, never picking up speed, never stopping, just the same steady speed. It was maddening.
Jabber's toes curled as the heat in his stomach built. The tension coiled there and burned hotter and tighter until his ab muscles contracted with every pull upwards that Zanka made. He was gonna cum, and he couldn’t even tell Zanka unless he wanted him to stop, and he definitely didn’t want that.
It was gonna happen, Jabber felt it, his breathing shuddered, his abs seized, and just as he felt it coming he squeezed his eyes closed and held his breath and then-
Everything stopped.
Zanka’s hands were no longer touching him. In fact Zanka was no longer straddling him at all. He was standing over him, looking down his nose at him and smirking.
“You didn’t think you were getting off that easy now, did you?”
His hands were trembling and his thighs ached from the tension. Zanka hadn’t bothered to fix his pants for him, and even though his dick was out and his shirt was pushed up to expose his stomach, he didn’t feel exposed.
He pushed himself up onto his elbows and opened his mouth to say something clever but Zanka raised a foot and pressed it against his chest and pushed. Jabber grabbed his ankle.
“What’re you doin’ Zanzan?”
He pulled a face. “Who said you could talk?”
Jabber squeezed his ankle, letting his nails graze against his skin, but he didn’t scratch. It was a silent question, and he hoped Zanka knew how to answer.
Zanka pushed his foot down a little harder against Jabber’s chest and he let himself be pushed down so that he was laying flat on his back, his hand still gripping his ankle. Zanka kept his foot pressed against Jabber's chest as he kneeled down low enough to let his lips brush against the shell of his ear. His cool breath sent shivers through his whole body.
“Geniuses like you really piss me off”, he said softly, but the venom in his voice was still there and Jabber smiled wickedly. “And there’s something so satisfying about seeing you like this and knowing that it’s an Average Joe like me reducing you to this.”
Jabber hissed as he felt Zanka’s teeth graze his ear lobe, his grip on his ankle tightened.
“You can make as much noise as you want now. I don’t think anyone can hear you anyway.”
He didn’t know what he was expecting, Zanka was always so unpredictable, it’s what made him so interesting, but then Zanka was straddling him again and his shirt was being ripped open, and the cool air was touching his bare skin. Goosebumps immediately pricked his skin and his nipples hardened. He’d always had sensitive nipples, and as if Zanka knew, he leaned down and closed his mouth over his left nipple, and the shocking warm, wet heat of his mouth had him moaning in sweet pleasure.
But Zanka also knew better than to be gentle, because his teeth bit down onto the flesh around his nipple as his hand came up to pinch the right one. Jabber’s back arched against the concrete.
“Zanka”, he breathed out hard. “God damn, you really know how to treat a guy!”
Zanka licked at the bite mark on his chest and brought his fingers back up to pinch and tug at his nipple while he moved his mouth over to the other, unbitten one. Jabber felt his hips buck upwards but Zanka pressed down hard to keep him in place. He bit down again, harder on this one and sucked hard enough to leave a bruise.
Jabber couldn’t help the half yelp, half moan that escaped from his lips as Zanka continued to pinch and suck. He couldn’t help himself as he brought his hands to rest against Zanka’s thighs and dig his own nails into the meat of them in response to every tweak, every bite, every lick and suck. Eventually Zanka moved up to his neck, sucking and biting hard enough to bruise and Jabber couldn’t help but babble.
“God damn!”
“Oh fuck!”
“Just like that!”
“Fuck me, that hurts!”, he moaned when Zanka bit down on the junction between his neck and his shoulder.
He hissed as he felt Zanka’s nails break the skin against his ribs. “Make me bleed”, he begged.
“Fuck me up Zanzan”, he groaned when Zanka sucked a bruise into his neck and pinched his nipple hard enough that he felt the pain sing in his groin and down to his toes.
Zanka didn’t disappoint, and Jabber continued babbling until he was only making sounds instead of words as Zanka left marks all down his neck and chest, sucking a particularly painful bruise into his lower stomach that made him jerk in response. It earned him another bite, this time to his inner thigh as Zanka continued lower and lower, slowly removing all of his clothing until Jabber was completely naked.
Zanka stood up then, and looked down his nose at Jabber to admire the mess he’d made of the other man. He was practically leaking, the pain of his neglected cock after being played with and and teased only to then be ignored so he could endure all this sweet torment ached against his lower stomach and yet Zanka still didn’t touch him. Instead, he laughed at him.
Zanka crouched down and grabbed hold of Jabber’s jaw with one hand and coaxed him into an upright, sitting position. Jabber went without a fight.
“Look at you. All whiny and pathetic, begging me. Babbling nonsense. You want me to fuck you up so badly don’t you? Want me to tell you how horrible and disgusting and what a piece of shit you are?”
