Spirits of the Earth

There were a choice few houses this far out. They called it a settlement, but it wasn't much of one. Five homes clustered around what amounted to a fur trading post, which was the smallest building in the entirety of the place. Two of the homes had been empty for the better part of the year. It was a hard winter, and those that couldn't find food or face the struggles of the rough land had abandoned them to the next family or come-along that thought they could make it.

Shura had found himself at the settlement by accident. Half aware of who he was, he'd shuffled through the cold wrapped in a thick coat. Following the ever siren song of the blood that called to him. Over her. This way. Come along.

His legs moved despite the cold, even though he was hungry, but at least he was home. With a gray sky overhead and the biting chill of frost against his face. Cold was familiar, friendly even. He liked it in the wintry landscape. Where critters tried to scurry but never made it far. He never went wanting here.

What Shura did, exactly, once he arrived at the settlement, he didn't remember. He rarely did. People would either greet the odd, slender stranger wrapped in furs, or their thick wooden doors would remained barred to him. It didn't really matter. He'd leech the life out of them one way or another. Crack their bodies and bend them in ways nature never intended, smashing them against the wood until it broke open and admitted him inside.

Each home. Men, women, children. It didn't matter. He wanted it all, and it all called to him.

In the end, Shura sat in the center of the largest home's living room. Surrounded by the small settlement's former settlers. Broken, contorted, and malformed into a bloody ring of mass murder around him. At some point, a fire had been started, but he didn't remember that either. His fur coat was splattered and matted, hanging off his arms and pooled around his waist while his deep, red eyes stared listlessly at the fire.

Occasionally, a thick, liquid red hand would lift from the mass and add another log. Keeping him warm in the house.

His clothes were ruined, his white skin splashed and marred. Otherwise, though, Shura relished the quiet of the room and the occasional crackle of the fire. No one talked to him, nothing sang to him. He could rest here, for a little while, before something started to call to him once more.

Until then, though...

Volker was a born wanderer. A man who drifted listlessly from one place to another
Iikea corpse in a pond. He went where food and shelter were, crouching in abandoned buildings one day and living under pine boughs the next. Killers of his type had to keep moving, they weren't tolerated for long. If a township or village got ahold of him even Oor would grow tired of healing him after a while. So he walked, quietly and uncomplaining. Oor could stave off the worst of the cold but what he needed was shelter.

Lucky for him a town was nestled in this frozen hellscape. It looked small, no more than a few dozen. Much like the place he'd grown up in, really. He made for it, the grouchy spirit at his side glaring mercilessly at him. 'I'd ask you what possessed you to crawl up the ice gods frozen asshole, but I'm guessing you're too cold to talk. Oor commented.

Volker snorted. Something had happened here. There was the smell of blood thick on the air. That didn't happen in such a cold place unless blood was spilled. Very recently. He turned a corner and saw one of the bodies, rapidly cooling in the frozen air. Her body steamed, giving off the last of its heat. He squatted and looked at her. Food, for a few days at least, in its own meat locker no less. Meat out here would last for weeks. He grabbed one arm of the dead girl and guided her up onto his back. Sawing through frozen flesh wasn't the best. He was about to go see if any roofs were still viable when he caught sight of smoke.

Bad idea. Guessing what killed these idiots is crouched in there.

Volker ignored him.He headed for the building, and opened the door. A figure was in front of the fire, cuddly
ed in bloody furs. Volker gave him a wide berth. They were two predators seeking refuge from the snow. Little more.

Shura didn't know how much time had passed. He didn't track time. Especially not when there was quiet, and peace, and heat. For the longest moment, he was sated. Not hungry, the voices quiet, and in a warm room. Reflexively, the blood around him continued to feed the fire to tend to him. When Shura was in such a mood, he used his blood gift without even thinking. With so much spilt and splashed around him, it was effortless.

Easy.

Like breathing. For a little while, it was the closest thing Shura felt to like normal.

You're not alone, the blood sighed. He could feel it. The heat of another moving through the bloodied confines of the buildings he'd broken into and the bodies he'd bent and cracked open to spill their contents.

Shura mulled that over. Another to open? Another to add to the pile? He wasn't hungry, didn't need the blood. Didn't need the energy. No one was demanding it of him, the shadows weren't lingering around the edges of his vision. All in all, Shura was quite lazy and utterly unmotivated to do any sort of hunting, murdering, or... anything else.

