preemptivejustice

[preemptivejustice]

So walk away, I’ll find you

So far away, I’ll reach you

To the wilder

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur didn’t flinch at the threat, never having been one to struggle when it came to defense. The khopeshes sang through the air, blades of moonlight that were fueled by magic and rage, most of them blocked by a wordless burst of magic. One of them managed to slice past his shoulder, dragging a line through cloth and flesh, but he didn’t even seem to notice. 

Arthur didn’t so much as blink. He didn’t care. 

“You always mistake obedience for devotion.” 

His voice cut through the air as he blocked the second blade, parrying it with a twist of his staff. The sound of the metal clanged through the air, though Arthur didn’t care; he stepped forward in return, charging toward Khonshu in return, his momentum building more and more. Magic boiled at his feet, roared in his chest; his silhouette was nothing more than a shimmering violet-blue patch in the haze. 

“You think loyalty means kneeling! That belief means silence, but it doesn’t! It never did!” 

He didn’t move to strike Khonshu again, instead just blocking the strike he knew was coming. The clang of staff against staff echoed again, sharp, angry, familiar - but Arthur didn’t give an inch. 

“You hated me because I was a mirror,” he accused. “You hated me because you hated what you saw! Because I am the only thing that could ever look you in your eye! Because I am you, without all of your cowardice!” 

His voice was sharp, spitting, as if the words mattered to him as much as the fighting. 

They did. 

“I made the hard choices! I bore the weight, I bled for what I believed in! You only watched, you used! You made excuses for every line you crossed, and then turned away when you couldn’t face the blood on your hands!” 

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

The move could've only been made in advance, in full confidence of Khonshu's-- the only way it would have been fast enough to make contact the moment Khonshu rematerialized. In a sickening CRACK of bone, the moon god went flying backwards, howling from both pain and shock. Even Ammit hadn't struck with so much force.

He would never confess to the small spark of fear that lit up his chest, no matter how quickly it was smothered by anger.

After hitting the wall of the building, Khonshu still rose, skull cracked between one eye-socket and nostril. "You know nothing of justice," his voice came out rougher, nothing but bitter gravel at the memories his own words spat back at him brought, the notion that this was his own doing. "I never faltered. I only ever demanded what I always have, taken what was already promised to me! You looked to another when you couldn't handle the duty, after so many years! You killed in the name of another! I filled you with my light until you decided you were above it!"

If he couldn't have a Knight sworn to him, no one should.

Khonshu spun his staff, khopeshes of moonlight materializing in the air, flying towards Arthur with Khonshu surging forward behind them. He wouldn't give up, even if he did have a choice to run away-- he wouldn't cower either. And if it came to it, he'd crush his own heart before letting Arthur have it.

[preemptivejustice]

Words pointy like arrows Wounds no one can see He closed all the windows As his anger broke free

I will not remember You as somebody nice Please will you remember me And cry?

He told me I belong in a churchyard He told me I could walk away but I wouldn't get far Tell me how do people know what is hurt, what is love? He told me I belong in a churchyard

Hate followed him gently Planted seeds in his heart Roots tearing the love in him Apart

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

@templeofvengeance

[preemptivejustice]

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."

[preemptivejustice]

Yes mommy I mean yes mommy I mean yesmommy— i mean i don’t know 😳 uhhh

[ in reference to this ]

Ammit hummed, pleased. “There now, no need to be shy.” 

Her voice was like warm honey, slow and rich, warm enough to risk burning. She leaned in, her presence taking up the entire room; it could be felt in the lungs, in the spine, in the heat between thoughts. A clawed hand reached out carefully, tracing the edge of a jawline, tilting a chin up to look at her more clearly. 

“You said it right the first time,” she promised, in a low purr. “‘Mommy’ will do just fine.” 

Her eyes narrowed, something hungry curling at the edge of her smile. Not hungry in the way she normally was - but hungry in a deeper, rawer sense. 

“If you are going to tremble, little one…” her hand trails downward, instead tracing a chest. “Then tremble for the right reasons.” 

There was no need to be afraid. 

Ammit took such good care of what belonged to her. 

─── ⋆⋅𓆌⋅⋆ ─────────────────

[preemptivejustice]

\\ hello friends uvu I am still away, I was hoping to be back tonight but the meetings today literally hit me with a truck and my emotions have been scattered on the pavement. I am planning on being back tomorrow so expect things to pick up then !!

[preemptivejustice]

He was in his hot girl era 😭

Haircut Saga || with @templeofvengeance

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

This is the truest tragedy of it all - because Arthur was in his hot girl era. Does anyone know how truly difficult it is, to grow out hair? Especially whilst running a nonprofit organization with a focus in community? It takes time and effort to be a hot girl. Bath bombs, face masks, self confidence - these are things that you have to have time for.

It had taken work, to do literally nothing but let his hair grow out. And now that was gone. Now, he's not in his hot girl era - he feels like he's in his ugly bitch era.

And yet people will still side with Khonshu. People will still look upon this act of cruelty, and believe that Arthur and Ammit are the problem.

It is a pain that never ends.

If you would like to donate to Arthur's self care fund, please slide an envelope under his door - he doesn't want to be seen, right now. 😔

[preemptivejustice]

Hold on are you attracted to Ammit? Cause like she a baddie I would be

“Am I attracted to Ammit?” The question earned a pause, a look; Arthur didn’t say anything immediately, instead just trying to decide whether or not to judge the person in front of him. 

“… She is a goddess,” he answered. “The embodiment of divine justice. Of course people find her… compelling.” 

His fingers twitched against the cane, resisting the urge to do anything more. “It is only natural to be drawn to something so powerful, so… ancient. So beyond comprehension. She sees what we are, and she does not flinch. Who wouldn’t… admire that?” 

It wasn’t an answer. Ammit consumed his thoughts, sometimes; she had a way of looking at him like she already knew and understood the ending of his story, and yet she loved him anyways. It was comforting, intimate. 

He cleared his throat. “… She is quite beautiful. In the mythic sense, of course. Awe-inspiring. Sacred. That sort of thing.”

