E rated wip I've had for ages.
Scarian choking smut fic I keep telling myself I'm going to finish but I legit started this as my FIRST forray into the fandom a whole ass year ago. This is DONE ENOUGH and the rest of the ideas I had arent coming out. If I ever get the energy to come back to this I want to elaborate on the jump and the fight.
TW: Frottage, choking, under negotiated kink, canon typical violence death and suicide.
The desert nights are cold, and while dead bodies don’t produce heat, whatever arcane trickery keeps Scar animated burns white hot somewhere in his bones. It’s odd, he knows the wind coming through the arrowslits is frigid, his skin can still feel that, but his red heart keeps his core feeling warm as a bonfire. Grian on the other hand is shivering on the adjacent bed. His clipped wings are puffed up and tucked around his torso and Scar can hear his teeth chattering. He gazes at the perfectly oval shaped silhouette that his partner makes against the moonlight coming in through the window. The lump shivers. Macaws were a tropical species right? The thin woolen blanket must not be cutting it for the poor bird. Well he can’t let that go on now can he, especially not when he’s uncomfortably warm. He speaks in a raspy stage whisper, voicing a question he very well knows the answer to.
“Psst- you still awake?”
He hears a put upon sigh then the lump shifts.
“Yes.”
“Cause you’re cold?”
“Freezing actually.”
“Here, take my blanket, I don’t need it.” Scar sits up and tosses his blanket over Grian, who immediately flaps a wing and flails an arm to jostle it off of him and back to Scar’s side of the doubled up beds.
“Wha- no. You’re cold too, surely?”
“Y’see that’s the thing G, since I went red I feel like a furnace. Whatever’s in here keeping me kicking,” he pats a fist to his bare gray chest, “it’s giving off plenty of heat in the process.”
“Really?” Grian reaches out a hand without thinking, but stops just short of touching Scar’s shoulder as his mind catches up with his curiosity. He tries to mask the hover-handing as just reaching over for the blanket, but Scar’s eyes glint with keen recognition, and he doesn’t let Grian just brush the gesture off.
“Really,” he confirms, “here, touch my muscles, go ahead.” Grian sighs and rolls his eyes, but when Scar takes him by the wrists and pulls his hands towards his collarbone he doesn’t resist the motion.He makes a halfhearted grumble of protest, a quiet but fond you ridiculous man under his breath. Despite that he doesn’t pull away. The warmth coming off him really is welcome and frankly a little fascinating. He may have his fingerprints on the scaffolding of this universe, but that doesn’t mean that here from inside it he knows everything about their revivals. Corpses are supposed to be cold, but Scar feels feverish. With his new gray complexion it reminds him of putting his hands on sun warmed smooth stone, but soft. Scar twitches at his touch, a high pitched ooh coming along with it.
“You weren’t kidding. Your fingers are like icicles.”
Grian smirks at the noise, moving his cold hands up to either side of Scar’s incredibly warm neck. This gets a full squeak out of him, Grian giving a satisfied hum in response.
“Hey you asked for this, no take backs.”
“I did, I did. You did so good today, you deserve to stick your little popsicle hands anywhere you want.”
Grian snickers, but before he has a chance to respond, Scar tilts his head, covering his fingers with his cheek. The other Scar puts a hand over, encasing both of Grian’s hands with warmth from all sides. He lets out a long, fully involuntary sigh of relief and feels his shoulders and wings relax as his shivers finally subside. He grapples with his pride for one moment longer, but ultimately shifts closer and cuddles up to Scar’s chest. His head slots neatly beneath Scar’s chin. When Scar talks Grian feels the movement against his hair, and feels the reverberations from his throat.
“Seriously Grian, that triple you got woke me up in a way.”
“Good to know you’ve been sleeping on the job.”
“No, I mean that I get it now. Red life stuff. Hearing you cackling at the explosion made me want to kill.”
That prompts a breathy little laugh from Grian followed by a half exasperated finally.
“I do Grian really, I want to kill.” “Good.”