Zanka slapped him then, and Jabber felt the warm fuzzy feeling he usually only got when fighting. It made him loose, pliable, and he grinned at the feeling. He hadn’t felt this good in years, he couldn't remember the last time anything had made him feel like this. All floaty and warm.
“What is it about you, huh?” Zanka said softly, stroking the spot on Jabber’s cheek where he’d just slapped him. He let his fingers brush against one of the bite marks on Jabber's neck and then trail down further to flick his nipple.
Jabber leaned into the pain. He was over sensitive, every touch from Zanka felt electric. It hurt so sweet.
Zanka pulled on one of his dreads, tugging it hard enough that Jabber’s head tilted backward.
“I hate you so much”, Zanka said softly. He rested his forehead against Jabber’s then moved his head to gently bite his cheek. “But god I would be lying if I didn’t tell you how beautiful you are.”
Jabber felt the truth of Zanka’s words sink into him. He was on cloud nine. He couldn't respond even if he wanted to, it was like he was floating away from his body and all he could do was let Zanka hold him up and keep him from slipping. He was trembling again, but not from the cold, maybe it was the overstimulation.
“Are you ready, Jabber?”, Zanka whispered into his ear.
Jabber shivered at the sound of his name coming out of Zanka’s mouth. His fingers trailed down his back, his blunted nails dragging in a way that was stimulating but didn’t hurt. God how he wanted it to hurt. He wanted Zanka to hurt him more, wanted him to make him bleed, and wanted him to leave bruises that lasted weeks. He wanted to be marked by him forever, wanted his name branded into him. He was so fucking ready.
He couldn’t open his mouth to say these things though, it was like that part of him had been turned off.
“Jabber?” Zanka leaned back to look him in the eye.
“Oh”, he said. Then smirked down at him. “Damn, looks like you’re gone.”
Jabber shook his head slightly from side to side. He was still here. He was right here.
“Guess I win then”, he crooned.
Then, he placed a gentle kiss on Jabber's mouth. It was so soft, so sweet, so unexpected. Jabber didn’t know what to do.
Zanka pulled away and sighed. “Maybe next time we can finish this.”
Jabber just blinked at him. An odd feeling filled his chest. What was happening?
It took him a minute to understand, Zanka was halfway done redressing him before he realized it was over. They were done. That was it.
Zanka was done playing.
He was buckling his pants for him when Jabber’s voice finally returned to him.
“So that’s it?”, he croaked.
Zanka looked up at him from where he was on his knees.
“For now”, Zanka said softly. “Didn’t feel right with you gone like that.”
“I wasn’t gone.”
“You were. But it’s okay. Just means next time I’ll know how far I can push you before you go away again.”
Jabber scoffed. “I wasn’t gone, I was right here.”
Zanka stood up and helped Jabber back into his shirt. He didn’t need help getting dressed, but Zanka seemed to want to help him get dressed, and he wasn’t ready for Zanka to stop touching him yet.
He sat quietly while Zanka rebuttoned his shirt for him and fixed his hair and cleaned his mouth with his sleeve. His whole body was aching, and he could tell Zanka’s was too.
Slowly, Zanka removed his rings from his fingers and placed them back onto his own. The familiar weight of them relieved some of the tension in his shoulders. It was a relief honestly, having them back. He didn’t think Zanka would actually agree to wear them when they started this battle, and the feeling in his chest seeing him wear Mankira still tingled.
He didn’t let him pull away when he was finished, instead he gripped Zanka’s hands firmly and pulled him in. It wasn’t exactly a hug, more like they were just extremely close, standing toe to toe, hands grasped between them. They stood like that for a while, just basking in whatever it was you wanted to call that. It helped, Jabber thought, being this close to him after such an abrupt end. It helped to ease some of the ache in his chest, though it did nothing for the ache in his balls. He’d have to take care of that later.
“That was fun”, Zanka said after a while. He sounded like it hurt him to say that and it made Jabber laugh in relief.
“Yeah. Haven’t felt that good in years.”
Zanka wrinkled his nose. “You really are a masochist, ya know that?”
“Yeah well, you’re my favorite sadist.”
Zanka pulled away then and gave him a wary look. “I still hate you.”
Jabber grinned. “No you don’t.”
Zanka glared at him. Jabber’s grin widened. There he was, his favorite little sadist.
“Don’t think this is over”, Zanka said, turning his back and walking away.
Jabber cocked his head, excitement bubbling up in his chest.
“Oh?”
Zanka continued to walk away, slowly making his way back over to his staff. He pulled it gently into his hands, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief. Then he turned to look over his shoulder, his blue eyes glinting as his face split into that devilish grin.
“Yeah, we still got one more score to settle between us, don’t we Wonger?”
A thrill went up his spine as Zanka said his last name. Oh yeah, this definitely wasn’t over.