ORIGIN

Eleven was getting closer, jaws parted and dripping saliva and Gravedigger was feeling the ramping anticipation. It was going to bit him. Right...now? Right.....right......riiiiight.......

But it didn't. It stared, wide-eyed, perhaps feeling the same energy in the air that was growing more and more electrified as the moment passed longer and stretched farther and farther and Gravedigger could not handle it anymore. His blood was growing hot hot HOT from the moment that kept dancing out of his reach. He didn't want to bite it back, he didn't want to hurt it, but he think he wanted it to bite him. So when it didn't, when it asked, he suddenly snapped.

Why did it ask twice? Didn't he say yes? No...no he didn't. But why did it ASK?! They were here, he was receptive and he wanted it to just BITE HIM ALREADY. Because maybe that would fix this. Maybe that would be what they needed. He was so stupid he was so STUPID. Of course words weren't what was required for this parting, they were hounds of the Creator and their blood knew violence.

He wasn't erupting, he wasn't, he was calm but also there was a shift as a nerve was strung and plucked like a violin string, close to breaking.

Without truly thinking about what he was doing, he suddenly thrust himself forward with a snarl, shoving his body right into Eleven's shoulder, as if to bowl her over. Perhaps he was even trying to, but without an conscious thought behind the action, he simply shoved her, as if challenging to "Just...just bite me!"

At last, the bite he had been waiting for came and it hurt, it hurt and he realized in that moment that she'd bitten him hard enough to draw blood. He made to warn her, to pull back maybe, but she was gripping him so hard and he could smell her flesh burning but she wouldn't let go. His blood was burning her and she didn't care.

Something about that made his blood race and boil. It wasn't an eruption. He didn't lose control. But some instinctual...something was coming from this. It wasn't joy or anger, closer to satisfaction but not quite. He gave into it and shoved forward. He still wasn't going to bite her. His jaws were too strong, too made for crushing.

Instead, he allowed himself to get pushed down to give him leverage raise one of his claws, lashing out and scratching deep into Eleven's shoulder. He could tear her apart if he wanted to, rip the flesh right off the bone and stain the rocks beneath them black. She probably wouldn't mind if he did.

gore

??

sexual themes

???? it gets weird
Gravedigger did not understand this. Not that...not that he didn't want it. No he did but he could not name what he was feeling. Joy? No, no for him joy was tearing down walls and ripping apart the earth, the prospect of blood and flesh and violence, real destructive violence. That was joy. This was...it was close. They parted for a moment and when he looked at Eleven, he suddenly did want that. Not in the way he would tear an enemy apart for the fun of seeing them destroyed, out of hatred or something of that sort. He still didn't want to crush her - that was for rocks.

It was like he wanted to rip her apart to see every little bit about her, to see how she bled, to see the insides that nobody got to see, he wanted to open her flesh and climb inside and melt her from the inside out. And he hoped she would scratch and bite and tear him up the entire time he did until they were nothing, meat and bones and oil, returned to the matter that had spawned them, together. He wanted someone to look at their remains and be unable to distinguish where one ended and another began.

Now. He wasn't going to do this. Rational thinking kept him in check. But as their eyes met in the break between whatever it was happening between them, he knew they may get close. They were valkhounds. They were not made to understand gentleness. They were made to know THIS.

And at some point, almost unconsciously, through the wonderful agony he was experiencing otherwise, Gravedigger pulled a piece of himself free. Through the flesh of his chest, breaking right through the plating, and then a shard of his oilstone fell onto Eleven's fur. At some point she spat one back.

Sincerely, I don't know how to end this post without crossing the line. I've been staring at it for many minutes. So lets just end it here and say they make 2 babies. Happy pride!