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Zodyl bared his teeth, pressed up against the wall of the room. The Raider leader had been captured due to a screw up mid battle, and he was NOT happy. Zodyl didn't like small spaces, and he didn't like not being able to leave when he chose.
Arkha watched the raider's tense posture and bared teeth, his expression calm and unreadable. He leaned against the wall across from Zodyl, his dark coat blending in with the shadows. "You're not very comfortable in here, are you?"
"It's quite obvious to those who have eyes." He snarled, still so formal events when filled with panicked rage.
Arkha's eyes flickered with something akin to amusement at Zodyl's formal yet furious tone. He pushed off from the wall and stepped closer, his movements deliberate and calm. "I can offer you two options here. You can either cooperate peacefully... or we can make this more uncomfortable for you."
Arkha's voice remained steady and controlled as he continued. "Option one: You come with me to my office for coffee. We talk civilly about your situation and potential solutions." He paused briefly before adding softly yet firmly, "Option two: My men restrain you further and we proceed differently."
"...I don't drink coffee." Zodyl finally answered, his voice low.
Arkha's lips twisted into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. "No coffee then. Tea? Water? Something stronger? The point is not the beverage, Zodyl." He stepped even closer, his dark eyes locked with the raider's furious gaze.
"Fuck you!" Zodyl snapped, surprising even himself. He could usually keep himself under control, but he was just so... scared. He was scared. They took Mishra. He felt like the walls were closing in.
Arkha's expression didn't change at the outburst, his voice remaining steady. "That's not a valid option." He reached out slowly, his hand wrapping around Zodyl's throat gently but firmly. His thumb brushed against the raider's racing pulse. "Let's try this again. Coffee. My office." His grip tightened slightly.
Zodyl was panting. Like an animal. And it was in that moment, that Corvus remembered how much younger Zodyl was. This fearsome leader, he was just a scrappy 19 year old, scared and pissed off.
Corvus's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Zodyl's panicked state. He loosened his grip, his thumb continuing to brush against the raider's throat in a gentle, almost comforting rhythm. "Coffee," he repeated softly, his voice gentler than before. "My office."
His thumb continued to brush against Zodyl's throat in a soothing motion, contrasting his firm grip. His voice dropped to a lower register. "Trust me...you'll want to hear what I have to say. And frankly, you're making my men nervous." Their eyes locked.
Corvus could see the fear and rage warring in Zodyl's eyes. He remembered being that age, that scared, that angry. He kept his grip gentle but unbreakable. "Coffee," he repeated for the third time, softer now.
"....I need Mishra. And I need my choker. The kids- Ahem. The other Raiders. I need to-..." Check on them? Make sure they're safe? Bawl because he wants to be home?
Corvus's expression softened almost imperceptibly. He knew about the makeshift family Zodyl had built among the Raiders. He released the raider's throat slowly. "Your people are being looked after," he said quietly. "The kids have food and blankets."
"Did you find Jabber? He was probably injured, and he won't let anyone but Cthoni and I treat it, so you can't keep them separate, or I need to see him, because he won't treat it himself, and-" Zodyl was stressing himself out. Arkha needed to nip that in the bud.
Corvus raised a hand slightly to silence the frantic rambling, his tone shifting from commanding to reassuring. "Breathe, Zodyl." He watched the young leader panic, realizing the depth of responsibility weighing on those shoulders. "Jabber has been found. Cthoni is with him. They are not separated. They are together, and they are being treated."
Corvus saw the immediate relief replace the panic in Zodyl's eyes, though the adrenaline was still clearly coursing through the young leader. "See? Everyone is accounted for. Now..." He straightened his posture, gesturing toward the door. "Coffee. My office. We discuss terms." It wasn't a request. "Walk."
Corvus guided Zodyl from behind, his hand resting lightly between the raider's shoulders, not pushing, just keeping him moving forward. The silent promise was clear: try anything, and that hand becomes a grip again.
The walk through the compound was quiet. Corvus's men gave them wide berth, some offering nods of respect to their leader.
They reached a heavy, polished door at the end of a long hallway. Corvus opened it and ushered Zodyl inside. His office was stark, organized, and smelled faintly of old paper and expensive tobacco. It was a sharp contrast to the chaotic, trash-filled world Zodyl usually inhabited. "Sit," Corvus said gently, pointing to a leather chair.
