for logan;

[acidified]

Sandrock.

It was supposed to be a quick stop. Refill his canteens, purchase some rations, get back on the train. The first two were easy enough tasks. He even managed to bump into an injured man and, deciding to play god, healed his injuries with the magic of nature that runs through his body.

But then the train broke down. Hearing the news had Rio hissing in displeasure, his tongue flicking out the moment he was alone. Staying at the inn wasn't an option. Wearing a cloak wasn't going to hide his long, serpentine tail from the people of the town forever. They were bound to pick up on his fangs and claws and scales; he couldn't cover himself from head to toe. And if his eyepatch came off...well, the last person who saw that eye called him a monster didn't return home that night.

The last thing he needed was for this place to think he was some kind of Geegler.

Thankfully, the desert vipers were able to lead him to a home. A cave in the desert, spacious enough to set up camp for a bit while he waited for the train to be repaired. It was a place he could take off his clothes and free his body and all of its 'monstrous' traits. With a stolen table and candles, soon the little pit a bit more bearable, lit by magical light that cooled the cave instead of making it hotter than the outside.

What Rio hadn't counted on was the sandstorms. He'd heard about them the few times he ventured into town to buy water or other supplies. He heard about the way they enraged the monsters. One moment, he'd been returning to his makeshift home, and the next he was tearing at his clothes, crying out in pain. His one human eye turned bright red as he fell to the sand, tail lashing, grunting and hissing as he tried to gain control of himself. He wasn't a monster, but the temptation to give into bestial urges brought about by the sandstorm—

They became too hard to resist the moment he caught sight of a man looking for cover.

He stalked the man for a moment, long enough to get the drop on him, but then he lunged. Fangs bared as he hissed loudly, he knocked the stranger to the ground. Claws tore at the human's clothes and a hand attempted to shove the man's face into the sand. His eyepatch stayed on, leaving one manic eye to rove over the man's body. Food? Prey? Drink? His body tensed and strained as the man struggled beneath him, ready to fight back.

"Help," Rio pleaded as he attempted to lift the stranger's body to slam him back into the hard sand. "Please."

Comments

[acidified]

No whimpering. No sounds of bones crunching beneath the pressure of his tail. His tongue flicked out in irritation, forked and black in color. If he were a wild animal—and in this state, he almost was but not quite—he might have thrashed or slammed his head forward. But Rio, whether in this godsforsaken agitated state or not, simply believed he was incapable of losing to this man.

Logan was prey. A toy. And that laugh was oh-so-enticing. It was the kind of laugh that warranted one in return, his hand squeezing that gunshot wound harder, clawed fingers posed to deepen the wound before his hand was knocked away. Rio didn't writhe or panic. The man on top of him was certainly large and powerful, but so was he—enough so that his prey would only be able to pin one of his wrists in place.

And leaving Rio with a free hand always came with risks.

A firm hand slowly and almost gently reached for the wrist that held a dagger, but as soon as contact was made his grip tightened fiercely, the narrow slits in his eyes flashing triumphantly with another flick of his tongue. If he were in his right mind, he would be saying a lot more to this man, but as things were he could only slide his leg and lift, pressing a very firm but not painful knee right between Logan's legs. He moved it in a circle, slowly, predatorily. To the snake, the man in front of him was little more than a fly caught in a web, and he could already detect his arousal in the air.

With a soft exhale, something mixed into the air around them. Logan wouldn't be able to see it—spores are nearly invisible, after all. But even if they weren't, that Logan's eyesight would be threatening to quit on him would prevent him from seeing a lot more than that, the natural parasites in Rio's body aiming to temporarily rid his snack of his eyesight.

Fortunately for Logan, Rio, regardless of how crazed he was, wasn't nearly as impossible to defeat as he thought he was.

[yakboy]

He tensed when Rio continued to resist, didn't fall docile to his restraining hands and rumbling voice. Not that he expected him to surrender so easy -- like he said, the man was feisty. And even in pain, Logan was always up for a good tussle. The gunshot wound was little more than a twinge in the back of his mind as his tongue darted out to lick his dry lips, an unconscious mimic of Rio.

"Alright, buttercup. Let's play rough."

He twisted his wrist to disengage Rio's hand, but faltered slightly as Rio brought up a knee to press between his legs. He'd been hard before during a fight, more due to the excitement and adrenaline than anything else, but Logan's opponents usually weren't the kind of creatures to pick up on that, nor encourage it. Another hiss escaped him as his thighs clenched around Rio, simultaneously encouraging and attempting to dissuade him, and the exhale that followed morphed into a low growl as the sensation touched on the more primitive part of Logan's mind.

The bandana around Logan's face muffled his senses, but even so, their proximity let him catch a faint, split-second whiff of something cloying and sweet, with an underlying reptilian musk that Logan was all too familiar with. While he couldn't consciously pick out the rot that hid underneath, the idea of a damp, decaying earth still flashed before his eyes, just before his vision began to dim and threaten to black out completely.

Logan was a child of Sandrock. He had grown up with the sandstorms at his back, until its mask of dust and grit almost felt like a friend. To lose his vision only meant that the rest of his senses sharpened to a razor's edge, ready to make up for the loss. On instinct, he plunged his dagger down before Rio could take advantage of Logan's sudden handicap, sinking it into the meat of his shoulder as if attempting to pin him into the sand. Despite the danger Rio posed, Logan was careful not to give a mortal wound. He struck to cause pain and distract, rather than kill or seriously injure. Rio's strained call for help still lingered in his ears, and Logan found himself reluctant to resort to lethality unless he had to.

[acidified]

"Piece of shit."

His voice came back to him, low and annoyed and once more accompanied by a flick of his tongue. There was a knife in his shoulder. It wasn't the first time he'd been stabbed, it wouldn't be the last time he was stabbed...but it was the first time he had asked to be stabbed. His memories came back to him quickly thanks to the shock to his system, which immediately reminded him that he'd been pathetic in front of a stranger.

A stranger that felt a little firm beneath his knee. Well. That was to be expected.

"I normally charge for penetration, yeah? You goin' to take responsibility?"

Rio scoffed. Logan's vision would becoming back to him rapidly now that the spores that lived in his body had something better to do. His wound started to heal up instantly, slowly pushing the knife out without any effort on his part. Rio flicked his eyes to his shoulder to watch the show, flicked his eyes back to the handsome stranger to see if he was impressed.

With the heat of battle gone away with (for now?), he pulled his hands free and stretched his arms above his head, moving slightly beneath Logan in a way that was meant to seem innocent. It wasn't. Writhing beneath him only brought more friction, because Logan was still his inferior. He might not currently be prey, but the man was still an entertaining plaything...unless he proved otherwise.

"Stay still, big guy. Let me help you out."

With deliberate movements to prove a lack of ill intent, he moved his hand to Logan's hair. He trailed his fingers to his chin, tilting his face towards his before trailing lower. Claws traced over his neck and the outline of his chest before moving further still, eventually settling over the wound from before. He exhaled softly, and, unless he was shoved away or forced aside, that wound would start to close itself up just like his own had, leaving nothing more than a tiny scar.

And then he moved to stand, once more dragging his knee right against Logan's groin as he did.