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

The laughter that flowed through the temple was warm, though a hint of cruelty could almost be found in the edges. It rumbled low in the throat of the goddess, like something ancient waking beneath the Nile, velvet and dangerous. Her eyes were shining with amusement - and maybe a flicker of something else. 

Perhaps she felt indulgent. 

“Oh, little one,” her voice purrs. “You wouldn’t be the first.” 

She leaned forward, the air itself pulling tight around her. The weight of her gaze was unbearable, horrible, and yet inviting at the same time. 

“I am the end and the reckoning, am I not? The devourer of guilt. The jaws that close around your wickedness, and spare what is left if I find it too sweet.” 

Her lips quirked. “And I always find something that is sweet.” 

Her clawed fingers moved, slow and deliberate, toying with a thought.

Your throat would look pretty under her hand, would it not? 

“Do you think you’re one who gets away? Or one whom I keep?” She purred at the thought, amused and merciful only in the same way of a storm. “Come closer, little morsel. Let us find out.” 

─── ⋆⋅𓆌⋅⋆ ─────────────────

[preemptivejustice]

I think you’re handsome with the short hair. Not more handsome, it’s definitely different, but I think you can make the most of it - 💘

💘 anon || Haircut Saga || with @templeofvengeance ─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ───────────────── Arthur sniffed. His hair was still short, showing off more of his face at the cost of his comfort and dignity; it wasn’t horrible, having it short, but it certainly didn’t feel like his own. Khonshu was a cruel god, he had stolen something that belonged to Arthur so deeply...

But this? This felt like he was getting something back. 

Arthur rubbed his hand under his nose, before doing the same under his eyes, wanting to look at least a bit more presentable. 

“Thank you,” he answered, around a nod. “That… that’s very kind of you. It doesn’t feel like mine, but…” his voice trailed off. It would grow back, he supposed. He had been hurt in such a genuine way, such a deep way - but they were offering him a kind of balm to it. A gentle healing touch, a promise that it wasn’t horrible. 

It was still his, even if it didn’t feel like it. He’d make the most of it, as suggested. 

Already, he was feeling a bit better. 

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur’s mind was gone entirely. Thought had left him, abandoned him in the same way his control had; all that remained was sensation, instinct. The sound of Kane’s voice, trembling and desperate, poured heat directly between his ribs; it was undoing him quickly, achingly, entirely impossible for him to control. 

Arthur made a sound he didn’t recognize, at the praise to his fangs. It was low, almost feral; half a laugh, half a growl, and entirely unsuited to a man who had praised himself on being so restrained. He felt entirely like a beast, like every bit of humanity in him was just gone. 

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he barely had a mind to say, his voice bordering on something dark and cruel. “You really shouldn’t.” 

Arthur wanted to bite him. Not to turn him, not even to drink anything from him; he just wanted to bite him. He was already leaning back in, already dragging his mouth over Kane’s throat, kissing the flushed skin and pressing his teeth just hard enough to leave a threat. It didn’t slice into Kane’s skin, though it was hard enough to feel like it was. 

He wanted to break skin. He wouldn’t. 

His hand stayed splayed over Kane’s bare stomach, moving again over his nipples, his chest; the heartbeat under him was intoxicating, burning hot. Every inch of Kane was like this, was warm and real, alive, and Arthur ached for it like a starving thing. 

Cold breath shuddered out against Kane’s neck, around kisses and teasing bites.

He wasn’t getting enough of this warmth. He wanted more, he wanted to take and take and take - he wanted to own, to possess. 

Every returned kiss to Kane’s mouth was hard and brutal, trying to drink away every ounce of that intoxicating heat. When he finally released Kane’s hair, it was only to shove the man back, sitting up straighter so he could see Kane fully; it was gorgeously human. Flushed, panting, shaking - Arthur’s eyes sharpened, another noise pulling from him, pleased. It was gorgeous, of course; Kane was gorgeous. 

Arthur purred, his hand tracing the edge of Kane’s cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he stated gently; Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone beneath him like this, much less someone who was so handsome. 

His gaze lingered on him only a moment longer before he fell into action. His mouth found Kane’s again, and this time it was nothing but filth. Hot and slick and breathless, his hips grinding down with far too much intent. One hand went to Kane’s stomach, flat against him, but this time it dipped lower. 

Long, cold fingers dragged across Kane’s waistband, lingering - teasing, testing. A sound pulled from Arthur’s chest, permission being thrown out the window; he hesitated only long enough for nimble fingers to undo the button and zipper, before his hand slipped beneath the fabric. 

He hissed at the warmth, the intimacy, his hand feeling colder against Kane’s shaft. HIs lips curled against Kane’s mouth, something caught between a snarl and a groan; his free hand gripped the side of Kane’s neck, just to keep him grounded against Kane's body as his fingers slowly wrapped around Kane’s hardened cock, having to fight to not grip it too tightly. 

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His breath was ragged, his body moving on instinct and need; he moved his hand slowly at first, savoring every heartbeat, every twitch; his thumb ran over the head of Kane’s cock, still painfully slow; he was drinking in the feeling of it all, every sound from Kane, wanting every last bit. 

It was selfish, he knew - it was possessive. He didn’t care. He wanted to take everything. 

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

By now, Kane is long aware of the fact that he is not having any control over anything that is happening between them, at this very moment; He's not having control over Arthur, over the situation as a whole, not even over himself.

He's just here, he's just existing, and he's going to be pulled to whatever direction Arthur wants him to be. He's drowning and suffocating, he's burning and he's aching; The man on top of him takes like he's possessed, claims every single breath that Kane dares to exhale, controls every inhale he is going to do after---

And by god does that turn him on.

Kane has had intimate contact with another guy before, yeah - has some experience sticking to him, been a bit of a cheeky one in his teens, early twenties. Loved to flirt, to poke, to get poked in return; Didn't really work out the way he'd hoped for it to, with no other guy having wanted anything besides a hand- and a blowjob, but... still, it was better than nothing.