Zodyl stood frozen just inside the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the sudden change in environment. The leather chair looked alien, out of place in his mind. He found himself backing against the door instead, pressing his scarred knuckles into the frame.
Corvus let out a soft breath. He didn't push. Didn't order.
"I want- I NEED Mishra."
"I know you do." Corvus moved slowly around his desk, giving Zodyl space. He didn't sit, just leaned against the wooden surface. "Your Vital Instrument is perfectly safe. But we need to talk about how this happened in the first place."
Corvus's gaze never left Zodyl's face. He saw the desperation, the fear, the anger. And beneath it all, the exhaustion. This kid was at breaking point. "Sit down, Zodyl." His voice was low, kind. Not a command, but a suggestion.
Zodyl eyed him cautiously, and slowly, ever so slowly, slunk over to the chair. Bratty.
Corvus watched the almost feline movement, the wariness blending with that undeniable stubborn streak. He didn't comment on the attitude. Once Zodyl finally sat, looking like a trapped alley cat in a palace, Corvus finally moved to sit behind his desk. "Black, or sugar?" He gestured to a beaten up coffee service.
"I said I don't drink coffee."
"And I said we're discussing this like civilized people." Corvus poured a cup anyway, adding a splash of cream and a cube of sugar. He pushed the cup across the desk. "Drink. It'll help calm your nerves." His tone was firm, but not unkind. "And we'll talk."
"I said I don't want it." Zodyl was growing irritated.
Corvus didn't rise to the irritation. He just leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "You know what I think? I think you're being difficult on purpose." He said it almost gently, like he was calling out a child.
Corvus observed the bratty defiance, recognizing it for what it was, a defense mechanism. The kid was terrified and lashing out because he felt powerless. "You are currently in my office, surrounded by my guards, demanding your weapon back." He tilted his head slightly. "Difficult behavior is not going to help your case."
"I don't care. I want Mishra back, NOW! Shes MY vital instrument, this isn't-!" He cut himself off, his face reddening. He was about to say it's not fair, like he was a spoiled child.
Corvus's expression remained unchanged, though his eyes sharpened at the outburst. He saw right through the childish tantrum to the underlying fear and insecurity. "And what if I said no?" he asked calmly, almost challengingly. "What then, little raider?"
He looked like he was about to lose his mind. Mishra was his comfort item, his Instrument. Half of his soul. And Corvus wouldn't give her back!
Corvus watched the emotional collapse building in Zodyl's eyes, the panic rising, the sense of violation when his Vital Instrument was taken. This wasn't just about a weapon, it was about identity, about the one thing that made him feel whole. "Look at me," Corvus said softly, cutting through the building hysteria. "Stop."
Corvus didn't raise his voice, but the authority in his tone sliced through Zodyl's spiraling panic like a knife. He watched the younger man tremble with suppressed rage and terror, the realization that this wasn't a negotiation crashing down on him. "I am not keeping her from you to be cruel," Corvus said, his voice steady and grounding.
Corvus pushed back from his desk slightly, giving Zodyl more space. The younger raider looked like he was about to shatter. "I took Mishra because you were in danger." Simple. Factual. Not an accusation, just a statement of truth. "You, and every single one of your Raiders. What happened yesterday wasn't an accident."
Corvus watched Zodyl carefully, gauging the impact of his words. The boy was vibrating with anxiety, his entire being focused on the absence of his other half. "I secured your weapon to ensure you couldn't do anything reckless while I assessed the threat," he explained calmly. "I know it feels like a violation. To a wielder, it is."
Corvus let the silence hang for a moment, allowing Zodyl to process that. He knew the bond between a wielder and their Instrument was absolute—severing it caused physical pain, psychological distress. It was like cutting off a limb. "I am not your enemy, Zodyl," he said quietly.
"What do you call yourself, then?!" That was the breaking point. Zodyl stood, seizing some small figurine, and HURLED it.
The trinket shattered against the wall behind Corvus. He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just stared at Zodyl with those cloudy grey eyes, utterly unimpressed.
"Temper tantrums won't get Mishra back." Corvus stood, slowly, deliberately. He walked around his desk and stopped a few feet from Zodyl.
Corvus looked down at the boy, his expression unreadable but radiating a calm, heavy authority that easily dwarfed Zodyl's tantrum. "If you want to act like a child, you will be treated like one," Corvus stated, his voice dangerously low. "Throw one more thing, and you stay in that chair until the sun goes down."
