Slit My Throat & Make It Rain

Xzabrie

of

9 y/o large Male
© CelestialBeing
Trouble called to be stirred. A low whimpering beg that wished to be heard and to that, Xzie answered.
 
Night had fallen unexpectedly through hours of slumber. Day quickly becoming consumed in darkness. Awakening the male within an instant. A dire need to find what his brother would sickly call fun. Freshly healing wounds an example of such a word. His body still ached. Bones snapping loudly with the stretch of their muscles.  Neck sore and screaming soundlessly. Although, through it all, the male murred out in sweet ecstasy.
 
He’d done this to himself.
 
Zen came to only speak cruel sweet words. Their meanings of care in the larger wolf’s speech having only been brief. Just enough to receive what he wished. Even if he already knew Xzie would give it to him without hesitation. It was in his blood. Like a poison taking over. Plaguing him in a sickness. And, he knew the cure. Dainty paws carried him over high terrain. The fresh breeze of cool summer welcoming him into its depths. Easing most of his scars into a dull ache. 

He knew, here, he would find what he was looking for. Another male. Someone to rise his brother. If showing another the attention that was meant for only him, Xzie would take that risk. If only for fun. A chuckle left his sore throat. Reminding him that he was indeed thirsty. Gaze swept the area ahead. Landing on what he could easily make out as a small puddle of water. Had it rained here? Didn't quite matter. Either way, he closed the distant. Groaning against the smooth liquid evading his throat. 


"Speaking"

Table @ Centience
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