But this? This, all of this, Kane has never experienced before. He's never been wanted in such a way, never been kissed with so much fervor, never been consumed as if he's the most delicious thing anyone had ever laid their eyes upon. He's never been manhandled in such a way either, never had such a handsome man sit on top of his lap, has never had another guy do such things to him.

He loves it. He loves every single second of whatever this is, loves that growl that sends shivers through the whole of his body, adds heat to a very hard and immensely burning core. Kane's a deer in headlights, a mouse being watched by a cat, a bunny that can't escape a hawk's claws: And all of that, the fact that Arthur is in charge - and demands to be, takes all of the control with force - is so utterly arousing that Kane has no idea where to even put all of that damn heat, the need for more, the pressure inside his dick.

---Those sharp fangs on his lips, tongue inside his mouth, the drag of their clothed cocks... god, it makes him go crazy---

Another whimper, somehow managed to be exhaled into their connection, followed by a desperate groan as his hair is pulled with such enthusiasm - no mercy, no gentleness, just pure want and need. He bends his neck, shows it off, feels that cool hand around his throat and hears those spoken words that, again, almost make him cream his pants at that very second. Kane's barely managing to hold on and his head is swimming, his thoughts full of Arthur and of sex, teeth briefly clenching together as a hand moves down his front, just to push his shirt out of the way.

You’re asking for it?

"---God---" A plea to... the heavens, to Arthur, to anyone, a voiced-out expression of his pulsing need, how overhwelmed Kane is. He whimpers again, swallows, moans - just in time before he is kissed again, feels a finger teasing his nipple. His own digits dig into those thighs in return, applying more force, trying to keep himself steady as he's shivering with the tease, a lightning bolt of something sharp zipping through him---

Another moan, another grind of his hips, pushing up and rolling as a spine curves to now have his chest press further into the touch as well. Kane's far from decent at this very point, wonders how much of it truly is that damn drug inside his system - he believes that most of it is that Vampire on top of him now, and Kane grunts at the thought, followed by another, deep keen that escapes his still rather sore lungs.

They're really about to have this happen with a bang, huh? if Kane's ending up dead after this, going to be turned into a food recource, he at least got a hell of a last moment to enjoy there - either while being unable to do anything, a mind stuck inside a cage, or somewhere in the afterlife... hell, probably.

Even if he ends up making his way back home, caused by the man sitting on top of him, making a miracle come true - he can take the very same memory with him there in just the same way. Think about it during the nights when he's lonely and wished to have a sturdy, cool body next to him...

Shit. That... that's not good. That last thought there is dangerous, but Kane cannot stop his heart from doing this - from beginning to... stick to someone.

Tell me you want me to touch you. Say- fuck, say it.

"---Fuck, I---" A gasp, a pair of eyes that blinks after having remained heavy-lidded for the entirety of this; Kane's hips buck up once again, into the connection of their erections, the feeling of that handsome man on top of him being just as aroused making him see stars there. He breathes, in and out, a little raspy, a little uneven, his heart so fast that he's worried it will just explode and burst straight out of his rib cage...

"---Pl-please, fuck - y-yeah, touch me, touch---" It's so easy to be pushed into this, to give Arthur anything he could ever want. Kane loves it, melts into it, lets out another whimper as he squeezes his eyes shut. "Touch--- touch me, please... g-god, you're--- you're really... fuck, I love those fangs of yours---"

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur was going to lose control. There was no longer a question of ‘if’, only when - his body had already made the call. His muscles were tight with restraint, his cock hard against Kane’s, hunger in his teeth, in his hands; the sense of need had gone straight down to his bones, filling up every bit of his form and leaving nothing else behind. 

The second Kane’s hand slid from his hair, Arthur broke. He growled, a guttural sound ripped from his chest as if his body had finally confessed to what it truly was. He wasn’t a man, not anymore - he was something undead, something monstrous. He was a predator pinning down his prey, quite literally, and Kane was practically inviting him to feast. 

He had warned Kane, indirectly or not. He was going to hurt him. 

One hand stayed in Kane’s hair, pulling hard still, cruel; he angled Kane’s head back until his throat stretched tight, showing off that soft skin, that gorgeous pulse. The other hand pressed into the side of Kane’s neck, thumb just at the hollow beneath his jaw, fingers splayed like a collar; it was firm enough to control, but not firm enough to cut air. 

It was possessive, stealing, owning. 

Every kiss was savage and claiming. His tongue was pushing deep into the man’s mouth, fangs dragging over his lips, trying to carve his presence into Kane from the inside out. There was nothing polite left - he licked into him like he meant to taste everything, like the heat of his blood was coming through his saliva and Arthur wanted every drop. 

He ground his hips down harder, dragging their cocks together through layers of clothes. The fabric caught and scraped between them, rough and yet intoxicating; every movement dragged heat and need straight through him. He moaned against the kisses, low and messy, mindless. 

“You don’t mind?” Arthur bit out between kisses, voice low, taunting. “You’re asking for it?” Filthy little thing, grinding up against him. Arthur almost could have taunted on it, on how damned bad the little human wanted this. 

The hand in Kane’s hair twisted harder this time, pulling. He was past the point of easing anything, instead grinding down harder; it was hard enough that he pulled a noise from himself; it had been so long that every small bit of contact made him feel feral. 

The hand on Kane’s throat went down further, tracing down his chest and over his stomach to the bottom of his shirt. He grabbed the fabric in a messy fist, shoving it all the way up to his chest; he didn’t want to take it off, he didn’t want to waste the time, but he wanted to touch. 

Kane was wonderfully, achingly warm. 

Arthur’s hands were everywhere. One pressed flat against Kane’s abdomen, dragging up; it was slow, like he meant to learn the shape of him by touch alone. The other stayed in his hair, keeping him laying flat; his hand pushed high, fingers splaying over Kane’s chest, feeling his ribs. His thumb circled one of his nipples, before pushing against it; it was for no reason but to pull sound from the man, wanting those sweet little noises in his mouth. 

He was still kissing him, unable to stop. His mouth was hot, filthy, wet - he let his fangs scrape along Kane’s lower lip, not enough to pierce. Just enough to taste the skin, to imagine the blood beneath; he licked into Kane’s mouth, dragged his teeth over Kane’s jaw, his throat. 