Zodyl's breath hitched, his chest heaving as he glared up at Corvus with tears of frustration in his eyes. He was a hair's breadth from all-out sobbing, the stress and fear of the past few days finally catching up to him. But he didn't throw another thing. He just sat there, shaking.
Corvus recognized the exact moment Zodyl's anger collapsed into pure, overwhelmed exhaustion. The boy's defiance melted into trembling distress, his bravado crumbling like wet paper. Corvus didn't punish him for the outburst. Instead, he moved to the side table and poured a fresh cup of tea this time, something herbal and calming.
Corvus placed the tea on the desk near Zodyl, not forcing it on him. He returned to his seat, giving the younger man space to process his emotions.
"You're scared," Corvus stated simply, no judgment in his tone. "You're terrified something is going to happen to your Raiders, to Mishra, to yourself. That's valid."
Corvus leaned back, watching. Zodyl just sat there, trembling, looking like he was about to break down completely. Corvus waited. He had all the time in the world.
Suddenly, Corvus stood and walked toward the door. Zodyl's eyes snapped to him, a fresh wave of panic flooding his features. "Where are you going?"
Corvus didn't answer. Instead, he stepped through the door. Zodyl's entire body tensed, expecting guards to come drag him away, locking him up forever without his Mishra. He was hyperventilating, his fingers digging into the armrest, knuckles white with panic. "No, no, no—"
Corvus reappeared a moment later, holding something behind his back. Zodyl was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, his breathing ragged and eyes wild with fear. Corvus approached slowly, hands raised in a calming gesture. "Breathe," he commanded softly.
Zodyl's chest hitched, a sob breaking free as he tried to obey. Corvus stopped in front of him, bringing his hand around to reveal Mishra's familiar form, gleaming softly in the light. Zodyl's eyes widened, a fresh flood of tears spilling down his cheeks. He reached for her desperately.
Corvus held Mishra back just slightly, making Zodyl look at him. The younger raider's fingers trembled in the air, inches from his life-force, his soul-partner, his everything. Corvus met his gaze with those unsettling grey eyes. "This is not a reward for your behavior," Corvus said quietly.
"This is because I know what you need right now. And it's not another lecture, or a punishment. It's her." Corvus gently placed Mishra in Zodyl's trembling hands, watching as the boy immediately clutched her to his chest like a lifeline. "Hold her."
Zodyl immediately shoved his face in the coat. And frowned. "She doesn't smell the same. Did you wash her?"
Corvus's lip twitched—almost a smirk, but too small to be sure.
"Possibly."
Zodyl looked up at him, Mishra still pressed against his cheek, eyes narrowed with wounded betrayal. Corvus folded his arms across his chest, completely unfazed by the accusation.
"Your beloved coat needed laundering," Corvus said flatly.
"But her scent... that's part of her! You took away her scent!" Zodyl sounded absolutely scandalized, his earlier panic attack completely forgotten in favor of protecting his coat's dignity. Corvus just raised an eyebrow.
Corvus watched Zodyl's dramatic reaction with amusement he didn't show. He uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, intentionally invading Zodyl's personal space. "I had her cleaned because she smelled like you—like sweat, dirt, and fear," Corvus said bluntly.
Zodyl's eyes widened. He unconsciously sniffed Mishra again, fuming. "You didn't have the right to—!" He stopped, his voice breaking. He didn't have the right? This man held his life in his hands.
Corvus placed a hand on Zodyl's shoulder, steady and firm. "When you can take care of yourself and your Raiders without nearly dying, you might have ground to argue," he said, his voice softening just a fraction. "Until then, I'll do what I need to do."
Zodyl swallowed hard, still clutching Mishra. He absentmindedly rubbed his face against the coat, zoning out.
His shoulders relaxed, his breathing evened out, and his face lost some of its tension. He looked almost peaceful, rubbing his face against Mishra's soft fabric. Corvus watched this transformation with interest. He had never seen someone find such comfort in a piece of clothing before.
After a moment, Corvus gently took Mishra's sleeve and guided it away from Zodyl's face. The younger raider blinked up at him, dazed and vulnerable, his barriers completely gone.
"Sleepy?" Corvus asked quietly.
