taste you like a drug
i taste you on my tongue

The man was quiet and simple, he knew what he wanted and knew that I could give it to him— he wasn't pushy or terribly sweet and gentle, he didn't take his time either, didn't tease me affectionately (like I wanted a stranger to do so). I caught his eye and he caught mine in the way the bulk of his body moved, the way his skin rippled as he focused on my display. I taunted him, lured him in, offered myself with a sly smile and  perked ears— I know what he wants, and I want it too. I'm tempting and lustful, licking and biting at my lip and displaying the curves of my body until he crumbled. He was silent as he reached me from across the clearing, nostrils flaring and skin slick with the way he craved the same euphoria I did, our loins ablaze with savage hunger. Already he was sure of his needs, grabbing hold of my withers as though any looser and he would lose his round ticket to a good time, blood staining his teeth as he drove forward. It was quick and almost too easy, I gave him what he wanted and brought him to the top before he even knew what was happening, panting into my brindled hide like that would muffle his shameful hums. I offered sweet cries riddled with my desire, pushing back into him and guiding him into ecstasy, panting from the exertion necessary to keep a man content. It was over as I finished and the intensity of the need is temporarily dispelled, satisfied with my performance as he gasps into my side and takes to having all four hooves firmly planted on the ground again.

When it was over I left him with a smirk and a wink, promising that he could certainly find me again if the need ever arises— he promised he'd return (I don't doubt it, my performances are getting better and better). I toss my head and let him go, flashing him a mischievous grin until he was out of sight and out of mind (but traces still lingered on my body). Now that there was nothing to distract me from the pressing loneliness, the pain of Mother's willing abandonment and the catastrophe she left in her wake— the way the bruises that blossomed over my skin have still not vanished entirely, my body already healing the shallowest of the wounds (which are few and far between)but just barely beginning to work on the deepest of them. Her absence strikes a chord in my heart, even if I never truly grew to appreciate and love her as a son should love his mother (she was a bitch to me, if you couldn't tell), but also because I am alone now. Truly and entirely, a lone king. My crown sits askew atop my head as I feel the wet warmth drip down my thighs and the wind howls behind me.

I don't linger in the deep tangle of the forest, taking my pitiful display somewhere that wasn't a place I considered home— a place where my sweat wasn't soaked into the earth and my blood wasn't pooling at the roots of all the towering trees, watching me commit terrible sins in the dead of day. I walked slow and casual, not at all prepared to go any faster than necessary (my body can't handle that in this state). There's no point in my wandering, no kingdom I seek to conquer (not today), or king I desire to bring down to his knees. I am simply here. I don't expect to find anything so late into the night, with only the owls to witness the Boy King weave through the gnarled trunks of the Threshold.

But as the sun's rays begin to turn the sky a brilliant array of pinks and purples, oranges and yellows accenting the disheveled clouds above my head, I spot exactly what I wasn't looking for. The body is certainly not the way I remember it, never has it been so tall, so bulky and powerful— it's almost unrecognizable. Bubblegum has to focus, my brows furrowing and ears falling back momentarily as I watch the black mass take lax steps through the woods (he's in no hurry). I want to call out to him, to scream and shout because fuck him for taking off for so fucking long and never telling anyone where he was headed. What an idiot for leaving this damned mess of a family behind and thinking that no one would notice (Sikeax, the poor woman who's single handedly raising Volterra's offspring and cleaning up after his oblivious ass) his absence. Where have you been? I want to say to him, want to snarl, because how dare he. I lost one sibling already (where are you now Sabre? Are you happy?) and I had not been keen on losing another (which I promptly did).

I'm subtle in the way I pursue him, but knowing how strongly I reek of my recent encounter, he'll know soon enough that I'm there. Will he recognize me now, with tussled hair and scarring so heavy my original coat seems like a distant memory? Even if my stride and posture are the same, confident steps and cocky air worn easily— will he be able to make out my lack of expression beneath the stained hide marring my face? The red staining seems almost permanent upon my hide from Mother's recent and final outlash with my thighs smeared with mixed body fluids, having dried while I paraded around the Threshold in secrecy— I look like a fucking disaster and he probably looks just the same (he never did mind the way he looked). Had I known I was going to run into him, perhaps I would've tried to clean up, made myself look presentable and more like a true King (even if I'm not). Like I'd done something great while he was off doing who knows what (what do people do when they disappear forever?).

The name almost refuses to come out, lips struggling to form what I want as I cast bubblegum in his direction, almost hesitant to call out. But I was angry, seething at the fact that he got away from everything and left me here, where I had to keep an eye on all of the Volterra spawn that were left and maintain that solidified, perfect son for Colt and juggle what few outside relationships I had.

Somewhere along the way I gained the pleasure of bedding a man, and then another, and then another until finally I could be considered somewhat of a ho. Some of the men were easy and eager, and I could guide them to their high before they even knew what was coming (they were), some were hesitant but intrigued, and I could wiggle may way onto their dicks into their heads with some tricks. But each time I got what I wanted, and each time I was left satisfied, knowing that I would again see that man (so far three had come back for more). There were some who were eager to please, and thought that they could gain the upper hand, but my pride would not allow it— I dominated them even though they were the ones on top.

"Zhu." It finally comes out, callous and sure as I focus my gaze on him, waiting for him to notice me, to turn at look. Should I speak the same language he aptly learned from Volterra, long before Volterra even knew of me? "Hol voltál?" My voice is rough and worn from the cries I'd let loose earlier in the night, bubblegum seeking the familiar white moons that surveyed everything at a distance (where are you now?) as the body stood still. I wait for him to turn around, to notice my presence and say something to me, to tell me where he'd gone off to for all this time, hiding away to ripen with age until he could return and pretend that his childhood was but a bitter memory.

"Talk."