“Tell me you want me to touch you,” he growled. “Say- fuck, say it.” He wanted to hear it; he wanted that gorgeous voice to tell him, to ask for it.

He wanted permission. 

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

With every moment passing, every second ticking away, Kane's consumed more and more by what is happening between them, on top of this bed, with his ankles still tied to it; He's being kissed with a need that burns on his own lips, a desire so thick that he almost chokes on it, want displaying itself with the help of their tongues, lips, mouths, the desperate grinding of hips---

It's overwhelming, it's almost too much for his overly clear and loud mind to process - a hand in his hair tugging so hard that Kane growls with it, a delicious kind of pain shooting through his nerve-endings, setting them ablaze in the most warm and arousing way as his head tilts back, throat exposed. Dangerous it is, the way that mouth finally lets go of him just to explore his skin, a pulse-point, the sharp edges of fangs clearly being felt.

It should not make him so damn hard, should not have such an effect on his entire system - but by god is Kane aching inside his pants, the thrill of having someone like Arthur - a Vampire - licking and nibbling his way where teeth could easily pierce him open and cause him to bleed out setting his very soul on fire. Shameless moans follow as a mouth explores, not exactly hot but not cold either, an interesting sensation that causes goosebumps to appear and stretch over bronze skin; Kane's eyelids flutter and his eyes roll back in their sockets, nostrils flaring, teeth pressing into his own bottom lip as the weight of the other man is allowing him some of that delicious friction to his sensitive core...

"Oh god, oh--- oh fuck---" Gasp after gasp, a swallow, an adams apple bobbing; Kane truly feels dizzy and a little out of it, but in a very good way - airy and light, yet burning like he's been set ablaze.

Shit, some sick, twisted part of him almost wishes for Arthur to bite, to sink his teeth in, to leave a mark and make sure everyone knows he'd been there. Would it cause him to turn? Kane does not want to be a Vampire, he's still very much aware of it, but wonders if, in theory, the other could have a bit of fun without it happening in the first place---

Shit, stop thinking about it! Kane groans both at the scratch to his collarbone and the intense heat that comes with it; He thinks that more than a single second must have passed, really, yet he feels as if Arthur's mouth is on him within a heartbeat after, as if the man has basically beamed himself back into that intimate connection of lips and tongues, that hand buried in black curls pushing and yanking, moving Kane wherever Arthur wants to have him.

... Kane wouldn't want to have it any other way.

If you keep touching me, I’m going to hurt you.

That should not cause his cock to twitch with such fervor, yet Kane almost comes inside his pants because of it. He whimpers, the sound loud and high-pitched, followed by another gasp and his fingers tightening on the man's thigh as that hand on his jaw slides to his neck - feeling, touching, surely experiencing the intense beating of a heart right beneath the skin.

The fact that the other on top of him keeps grinding down like that, against Kane's pulsing core, only has him keen and grunt, forces his hips to buck up in what is not quite a matching rhythm, way too desperate to keep focus on it, on making it match.

He still wishes his legs were free---

"...Fuck---" Another groan, eyes that flick open but remain heavy-lidded, teary, as they gaze at the ones so close that they're all blurry - but Kane can see it still, the way those pupils swallow almost all of that yellow golden glow, the pure desire within them sending more shivers down his curved spine.

I want you. Fuck - fuck, fuck, I need you-

Another kiss, and the entire world seems to spin on itself, the concept of time and reality long kicked from a blissfully wrecked mind - Kane melts into everything, shifts beneath the other, unable to keep his thoughts in order. Arthur had spoken out that warning, that he would hurt Kane should he continue to touch him---

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Fangs against his bottom lip, more grinding, more rolling of hips. Kane moans into that kiss for the hundred time, all desperate and utterly needy himself... ---He should pull his hand out of Arthur's hair, should not risk it. Part of him wants to, fuck, he wants to know what it means, to be hurt... but he doesn't know where it would end.

In a weird way, he trusts the Vampire on top of him - trusts him to not kill him on accident, just like that, while basically dry-fucking him in a way. But, if Kane should be honest with himself here ... he wouldn't mind it, all things considered.

He'd thought about it before: What better way would there be than to die because of a kiss? ---Well, what better way would there be than to die to an insanely good fuck, after all? It's an even better way to go, really.

Everything is better than to end up being turned into a blood bank. Sure, he could stay alive and go home, and Kane would very much want it to happen... but, in case he's not going to have that kind of luck, he's definitely preferring to just succumb to a Vampire's insatiable need to have him.

Fuels his ego, at least. Being wanted like that.

... Yet, despite all of those thoughts, that hand curled into the man's hair lets go - falls away, slowly so, trails along a pointy ear and the side of a face, a neck, a shoulder, before it finds its place on top of the other thigh to curl into the muscle, the fabric of pants.

"---I don't mind--- fuck, you hurting me---" Breathed between their kisses, even though Kane has no idea how he even manages to do that, with how enthusiastically he's being consumed, taken, devoured, "---Fuck, you're... ---you're so hot---"

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur was entirely unable to answer. He couldn’t. His mouth was full of Kane’s name, the taste of him, the smell of him, his own shame, his own want, all of it burning together in a pile of nothing but need. 

His hands moved before he could stop them, his body moving without his mind fully present with it; one hand was still gripping his hair tightly, possibly even too tightly, the other going down to the line of Kane’s waist. He didn’t pull yet, instead just holding; kissing too long, forgetting the man needed to breathe, only pulling his mouth away when he physically forced himself to do so. 

He couldn’t pull away fully, however. His lips only dropped, desperate, breathless, to Kane’s jaw; his teeth scraped lightly against him, before he dropped his mouth even further, moving to his neck. 

He didn’t bite. He didn’t. But he pressed there, kissed once, twice; his breath wasn’t cold, but neither was it hot, having no true temperature at all. He was almost just nothing, compared to Kane; compared to this heat, this contact, this pulse beneath the skin that sounded like life, so thick and real and present that it made Arthur’s own heart ache. 