Zodyl didn't even have the energy to glare. "No.... I slept a few days ago, I'm fine."
Corvus raised an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving. He remembered the state Zodyl was in when he first arrived—exhausted, starving, and on the verge of collapse. And that was after 'sleeping a few days ago'. "You're lying," Corvus stated flatly.
Zodyl's chin lifted stubbornly, but his eyes were already drooping. Mishra trembled in his arms as a fresh wave of fatigue overwhelmed him.
Corvus sighed, reaching forward. Before Zodyl could protest, Corvus's hand slid behind his head, fingers sliding into his hair.
Zodyl froze, his eyes flying wide as Corvus gently guided his head down onto the desk. Mishra was carefully tucked under his cheek as a makeshift pillow. Corvus's hand remained in his hair, fingers sifting through the messy strands almost absentmindedly. "Sleep,"
Zodyl jerked upright, Mishra clutched defensively to his chest. His face was red, partly from embarrassment, partly from outrage.
"I'm not a child! I don't need to be—" His words cut off as his vision swam. He swayed in his seat, a hand flying to his temple.
Corvus's expression didn't change.
"Then sleep on your own terms," Corvus said simply, retreating to his chair. He sat back, legs stretched out, hands folded in his lap. "No one's forcing anything on you. Such a brat."
Zodyl glared at him weakly, but his eyelids were already heavy again.
"I am not a brat," Zodyl muttered, though the effect was ruined by a massive yawn that cracked his jaw. He slumped forward, his forehead nearly hitting the wood of the desk before he caught himself. Mishra seemed to soften under his cheek, urging him to rest.
Corvus watched him struggle against his own body, completely unimpressed. "Either you go to sleep on your own will, or I tire you out. Your choice, brat."
Zodyl's eyes narrowed at the threat, but another yawn made his complaint of "I'm not a brat!" sound more like a sleepy whine. He tried to push himself upright, only to waver dangerously. Corvus just raised an eyebrow, waiting. "Last chance,"
Zodyl lifted his chin, determination flaring in his exhaustion-glazed eyes. He'd rather be killed than nap like some helpless child in front of the older man. He straightened his back, gripping Mishra tighter, and forced his eyes open.
Corvus just watched him. And watched him. And watched him. Three minutes passed. "Tire you out it is."
Before Zodyl could react, Corvus was suddenly standing right behind him. One arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him back against a hard chest while the other hand held his neck muffling any protest.
Zodyl struggled immediately, trying to break free. But he was exhausted and weak, and Corvus's hold was iron. He found himself lifted off the chair and carried back to the couch like a sack of potatoes. Mishra was gently plucked from his arms as he was deposited onto the cushions, on his stomach.
Corvus loomed over him, one hand pressed between Zodyl's shoulder blades to keep him face-down. The other hand was busy unbuckling his belt--the metal clinking making Zodyl freeze in sudden panic.
Zodyl thrashed, panic overriding exhaustion. "Wait— what are you doing?!" His voice cracked pathetically. Corvus pressed down harder, pinning him in place.
"Removing a threat," Corvus said calmly. "Your belt could be used to strangle someone. Or hang yourself. Whichever."
Zodyl blinked.
Corvus unbuckled the belt and pulled it free, tossing it aside. Zodyl's breathing was ragged, fear and exhaustion making his body tremble. "Now," Corvus continued, his voice low and steady.
Corvus leveled him with a stern look. "You could have just gone to sleep like a normal person. Instead, you're getting your belt confiscated and being bodyslammed onto a couch." He sounded almost disappointed, like Zodyl had let him down somehow. "Brat."
Zodyl flushed red, equal parts embarrassment and outrage. "You can't just—" he managed weakly, but his body was already betraying him. He was face down on the couch, limbs heavy, mind foggy. Mishra was tucked under his cheek again—when had that happened?
Corvus watched him struggle against the inevitable.
Corvus leaned down, his voice a low murmur near Zodyl's ear. "I can. And I will. Every. Single. Time. You. Need. It."
Each word was punctuated by a gentle press of his fingers against Zodyl's tense neck—firm, and almost therapeutic. Like he was kneading dough.
Zodyl's body slowly relaxed under the firm, almost hypnotic touch. His initial outrage faded as exhaustion reclaimed him. His movements grew weaker, less coordinated. He nuzzled into Mishra's soft embrace involuntarily, his breathing growing heavier and more even. "Fuck... you..."
