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The smell of blood and gore infested everything on Drazak. The sickly sweet scent of decay and rotting meat was carried ever on the stale wind that languished over the landscape and left only crawling maggots and swarms of insects as the only life that survived as subjects to the flayer king Valgûl. there was no place for delicate and gentle scents like those that had always wafted about the courts of Ithakas. Any trace of those scents were swallowed up by the sweltering stench that wafted up in steam from the uneaten scraps of the flayed ones that huddled about the throne of the king of Drazak.
Oltyx was use to the scent by now, although it had taken time to keep from wretching. Slowly the fetid smell had started to grow more appealing as the flayer curse started to dig its fingers into his mind and awaken a more rabid nature. The want to indulge in the rotting carcasses and tattered skins tore at his mind at all times, but some lingering part of him continued to sustain from such indulgences.
Thre was a level of pride that came with being a noble son, a phaeron of a fallen dynasty, that acted as a leash upon his higher senses and kept them form slipping to far into the madness of hunger. When not caught up in a hunt or in vicious defense of his people, it was easier to ignore the needs of carnage and sanguine harvest.
That prideful part of himself was almost ashamed for how ravenous he could get and the bloodlust that would overtake him at times. It was the same part that was tied up in guilt, in a sense of failure, and of a stirring melancholy that whispered constantly that he had no reason to be here. The flayed ones could hunt on their own, do as they please, and his role as their king almost felt like some cosmic entity set about to mock him. He was the king of the mad, like hero of old epics, trapped upon an island away from home but a story in which he would never be able to return home. From hero to the lurking creature of all the stories, sat upon his throne of bones with the rolling hills of dusty decaying bodies and rotting meat as his view.
It was when those dreary thoughts began to surface that the bloody king ound the decaying swill he oversaw become more overbearing and for a moment, he saw less a kingdom and more one of the carnal houses of the ancient times of flesh, buzzing with flies and vermin, the walls caked in rancid flesh that slowly bubbled and ran down the walls, and slushy rot smeared black upon the floors.
In those moments, sometime in him wanted to vomit.
Those moments of clarity were a stake through his tentative sanity and sometimes he wish he could let go and become as mindless and ravenous as the rest to not be privy to the horrors of his situation.
"You seem pensive, lord Oltyx. Was the last hunt not to your liking?"
Yenekh's voice cut through Oltyx's thoughts like a gently balm and he found himself turning his head to look over at his most trusted second-in-command. The curse had ravaged Yenekh from smooth necrondermis and the calm visage of a high admiral to a creature of nothing but hunched, vicious, and beautiful carnal intent. Unlike so many, a hint of the razor still endured through the gnawing hunger permitting the flayer king a partner in conversation to combat the more wicked thoughts that rose in his mind.
"The hunt was fine, as was the bounty," Oltyx said as he looked out over the view from his throne, "Just lost in thought,"
Lost in the nostalgic memories of once looking out from a throne at the side of his father of courts, pristine and decorated with wealth in extravagants. The dance of the gossmier curtains in the light winds that once touched upon them so daintly and brought with them the smell of salt and the spring blooms.
Nothing like the tattered flaps of stitched skin, blood-stained floor, and gore and more foul liquids speared about the floor.
The morose feeling settled on Oltyx as he turned his gaze away, prefering to look upon Yenekh and at least feel a great appreciation for the vicious beauty. Yennekh though seemed to sense the trouble of his mood as he leaned in closer to give a gently brush against the shoulder of the king and then up to his golden death mask.
"It has been a long time since I've seen you so tepid, your lordship. Usually after hunts you are in a far more vicious mood," Yenekh murmured, "The sort of mood that I can do something about,"
Oltyx couldn't help the glow of his core at such words as he knew what his beloved razor spoke about. Could feel it as Yenekh's claws idly trailed down over necrondermis, leaving a dribbling blood trail against golden plating. The flayer king couldn't help but lean up into that touch as his hand came up to cup about Yenekh's face. His thumb brushed clump of gore from the unmoving mouth and smeared it in a red swath up to the pointed cheek.
"Usually I am," Oltyx admitted, "but perhaps today, the sight of blood and viscera has lost a bit of its charm today,"
Yenekh tilted his head, leaned into Oltyx's gentle touch, "That is very unlike you, my most grim and gruesome king. Is there something in particular that calls you?"
"No, just a peculiar mood that will pass with time,"
It was a lie that was probably written all over his nodes. There was longing. Deep-seated, buried longing to be able to walk like a chronomancer far back to the kingdom that lingered in his dreams, not the one that had become his fate. Home called from across the endless expanses, like a song with no words sung by voices that no longer existed.
A home that did not exist.
A home where there was no one was waiting for him despite how in some moments of delusions, he swore he could almost hear his brother calling for him.
The guilt tore so deep and hollowed out a place deep inside this body of metal that no amount of flesh, of mindless pleasure among his bloody consorts, or of his beloved's touch could fill. Each day, that abyss ebbed and flow like the deepest pits of the ocean with its tides, but it never was abated, never gone.
Always there, yawning, yearning, and suffering a hunger even worse than the craving for flesh. The truest curse he bore was in the knowing he would never again be able to have the things he yearned for so deeply.
"If I could take all the weight in your mind, Oltyx, I would," Yenekh's words were soft as he brushed against him again and took one of his lord's hands in his own and let the claws scrap against necrondermis.
"I know and I wish you could," Otyx said softly, "It would be so much easier if you could be a razor upon my mind and rip away everything,"
Or would the abyss inside him just drag Yenekh down, like a sticky tar, until he was suffocating in all the things that couldn't be expunged from his growing madness and despair?
Oltyx's fingers curled into a clenched hand against Yenekh's face before he slowly lowered it and drew gently awa yfrom the touch of his lover. Yenekh's nodes flashed in concern and he moved in closer and nudged against the flayed king's side.
"Whatever you need of me, simply ask. I am yours to command," He murmured softly.
"I know," Oltyx rose to his feet,"I never doubt that for a moment, Yenekh,"
"Is there anything I can do now to chase away these thoughts that turn my beautiful, bloody star into such a pensive creature?" Yennkh asked softly.
Oltyx shook his head with a small exhale of air and reached out to brush his knuckes to the towering flayed one's face, "Once I have thought of something, you will be the first I shall go to Yenekh. For now, I think I just need a change of scenery,"
Something less caked in the remnants of life like the corpse of a dynasty strewn out, mocking him with how he had not been able to save his own. Blood and gore that covered up any sense of prestige or decorum of nobility. A mockery of his dreams ripped apart until the desire to slip into gibbering madness began to overwhelm the parts of him that clung to his sanity by slowly snapping threads.
"May I go with you?" Yenekh leaned in and there was flashes of concern in his nodes, "There has been whispers of our kin vanishing when leaving for hunts,"
Oltyx gave a small huff and gave a dismissive toss of his head in response, "I am more than capable of defending myself,"
Yenekh gave a long stare at the flayer king before leaning in a touch, "Are we sure about that?"
There was a slight bristling of his pride at that comment and Oltyx sat up to his full regale height and fixed Yenekh with an imperial glare that was more of an imperial pout with how his nodes flashed along his body, "I'm very sure that I can handle myself, especially as I plan to just clear my head on a planet with little to worry about. All I want is the time to contemplate and clear my mind away from the rather personal court,"
That was putting it gently about his court. Sometimes he couldn't even sit alone on his throne without a few of the flayed ones coming to curl up about him. There was a sense that they liked those creature comforts of being close and of touch. Oltyx did not snap at them for it and at times, it was appreciated.