He moved his hips, a single drag, slow and grounding, rubbing hard against Kane. He didn’t even mean to, his body was acting on its own, guided by rhythm and hunger and a deep need; it was stupid, it was reckless.

He’d punish himself later. 

For now, though, he kissed along the curve of Kane’s neck, lips parting over sensitive skin, fangs dragging without the intent to pierce. He felt every sound Kane made like a wire under his skin, a crackling energy that made it harder and harder to stop by the second; he didn’t want to. 

Kane’s hand in his hair was driving him insane, that palm brushing heat against his ear. It made him shudder, made something primal spark in the pit of him; he tugged Kane’s head back harder in return, his teeth sinking down against Kane’s collarbone; he couldn’t help but make a small, desperate sound, part of him wanting so desperately to bite harder. Wanting to bite in a way that would ache, would leave a mark - but fangs made that an impossibility. 

His fangs ached. His tongue was wet with the taste of skin, Kane’s pulse, his heat - and it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t even close. He wanted more, his mind was screaming at him to take more - his mouth dragged up from Kane’s collarbone, the ghost of a snarl bleeding into his breath as he found himself returning to Kane’s mouth. 

He didn’t mean to. His pupils had blown wide, golden nearly swallowed by black; his lips were slick, parted, trembling lightly at every exhale; he didn’t mean to grab Kane by the jaw. He didn’t mean to yank him back into another kiss, but his body was through with asking; his hand twisted in Kane’s hair, his mouth slamming back onto it like it would quiet the need. 

It didn’t. It made it worse. 

His hips were grinding down hard, the hand in Kane’s jaw shifting instead to his neck; he could feel the pulse, groaning against the feeling of the heartbeat trapped under his hands. Everything felt like too much and not enough at the same time, restraint fighting pressure; he felt nothing but need, want, desire. 

The feeling of Kane’s hand was driving him insane. 

“If you keep touching me, I’m going to hurt you.” It was a warning, one he barely got himself to force out. “I want you. Fuck - fuck, fuck, I need you-“ 

Arthur kissed him again, like a man starved. No rhythm, no grace, just pressure and tongue and teeth; he didn’t bite, but he got damned close, his fangs scraping against Kane’s bottom lip, his hips grinding down harder. There was no teasing, there was no softness - there was nothing but desperate friction, driven entirely by instinct, taking as much as he could. 

He was glad that Kane wasn’t telling him to stop. He knew that he couldn’t, even if he wanted to. 

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

It couldn't have been more than just a couple of seconds that had passed between them - seconds in which Kane had breathed, in which Arthur had stared at him, tried to keep himself in check, commented on Kane being drugged and him not being... that kind of a man; A man who'd take advantage of it, who would run with his desires, who would express them including someone who's still half-tied to the bed.

Yet those seconds had felt like hours to Kane, though - hours of them being so close, of fingers being tangled within hair, of irises flicking up and down along each other's features. Hours of Arthur trying to hold back, of not wanting to give in---

Kane understands, he truly does - he is drugged, after all, it's a fact, and the circumstances of them being here are... less than great. But he wants this, and he knows he's thinking clear enough still to be able to make such a decision in the first place. ... All things considered though, it does feel relieving to see the man struggle in such a way; Others would simply dive in and take, wouldn't question themselves in such a way, wouldn't even waste a single thought on the whole thing.

Arthur did, probably still does, and it tells Kane that he is a good man - a truly good individual, one who's still sticking to his morals, despite being a Vampire, and therefore having nothing to lose, not when compared to a human being.

---Which only makes Kane want it even more, as ridiculous as it might sound. Had left him blinking a few times, gazing at the other with his dark eyes, blown pupils, flared nostrils, sweat-glistening skin and moist curls of unruly, messy hair - waiting, just waiting, hoping, not having said a single word...

---And then, just like that, all of the tension breaks - and Kane has to correct himself.

Having thought that the previous kiss must've been the most enthusiastic and eager one he's ever experienced in his entire life, he now has to say that no, this one, the one he's currently being a part of, deserves to take that title. Because here the other is and the way he kisses is...

It's indescribable, in a good way - it's intense from the start, all open-mouthed and wet, and Kane groans into the connection of their lips, their tongues, the way the other's own immediately dives deep to explore. Eyelids flutter shut again as he drowns within the kiss, allows himself to suck on a bottom lip once he's getting the chance, even sinking his teeth into the plush skin - not enough to break anything, far from that, but he wants Arthur to feel it before he lets go.

The smacking of their lips is... obscene, literally. Kane loves messy kisses, but damn, the sounds he's listening to while making out in such a dirty way? Only adding to the whole light-headed feeling, has him moan and whimper into their connection; He dares to slip his own tongue into the man's mouth in return, once he's getting a chance to do so, and he can feel something sharp against his own slick skin, a fang---

Shit. Oh god, that must be one of the hottest things he's ever felt in his entire life---

...Correction, again. Because Kane barely manages to finish that thought before that utterly handsome man climbs into the bed and straddles his hips, which punches something almost desperate and guttural from the depths of Kane's sore lungs - a mixture of a grunt, a moan and a gasp. The hand which had held onto Arthur's arm immediately falls away as a response to it, feels for a thigh instead, needs a moment before he gets a good grip - fingers digging into the clothed meat.

And Kane arches into the feeling, into the sudden weight added to what is already embarrassingly happ to be here - Arthur's closeness causes him to roll his hips up against the man, and fuck, he wished his ankles weren't still tied to this damn bed, because he wants to pull his knees in to be able to buck his hips in a more enthusiastic way...

"F-fuck, shit---" Gasped in between their wet kisses, followed up by a soft but heartfelt moan, with Kane's other hand continuing to hold onto those silky strands of hair - combing through them just to grab another fistful, the heel of his palm coming in contact with a slightly pointy ear, the sensation of it so foreign and yet causing heat to spike.

---He's doing all of this with a Vampire. A sexy as hell one, handsome as said, outright gorgeous---

Kane moans once again, the mere thought of it having no right to be this arousing... yet here he is, and perhaps he should feel ashamed about it, but doesn't.