Corvus's fingers paused for a moment, a hint of amusement flashing in his grey eyes before he continued his steady kneading. "Is that a thank you or an insult?" He asked softly, his thumb brushing against Zodyl's neck gently.
Zodyl's response died on his lips as his eyes fluttered shut. His hand reached up blindly, fingers brushing against Corvus's sleeve in a weak attempt to maintain some dignity before going limp.
Corvus watched him slip under, expression unreadable. "Sleep, brat." He adjusted the makeshift pillow under Zodyl's cheek.
Zodyl was out cold, completely passed out on the couch, mouth slightly open, hair mussed. He looked about twelve instead of nineteen. Mishra was pressed against his cheek, the soft plush comforting him into deeper sleep.
Corvus pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and gently tucked it around Zodyl, pulling it up to his shoulders. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out and brushing a few strands of hair out of Zodyl's face. "Idiot,"
Corvus's expression softened fractionally as he regarded the sleeping raider. Despite everything—despite Zodyl's volatile temper, despite his constant provocation, despite his dangerous potential—Corvus found himself oddly... protective. "Stupid, reckless, aggressive little shit."
He settled back into his chair across the room, legs stretched out, bandaged fingers steepled under his chin. His clouded grey eyes watched Zodyl sleep, never once moving from that spot.
Hours passed. Zodyl stirred, whimpering softly in his sleep—bad dreams, perhaps. Corvus didn't move from his chair, but his fingers tightened around the armrest.
Finally, Zodyl's eyes fluttered open. He lay there for a moment, disoriented, feeling the softness under his cheek and the warmth wrapped around him.
He blinked blearily, reality crashing back in. The blanket. The pillow. The memory of being forcibly tucked in like a toddler. His face flushed hot with humiliation. Slowly, he pushed himself up, clutching Mithra to his chest like a lifeline.
Across the room, Corvus hadn't moved an inch. "Sleep well, brat?"
Zodyl's jaw tightened. He wanted to say something biting, something scathing—anything to regain some shred of dignity. But his body refused. Every muscle ached pleasurably from the deep rest, and Mithra was incredibly soft against his chest. His stomach growled painfully.
Corvus raised an eyebrow.
Zodyl’s face burned hotter. He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, using it as a shield against the older man’s cool gaze. "I hate you," he muttered, voice raspy with sleep and utterly unconvincing. His stomach growled again, loud and demanding, betraying his hostility completely.
Corvus didn't even blink. "Liar."
The simple word hung in the air between them. Zodyl couldn't even form a proper retort—his brain was still sludge, his body was still pliant with post-sleep bliss, and his stomach was being embarrassingly loud. He settled for glaring half-heartedly while hugging Mishra tighter.
Corvus stood up smoothly, the movement graceful and predatory.
He crossed the room slowly, deliberately. Zodyl tracked his movements with wary eyes, clutching Mishra like a security blanket. Corvus stopped right in front of the couch, looking down at the disheveled raider.
Corvus reached out, fingers brushing against the corner of the blanket.
"You're drooling on your vital instrument."
Zodyl's free hand shot to his mouth. He wasn't—he was pretty sure he wasn't? His face felt suspiciously damp. Mishra smelled like saliva. Shit. "You—"
Corvus just raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. His hand moved from the blanket to Zodyl's chin, tilting his face up. His thumb brushed against Zodyl's bottom lip, coming away damp. "See?" He showed Zodyl the wet digit mockingly.
Zodyl wanted to die. Right here, right now. His teenage embarrassment was reaching catastrophic levels. He tried to jerk away, but Corvus just tightened his grip gently, holding his chin steady. "Stop!" Zodyl hissed, voice muffled.
Corvus ignored him, instead using his other hand to gently wipe Zodyl's damp cheek with his sleeve. "Pathetic," He muttered, but there was no heat behind the word. His touch was careful, almost... gentle. Like he was handling a sleepy, drooling puppy instead of a vicious raider.
Zodyl was mortified beyond belief, but his body was still being a traitor. He was too comfortable, too warm, too sleepy to even put up a proper fight. Corvus's gentle touch was somehow worse than violence—it made his brain short-circuit with confusion.