Other times he just wanted some space away from all this. He could almost hear his brother teasing him about his "moodiness" when he would wander off to be alone. Always Djoseras would ask Oltyx if he had contemplated the meaning of life and composed some gruesome poetry to angst about his dark feelings and the nihilism of the world. Remarks that always had Oltyx throwing something at his brother in furious embarrassment that ended in the two of them rough-housing across the courtyard.
What he wouldn't give to be able to go to those times and apologize to his brother for all the black eyes and bruised pride those fights ended with.
"I won't be gone long. Just enough to have the time to myself," Oltyx promised with a lean in to bump his crest up against the Razor's towering shoulder, "And some fresh air,"
"You will at least tell me where you are going?" Yenekh asked softly.
"I'll give you the coordinates. It is just some out of the way human colony with plenty of wild country left to walk and enjoy the silence in," Oltyx paused as he lowered his head, "And don't you dare follow me or I swear I won't hunt with you for a month,"
Yenekh chuckled at the threat and leaned in to give a small nudge, "I won't. Take your time, but if you aren't back within a reasonable time and don't answer to my pings, I'm coming after you. It is well documented how often you get yourself into trouble,"
"I know I know. I'll make sure to keep you updated if I take more time out there," Oltyx gave a brief nuzzle to the shoulder and ran a hand over the tatters of flesh that clung to his lover, "I won't be long, I promise,"
Oltyx wasn't planning on getting himself into any trouble and he certianly wasn't in the mood to hunt. He wanted a place where there was no scent of blood and he could perhaps scratch the itch for clean and pristine country and that would dull the ache and fill that longing in him. At least enough to help allow his sanity to remain in tact.
The ability to travel to planets with but a single thought was a blessing, but also a curse as sometimes the sense of time passing in a strange,restless way still clung to Oltyx. Sometimes he wasn't even sure where he had wound up exactly on a planet, but he put his faith that the ghostways knew far better than he where to go.
He stepped away from the bone kingdom of Drazak and felt his feet touch upon the soft earth. There was the brush of long grass against his legs and a breeze that carried no trace of decay. A field spread out before Oltyx and it clung the side of a massive cliff with a vast ocean roiling below. It was breath-taking. The chill of the air prickled his necrondermis in a pleasant, familiar way that reminded him achingly of home long before the awakening. He stood there for a moment, head tilting back to gaze up at the dark sky above, lit by two wondrous moons like peering eyes and the luminescent shimmer of a ring cutting across the view of stars.
Not home exactly, but close enough to twinge at that nostalgia he wanted to indulge in.
Oltyx began to walk forward through the field and let his hands trail over the tops of the grass and feeling the blades lightly brush over fingers. His steps were silent, a trait he had picked up from the need to hunt and stalk prey. The flayer king prided himself on being a patient hunter that could creep up upon his targets and practically run fingers up their spine before he pounced. Now, there was no need to hunt, but there was also no need to disturb the quiet that settled in around him.
Here, the gnawing desire to feed had settled to a whisper, allowing him a bit more clarity of thought. It was a literal breath of fresh air that had him considering a nice spot to settle down and do some meditations. He had never been good at the art though. He and Djoseras had often got into trouble with the priests and teachers about how they couldn't sit still, or in Oltyx's case, how he often dozed off in meditations.
His body no longer required rest and could be forced to be still. Perhaps here, he could actually attempt to meditate and clear his thoughts.
Yet just as he was considering a nice spot to sit, a familiar, unwanted scent came on the wind that did not belong at this scenic place.
Blood.
Fresh blood.
Oltyx stood wavering on his feet and unable to keep the scent from crawling its fingers up his spine and into his engrams with whispers of delight. A fresh kill would be wondrous to indulge in. To get his claws sunk deep into flesh and rip it apart and-
The king let out a hiss as he clamped down on those urges with an irritated flash of lights. He had come out here to clear his mind, not go indulging in his wants. Whatever beast was out hunting here and disturbing his peace, he was certainly not going to let them go unpunished for treading where he was meant to relax. The scent was going to be clawing at his mind until he did something about it regardless. He would need to punish whatever fool had decided to spill blood and catch his attention of course. When a king left to seek solace, to have it interrupted by someone meant it needed to be punished. Turning his head in the direction of the tempting scent, Oltyx let out a low hiss before he took off after it.
Smell was one of the senses that had been maintained through the biotransference, more as a means to detect certain chemical smells that would indicate issues with technology. It was said that crypteks in particular had a strong sense of smell that related to their work and was more fine tuned to identify hundreds of different scents. Oltyx though was fairly certain his own surpassed those meddlers of the universe, especially for the particular scents of life that had him shuddering with absolute want and hunger.
He expected some hapless primitive humans out hunting without knowing a greater predator was about or some fool dark Aldari out doing a wretched ritual to their abyssal love of torment. What Oltyx didn't expect was a few canopteks scuttling around the corpse of a rather larger beast and a nervous looking necron that seemed to be directing them.
Oltyx softened his foot fall and eased his large frame into the shadows. With a thought, his necrondermis dulled and molted to allow him better camouflage as he crept in closer to take a look at the peculiar scene. The planet was one he had hunted on and come to before. The place was marked as his territory as far as he was concerned and to see other necrons upon its surface cut at his pride. The scene though at least had peaked his interest as it was rather bizarre.
The necron that was handling the canopteks was not a cryptek but a tall, yet rather slender necron who was looking around like they were made of flesh and waiting for some predator to pounce. This was no warrior despite the war scythe they held in one hand and was using more as a pole to lean on. That was easy to tell as the weapon looked too big for the slender necron, given how slight their frame was and as a trained warrior himself, Oltyx could tell this necron was holding it all wrong.
He doubted the necron had ever even touched a proper war scythe and only had this weapon for show and to look threatening to those that were unaware of how a necron warrior conducted themselves.
The great flayer king rested his large bulk idly into a crouch as he assessed the situation. The canopteks seemed to be carefully unearthing some sort of tomb. It wasn't the entrance to a tomb world. Oltyx would have sensed more keenly if this world had a sleeping fragment of a dynasty below it, but it seemed something of necron technology had been buried here. There was no energy signals that would have given it away and the architecture, although not primitive, seemed built only as a building meant to hold something within. The place had been sealed and buried, not with the intent of awakening.
The place had fallen to ruin, but now had been excavated for some reason by this odd necron.
Oltyx's keen eyes could tell that the structure was Szarekhan in style given the smooth angles of the ruins and the lack of carvings that would denote an older dynasty. It also had all the telling features in the angles that showed it wasn't some copy cat of another dynasty as well, but authentically touched by the lofty architects of the imperial dynasty. Oltyx let his eyes trace over the unearthed entrance with passing interest, lifting a hand to trace the glyphs he could spy from where he was hidden.
"Let sleep the guardians of the silent,"
He murmured to himself. The words were confusing, but it sounded like some sort of warning. The nervous looking necron certainly looked like he was ready for something terrible to fall upon his head as he stood there and watch the canopteks carefully dig out the entrance. Oltyx felt amusement, even more so as he looked over the body of the animal that had been killed by the canopteks.