But, he was curious. Idly. Who would show up here and not say anything. Not want to do anything about the mess he'd made? And it was a mess. Shura knew that. In a moment of lucidity, he knew that he'd done something... not so nice. Evil. Murderous. Whatever it was.

With a grunt, Shura stood up. Then, lazily, like someone just waking from a long night's rest, he drug his feet after the heat, the active blood, he sensed. Someone was here. He wanted to see who it was.

Volker didn't react to the blood moving and tending the fire, but he did make a note of it. Someone with power like that was dangerous and someone to be respected. At the veryvleast, not to be trifled with. Volker wasn't foolish enough to put his back to the other man, or let the magic on display out of his site. Oor wasn't visiblr, at least not at the moment, but the spirit was watching closely.

He slung the body to the ground and began to strip it bare. He didn't rip the clothing or cut it off. He moved methodically, slowly. Volker despised any sort of waste, and the clothing was part of that. Clothes too small for him were bandages or cleaning rags. The furs could be worn and insulating when he next ventured out in the snow. He guarded them as jealously as the body, folding them up and setting them aside.The body had already bled out a fair bit from being twisted up, he might not have to drain this one. He'd hang her up just in caae.

Volker heard the other rise from the fire and turned back to the stranger. He stared at him a moment, his head lowering on his shoulders. A warning. Any closer and he'd bare his teeth, a growl coming up that powerful chest. He might have been older, but muscles tensed along his back and neck. This was defensive, he didn't want to fight.

There wasn't much blood left in the bodies. A lot of it had followed Shura to his red, puddled ring near the fire. Still, there were splattered stains in the snow, the walls, in the wood, and on the ground. There was some still lingering in the bodies too, but a lot of it had been wrung out of the flesh, twisted out of the bodies, for Shura to use.

He did not have to go far.

There, in the far corner of the relatively spacious living room was the stranger. Not the black, shadowed strange things that flickered around the edges of Shura's vision. He seemed solid. Corporeal. Stationary. He didn't try to move when Shura looked at him.

He did take a couple steps close, curious, but the reaction was not expected. A barring of teeth. Tense muscles. A warning. An echo in his mind, a whisper along the back of his neck. Shura didn't want to fight. So, he slumped where he was, sitting once more, but this time facing the stranger. Watching in quiet curious fascination.

It was odd he would find someone here. Someone that would stay. More than that... what was he doing? Shura didn't understand any of what he was seeing but, now that his mind was quiet, he was content to watch.

Volker didn't move. He watched the other man watch him, and...read him? Volker wasn't used to people understanding his body language. Usually he had to overly telegraph his movements in order to make it clear to the layman what he was trying to communicate. He watched the other make the right move. Sitting down was a nonthreatening gesture, and in some ways a gesture of peace. This stranger didn't want to fight any more than Volker did.

Volker put the body between them and reached for the knife roll wrapped to his leg. There were at least forty blades there, neatly arranged in their sheaths. All of them hilted in human bone. The first he pulled out was long, and he used it to gut the corpse between them. He sliced her open like a deer, setting aside organs. Stomachs and intestines he couldn't use out here. Liver and heart he could eat. The rest needed to be portioned out.

Volker was a professional. He was a butcher, and he cut like one. He sliced through tendons, andopped bones put of sockets. He didn't blindly hack and slash. Each blade movement was purposeful. He looked up at the other and slowly pushed the heart and liver toward him. Nutritious parts of thebbody, if a little mangled from the way the girl had died.

Shura had absolutely no concept of what the stranger was doing. He'd never seen anyone butcher a body before, he barely remembered breaking them himself. He knew, roughly, what was happening. They were taking them apart. Shura took them apart. In that, there was an idle kinship. The barest flicker of understanding.

A blood-craft hand put another log on the fire that crackled and popped in the room as it lit.

He didn't know what the different piles were for but eyed them all with a glazed, red eyed interest. Seeing them but not understanding. Interested but still confused. When two were pushed toward him, Shura had absolutely no idea what to do with them, but he recognized that it was an offer. A gift? gift, gift, gift. It echoed over and over until he leaned forward and took them. Sliding them across the stained floor but left them directly in front of his crossed legs.