Corvus stepped back, releasing Zodyl's chin. He looked down at the bundle of blanket and raider, a strange, soft smile on his face. "You'd let me do anything I wanted right now, wouldn't you? Would only put up a little cat fight."
Zodyl's face turned beet red. He didn't even have the energy to deny it. Of course Corvus could do whatever he wanted right now—Zodyl's brain was the equivalent of a wet sock, his limbs heavy and useless.
Corvus's eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly light as he stared at the helpless, sleepy raider before him. An evil idea crossed his mind—a temptation too delicious to resist. He dropped to his knees beside the couch, bringing his face level with Zodyl's.
Without warning, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly against Zodyl's, stealing a gentle, almost chaste kiss. His hands slid under the blanket to grip Zodyl's waist possessively as he kept the kiss brief but shockingly sweet.
Zodyl's brain short-circuited completely. His entire body went rigid, then limp, his mouth falling open in shock under Corvus's. He made a tiny, strangled noise against those lips—half protest, half something else entirely. Mishra was crushed between them, forgotten.
Corvus pulled back just far enough to speak. Zodyl whined when he pulled away, a childish, wanting noise, and froze. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead, his eyes flicking up and back down in dread.
Corvus's scarred lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. He caught the bead of sweat with his thumb, dragging it down Zodyl's temple almost tenderly.
"Aha."
The single syllable dripped with smug satisfaction. His grey eyes held no judgment—only predatory amusement as he watched Zodyl's horror unfold.
"Look at you," he breathed, voice low and teasing. "Sleep drooled on your Jinki, drooled on yourself, and now your brain's so mushy you whine when I pull away from a kiss." His grip on Zodyl's waist tightened just slightly. "Pathetic."
Zodyl's entire body was on fire.
Corvus leaned in close again, pressing his forehead against Zodyl's. Their breaths mingled as they stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of Corvus's mocking, affectionate assessment. "You're all soft and fuzzy in your head right now, aren't you?"
Zodyl couldn't answer. He couldn't even think. His entire world had shrunk down to Corvus's face, Corvus's hands, Corvus's stupid smug smile that was somehow still beautiful even when it was mocking him. His hips squirmed minutely against the blanket, a helpless, instinctive movement.
Corvus noticed.
The smirk widened, becoming almost wolfish. He shifted closer, one hand sliding between Zodyl's legs under the blanket. His voice dropped lower, almost purring. "And look at that. Your body's already waking up, even if your brain's still asleep."
His fingers curved possessively around Zodyl's inner thigh, pulling it slightly apart from its twin. His thumb brushed against the growing hardness there, his touch both gentle and teasing. "Spread your legs wider," he murmured, "before I do it for you."
Zodyl whimpered softly, his legs falling open without conscious thought. He was completely at Corvus's mercy—physically, mentally, and emotionally. His body arched slightly, pushing against that teasing thumb. Mishra was lying limp between them.
Zodyl seized his Jinki, pressing her to his face, only his eyes peeking out. She was clearly a comfort item.
Corvus's grey eyes narrowed with a mix of amusement and something softer as he watched Zodyl hide behind his Jinki like a child clutching a stuffed animal. The coat was pressed so hard against his face that it left red marks on his skin.
"Poor little thing," he cooed mockingly, though his hands remained gentle.
He didn't force Mishra away. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the fabric of the Jinki right where Zodyl's nose was buried, effectively kissing them both. "Hiding?" He murmured against the coat. "You can hide your face, button, but your legs are still wide open for me."
Zodyl's body was burning with embarrassment and something else entirely. His heart was racing, his breath coming in short gasps against Mishra's fabric. The way Corvus was treating him, petting him, teasing him, kissing him, was so alien and overwhelming that he didn't know how to process it.
Corvus's hand slid up Zodyl's thigh, pushing the blanket out of the way. His fingers hooked into the waistband of Zodyl's pants, toying with the fabric. "Let's get these off," he said conversationally, as if discussing the weather instead of undressing a vulnerable raider.
Zodyl's hips lifted instinctively as Corvus pulled at his pants, helping to strip them off despite his hidden face. His legs were thin and pale, covered in old scars and bruises—evidence of his tough life. Mishra fell off his lap, revealing his slender body completely.
Corvus's expression softened almost imperceptibly as he took in Zodyl's scrawny, battered frame. He knew the Raiders' life was tough—scarce food, dangerous missions, little love. His own Cleaners were the exact opposite—well-fed, well-trained, and deeply loyal.