It becomes a whispered mantra, Scar reverently repeating I want to kill against the shell of his ear, the curve of his jaw, the column of his neck, just over his lips. Grian smiles and whispers back yes, yes, yes, each time, like praising a dog that’s finally mastered a challenging trick. His tone is giddy and gleeful, and his smile is bright and sharp right up until the moment that Scar’s hands wrap around his neck and squeeze.
“Grian, I want to kill. I want to kill. I want to kill.”
“Yes, good, yes, ye-ghhk.”
The word catches in his throat as Scar’s grip tightens and Grian’s face goes slack with shock. His open mouth flaps, once, twice, and again as his brain tries to process what’s happening. Confusion finally blooms into panic as his pulse thunders in his ears and his hands fly up to claw at Scar’s wrists. To his surprise they come away easily, and in an instant he has Scar’s wrists pinned to the wall behind his head. His red eyes are suddenly full of remorse and even something bordering on fear.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m not sure what that was. It just, it’s just like pushing Ren off that cliff. I didn’t think it’d work, it was just too tempting not to. It feels so good to tease.”
Grian draws in a shaky breath as he feels a cold draft hit the back of his neck. Scar was just fooling around, like he did with everything. He wasn’t ever a real threat. Besides, even if he was wouldn’t it be fair? He’d pledged his green life to Scar, but if he wanted to waste that gift then that was his right after all. He doesn’t want to go yellow, but he’s not backing out of his vow. This life was Scar’s to do with as he wished. Something about the comparison to Ren rattles around in his head. Scar was right, they’d all agreed to this. Immortals playing at feeling real deaths. They all wanted to know how mortality really tasted. He releases his hold on Scar’s wrists and hunkers down beneath the blanket again, tucking his frame against Scar’s once again to hide from the chill night around them.
“Tease all you want but remember, if I go yellow I’m gone.”
“No, no, no I don’t want that. I need you here with me.”
Scar’s arms circle around him and rub his back. His tone is gentle and almost pleading. Grian tries to relax in his hold, but the shot of adrenaline he’d gotten from being choked has other plans. It’s late, in the morning he has more work to do on the creeper farm, and he needs his rest, but his mind is buzzing and his blood is pumping, and Scar is so close and so warm and being so frustratingly tender. Grian is disappointed in his body but not surprised to find he’s hard as a rock. He tangles their legs together, unsubtly pressing himself against Scar’s thigh.
“I said tease all you want, and I meant it.”
“Oh? Oh! Oh-kay.”
It takes Scar a beat to understand, but once he does he smirks and rolls them so that Grian is straddling him. His hands trace down to the waist of his pants making quick work of Grian’s fly and then his own. He tugs at their pants, dislodging them just enough to get their cocks free, careful of how much skin he’s exposing to the night air. To Grian’s delight he’s not the only one riled up by what just happened, and they both gasp in relief at finally getting some much needed skin to skin friction. Scar guides Grian’s hand down to circle the two of them, then brings his own hands back up to toy with the red neckline he suddenly can’t keep his eyes off of.
“You set the pace down there, alright? And tap out if you start seeing dots or stars or anything, got it?”
Grian nods eagerly and starts stroking lazily, once again relishing the extra heat coming from Scar’s skin. His eyelids flutter when Scar’s hands start squeezing his neck again. Before it was a sudden vice grip, but this time it’s a caress that slowly builds in force. He feels Scar’s cock twitch in his hand when he swallows reflexively at the increasing pressure, then soon enough he can’t swallow at all. He would be worried about starting to drool, but he’s locked eyes with Scar now and his partner is giving him a look. A smile so hungry and adoring that it’s hard to focus on anything other than the twinkle in his ruby red eyes and the heat pooling low in his guts. His hand speeds up but it’s not nearly enough. His lungs begin to burn, the muscles in his chest flex, trying in vain to pull in air, but Scar’s hands hold him firm. He grinds his hips down and uses his free hand to make sure they’re perfectly lined up, chasing the heat and sensation he’s desperate for. Scar’s chest rises and falls with long slow breaths that make Grian pang with envy. Each second drags out between them.