Because he really didn't know what to do. Any food he'd ever eaten had already been things cooked, picked up out of a cabinet, or he consumed energy directly from the blood around him. So, he sat and watched. His coat still hanging off his elbows.

Volker eyed the other expectantly for a moment but made no move toward him. Instead he began to wrap up the flesh he'd prepared with the girls own shirt, carefully making sure the bloodied packages were fully covered by cloth. He made several trips outside to bury most of his treasures in the smow, but a decent-sized chunk of thigh was all his. It was amazingly quick; there had been a body there less than an hour before, now reduced to packages of mystery meat freezing in nature's larder outdoors.

Despite his savagery he was meticulous. He scoured the kitchen and came up with a pan, a little salt, pepper, and a clove of garlic. He salted and peppered the thick meat, then smashed the garlic and rubbed it in. The pan went over the flames and soon the sound of sizzling meat filled the silence.

Volker went to find bedding, unsure as to where he wanted to rest with the stranger nearby. Their interactions so far had been neutral, but Volker didn't trust him. Especially not with blood adding logs to a fire.

Oor appeared,  settling right in front of  Shura. The strange spirit did so suddenly, like it wanted to see if the cloaked figure was easily startled. He looked like a withered corpse, lacking eyes, a nose or lips. A soft red glow came from its chest, marked with the shadows of his ribs and protected by papery flesh. An old funerary shroud hung from his elbows and wrapped around his waist.

So then, what are you? Oor asked. Cute little thing. Do you speak? I hate being the only talkative one in this partnership.

Shura watched, impassive and curious, but otherwise content. He was warm, sustained, and the voices were quiet. What more did he need in this moment? And, in a way, it was nice to have real company. A creature that didn't move, that didn't flicker in his vision or run from his attention. That didn't run from the mess he'd made. Such a mess, mess, mess. Yes. He knew that. Logically. Reasonably. In his moment of lucidity, he understood he'd broken bodies and killed people.

That didn't mean anything to him. That didn't weigh in his mind or torment his soul. He'd killed before and he would do so again. Needed to because that's what called to him. Living blood. Moving red warmth.

But for now...  It was almost quiet, save for the movements of the stranger, but they were comforting, homely noises. The sound of movement and motion, of background breathing that mingled with the crack of fire.

When the spirit appeared, Shura blinked slowly. Trying to resolve if it was real. The blood in the floor around him reacted, quick and angry. Sharp, blood-craft claws spawned. Ready to defend him. Instinctive use of the blood as natural and sharp as a knee-jerk reaction. When the spirit didn't move, the claws dropped into the bloody pools once more.

This was real. Real. Fine. Ok. One of the shadows was real. Talking to him? Not talking, but talking. His red eyes, almost luminous with the amount of blood-energy around him, blinked slowly while he took it all in. "I am Shura." That was all he had. He didn't know what he was any more than the name he'd picked for himself. He lifted a blood stained hand, as though to touch the spirit, but didn't actually try. "What are you? What is that?" He gestured behind the spirit to the other stranger.

Volker pulled in a mattress stuffed with hay and wool, blankets piled on top of it. He bristled when he saw the blood rise up defensively, baring his teeth and his hand dropping the mattress to go to his knives. He didn't appreciate Oor frightening the only other living creature in the house. They were sharing the space peacefully and there was no reason to change that. Shura seemed to calm down when Oor did, and true to fashion the spirit didn't bat an eye at the intimidation.

I'm Oor, and that man is Reinhard Volker. Oor said, smirking at the other. We've been together a long damn time. So where are you planning on sleeping eh? And before you get any ideas there's nothing worth stealing and he'll put up one hell of a fight. I wouldn't recommend it. Just don't mind us. Though you're definitely his type
.

"Oor." Volker grumbled a warning in a slightly accented baritone. He didn't like the spirit teasing him like that. Or making others uncomfortable.

Shura glanced back at the stranger – now named Reinhard – when he was told who was who. The black stranger had a name too. Oor. He slow blinked and glanced between them before he actually smiled, just a little, at the thought of stealing. Steal what? It was a mantra that bounced around before he shook his head so it'd stop. "No. No. I don't steal." Only take, only break. That was true. He couldn't steal from the dead. They owned nothing.