It was a large kill, bipedal of some sort, and the cuts clean enough that the steaming inwards remained safely locked away still. Oltyx's gaze lingered longer on that fresh meat that was all but waiting for devour and felt his non-existent stomach clench and gurgle for something that would never fill it. The flayer king shifted restlessly, looking over the canopteks. None of them would pose a threat to him. Not a single one had any weaponry made for combat. These were ones made for careful archeology with small tools and delicate limbs that did the least damage to a sight. Oltyx could crush them with ease if he had too.
The necron, slender and inexperienced, certainly couldn't do anything to him either. There was no reason he should remain hidden in the shadows and not make it known that this necron had intruder upon what he considered his.
Oltyx gave a hum as he rose to his full height. It would be rather rude not to drop in and say his hellos as royalty must do. He wouldn't admit he wanted to drop in to get a closer look at this odd necron as he had noted a few details that were worth inquiring about. There were many dynasties that Ithakas had once interacted with, so the distinctive white at the face that made this necron look even more skeleton like gave away that he was part of the Duatakh Dynasty. The shadowy dynasty who were masters of the art of assassination had always been a rather neutral dynasty and Oltyx couldn't recall much interaction with them other than brief meetings over territory. The prominent horns that rose up from the crest of this necron indicated nobility of the highest pedigree, that much Oltyx recalled.
This necron, despite their clear inexperience in using a weapon at all, was royalty of his own dynasty and that was enough to peak Oltyx's interest.
The flayer king stepped out the foliage and allowed his necrondermis to gleam once more with the golden hue of Ithakas's own royal pedigree and took a smug pride in how the slender necron jumped. If oculars could widen, Oltyx was sure this necorn's oculars would be the size of moons in the sky. He watched as the noble necron fumbled with his tablet, dropping it and quickly grasped to hold onto his war scythe now with two hands.
"Y-you! What-what are you doing here!?"
The voice was loud, but lacked the strong command of someone experienced with throwing about orders. If anything, the delicate tones were more musical and suited to a court diplomat than a warrior.
"I should ask you that question, given that this is a planet I often take walks and hunts on for sport," Oltyx drawled as he crossed his arms and let his claws tap lightly against his arms, "You are trespassing upon my little preserve of spare snacks,"
"I'm not intruding! This planet is unclaimed on the star charts," the necron lowered the war scythe but his hands were shaking with a clear sign of fear, "The Szarekhan would have the most claim for it given they left their ruins here!"
Oltyx looked towards the ruins with an unimpressed tilt of the head, "Szarekhan," he drawled, "I'm sure they have no means to claim this as theirs, but given your appearance, I suppose you are still trespassing as you aren't of their dynasty either,"
The necron's oculars flickered comically as it settled in that they had not given a convincing reason for Oltyx to leave. They tensed all the more and the shaking increased as they took a few steps back, "W-w-well! This place is-is dangerous! You don't know what is here and you don't want to wake it up!"
"Wake what up?"
"None of your business!"
Such a response was something Oltyx himself would yell when he would get upset and put too much on the spot. It was the shout of a younger, inexperienced necron for sure and such a parallel made Oltyx wonder if this noble of the Duatakh Dynasty might be similiar in age t to himself. That sparked more intrigue as he drew closer and took in the look of this stranger.
Oltyx noted how fine quality the other necron's necrondermis was. Despite not being imperial Szarekhan, it almost felt like he had been favored enough to be gifted with beautiful necrondermis that would not be out of place in the grand imperial court for how it looked like an obsidian mirror. The necron was handsome, all nice, soft curves, untouched by the eons, and so dainty that Oltyx could probably crush him in one clawed hand. A fact the other necron seemed aware of as they clutched their war scythe for dear life and kept it level at the flayer king as if he could do something.
Oltyx couldn't help a chuckle as he inched in closer, enjoying how the other necron skittered back like a scared wenparas.
"Do you even know how to use that thing?" Oltyx asked.
"I know how!"
The lie was so painfully apparent that Oltyx couldn't help but burst out laughing, "Oh really? Shaking hands and legs usually aren't part of the training,"
There was a hiss of embarrassed steam out of the other necron and it was then Otlyx noted the peculiar ocular colors of this necron. One eye was the expected deep purple of the Duatakh, but the other eye was a bright green not unlike those of the imperial gaze. It was rare in the time of flesh for necrontyr to posses different colored eyes, even more rare after biotransference for such a trait to remain. It was arresting in a strange way and Oltyx found himself drawing closer. This stranger was truly a curiosity and considering all the little details was a rather good distraction for the king.
"Stay back or I'll-"
"Or you'll what? Take a swing at me and overbalance and fall flat on your face?" Oltyx drawled, "You don't have the stance of a proper warrior,"
"I have used a war scythe before!" the other necron protested as he tried to correct his stance as his patterns were bright with embarrassment.
"Really? then I suppose it will be easy to stop me,"
"What-"
Oltyx didn't wait for the retort and the obvious like. He moved quickly and grasped onto the war scythe just below the blade and tugged it forward. The slender necron yelped and would have been pulled into Oltyx's waiting clutches but the other necron at least had the good sense of letting go of the weapon and retreating back. The canopteks didn't rush to his defense as he had dropped the tablet of their controls on the ground and seemed to not be able to fumble a connection to them through the interstices.
Not a warrior at all to make so many mistakes.
Now with war scythe in hand, Oltyx buried the tip into the earth and leaned on it with a smug flash of his nodal patterns and the creaking curl of a smile on his face, "Now, do you have a name to go with all those wonderful warrior moves?"
"Not a name you need-need to know!" the necron said back, trying to look brave even as he was trembling all the more.
"You are Duatakh and the horns means you are nobility of their court, high nobility at that," Oltyx tilted his head, "I could start guessing the names of the phaeron's many children until I land on the right one. I recall that Phaeron Hassanarkh had quiet a few children,"
A fact that his father and other high nobility had jeered at to hide their own jealousy at how easy the peasant king of the Duatakh seemed to be able to extend his lineage. And not just with one partner given the rumors. That thought had Oltyx leaning in forward, a touch a mean little quip rising to his mind.
"Are you so reluctant to say your name because you are not born of him and his consort and are one of his bastards of the court?" he drawled, "Such a terrible thing that would be to wear the crown of nobility but be barely counted,"
The other necron looked sullen and was giving all the signs of a pout. There was no control of how his nodal patterns flashed worry, pure fear, and shame. Oltyx was reminded of himself. There was a youth there that was painfully familiar to his own. That only made this all the more intriguing to him as he started ot move closer, taking the war scythe with him.
"Come now. I'm the great flayer king and as one royal to another, you should be more open with the common courtesies of introduction," Oltyx said with mock politeness, "They call me King Valgûl,"
"I am not being polite to someone who sotle my war scythe and threatens me!" the necron stammered out.
Oltyx tsked, "How about polite to the one that is going to gut you through and feast on your inner workings then?"
The threat had little weight to it. Oltyx wasn't really into devouring other necrons. There was little joy in the taste or in the explosion of guts and fluids like there was in things made of flesh. This slender necron wouldn't be any fun to destroy as there was little to him to begin with. The stranger was tall but with nothing to fill him out. Something that cowered and whimper and gave no sport wasn't something worth the flayed one's time as a hunted target.