"...God, fuck, Arthur---"

It certainly doesn't help that is has been a very, very long while since Kane has last been able to do something even remotely close to what he's doing right now, yeah...

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur took a shower after Khonshu destroyed his luscious locks of blonde/dirty blonde hair. Shampooing it like the very thing was sin what his hair had become, not even seeing the note on it. After the long contemplation he took for a shower. He looks into the mirror and realizes.. his hair is now the ugliest shade of green imaginable. Like the owner of all neons themselves dumped the brightest neon green hair color they could into his shampoo.

Haircut Saga || with @templeofvengeance

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

Arthur stepped out of the shower carefully, tears still burning his eyes. Water dripped down his face, his hands had gone wrinkled from the water and soap; his eyes were hollow. The towel around his waist was pulled tight, as if he were giving himself an embrace with it. 

He looked up, and immediately froze; his eyes were huge, staring at the reflection of himself. 

“What the fuck is that?” He leaned in, looking closer, tilting his head; his jaw tightened with anger, his eyes filled with fury. 

“Khonshu!” 

His voice echoed through the temple like a screech from a siren, like an ancient curse had been broken. 

“You bleached me?!” He shrieked, clawing at the strands. “You highlighted and toned me?! What is this?! Mountain Dew Green?!” 

He was going to kill Khonshu. Literally. He was going to put his skull in a blender, he was going to murder the god for starting any of this; he couldn’t go outside. Not like this. 

[preemptivejustice]

@layla-el-faouly

Typically, I wouldn’t feel anything about something bad happening to you. But this is a little different.

Everyone deserves to have their natural hair the length they want and the way they want it. It’s not just a matter of personal expression, it’s identity, culture, and livelihood.

Khonshu, this may be the worst thing you’ve ever done. Beyond shameful. I am disgusted. Arthur, I hope you’re doing okay. I’m so sorry this happened to you.

- Layla

Haircut Saga || with @templeofvengeance \\ (but slightly more serious this time)

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

The wind around Arthur settled, tears drying on his face. There had been no real wounds, this time; this wasn’t like the other times. His ribs hadn’t been snapped, his leg hadn’t been purposefully agitated, his nerve disease hadn’t been forced to flare up - Khonshu hadn’t used any of those cruel words that he was so in love with. He hadn’t been accused of being weak or pathetic, he hadn’t been forced to remember all of the people he’d let die. 

This was cruel, yes. But from Khonshu, it was mercy. 

Mercy that still hurt. Arthur wiped at his face with the heel of his palm, swallowing hard. It hurt that she understood - it hurt that anyone understood. 

It was ridiculous. Arthur knew it was - but it mattered. It mattered because his hair was his, and yet Khonshu still fought for that control. 

He wouldn’t stop, until Arthur fixed things - until Ammit fixed things. 

Arthur knew that Layla hated him - and yet she still was kinder than Khonshu. “… Thank you.” 

@layla-el-faouly

[preemptivejustice]

[@templeofvengeance - At the last Haircut post]

"Pyramid scheme! That's cute. The Ennead should start using that." The wind tousled Arthur's hair (what Khonshu left behind anyway), Khonshu making happy pigeon noises. "I have no idea why you're so devastated over no longer looking ugly. Now if only you would start maintaining your stubble again-- what a shame that's not an issue I can force with scissors."

Haircut Saga

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

Arthur shook his head, sniffling. “Ugly,” he repeated, his voice flat. The wind caught what little was left of his dignity, flinging it away, leaving him feeling short-haired and ugly. “I resembled a prophet. I was gorgeous. I felt… I felt like myself, I…” 

He turned his head toward the wind, feeling the air passing through his shorter, chopped locks.

“There are entire sects who would have followed me into the desert, based on nothing but my cheekbones and hair volume.” He had been gorgeous. He had been perfect. Now, he looked like a pencil with the eraser chewed off. 

“And don’t you dare bring up the beard. I looked like a goat. You gave me a crisis cut, and now you’re trying to gaslight me into changing - this is divine overreach. Spiritual grooming.” 

Arthur can’t help himself. He falls apart again, back into tears. 

\\ thank you for the art YOU made. this is true dedication. this is real justice

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur didn’t move at first. He couldn’t, just because he knew that the moment he did, his restraint would shatter; and he was barely holding it together, as it was. 

Kane was still touching him. There was a hand in his hair, a wrist beneath his own - there was the fucking smell, sweat and blood and warmth, human and alive and so fucking real. Arthur’s thoughts were slamming in his head, punching the inside of his skull; he should stop this. He should stop this. Kane as drugged, he wasn’t lucid, he was barely stitched together by adrenaline and Arthur’s presence. 

He was in shock. He was terrified of dying. This was taking advantage of a man. This was wrong. 

But fuck, he was warm. He was so fucking warm, and so fucking close... 

Arthur hadn’t touched someone like this in decades. Longer, maybe. He had done things with himself, sure, but nothing like this. Not with another body, one that was warm and trembling; not with a man who made gorgeous noises, who was looking at him like that. 

Arthur swallowed again, eyes flicking down to Kane’s mouth. 

This is wrong. 

He told himself that. He told himself again and again, that he would hate himself for it; he’d shove it down, and it’d bother him for the next few years, but it didn’t drop that ache. It didn’t stop his hand from shifting without permission, fingers ghosting across Kane’s throat; shit. 

Shit. 

One chance. Just one. He might never get this chance again, he… he wanted it. Fuck, he wanted it. 

“You’re drugged,” Arthur felt the need to point out. His voice was low, hoarse, dragged out from some deeper part of him. His thumb was still tracing that jaw, though, his other hand still in Kane’s hair; he needed to stop. 

“I’m not… this,” he continued, breath trembling; as if he could convince himself of that by saying it. As if his addiction to the warmth of the other, the heartbeat, the breath, could all be undone simply by saying that. “I can’t… fuck…” 

He could, couldn’t he? Quickly. Just enough to hear it, to feel it under his hand, to watch Kane fall apart… 

Arthur glanced to the door, only moving his eyes so he wouldn’t pull his head from Kane’s grip, before looking back to him. 