He didn't understand the last part, though. Type? What did that mean?

The room started to smell of the cooked, spiced meat. Shura glanced at it, then at the things given to him. He leaned to the side, on one blood stained hand, to peer at the solid stranger. "Can you make food for me too?" Sustained on the blood around him, the voices weren't loud or insistent, but his stomach was starting to be at the smell.

He still needed physical sustenance.

Right. Sleep. He would sleep when he couldn't keep his eyes open. He shifted to sit so he could look at the dark shadow, Oor. "I'll probably sleep on the floor. In my coat." That's where he usually slept. It didn't occur to him that he could sleep anywhere else, even though he was surrounded by homes that had beds. Shura's self-preservation and self-care instincts were extremely poor.

Good. Then we wont have any problems if you dont try and tangle with him. Oor said, satisfied. The spirit smirked at the request for cooking. Rheinhard was many things, but an excellent cook was probably one of his better qualities. The man wasn't a conversationalist. He looked over at Volker as the man leaned down and artfully flipped the meat in the pan with one of the blades from his case. Rheinhard, in his mind, had paid his dues. He'd offered the best bits of the kill to the man who had killed it, and had assumed that Shura had already eaten. Volker put his own meal into a tin plate he'd scrounged up, and eyed the other at the request. He could. Hearts and livers had little fat to them on their own, but the thigh he'd just cooked had added a lot of grease to the pan.

He picked up his earlier gifts to Shura, salted and peppered them. Into the pan went the liver with the remainder of the garlic, but the heart had to be more delicately prepared. Volker butterflied it open, added a little dried sage from the kitchen, and settled it alongside the liver. The thick smells of hot food rose in the air and Volker settled down to eat his own while Shura's fried in the pan.

When he plucked the organs out and put them on his own plate, they were a decent medium rare. He offered the plate to Shura, looking down at him. "There was enough meat here. You could have cooked your own. How long were you here before I got here? The ones you killed were not yet frozen." Volker observed. He went to make his bed, piling the blankets high. He knew the fire would die down in the night eventually, and then the bitter cold would set in. He wasn't leaving anything to chance. He'd be snuggled up and warm in the bed. He even found pillows. He fluffed them up a bit and settled down on the mattress, eyeing Shura. He wasn't sleeping until the other would.

As he predicted, night wore on and the wood went out. It was late, the fire was burning low and cold was creeping in. Volker quietly shed his bloodied clothes and bundled up under the blankets. He didn't sleep. Not yet. He was waiting for Shura.

Shura wasn't in any mood to fight, so that wasn't any problem in that. Shura was calm and content. The smell of cooking food did make his stomach twist and grumble though. Reminding Shura yet again that he was physically hungry. Not blood-hungry. That focused his attention on the fire, and the food. There wasn't enough wood to last through the night, but again, Shura didn't have the foresight to think about that or do anything about it. He'd just burn whatever was around to burn until... well, until he was cold again.

When he was handed the plate, Shura made a delighted noise out of reflex. His fingers touched the meat a couple of times, waiting until it wasn't too hot to touch, before he ate. Slowly. Savoring. Shura wasn't an animal. "I don't know how long," he answered honestly, mostly because he had no concept of time. It meant nothing to him. Days blended together and nights could seem endless. Or blinked by, in skipped memories or lost time.

It was too fluid to be reliable so he stopped trying. All he knew was that they'd been warm and the blood had responded to him. That would change when the heat of the place drained away and, unless he supplied his own, the voices would return, that want would return, and he'd lose the bout of clarity he had.

While he ate, he watched the human stranger prepare things. A bed? Blankets? Pillows? Shura knew what they were but it was odd to see someone make one in front of him. So normal which was what made it odd. Out of place.

When he was done eating, he set the plate down. He remained where he was, idly watching, until it got too cold and the blood-craft wouldn't respond to him. Not without effort and he didn't want to exert any while he was cold. Or would get colder.

The shadows crawled at the edge of his vision and there was an echoing whisper in his mind. Over and over. It's getting colder. Colder. It's getting colder. Warning him. Do something. Something to burn. More wood?