The attractive qualities of unmarred and gleaming necrondermis, somehow much more grand than even his gold plating though, that worked at other interests that were mixed up with a creeping desire to somehow make a friend of this one..
That was something he didn't need to tell this necron. He could enjoy how the Duatakh necron noble was cowering and shuffling back, colors all aglow and that peculiar green eye looking like it was glowing all the brighter as his fear ticked up. Something about that eye had Oltyx unable to look away from it. The glow seemed to tickle at something in the back of his mind like a memory of the past. His head ached, like old claws were trying to once more get into him past the hunger.
The feeling seemed to grow as the necron continued to panic more and more.
"Look, just leave, okay!? If-if it thinks I'm in danger, it might wake up before I can wrestle it under control and then you'll be in some serious trouble!" he stammered out, "I don't want trouble at all! So-so you just go and-"
"And what?" Oltyx looked over as the tomb was still being excavated open by the canopteks, "Let you walk away with some fancy Szarekhan technology?"
"It isn't technology! Not, really! Sort of? I-just-! It doesn't exactly like people! Or anything!" the necron held up both his hands, "Just go, okay?"
Oltyx could have just left. The necron before him with his odd eyes was not too aggressive when all the hubris was gone. Very much the sort that was use to diplomatic ventures and one now in a position where he was pleading for Oltyx to leave and trying to phrase it as for the flayer king's own safety. Probably the sort that was quick to try and use different tactics to try and mitigate risks.
"Give me a name and I'll consider leaving," Oltyx responded, "It can't be that bad to give a name, yes?"
The necron hesitated before looking away and after long consideration, heaved out a hiss of steam "…Sekerakh… my name is Sekerakh. Heir of the Duatakh Dynasty,"
The name didn't ring a bell, but then, Phaeron Hassanarkh of the Duatakh had many children. Far more than Oltyx's accursed father had produced. He wondered if Ithakas would be standing if his wretched father had managed to sire more children with his disease-ridden body. There certainly would have been more blades at the phaeron's neck, ready to eliminate him and not just gentle Djoseras.
More capable warriors that might have been able to turn the tides of battle and preserve the dynasty.
"Sekerakh," Oltyx repeated slowly, "Not a typical name for one of your dynasty,"
"I was adopted,"
Oltyx scoffed. Of course Phaeron Hassanarkh adopted children into his household. As if fathering twenty-four children wasn't enough. Maybe he should have asked to be adopted by the phaeron of the Duatakh long ago. It certainly seemed the peasant king was in the habit of collecting children to his household that it might have even worked.
"Ah," Oltyx's claws clicked against the shaft of the war scythe, "And you seem rather young,"
"I was barely an adult at the biotransference," Sekerakh spat out, "Happy now? Have enough to sate your curiosity and leave?"
"No, not really, "
Oltyx felt his mood perk up despite how terrified and rude the other necron was. Sekerakh was probably near his own age. He had barely reached adulthood before he was taken to the biotransference as well and if this had been the time of flesh and under different circumstances, they could have been friends on some regard. The flayer curse made it so the desire for connections seemed to increase as well and Oltyx found himself starting to get more into the space of the other necron with an imploring rumble. He felt a mild annoyance though as Sekerakh quickly stepped away and maintained his distance.
The rejection of his company by non-flayer necrons was still a sore point, even if it was perhaps justified. The flayer king idly raised himself to his full impressive height, enjoying how Sekerakh reacted in a cringe of fear away from him. No point in courting friendship, but he could play with the poor thing a bit more before chasing him off. A pity.
It would be nice to have some more companions he could hold a conversation with and talk about htings not relate to carnage and dally away the days with small talk and trite hobbies. This necron, not being a warrior, probably had far more chances to indulge in more creative hobbies that Oltyx had always wished to try.
Not to mention his own curls of desire that came with wanting to be able to run his claws over something beautiful and be able to touch gently something precious. Not to break it or to leave marks, but just to hold it. Sekerakh was a lovely, fragile looking necron, so different than the ones he knew. Yenekh, if he was here, would no doubt agree on that assessment.
"So, what is in the tomb that is so terrible?" Oltyx looked over to the entrance briefly, "That is certainly a terrifying warning scribble about it,"
"It is none of your business!"
There was the defiance again. The fool with his head held high, chin tilted up, and burning with a small kernel of courage that reminded Oltyx too much of himself. No doubt he was trying to appease someone and get praised for doing well at his task. It made Oltyx grimace as he took a few steps forward, still chasing the other necron slowly about the clearing.
"It is when this is my favorite planet to hunt on," Oltyx said idly, "You are really going to die to try and make your father proud of you? or your court? They are probably laughing at sending you to such a mission in hopes you get killed,"
A small projection onto Sekerakh. Perhaps he hoped it would be true and he would see a fellow spirit that had always been suffering under expectations. Sekerakh though huffed out some steam and reared himself up all the more, although he couldn't get beyond Oltyx's chest in their height differences.
"My father is proud of me! He sent me here because I'm the only one that control what was left here and get it into a secure location before it does terrible damage," Sekerakh snapped back, "I'm loved and I never doubt that for a moment!"
There was much lacking in Sekerakh in terms of being a warrior, but the conviction of which he spoke about his father struck at Oltyx. There was a flash of a sneer in his patterns and a tugging at necrondermis about his mouth that made the jagged leer that was etched into it widen a touch. He, a great flayer king, one who was beloved by his feral kin and whom they adored, was not about to admit to that stab of jealousy that lingered about his family. The idea of any father being proud of their child, one that was adopted and not even of the bloodline, was unheard of among necrons.
Or at least, that is what Oltyx told himself to cope at times with the reality of what his father had been like. All fathers of the highest ranks of society were like Unnas. He didn't want to hear that such was not the case.
Sekerakh stood there, slender shoulders back and reared up to his perhaps impressive height to other necrons, and was staring Oltyx down now. The flayer king stared back, leaning in a touch, making a great show of how much he had to lean down to make ocular contact with Sekerakh at eye level.
"So your adopted father loves you, but what about your blood one hm? Can't have been too much love there right if they left you to be adopted," Oltyx sneered.
"They loved me too," Sekerakh responded with that same conviction, "I can recall how they sang to me and what they left for me to show it. Why are you so nitpicking on that huh? Did your father not love you or something?"
Oltyx let out a bitter laugh, "Nobility doesn't love their children and mine certainly was only going to focus his attention on the healthier of his crotch spawns," he sneered openly, "Even though I was just as good as my older brother, if not more so,"
The flayer king hefted the war scythe up and Sekerakh's moment of bravado vanished as he started to back pedal. Oltyx was in a rather ticked off mood, but at the same time he wasn't looking to actually harm the other necron. Sekerakh was just skittish and brash. Two traits that Oltyx couldn't fault him for unless he wanted to fault himself. He just wanted to mess with him, like playing with prey he had no intention of really devouring. It was just a game to vent bit, especially as he had felt a stab of jealousy and hated how Sekerakh wasn't in the mood to perhaps be a little bit more friendly.
Might as well give him something to get spooked about.
