Summary: Promises. Every new day brings promises. Tarrlok wonders what he should do to celebrate each and every one Noatak breaks.
Rating: M—INCEST. I am being serious. INCEST. A man sticks his brother’s genitalia inside of his mouth. If the previous sentence just offended you, please do not continue further.
Pairing: Noalok/Bloodcest. For all of you who read “His Greatest Fantasies” and expected this and were left disappointed, here you go.
Tarrlok spends most of his days of recuperation begging for the surrounding healers to let him die. They peruse the bookshelves, the floor, their herbal supplies, anything but him after they’ve done everything they can. He refuses to speak to his brother. They’ve betrayed each other too many times.
Refuses, yes, but Noatak has never cared for his wishes. “Brother, I’ll never leave you again.”
“Pity,” Tarrlok says with a sneer, the sheets of his bed stained with blood. “Is that supposed to be an incentive for me to keep living?” Tarrlok is covered in bandages; he knots the sheets around his fingers.
Everything hurts. Noatak can sometimes hardly walk in the mornings. The pain bubbles through his muscles as if he has magma coursing through them, like there are fleshy sacks of it bursting at uneven intervals in his lungs. Corrosive, melting his insides.
Noatak’s expression stretches the scar tissue that dapples the contour of his cheek. He can’t complain. It’s a mark of fate. A reminder.
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