His eyes danced around the room, looking around, before he crawled over toward the bed. Shura didn't lay on it, just next to it, and curled up. It'd do. Shivering, he curled up and wrapped his arms around his legs.

Volker was glad hed made the bed with so many blankets. As the night wore on and the fire extinguished, cold sucked all of the warm air out of the room. It congealed the grease in the pan, and spread icy fingers across the floorboards. Volkers breath puffed in the air as he slept, curled up warm in the covers with his head on the pillow. The cold could lance through one or two layers of blanket, but Volker had built up a veritable nest and was warm. Oor needed neither sleep nor warmth. He watched as Shura shivered, his magic faltering with the cold.

Curling up next to the bed wasn't going to do it. Oor walked over to him, looking down at Shura. Really? This little thing that didnt even know how to feed itself and didn't have the good sense the gods gave a pigeon to find a warm blanket, had killed all of these people? Oor cocked an eyebrow and looked at Volker curled up and sleeping soundly.

Crawl into bed with him or you're going to lose some fingers and toes by morning. Oor told Shura. Ill keep him from stabbing you. Hes not used to sleeping next to someone.

Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold.

He knew. He could feel it. Shura was curled up but sleep wouldn't really come. Just the founding of the voices, nearly overwhelming the feel of his trembling body. He would have to do something about it, obviously. Would need to use his own blood to survive the night. He'd done it before, he could do it again. He'd just wake hungry.

One of Shura's red eyes opened, intending to do just that, when one of the red shadows spoke to him. Oor? So not one of the monsters that haunted the corners of his vision, but the one that had followed the human stranger.

He could either crawl into the bed with a stranger cold, cold, cold or he could use his own energy to survive the night. Cold.

Yes, yes. He was. Shura had been cold before though. With a grunt, he moved his stiff limbs and decided to crawl in the bed. He shrugged out of his bloody coat before he did, though, and squirmed back against the warmth of the body there. It didn't particularly bother him that it was a stranger, right now, because he was used to hearing things from other voices. Other sources. Them.

But he was warm. It was warm in the bed. Making a contented sound, Shura kept himself in the warmth and drifted off.

When Volker woke up, he wasn't alone. Someone was cuddled up next to him. He didn't move, merely opened his eyes and took a deep breath to figure out who it was. Near as he could tell, the one he'd cooked for last night. He clearly hadn't bothered to make his own bed or go find blankets; he'd just slipped in with Volker. Most men would have put that as number one on the list of very bad ideas, but he didn't smell any fear coming from Shura either.

I told him it was alright. He was freezing and I know how much you like company. Oor told him. So that explained it. Volker could feel the cold on his face and down his neck; it had gotten very cold last night. He turned over to look more closely at Shura, leaning his head forward to smell him. Someone who animated blood. It was an interesting concept and one he hadn't encountered before. He had to light a fire, however. They couldn't stay in bed all day.

Volker wasn't the type to make a move quickly, though. Shura had used all of the firewood. They'd have to use furniture or tables to get enough wood. At least breakfast was out in the snow waiting to be cooked. He rested his head just above Shuras, cuddling close as he mulled over his next move.

Shura didn't move much in his sleep, less so when he was cold and trying to conserve energy, so he hadn't moved from where he'd scooted into the blankets and pressed against the stranger for warmth. During this time he was easily at his most vulnerable. No blood magic to save him. No voices. Nothing but black dreams and soft, quiet breaths that turned to steam in the cold air.

But he did look statuesque and peaceful. White hair still stuck together with the dried blood from yesterday a garish contrast to his very pale complexion. There were signs of the brutality writ on him in the stains, but nowhere else. Splashes of red against his white skin or hair. He slept like a babe, though, and had only his usual dark dreams.

He'd killed before, he would again.

Shura didn't wake up around the same time Volker did, or even a couple minutes after. Just shortly, though. Slow blinking into the chill and reflexively pressing closer to the source of warmth while he processed, to the best of his ability, here he was, what had happened that he could recall, and what he should do next.

Cold, it's still cold. A reminder. If he left the blankets, he'd have to deal with that. Were he a man of hindsight, he could've saved people for days to use as fuel so he wouldn't have to get up at all. Instead, he made an unhappy noise and, without a word, reluctantly left the warmth.