He flipped the war scythe around and pointed the tip towards Sekerakh, dangerously close to shoving it right through the smaller necron, "but that is neither here nor there, right? It is just the two of us here and you trespassing and doing a little digging on my territory,"
"I'm not planning on staying here!" Sekerakh protested, "And you don't want this on your territory! Best I handle it now-"
"You won't even tell me what it is and I'm to expect you have the good will of flayed ones in mind?" Oltyx drawled, "You really are a funny little and rather stupid noble, aren't you?"
"H-hey! I'm not-"
Sekerakh jumped as the war scythe was pressed into the dirt near centimeters from his feet as the powerful flayer king leaned in, "It can't be too bad if a nervous, cowering, spineless scarab like you was sent scurrying here to dig whatever it is up. I think I can handle it,"
"You don't have to insult me so much!" Sekerakh complained as he eyed the war scythe and took more steps back, "I didn't even do anything-"
"I was trying to have a relaxing walk and you spilled blood and got me all riled up," Oltyx looked over to the slain creature and felt his non-existing stomach grumble although he clamped down on the desire to start drooling lubricant all over himself, "You have to pay the price for that,"
"The beast? It got in the way! If you want it, you can have it!" Sekerakh shook his head, "Really, if that is all you wanted, just ask and stop being such a giant…a giant pillbug in a- in a whore's ass!"
A colorful insult to be sure. Oltyx wanted to laugh more than get upset over such a statement. Seemed Sekerakh saw himself some sort of poet of words. No doubt he was the type of nobility that could lounge around while others did the harder tasks. Nothing wrong with that, but Oltyx wanted to teach him a lesson, just to really scare him and make sure he remembered today.
"A whore's ass? Well, who is being rude now, little scarab shit?" Oltyx drawled as he leveled the war scythe at him, "Just for that, I'm going to have your head meet your ass!"
He wasn't planning any harm to Sekerakh. He had just wanted to scare the other necron and have himself a good laugh at how easy it was to intimidate the nobility of other dynasties now. With his greater bulk and the threat of the virus clinging to his gruesome, gilded form, so many trembled and coward away from him. He had pushed the war scythe forward, intent on nearly hitting the noble and making him drip oil in fear.
Sekerakh though, at the thrust of the weapon, had let out a wail and took a few steps back, tripping ungracefully and falling flat on his back with both his arms raised in defense. Oltyx would have laughed and put out a few choice insults and sneers except that the cry Sekerakh had let out was answered.
And that answer drove a spike of primordial fear right through Oltyx that had his vocal actuators muting and every system in his body freezing as a loud, thunderous sound rushed through his every system and shook his necrondermis.
The sound was like a roar, but also like the screams of an entire dynasty coming up from some place deep in the earth, like the very gates of the ancient underworld of mythology had burst open. The earth was trembling with the force of that vicious, angry cry as well as with the force of something powerful rumbling awake far below the dirt. The canopteks who had been dutifully digging out the ruins had gone into a panic and were rushing around for cover without prompting as if their primitive minds could sense the great threat that was coming. The creatures of flesh were running away and no doubt the primitive humans miles away were cowering in their structures as the earth heaved.
Oltyx's hearing picked up the sounds of something digging furiously below the earth. How those ruins trembled as something was pushing its way out from within. Sekerakh lay curled up on the ground, oculars bright but hte green one was brighter and it made Oltyx's head ache all the more as something powerful was trying to dig fingers in and force his body to compliance in a way that reminded him of the once powerful command protocols of the imperial seat.
The hunger and crawling babble of the flayer curse collided with that, and something inside him, another more feral voice that once spoke with hunger and vicious need was wailing at him to run. Oltyx stood there frozen though, either in confusion or in his own defiance of whatever it was that was coming forth.
This thing, wailing and snarling, screaming in voices countless and rasped enraged claws against the earth was like nothing he had ever heard of. The entrance of the tomb was starting to bulge out and light poured from the cracks. He could hear-
"Oltyx! Hide!"
The flayer king turned and his oculars flickered in some confusion before with a yelp, he found himself being half tackled, half carried by Yenekh across the ruins and down over a ledge. He landed hard on his spine, cursing, but before he could demand an answer, he was being pulled into a crevasse formed by the stone and a hand over his mouth as if that would silence him.
"Be still and make no moves or sounds less you wish to die quickly," his beloved commander hissed.
Oltyx stared at him before squirming about, "Yenekh! I told you not to follow me!" he hissed, "What are you even-"
"Quiet!" Yenekh snapped, "Never hunt with me again, but I'd rather that than for you to speak another word and bring what is coming upon us!"
"What is it?"
"To say its name is to invite death and bring its terrible gaze upon us," Yenekh whispered as the din from below the earth continued to grow louder, "I have seen the Silent King's most vicious pets who once sat at the side of the C'tan. I do not want to be at the receiving ends of his rage now,"
"But-"
Both flayed ones jumped as the ruins erupted at the center with a thunderous explosion that felt like it shook the entire planet. Oltyx wasn't sure what had caused it, only that the whole area was bathed in a sickly green light like some mighty weapon had been fired from a flagship of a phaeron. It was so bright and the radiation of it so terrible that life withered away all around the ruins to a ghastly grey. There was a moment of silence before everything shook again as something heavy landed upon the ground and another loud call, in the voice of hundreds of mouths, echoed in the clearing.
Oltyx was frozen silent and was sure his oculars had grown two sizes as Yenekh pulled him close against his frame. Rare was it to see his mighty Yenekh looking so afraid and tense. The admiral's face was set in a gruesome scowl, but his patterns read only fear as he pulled Oltyx close and lowered them close to the ground and as far back into the darkness as possible. There was no noise, yet the air was too still and silent to be normal. Panic pulsed in Oltyx's core and a part of him wanted to rush out or call his brethren to his aid to confront whatever had been awakened. Yenekh was unmoving, half over top of him like a protective blanket of metal draped in moldering flesh and seeing the mighty razor unwilling to fight was what kept Oltyx from moving.
For the first time, Oltyx felt not like a mighty predator, but like prey hiding from a greater threat that would show no mercy if he were to be found.
Nothing was happening though. The world seemed frozen. No sound of the canopteks or even Sekerakh's wails as if something had hushed him quiet. The minutes slowly crawled by. The world lay dead as far as the eye could see, reduced to ash and ruins. The flayer king dared to shift a bit as he turned to regard Yenekh with a hushed question just starting to form in his memetic buffer when there was a shift in the earth and a thunderous crash just above them. The ruins they hid deep within shuddered and debris rained down. For a moment the ceiling looked like it might give way, but it held.
Barely so.
Yenekh didn't move. Oltyx found himself frozen, his eyes fixed at the entrance to their hiding spot.
All he could see were claws. Long, brutal claws that could skewer him from hip to mouth and still have plenty of room left to do the same to Yenekh. Each claw was made of necrondermis of a beautiful quality that glimmered mirror-like and reflected the moons and stars above perfectly. Each claw was attached to long fingers that were articulated in details that would make any plasmomancer drool. The hand was splayed out before curling as the thing moved and Oltyx found himself counting one, two, three hands on one side.. This thing made of necrondermis walked on the hands like feet and made not a sound as it did so despite its incredible side and moved with a fluid motion that would put many nobles to shame.
Then Oltyx heard a voice, soft and gentle like a chiding mother, but ice cold and with an utter lack of remorse beneath it and dripping in mocking hatred.