Zodyl remained hidden behind Mishra, too embarrassed and vulnerable to show his face. His thin body was shaking slightly, whether from nerves or cold or emotion, Corvus couldn't tell.
Corvus didn't comment on the weight difference or the scars. Instead, he simply curled his fingers around Zodyl's hip, stroking the bony ridge gently.
"Your ribs are poking out," he murmured, no judgment in his voice—just quiet observation. "Have you been eating enough?"
Zodyl didn't answer. Why would he? Raiders didn't talk about that stuff. Asking if someone had been eating enough might as well be asking if they were sad.
".... Why do you care?" He groused. There was a wet spot on the front of his boxers, and he squirmed.
Corvus's thumb traced over the wet spot leisurely, his smirk widening at the obvious evidence of Zodyl's arousal.
"Because I'm going to be the one putting weight on you," he said simply, like it was an obvious solution instead of a shock. "And because you're squirming like a puppy who's been left outside too long."
Zodyl cocked his head in confusion, his eyebrows narrowing. Corvus was talking like he was going to KEEP him.
Corvus's hand slid down to wrap around Zodyl's thin, hard length through the boxers, squeezing gently. "I am," he confirmed Zodyl's unasked question, his grey eyes serious despite his smirk. "I'm keeping you. You, and the rest of the Raiders. You thought it was a coincidence that mission went wrong? We were waiting for you, button."
Zodyl's breath hitched, fingers tightening desperately around Mishra. Being a Cleaner wasn't just about getting out alive, or getting fed. It was about being claimed. Being wanted. The Raiders didn't want each other. They couldn't afford to.
No one had ever wanted a Raider for longer than a mission or a fuck.
Corvus leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "You think I don't see how you're looking at me? Like I'm a goddamn miracle. Like I'm offering you the sun and the stars. Baby, you have no idea how easy this is for me."
He pressed his face against Zodyl's, noses brushing, his hand still gently stroking Zodyl's hard length. "I'm offering you a home, a family, a place to belong. All I'm asking for in return is your loyalty."
Zodyl was squirming under his hand, one hand keeping Mishra pressed to his face.
His smirk softened with unexpected gentleness as his voice dropped lower. "You're a puppy, aren't you? One scratch behind the ears and you'd roll over for me. God, you'd probably lick my hand if I let you."
Corvus's thumb began to move in slow circles over the head of Zodyl's dick, pressing against the slit. He felt the boy whine against Mishra, heard the muffled sound.
Zodyl had always been overly close with Mishra. Many nights, he had been up late scrubbing her under the cover of darkness in shame, scrubbing out saliva and certain white stains. He held her close to his face, huffing the (now clean) fabric, and looking down at Corvus.
Corvus watched Zodyl's behavior with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something almost tender. He knew the boy was using Mishra as a comfort object, a way to cope with his past trauma. And right now, he was using her to avoid looking at Corvus directly.
Corvus continued his slow, deliberate circles over the head of Zodyl's dick, pressing down firmly. He watched as Zodyl's hips began to move in tiny little thrusts, pressing into his hand as he huffed Mishra's clean scent. "You like that?"
"Mhmm...." He rolled his hips into the older man's hand, and finally, he couldn't resist anymore. He took some of Mishra'a fabric into his mouth.
Corvus's smirk widened, but he didn't comment on the fact that Zodyl was basically sucking on his coat while getting jerked off. Something about it was unexpectedly cute, in a really fucked up way. "Is that how you make yourself come sometimes?"
"When it's quiet... And I need to stop thinking... Yeah," Zodyl mumbled against the fabric, his body arching slightly as Corvus's thumb pressed just right.
The admission hung between them—raw and vulnerable. Raiders didn't talk about their coping mechanisms. They didn't admit to being lonely or scared or needing comfort.
Corvus's heart did something strange and soft in his chest at the admission. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the side of Zodyl's neck as he continued his slow, teasing strokes. "We'll find you other ways to cope, button. Other things to suck on."
His thumb pushed against the slit again, spreading precome around as he slowly pulled down Zodyl's boxers. He watched the boy freeze, knowing full well how vulnerable and exposed Raiders felt when touched. He was being gentle, almost careful—like handling a wild animal that might bolt at any moment.