A creature of satisfying his base needs, indeed. Shura used his own blood-gift to keep him warm, this time. Quickening it in himself to ensure nothing would become frozen and snap off while he tugged on his coat. Then, without glancing back at Volker, he trudged out into the snow. Wood. Cold. Fire. He knew how to make a fire. Knew what he needed in a bout of clarity afforded to him by the blood's need for him to survive.

Shura stepped into the closes house. They had a small stock of wood, so that would do. And when that ran out, he'd break the house down. Lifting a hand, his own blood sliced through his palm and became a greater, tentacled appendage to snag the wood and drag all of it back to where he'd been staying.

His eyes were half lidded as he returned. Half focused, vaguely aware as he went to a singular task. It was cold cold, cold and he needed to be warm. Like the fire he'd started before. It was faintly draining to use his own energy, his own blood, but Shura had been doing so since he was a babe abandoned in the frozen forests.

He left the wood piled messily before dragging a couple of the smallest with the blood-craft tentacles. Some ends turned razor sharp and split one long into smaller kindling on which the larger pieces were piled. Then, kneeling in front of the wood pile, Shura fed the wooden pile his own heat and warmth until a small ember burned to life in the nested kindling. From there, he actually had to breathe it manually to life.

By the time the fire started up, he was shivering – a sort of inward cold that fire alone wouldn't chase away – from the use of his gift. Shura wrapped his arms around his legs and just sat near the fire to get warm. Not that the task was satisfied, he could hear vague murmurs around him. Like a conversation he was just on the fringes of. Dancing shadows that were almost shapes, from the fire light. But he paid none of it any mind. He didn't have to, right now.

Volker only growled when Shura moved out of the bed and a billow of freezing air rushed into the warm spot the other man had left. He gathered the blankets up around his body, trying to mitigate the heat loss. He watched Shura wrap himself in his coat, and head out into the snow. Volker snorted and curled back up. He wasn't so quick to rise, though he'd have killed someone for a decent pot of coffee and some eggs. A bit of toast, maybe a little butter. He looked around the house. If the whole place acted as a cold-room larder, there was no reason that food wasn't protected somewhere in the house. He watched Shura go outside, then sat up himself.

Was it nice? Oor smirked at him from the other side of the dead fire pit.

"What?" Volker grunted, yanking his shirt over his head.

Sleeping next to someone again.

The spirit was teasing him. Volker paid him no mind, and didn't answer the question. Instead he tugged his trousers up over his hips and padded across the icy floor to find the kitchen. He did find a bit of frozen bread, and a few eggs. Even better, a rasher of bacon and a roll of butter wrapped in wax paper. He didn't mind over-eating when things were this cold; he'd burn off the calories trying to stay warm as it was. He bundled it up and headed back out to the main chamber, where Shura had started a fire.

Volker stood next to him and set the pan from the previous night into the fire. He dropped a generous dollop of frozen butter in, watching as it hissed and bubbled up, sliding around the pan. The dirty grease from the night before he tipped into the flames, effectively cleaning the pan. Then in went the bacon. Volker looked down at Shura, who was curled up again and had his arms around his legs. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "Oor must think something of you. Either that, or he is teasing me again."

He was starting to feel a bit protective of the younger man at his feet. Maybe it was the strange, childish way he acted. Maybe it was because he seemed to understand Volker's warnings and respected them.

Shura tended to this fire with his own, long fingered hands. The place was too cold, and he wasn't about to waste precious energy using blood-craft. There was whispered guidance, mild annoyance along side, but he knew how to keep it fed. There were a couple of times he did have to produce a blade of blood to break up logs, but he did so quick and efficient. Like slicing through warm better, or yielding flesh. It was all the same to him.

When Reinhard started moving around, he caught Shura's attention. It was strange, having someone in the same space as him. Close. Making normal background noises. Breathing. Walking. Setting up something to eat. Normally Shura would've had to leave this place and go hunting for more prey, more people. Something to sustain himself on because he certainly did not know how to cook and if it wasn't immediately obvious, he didn't know how to go about eating it either. Like eggs. No way he knew what to do with them.