"Where are you, little pests? Scampering around? Thinking I won't find you and rip you apart?" the voice tsked lightly as those hands carefully carried the thing around and a flicking rattling pair of tails trailed along behind it, "You dare to threaten and distress my master's bloodline? Then I shall make sure your bloodline pays,"
Oltyx almost wanted to sneer that all of his bloodline was dead, but a wiser part of him knew before he could even get the first syllable out of his retort, the thing would have reduced him to nothing. The size alone would make him seem small.
He wondered what the whole of this thing looked liked but he dared not look upt to glimpse what monstrosity of a machine the Szarekhan had hidden away.
It was taking its time and despite its anger and it seemed to be enjoying the little hunt as those claws picked over stones and flipped them over with the ease of a child searching for insects under the pavement rocks. Fear was heavy in Oltyx's core, and yet there was a strange thrill that settled heat lower at the idea of being hunted like this.
The thrill of it was something he was trying to shove to the deepest points of his engrams.
"Come out, little pests. You can't hide forever," it said in a sing-song, high-pitched childish voice, although the tone of it was warped and all wrong in a way that made Oltyx want to shiver, "I swear the punishment will be very swift,"
The claw tips of one hand danced over the roof of their shelter and traced slowly along the opening and for a brief moment of indescribable terror, Oltyx thought they would be discovered and this thing would kill them both. His hands curled about Yenekh tightly, as if holding his admiral would somehow keep this nightmare at bay. The claws slowly started to lift-
A clunk was heard and across the way from his hiding spot, and it was with slow realization that Oltyx saw a few flayed ones scurry over the ruins. No doubt it had felt Oltyx's distress and had come to inspect what was going on and to defend their king. Their feral, feverish oculars stared in something of pure awe at whatever stood above and owned those terrible claws
There was no warning that could have been given for the flayed ones to hide.
Faster than even his mind could process, the clawed hand was away from the opening and crashing down into the pack of flayed ones like a gleeful, murderous cat. There was panicked rasping burbles and as one was smashed into a pulp and the others chased and skewered onto long claws. Fluid splattered over the ground as the claws lifted upwards and seconds later a gnashing, grating noise of metal being chewed upon could be heard. Bodies dropped to the ground, all of them headless and twitching.. The clawed hands came down, hooking the very tip of one claw up under the chest and with vicious delight, this monstrous canoptek began to tear the body apart like it was playing with its kill.
There was something elegant to the play that reminded Oltyx of how he and his kin feasted on their own prey. From the crunching and chewing noises it made though, it must have a mouth, an actual one in some sense, that allowed it to consume.
This thing could eat and rip and tear in a way that mocked the flayed ones with what they couldn't have.
Oltyx shifted over the noise of the destruction, wanting to get a glimpse, just wanting to see-
Yenekh pulled him back roughly and forced him face down to the ground. The noise caused the thing to pause, letting out a clicking gurgle, "More pests lurking around? Come out silly things! I'm not afraid of your little curse, the little whispers of the C'tan you can't ignore. Come and and I'll devour you whole,"
The voice of the thing pulled at the flayer curse like a sweet song and Oltyx felt that heat grow more poignant. His rational senses remained firm as did his grip on Yenekh who seemed to be more concerned than he, more aware of whatever it was above him that it kept him from acting on those siren tones.
Yenekh's clawed hand closed around a rock and with the accuracy a fleet admiral would have to master, he threw it across the clearing and into the woods, letting it rustle the leaves and trees. The canoptek turned with that awful, shrieking din and was off with a crashing, bounding leap. The clearing was silent save the steady drip of oil, lubricant, and life fluids from the destroyed flayed one sliding off of rocks onto a body maimed so terribly no resurrection forge could ever revive them. Oltyx felt his core sink for the deaths and firmly pushed an order to his kin to stay away.
Yenekh remained still and silent, holding Oltyx close to his chest.
The Flayer King wasn't sure how long they both laid like that. Long enough that the sun had come and went and the sound of flies could be heard descending on the fetid animal carcass. There was no sound of the canopteks or of Sekerakh. Nor had that thing come back, or at least as far as Oltyx's strained senses could tell. It was Yenekh who moved first and pulled himself out and quickly looking around. He remained tensed a long time before hissing out a sigh and rising to his full height.
"It is gone,"
"What is gone?" Oltyx tried to make it sound like a demand and not like a nervous child as he looked around.
The ruins were obliterate and nothing was left to show that they were there save some broken masonry. The fragments of the warning were nearly dust and pebbles under the great mass of whatever had crawled out of the tomb.
"We do not speak its name, less it call them upon you and I don't want to tempt that superstitious belief now when one was so close," Yenekh said grimly, "Just know that it is the greatest of canoptek's ever made, once harbingers made to serve the C'tan, then bound to the will of the Silent Kill to rip their former masters apart,"
Oltyx tilted his head at the former admiral, "You've seen them?"
"Once from a distance during a battle that was turning ill against the Szarekhan," Yenekh said softly, "One of them was enough to destroy great hosts of ships on their own, and with utmost glee as they are built with all the burning hatred of their masters, meant to mock us,"
"Utmost glee," Oltyx repeated as he looked at the shredded remains of one of his subjects.
He shuddered and decided he did not want to meet whatever this was again. The Silent King could bring his guardians back to his side as long as he left Oltyx and his flayed ones out of its grip. Oltyx looked askance at Yenekh.
"Are you sure it is gone?"
Yenekh nodded, "It it was still here, you would have seen it by now with how much we are speaking. It seems it has been called," he turned to look towards where there were a few smashed canopteks, although it was clear most were destroyed when it emerged. The war scythe too was untouched.
Oltyx had a feeling that the thing had left with Sekerakh as it had responded to his distress which had him wondering why.
"Are they always uncontrollable?" Oltyx asked.
Yenekh shook his head, "Only the Silent King and his lineage can control them. It is what makes them a powerful weapon in his arsenal that can be deployed, although I thought most of them were put to sleep when he left. Why do you ask?"
Oltyx was silent as he looked at the war scythe and wondered is Sekerakh had been who he said he was. The pieces though were too vague and not quiet into place and certainly not something the flayer king wanted to consider when he didn't want to call upon some ancient, dreadful weapon upon his own head or that of his kin.
"It doesn't matter," he murmured, giving a shake of his head and now fixing Yenekh with a glower of lights, "What are you doing here is the bigger question? I recall I told you to not follow me,"
Yenekh gave a small hum as he nudged against his king gently, "I couldn't leave you alone. You have terrible luck and a habit of getting bad ideas into your memetic buffer and acting upon them,"
Oltyx huffed, "What bad ideas?"
"Whatever one caused one of the Silent King's most deadly guardians to be roused from its slumber," Yenekh drawled, "What did you even do?"
The Flayer King turned over telling Yenekh about Sekerakh and how he had been making fun and playing around rather cruelly with the other necron, but decided to keep that to himself. He wasn't about to take the blame for summoning an ancient guardian of the Silent King by perhaps accidentally threatening what might be one of the royal lineages.
"I was minding my own business," Oltyx said with a shrug, "Wrong place at the wrong time,"
Yenekh's gaze made it clear he did not believe his king and the skepticism was more than strong in how his lights flashed. Oltyx hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms like a put upon child and sent his own glower of lights back at his lover.