Eventually Scar’s breath starts coming heavier, something wild and deliciously brutal blooming behind his eyes. Grian ruts against him harder, faster, but it’s still not enough. He wants to come. He needs to breathe. He feels so good. He feels like he’s dying. His eyes start to roll back and everything gets shaky and blurry. He’s not blacking out, he’s just convulsing with need and want and need and want. He tries to swallow again, but all that happens is a little gurgle, and Scar groans at that. Low and long and indulgent, and Grian throbs in his own hand at the sound. He’s grateful that he’s unable to whimper the way he knows he would if any sound could escape his constricted throat. Head swimming, muscles rigid, cock leaking, he’s on the verge of tapping out when Scar releases his neck. He drinks down the chilly night air greedily and as that first gulp hits his oxygen deprived brain he comes hard enough to make his toes curl.
Scar’s hands, still cradling his neck, slide up to cup the back of his head and pull him down into a long kiss. Grian is still too shell shocked from being choked and his subsequent orgasm to do much more than gape his mouth dumbly and heave deep breaths through his nose as Scar licks into him deep and hungrily. Eventually he gains enough composure to start kissing back, and it’s only then he realizes he’s tasting something bitter and pungent and familiar. He pulls back, sitting up and looking down at Scar quizzically. There’s a smear of pearly cum on his chin and across his lips. Grian giggles, impressed and incredulous.
“Oh wow. I hit your face? I’ve never shot so far.”
Scar takes one hand off of him to wipe at what remains on his face and licks himself clean, smile all smugness and satisfaction.
“Do I win a prize?”
Grian wants to hate it, but watching that tongue glide along his fingers is making his stomach flip. The heat meets the brick wall of his refractory period though, so rather than a needy whine in response he manages a content sigh.
“Mmmm, other than the treat you just cleaned up? Gimmie a moment to think of something- my head's still a bit fuzzy. Unless…you had something in mind already?”
-grian lazily smooches
-blowjob
-pillow talk
“But you don’t need to be adorable, you need to be bloodthirsty. Today went well but you’ve got to start taking the lead on the killing. I’m pushing the rules as it is.”
Scar nuzzles against him, “I think I can be both. Adorbs- Abdor- Adorabloodthirsty. Got a nice ring to it, as long as I can get my dyslexia around it, right?”
“Fine. Adorabloodthirsty, but heavy on the latter half, okay?”
“I will be so thirsty for you Grian, just you wait.”
“Scar!”
--------------------------------------
“Let’s let the ghosts count us in.”
On three hearts Scar turns and flees the cactus ring, but he doesn’t get far. Clumsy from taking so many hits to the head he stumbles, and that’s all it takes for Grian to catch up and tackle him to the ground. They grapple momentarily on soot stained sand and land in a sickeningly familiar pose. Grian straddles him, but this time it’s his own hands doing the choking. Scar is smiling, would be laughing even, if he could take in any air.
Choking him would be too slow. He’d withstood easily a minute or two during their recreational strangling and he knows he can’t look down at that bloodied smile for so long. He can’t bear it, so he pulls up, raises Scar’s head up an inch or two, then slams it back down on the sandstone beneath them. There’s a wet thud, and Scar’s smile breaks, shattering into an instinctive grimace. Grian does it again, and again, and again. He sobs dryly, each crack of Scar’s skull followed by a ruthless and empty I’m sorry. He does it until the grimace goes slack and Scar’s eyes go glassy. Then he’s alone on monopoly mountain. Alone save for the howling ghosts congratulating and condemning him in equal measure. He thinks Scar might be in that ethereal crowd too now. He should be right? Just another soul bound up in this game? But there’s no cheery baritone congratulating him from beyond the grave. The watchers are still hungry, and he has the makings of one last meal in him.
He stands, shaky on his feet, and trudges towards the cliff. He looks out over the crater, his greatest failed trap of all. Nonetheless, pride blooms in his queasy stomach, and if he was sticking around he’d be worried about the bile rising in his throat. As it is there’s no time for that because keeps his wings tucked firmly to his sides as he leaps into a freefall.