He wasn’t that kind of man. He wanted to believe that; he wouldn’t take what wasn’t given. He wouldn’t exploit the vulnerable. He wasn’t cruel, there were lines he wouldn’t cross, he held restraint where the other vampires didn’t; he wasn’t that kind of man. He wasn’t that kind of man. 

But now, with Kane beneath him, his eyes dark and shining, trembling, panting - he wasn’t so sure. The lie of his own decency was beginning to crack, splintering under the heat of his want; because the truth was that he did want it. He ached with it, he ached for that warmth; the softness of Kane’s mouth, the desperate sounds, the damned beauty of him. 

It was the last thought he had before he gave in. 

Arthur leaned forward, his grip tightening as he dragged Kane in for another kiss. This one was rougher, hotter, more shameless than the first. His mouth was already parted, tongue seeking, the need scraping raw against every nerve; his other hand found the edge of the mattress, Arthur shifting upward and climbing into the bed. 

He swung one leg over Kane, straddling his hips, not once breaking the kiss. The position was intimate, loaded, dangerous; his knees pressed into the sheets on either side, his coat hanging loose around him, covering his form. 

There was no hesitance, now. There was nothing but warmth, ache, need; Arthurs tongue pushed its way into Kane’s mouth, searching out every single bit of what made the man human; his hips pressed downward, angling his weight in a way that he could feel the man’s hardened length. 

─── ⋆⋅𓍝⋅⋆ ─────────────────

Kane has never been kissed like this before.

He has shared heated moments with another man before, yes - had allowed himself to explore, to be claimed by dull teeth and a wet tongue - but he's never, ever, been claimed in such an intense and utterly raw way.

The way Arthur kisses him, once their tongues touch, can only be described as primal, hungry, a starving man being fed ambrosia - he's pressing close, he's leaning in, and soon Kane's finding himself drowning in the Vampire's literal everything; The scent, the taste, the coolness of that body, the saliva being exchanged - all of it is flooding Kane's entire existence within seconds, has him moan into the connection, hot shivers running down his spine. There's little he can do against the onslaught - the pure desire that's being thrown at him, the need for the other to have him, to feel him---

Not that Kane even wants to do anything against it in the first place. No, he definitely doesn't; Another gasp escapes him instead, his other hand finally jumping into action as well, grabbing Arthur's arm that's connected to the fist that curls itself into the front of his shirt to keep him in place, to make sure he won't move away.

To be wanted like this is intoxicating. It's... wonderful.

Kane's other fingers remain curled into that silky hair, pressed into a tight fist, perhaps pulling a bit too enthusiastically on those strands - he just cannot help himself, cannot keep in control of every single thing he's doing, not with how eagerly the Vampire is taking him, consuming his very being, keeps their mouths locked and tongues intertwined---

Kane's lungs begin to burn, he needs to breathe, and he groans once again as nostrils flare, eyes rolling back behind closed lids - his spine curves and arches, causes his body to push up, to try and get closer to who is basically suffocating him out of sheer need, of want...

It's so fucking hot that Kane thinks he's going to evaporate on the spot, skin tingling, mind buzzing with the lack of oxygen, the sudden bloodloss of his brain - all of it seemingly shooting south, between his thighs.

He's just a very gay man, and that other man on top of him is the most attractive thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. ---Seriously, who can blame Kane, exactly?

He's probably ending up being tortured and then processed into a food resource, so he should be allowed to have this, to go out with one last spark of desire, no?

...Perhaps he's going to die before any of that happens, though, if Arthur keeps it up like that. Really, there's worse ways to perish - Kane would rather be kissed to death than to end up connected to an IV for the rest of his life---

Just before he's getting a bit too lightheaded, a second away from seeing too many stars in front of his inner eyes, the other finally lets go of him and pulls back; Kane wheezes for the much-needed oxygen, flicks his eyes open, dark lashes clumped with fresh tears; No, he's not crying because he's uncomfortable, definitely not - it's just because of the strain, the tension, the brain-fuzz caused by too much kissing, fuck.

He's moaning right after, sweet and soft, an exhale of another breath as he gazes at the Vampire, his own eyes filled with equal amounts of surprise, wonder, awe, desire, need and amusement - accompanied by lifted brows, parted kiss-swollen lips, flared nostrils.

"...Fuck.", he pants, chest expanding with every inhale of air, still sore, painful, but that painkiller-drug seems to do a good job there. He blinks, swallows, allows a few seconds to pass...

Arthur brings it up first, the reason for him to have ended this kiss as quickly as it had appeared in the first place, and... yeah, Kane understands. Shit, they're here because of... well, bad circumstances, not to hook up... But by god does he not want to think of what could happen when he lets go of the other, when he allows him to pull through with the whole sedation-thing. ... Because Kane is either going to end up in a much, much worse place, or he's never going to see Arthur again.

Both sounds horrible to him, has him swallow for a second time, a few syllables escaping him as he tries to form a coherent thought there---

"...Y-yeah, I know, I know, but---" Clearing his throat, Kane realizes he sounds a bit high-pitched there, overwhelmed, but in a good way - damn, he's hard inside his pants. Shit. Another gasp, eyes that fall closed for just a second before they flick back open, trying to calm himself down a bit there - hands still on the Vampire, his arm, his hair.

"---You... you said we wouldn't see each other again---" Kane should stop, should be reasonable, bit it's hard, very - that drug still in his system, most of his blood collected elsewhere, and it's hard to be... yeah, fucking reasonable. He keeps looking at those bright eyes, his own wide open, a little frantic almost... "...Which means this is the first, last, and only time I'll ever get to have this! ---I mean, god, you're so handsome, and you just kissed me like your life depended on it---"

[preemptivejustice]

Arthur shuddered into the kiss. It was shameful how easily it overtook him, how quickly his control began to leave as soon as Kane leaned back in; the second those warm lips were pressed against his mouth, he still found he wasn’t prepared for it. The pressure, the warmth, the warm tongue moving against his, slow and exploratory and sweet in a way that Arthur had so long ago forgotten about...