"It's true! I did nothing wrong!"
"As you say, my lord,"
Oltyx lifted his chin, "It is as I say and what I say is it simply just woke up while I was looking at the ruins. The Silent King must have just summoned it awake at the wrong time and it decided it didn't like me,"
"I don't think it is that. Who couldn't like you, my great lord?" Yenekh's voice had a teasing lift to it and Oltyx would have rolled his oculars if he could.
Instead, he settled for flashing his mood loudly to his partner and crossing his arms tighter. Yenekh shook his head as he drew in closer and gave a small nudge against the other necron's shoulder, "Come now, my lord. We've escaped death despite your poor luck once more rearing its head,"
Oltyx just stood still and refused to give in to the nudges from the other flayed one or how Yenekh was rasping those jutted, jagged teeth of necrondermis against his shoulders in a pleasing way. He couldn't control the flush of his core though. Those small touches always got right through any of his defenses, especially as he knew if he didn't respond, Yenekh's hands would get a touch more insistent and move lower.
The flayer king squirmed a touch with his legs shyly pulling together at the thought.
"You know what would help you feel better, my lord?" Yenekh gave a nuzzle up against Otlyx's shoulder and up to his neck, "I think you should wet your appetite. You haven't indulged of late and you always get cranky when you haven't gotten some blood upon your mouth,"
Oltyx scoffed at the idea and looked away, "I will feed in my own good time,"
"Still so shy about letting go a bit. Even the king's guardian, a noble, lovely canoptek like that, understands the joys of tearing into something," Yenekh's hands both came up to cup his cables, fondling them as if Oltyx had a chest to play with, "I think getting out your frustrations in a bloody mess will do you good,"
A moan escaped Oltyx as he leaned up into the touch against his hanging inner cables.Yenekh's skilled hands delicately fondled them between his claws and it sent sensations of pleasure down his spine. Sometimes it felt like the flayer virus made all his sensors feel more delicate and the pleasure more intense. At times, he almost felt like he could still have a heat, dripping and moaning, as Yenekh warmed his body up again. If this had still been the time of flesh, he would have let Yenekh have him again and again and prick him full, the court be damned. He could give his father something to be ashamed of at least.
"Perhaps you'll be happier to feed if I am the one to feed you?" Yenekh asked soothingly as he nuzzled against the side of his lord's face plate, "I can cut it into delicate little pieces for you to devour, right from my hand,"
The thought of watching Yenekh use those claws to slice up flesh and offer it to him had Oltyx giving a louder, eager moan as he melted back against his lower, turning his head to give a shy nuzzle back.
"I suppose that is a fair compromise," he rasped out, "I am feeling rather ha…peckish,"
A chuckle rumbled out of Yenekh as he gave a small nuzzle and started to pull Oltyx along to where the corpse of the beast lay, now bloated as it began to swell with the insects of the planet that had landed upon it in the day. The noxious smell of decay and rot though mixed with the scent of blood in a way that tugged at a feral madness that wanted to just push his face into the mess and feed. It was a welcomed, familiar smell and it seemed it was fate for it to be a meal as the ruins had shielded it from being burned up when the thing had emerged.
It was only his wish to see his Yenekh prepare the best cuts of the thing for him to engulf that helped to reign in that inner hunger. Oltyx though was sure his lover would have better enjoyed if he had just sought to consume the beast messily. The times that Oltyx did lose control always seemed to be the times where Yenekh was then rutting him harshly in the gore with a wild passion. The thought of that had Oltyx dripping more lubricant down his legs as he let himself be settled to a kneeling position before the rotting carcass.
Yenekh pressed his face up against Oltyx's dragging his jagged mouth against the other's mouth until the points caught. For a few seconds they were locked together, metal screeching against metal in some parody of a kiss before Yenekh pulled away.
"Now, let's get you fed, my beautiful king," the former admiral rasped, "I love seeing you take your meals,"
"Then don't keep me waiting," Oltyx squirmed a touched, not sure if he was asking to be fed or fucked in that moment.
A little of both.
The want to feed was strong, but he was well aware of how aroused he was too and not just from Yenekh's treatment. He would have to look over later how being hunted by that thing earlier and the sheer terror seemed to have been a turn on as well. Something big enough and strong enough to devour him had a strange, sexual appeal and he wondered how many times his prey had felt a strange euphoria when he tore into them.
His wandering thoughts returned to Yenekh as he extended one long claw and split into the side of the massive beast's flank. Immediately organs and rotting flesh burst out from the skin, steaming with a rush of rancid odor and swarms of squirming insects. The sight did nothing to curb his appetite, especially as Yenekh carved out a piece of gory meat and held it up like an exquisite appetizer to be tasted at a gala,
"Open wide,"
Oltyx couldn't open his mouth, but he did lean in, oculars dimming as he felt the piece of flesh press into his unmoving mouth. The carnal piece of meat slipped over wires and down over his neck struts to splatter wetly into his chest and sizzle on his core. The smell of burning flesh was added to the wretched smell and the flayer king could only groan as he lifted his head as another piece of flesh was given to him so gently.
"You are ravenous today, my lord," Yenekh said softly, "Where you going for a walk or were you being greedy and trying to hunt without me?"
"Mmm, it was a walk," Oltyx murmured as he felt more flesh slide down his neck. Some pieces wetly slid down over his chest and leaving crimson rivers against his gold armor while other pieces sizzled and popped as they dropped through his inner systems. Blood was dripping over his cables and onto his legs. Piece of it were sliding off to the ground to mix red with the clear green liquid that was dripping out of his twitching cunt.
"Perhaps it should have been a hunt with how much you want to eat right now," Yenekh said as he offered his hand to his lord a handful of writhing meat.
Oltyx looked at the grisly offering before he was grasping Yenekh's hand in both of his own and pressing it to his mouth to wetly feed. The gore smeared over his face and down his body. He couldn't help but squirm at the relief his mind felt to be "fed" and sate his hunger for a few moments. The euphoria that came with devouring was mixing with his growing arousal. Blood baked along his cables and gore dripped down along his thighs and over his perked cock.
Yenekh could see how aroused his lord had become and only chuckled as he offered another handful of gore to his king while the other hand moved lower to tease two wicked claws against Oltyx's cunt, "You've gotten so aroused, my liege. Is the meal that good?"
"Very good," Oltyx groaned around a sloppy smear of blood against his face, "So good,"
He raised himself up and let his legs splay out wider to allow Yenekh's fingers to push further up inside him. His hips were rocking as he felt every sensor inside him alight at the stimulation and produce more lubricant. He was feeling all the more heated and smoke sizzled out of his systems from the gore roasting against his insides as the feral sides relished the macabre scene.
"It is just the two of us out here," Yenekh said softly, "Do you want to return to your throne to entertain all your subjects or do you only want me?"
Oltyx flushed at the suggestion and let out a soft whine. It was still embarrassing to him how when he was riled up and in the midst of feeding, his inhibitions and shyness towards the act of sex vanished and he was as wanton as a street whore. The other flayed ones certainly liked to "help" sate him when that happened and leave him a wrecked mess. He looked up at Yenekh with a shy tilt of his head before he leaned into his lover with a pleading whine of his systems.
"Just you. I just want you right now," he whispered.