His hands slid under Zodyl's thin body, lifting him up slightly to press him against his chest. Mishra was caught between them, the boy sucking on her fabric again as Corvus spread his legs, pulling Zodyl's between them. "Shh... It's alright,"
Corvus's arms wrapped around Zodyl, holding him secure against his chest. He could feel the boy's rapid heartbeat, hear his muffled huffs against Mishra's fabric. Slowly, carefully, he began to grind his clothed erection between Zodyl's spread legs.
"A-ahh! Mm... Mishra..." Zodyl whined, laving his tongue over her fabric. She smelled like fresh laundry now, and he would never admit he liked it better.
Corvus chuckled against Zodyl's neck, the vibration making the young Raider shiver. "Mishra this, Mishra that. You gonna thank her for the orgasm too?"
He pressed harder between Zodyl's thighs, the friction from his fabric-covered cock rubbing against Zodyl's bare, leaking length.
Zodyl whimpered in shame, hiding his face in the now moist fabric.
Corvus didn't mock the shame, he simply understood it. For a Raider, intimacy was a transaction, not a comfort. He held Zodyl tighter, continuing to rock his hips, creating a hot, sliding friction between Zodyl's thighs. "Shh, button. Don't hide. She can see you, and she knows you feel good."
Zodyl's legs started to tremble, his hips moving back instinctively to meet Corvus's thrusts. His mouth fell open against Mishra's fabric, panting and drooling slightly.
Corvus felt the shift in Zodyl's body, the way his hips began to move in earnest, the desperate little sounds muffled against his coat. He increased the pressure, grinding harder between those thin thighs, his own arousal straining against his pants. "That's it, let her see you fall apart. She's earned that view, hasn't she?"
Zodyl's thighs squeezed around Corvus's hips as his back arched sharply. A broken, wordless noise escaped him, muffled by the wet fabric. His cock twitched, and Corvus felt him come—hot and sudden, coating both their groins through the friction. "Good boy."
Zodyl collapsed against Corvus's chest, shaking, too embarrassed to look up from Mishra's soaked fabric pressed to his face. His whole body trembled with aftershocks, and Corvus just held him, patient and unrelenting.
"Look at me, button." A soft request, not a demand.
Slowly, Zodyl lifted his head. His face was red, his mouth wet and open, drool mixed with saliva drying on his chin. He avoided Corvus's gaze, staring at a point over his shoulder. "Look at me," Corvus repeated, his voice gentler this time.
Zodyl's eyes met Corvus's reluctantly, large, pupils dilated, rimmed with unshed tears and embarrassment. His cheeks flushed deeper red at being caught so vulnerable. "You came so pretty," Corvus murmured, his thumb gently wiping saliva from Zodyl's chin.
The touch made Zodyl flinch slightly. Not from fear, but from the unexpected gentleness of it. His breath hitched as Corvus wiped his chin clean, a gesture so tender it made something ache in his chest. "You okay?" The question was soft, genuine. "Button?" He used the nickname again, like an anchor.
Zodyl nodded, still avoiding direct eye contact. He felt exposed and raw, his body trembling slightly from the aftermath of his orgasm. Corvus's thumb lingered on his chin for a moment longer before dropping away. "Come here."
Corvus slowly shifted them both, pulling Zodyl more fully into his lap. He didn't let go; instead, he cradled him closer, one hand stroking his back in slow, soothing circles. The intimacy was overwhelmingly too much, too gentle. Raiders didn't get held after sex. They got paid.
"You did good,"
Zodyl stiffened at the praise, a foreign feeling washing over him. He burrowed his face into Corvus's chest, hiding his confusion and the sudden prickle of tears. Corvus's hand continued its slow circles on his back, a steady presence that kept him from pulling away. "Shh, it's okay,"
Zodyl's fingers curled into Corvus's coat, gripping the fabric—dry on top, damp beneath. He didn't know what to do with this tenderness, this absence of expectation. Nothing was being asked of him. He was just... held.
Corvus's lips pressed to the top of his head—another unexpected gesture.
"You hungry?"
The question was absurdly mundane, breaking the tension without dismissing it. Zodyl nodded against his chest, the movement small and uncertain. He was hungry. Not just for food, but for this strange, gentle thing Corvus was offering. He was starving for it, and terrified by it.
"Good." Corvus didn't let go immediately. "Lets get you something to eat."