He responded. 

God, he responded - his body gave in as if he’d been waiting for it, as if he’d been aching for it. His mouth opened with a sharp, quiet breath, his fingers twitching at Kane’s wrist before sliding upward in a more purposeful grip, tangling in his curly hair; he loved the hair. He could even feel the warmth there, the dampness from sweat, the heat that radiated off of the man, the beauty in him being alive… 

The moan that escaped him was quiet, restrained, but painfully real. He couldn’t help it, melting into the heat and warmth with such an impossible need; he wanted more. He wanted, and Kane was giving, and it was so easy to take. 

He kissed back with need, having no grace nor delicacy. He was desperate more than intimate, longing, decades of solitude funneling into a few seconds of contact. Arthur had forgotten how it felt, to kiss. He forgot what the warmth of skin felt like, the heat of breath, the feeling of a mouth so warm and hot; Arthur found himself leaning forward without meaning to. 

His knees shifted so his body could press closer, just slightly. Enough to truly indulge in that warmth, to push into it, to take; he felt like an addict who had been stuck in withdrawal, finally given the drug that he was craving so seriously. It felt alive, warm, wet - he could hear Kane’s heart, as if it were his own. He could feel the warmth of his skin, could taste him in his mouth. 

Arthur’s other hand shifted, grabbing the front of Kane’s shirt in a fist. It was automatic; he didn’t yank, he didn’t demand. He just held, making certain the man wouldn’t pull away; Arthur didn’t need to breathe. He didn’t want to breathe. He wanted to stay connected like this, he wanted to keep this, he wanted to own it. 

He wanted more. Kane’s lips were hot and real, tasting him in return - Arthur wanted to tip Kane’s head back and kiss down his throat, he wanted to feel that pulse against his tongue, he wanted to press the warm creature down into the mattress and sink into that heat and take and take and take -

Kane had to breathe. Arthur forced himself away after what was probably too long, but he didn’t let go of Kane’s hair; his eyes were burning with need, with desire. It had been stupid to request this in the first place, and even stupider to take it; his pupils were dilated slightly, lips still parted, fingers still holding Kane firmly in place. 

It was a battle for control, now. If Arthur could get himself to stop, to move away - they didn’t have time for this. He needed to sedate Kane, needed to get him out - not whatever this was. 

He wanted this, though. He wanted this more than he’d wanted anything in a while, now. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“… We need to get you out of here,” he forced himself to remind; but his eyes still looked drugged, hungry, wanting more. His hands didn’t move, didn’t let go. “… We really do.” 

The kiss is slow, soft, gentle in nature - barely any heat behind it at first, just the subtle movement of lips that try to figure it out, each other, the act as a whole, what it means.

Kane can feel the hesitance radiating off of the other, as it lingers within him as well - not because he doesn't want to do this, or because he feels odd about it, but rather because it has also been a long time since Kane had last kissed someone. Not quite a decade, but almost; He does not count in the few failed attempts at kissing his somewhat-girlfriend back when he'd been a teen still, only includes the intimacy he'd once shared with another young man... one that went at some point and decided to live a different kind of life.

It doesn't matter, none of it - because this is about them, about Arthur, his mouth, the cute noise that had left him before and is now echoing within Kane's mind; Still so clear, so vibrant, hard to contain, hard to filter.

It's so utterly raw, the connection between them - has Kane sigh when cold digits curl around his wrist, feeling him up, not pulling nor pushing, just existing. It spurs Kane on, with him deciding to be brave, wanting to take this a bit further - thinks about sucking the man's bottom lip between his own---

---But then Arthur pulls back all of a sudden, their mouths separating with a soft smack because of it, so loud within the silence of their surroundings - it causes Kane to blink, to force his gaze to focus once again as a breath leaves his still sore lungs, dark irises finding the man's own so much brighter ones in the same way as they did before.

A swallow, with those irises seemingly searching for something; Perhaps he's looking for a sign, an emotion of sorts, and maybe, just maybe, Kane should pull back now - should remove his hand, let go of the handsome one that's still here, doesn't quite pull back himself, doesn't make a move to stand and get out of Kane's personal space...

Arthur had asked for a kiss. Kane had granted him such. In fact, they'd even go a bit further than that; The man had already kissed his cheek, after all, yet Kane had leaned in and now here they are, and a few moments of silence pass between them as they just stare and take in the sight, seemingly lost within their own thoughts.

...Thing is: As much as Kane should break whatever is existing there, between the two men... He doesn't want to.

He does not want this to end, does not want Arthur to leave just yet. It's crazy, really, because mere moments ago he'd been interrogated, gotten pierced by guilt because of him having given up his people's location, shivered in fear at the promised torture that was to come for him---

And now he's here, and he's just kissed a Vampire, and he wants more of that.

Fuck.

And he wonders, god he wonders, if Arthur wants this too. If he wants more as well, of if he's sated now - happy with the kiss, not asking for anything else.

Yet he's still here, he's still...

You’re gonna drive me crazy.

---Kane exhales, warm air escaping him through his parted lips to curl around Arthur's features; Nostrils flare, pupils dilating even further as those words basically drill themselves into Kane's very much eager, susceptible mind - hitting him straight in the center, lingering there, expanding, shifting---

"...You're doing the same to me." A bit unsteady, but very much heartfelt; Kane's gaze finally flicks away and down to that mouth, to those soft lips that look so enticing despite being cool to the touch - supple and plush, addicting, begging to be claimed for a second time.

At least in Kane's humble opinion, that is.

And since he's never been known to be good at holding his horses, he's giving in, at last - brings their mouths together for a second time, with more enthusiasm, more pressure. He opens his lips a bit more as they connect with Arthur's own, and this time he does suck that man's bottom lip between his own - even goes as far as allowing the tip of a tongue to taste the other, to feel the texture of that cold skin in a much more intimate way.

Dark eyes fall closed at last, enjoying, taking it all in without the need to see.

That hand on Arthur's jaw has long since moved, pushed up along the side of his face and into his hair, fingers curling into strands, holding on.