"As you wish, my dreaded lord,"
Yenekh's clawed hands moved to his hips and turned him around and lightly pushed Oltyx to get on all fours. The flayer king felt a rush of embarrassment, but also a surge of arousal at the act. It was humiliating to be in such a position, but he found himself lowering his upper body and raising his hips upwards, legs sliding apart to show his dripping, needy slit. Yenekh chuckled softly as he raised a gore covered finger to trace the lips lightly and then down to Oltyx's clit tucked just under his ridged cock.
Oltyx couldn't help shivering and letting out a soft whimper at the touches. He was shivering and hissing out steam as he looked back at Yenekh as best he could, his own clawed hands grasping into the rotting corpse of the beast now and feeling it squelch in his grasp.
"You are very aroused today. Have I not been paying enough attention to your other needs?" Yennekh asked as he let his thumbs slide into Oltyx's cunt and gently pull the lips apart.
The flayer king's grip tightened in the fleshy mess he was pushed into. Thick globs of lubricant escaped him as he was inspected like a breeding whore in the lower wards. Those sharp thumbs pricked at his inner sensors and deep inside, Oltyx felt himself clench up, eager and ready for more.
"Want you," Oltyx murmured out meekly as he raised his hips, "Yenekh, please…!"
Yenekh gave a nod and a few last rubs of his thumbs before he reared up and took his impressive, barbed cock in hand, "As you wish, my lord,"
The first plunge had Oltyx crying out loudly and his face and upper body being plunged into the gore of the rotting carcass. The second thrust had him raising his hips and wailing in broken need. By the third, he was already unable to keep any sense of dignity as he sated his hunger and his lust together. His clawed hands clenched into flesh and blood spattered over his mouth as he was pressed into the steaming mess of gore. He felt it against his mouth and he slurped and gargled loudly as Yenekh fucked him. the wet noises of flesh mixed with the slap of lubricant and metal together as Yenekh rutted into him without mercy.
For a hazy moment, Oltyx could almost imagine they were flesh again and those wet noises were their bodies coming together. That this was some tryst behind his father's back, of the royal son, splayed out and presenting for some common blood and letting Yenekh have him in such a shameful way. Oltyx was crying out louder, the blurs of reality and fantasy, of hunger and sex, crashed together and left him crackling out only broken machine noises. It chased away his wistful thoughts of a past that couldn't be and grounded him in the reality he did have.
This pleasure that shook him to his core and the lover that held him close, so tightly, as if he were something precious to be had completely.
Oltyx let out a wailing, choked and babbled cry as he overloaded. His cock exploded, shooting his seed all over the mess of flesh and mixing green and red together in a wretched color. Yenekh gave a final hard thrust before he found his own peak, moaning as he erupted deep inside his lord. The translucent material stretched and bulged upwards over Oltyx's hips and inflated with Yenekh's cum. red and green swirled together in the bloated mess and Oltyx let out a low moan as he felt full and sated.
There was a breathy chuckle as Yenekh ran a hand over the expanded inflation, rubbing it gently.
"My my, you've certainly eaten a lot, haven't you, my lord? Such a glutton," he said lovingly.
Oltyx gave a murmur of a noise as he let one of his bloodstained hands move to caress the hand rubbing his bloated innards. He could feel the pinprick of Yenekh's claws as his lover squeezed some at the bulge and the slosh of liquid within. Oltyx's just moaned and rocked his hips back.
"And a glutton for other things too," Yenekh rasped as he started to move his hips again, "You want more?"
Otlyx's gave a silent nod and a low moan as he rocked his hips backwards more insistently.
"You sure you don't want the rest of the clan here to take their turns sating you? You seem to be in a peaked mood, dear Oltyx," Yenekh purred.
"Only you," Otlyx panted as he reached to grasp onto his lover's hand and squeeze tight, "I want only you to ha! Fuck me today…!"
"As you command, my lord,"
The hunger was always there and it warped his mind, Oltyx knew that. It filled him with the hunger of flesh and the hunger for things he no longer had. The memories of the time of flesh and of his gore-filled reality mixed together in a jumble when he was being fucked. Bones snapped under his grasp and organs popped and spilled out their wretched contents. Through it all though, Oltyx pressed his body into it, covering himself in all of it as his lover fucked him senseless.
It felt like his insides were ready to burst with how much of Yenekh's lubricant was filled up inside him. It made him look like he had a bulging belly once more or a womb that was filled plump with a scandal. Oltyx didn't care and in that moment, he would have given up everything if it meant just having Yenekh hold him tight and make such powerful love to him. Oltyx found he couldn't stop chanting Yenekh's name, wailing and screaming it like he was trying to raise the ancient gods themselves in joyous praise.
It was Yenekh that was his last thought as he overloaded hard and felt his overwrought systems collapse into a full restart.
He wasn't sure when he started to regain functions again. Oltyx only knew he was laying in the carcass of the animal that was torn to shreds and now coated in his cum. He was aware he was laying in a puddle of whatever fluids had rushed out of his cunt as well, leaving him twitching and his insides stretched and nearly pulled out when Yenekh's barbed cock had finally pulled out. Dark oil was escaping his systems from a burst fuel line and his flux fluids were steaming against his cables and ribs.
He felt ruined, but so thoroughly so in a way he approved of.
"Feeling better, my lord?" Yenekh asked.
Oltyx felt the soft, gently caress of lubricant and blood covered fingers against his face mask and raised his head with a low, raspy purr of his aching systems.
"Much better,"
Yenekh nuzzled him and Oltyx returned the favor, stretching back to do so like a cat arching up in warm sunlight, "I'm very glad. I do not like to see you in a dour mood, my beautiful king," Yenekh said softly, "I much prefer to see you like this,"
Oltyx flushed as he sat up more, "Ruined and out of his mind like some common harlot?"
"Like he's enjoying himself completely without a care for what anyone says and embracing his new hungers completely," Yenekh said as he let a clawed finger press into the blood covered mouth of his lord, "I love you when you are a feral king,"
Oltyx's core fluttered and glowed at the praise and he couldn't help a soft sigh. His hand raised up to stroke along side Yenekh's head before leaning in to give a kiss. The core made their death masks stick together, like a pair of macabre lips before Oltyx pulled away.
"Carry me home," he commanded as he wrapped both arms about Yenekh's neck, "I want to return and rest so we can go hunting,"
"Hunting so soon?" Yenekh asked amused.
"I feel inspired," Oltyx said as he trailed a finger alongside the sharp features of his lover's face plate, "And I'm starting to feel peckish now,"
"There is no sating you," Yenekh's voice was amused with fake exasperation as he picked his lord up and rose to his full height, "Hopefully this hunt won't involve nearly getting killed because you awoke ancient horrors,"
Oltyx hummed, "Maybe. We will see if my luck is generous today,"
He didn't want to admit yet to his dear Yenekh that he had been turned on by the whole thing. Maybe he would find Sekerakh again to bully and terrorize just to have the experience again. Maybe he would ask if Sekerakh wanted to join him and Yenekh next time and have that thing he was looking for watch on.
Oltyx let his imagination run wild as he nuzzled into Yenekh's shouldered and dragged the jagged points of his mouth against the metal until it made sparks and left scratches.
Such new thoughts would be rather lovely to banish away his morose moods when they would take him. Such lovely, pleasant dreams of pleasure and feasting.