Raef: Everywhere

**This vignette follows this NSFW scene.**

**Content Warning:** Mild hints of torture, blood, pain.

Day: 405

\_\_

Sweat
dripped to the stone floor, cool blue against sharp black before vanishing as
the stone sapped away its heat.  The
blood was slower to cool.  Bright spots
of red and orange littered the floor around him
It would have been pretty if it wasn’t coming from him.

“Get
up.”

He
shook his head.  More sweat and blood
splattered around him.

“Get.
Up!”

Again
he shook his head.  No.  Getting up was death.  Maybe kneeling here was death, too.  Death was everywhere he looked.  A disdainful smirk twisted his lips.  What a life he had.  What a bloody life.

Pain
flared sharply from fingers twisting into his hair, jerking his head back.  “I said ‘Get up’,” Zak snarled low.  He glared down through narrowed, red eyes
that nearly glowed in the oranges and purples of his face.

He
grunted, gasping.  Each breath was agony
through the broken ribs and torn muscles.
He swallowed thickly.  Another
ragged gasp broke through. “No.”

~\*~

“You
should have gotten up.”

“I
didn’t feel like dying.”

Aster
snorted. “You almost died.”

“But
I didn’t.” Rook winked, chuckling then wincing.
Ow.  Everything still hurt.  His breath hitched when Aster only added to
that by smoothing a cool balm over his chest.

“Don’t
be a child.  That didn’t hurt.”

“Everything
hurts.”

“Maybe
you should’ve gotten up.” Aster rolled his eyes. He smiled.  He was beautiful when he smiled.  Not as beautiful as the beast that filled his
dreams every night, but still beautiful. “You know it’s rude to stare.”

Rook
grinned. “You like it.”

“When
did I say that?” Aster pressed back a smile.
He set the bowl aside to grab several pieces of precut gauze and
wrappings.

“Mmm…I
think you said it the other day.”  His grin
widened. “When I was –”

“Shh!”
Bright red flared in Aster’s face and he clapped a hand over Rook’s mouth. “Someone
will hear.”

Rook
caught the hand over his mouth, slid his fingers along the slender digits, over
the back of his hand, and kissed Aster’s palm.
He pulled the hand away. “No one’s around.” He pushed Aster’s hand to
his chest. “No one will see.” He pushed it lower, down over his bare stomach,
towards the sheet that was the only thing hiding him. “No one will hear.” Now
he guided Aster’s hand under the sheet, studying the healer’s face.  He was bright with the blood filling his
face, but that wasn’t the only place growing warm.

“Rook
– we’ll be caught…” The words were soft, hitched.  His hand tightened.

“That’s
the fun.”

~\*~

“You
had a dream again.”

“Yes.”

“He’s
a monster.”

“I
know.”

“Then
–”

“I
know.”

~\*~

“Kill
him.”

“No.”

A
whip cracked.  Pain arched through him,
spindling out in tendrils of lightning. “You are a tool, Rook.  You do not own the word ‘no’.”

“Fuck
you.” Rook spat a thick wad of blood and saliva at Zak.  Missed.
That was probably a good thing.
Maybe Zak would have ended his life (*death everywhere*).  A smile tugged again.

The
whip cracked again.

~\*~

“…*Rook*…”

He
drew in a ragged breath.  The name was
distant.   It wasn’t his.  Someone was calling him.  His brow furrowed.  His back hurt.  His chest hurt (his heart hurt).  Everything hurt.

“…*my*
love*…*Rook…*”*

The
words were growing closer, brighter.  A
beacon in the darkness.  He reached out a
hand –

“Raef!”

His
eyes snapped open.  The deep, heavy pain faded
away.  His back hurt, but with the sharp
stings of claws and teeth.

“My
love, you were dreaming.” Anwyll’s golden eyes were filled with worry, with
concern.  They were beautiful, more
beautiful than – than – the name danced away from him.

“Anwyll.”  Even to his ears he sounded surprised.  Raef glanced down to where his hand rested on
Anwyll’s chest, feeling it rise and fall.
Beneath that was the low thrum of a steady heartbeat.

Anwyll
cupped Raef’s chin, smoothing his cheek with a thumb. “You’re scaring me.  What happened?”

Raef
opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Nothing could.  He pushed himself
up to break the distance, to catch Anwyll’s lips with his, to press against
him, to draw him in.  He felt like a dying
man holding onto the one thing that could save him.

(*…death*
everywhere…*)*

And
maybe he was.