He peered up at Reinhard when he asked Shura if he was hungry. The bloodmage nodded and actually smiled a little. Still a stranger? Not really, he supposed. You spend a night with someone after dinner and you couldn't quite call them that, could you? Especially if the didn't run from the mess he'd made.  "If you'd like to cook me something, that'd be wonderful." Then, after a pause in which Shura looked to the fire, he asked, "Tease you how?"

Volker took that as a yes. He fried up the bacon and set it onto the plate they had, then cracked four eggs into the pan and salted them. Those didn't take long to cook at all, and once he had he put slices of bread into the pan to soak up the bacon grease and butter, turning a lovely golden brown color. He ate his portion out of the pan as he cooked, but Shura got a more cohesive meal in the tin plate. He looked over at Shura and offered him the plate, setting the pan down on the cool floor.

If Shura didn't know, Volker wasn't going to explain it to him. He seemed far too innocent. He didn't know how to feed himself or sleep properly. Gods only knew how Shura had ended up here. Volker was guessing blind misfortune. The boy knew how to kill, that was certain, but it was wild and unrestrained. It made a bit of a mess, really. Volker preferred finesse and taking what he needed. "Why did you kill the people here?"he asked. "There is more here than one man could eat in months."

The smell of cooked food was a rarity to Shura. Always something that was on the approach to a place, but rarely, actually around him and he quite liked it. He watched, interested, in what was being done to the food. Trying to file it away for later, but it was like grasping at sand. Some of it was there, but a lot of it was slipping away. Unnecessary. Unneeded. Too many other things rattling his mind and bouncing off his skull for him to maintain too much focus.

When he was handed the plate, the small smile remained and he accepted it readily. As before, though, he ate slow. Tasting it all and certainly eating it all. He might not know how to cook anything, but that didn't mean he didn't like having warm food. The voices and blood might be sustained on killing alone, but Shura certainly couldn't.

At the question, Shura did pause to consider. Trying to find an answer. His eyes, as red as the blood he controlled, scanned the room. The mess. The cold, stiff bodies that had been mangled when he'd ripped their life blood from them in a desperate rush to get it out of them. Out. Mine.

He rubbed at one of his eyes before shaking his head. "It's not... about killing them. That just happens when they don't have... when their blood is pulled out of them." It was the best answer he had. The most accurate. He didn't care to kill them, that was simply a biproduct of their siren-song blood calling to him and, when he arrived, he pulled it to him. Like called to like. Shura took the last bite he had, eyeing his new friend. "I can hear yours, too. Like a little song, playing in the back of my mind. Quiet, but there. Not like..." He glanced back to the pile he'd made.

Volker glanced at the bodies. "It is waste." he said in disgust. Shura might have needed the blood, but the pile of bodies was offensive to Volker. It wasn't the death that bothered him. It was the waste. Hundreds of pounds of meat and organs all frozen in the snow, or beginning to stink in the house. If there was one thing Volker prided himself on, it was keeping his killing to a minimum. Only what he needed to feed himself. When he had a mate and a family, it had been different. He'd needed to hunt to satisfy their gargantuan appetites. Now killing was less often with his slow metabolism.

He shook his head and bared his teeth a moment. He didn't like it at all. The very sight of the pile was making him anxious. Like he should be doing something. Using them. Letting something happen like that rankled. He had to stop looking at it. At the waste. He shook his head again and looked at the fire. "You will not have my blood." he added.

He had to move them. He got up and began shifting the pile outside. Having them there irritated him. At least outside they were frozen and preserved, and animals could get to them. Not just rotting away inside. Oor watched him, shaking his head. It really does bother him, you know. Wasting bodies. Wasting anything really. Distract him or he's going to be at it all day. From what I saw under that coat you've got a good way to do it. Oor grinned at him, and vanished.

Shura certainly had no concept of whatever waste Reinhard was talking about. Blood was hardly a waste to him, though once it was inert and spilled, cold and coagulated, it quieted. Stilled, for Shura. The pile had just been a byproduct of pulling it all together. Pulling it close until it ripped free from them and surrounded Shura, quieting his mind and tending to him as the craft was wont to do when it was given so much energy, so much sustenance. Filling up Shura and overflowing into reflexive action.

Still, he felt like he was being scolded. Not a new feeling. He had been by those that whispered in his mind or growled through his thoughts. When he'd done something he shouldn't or they teased him about something he either didn't understand, and should, or had missed something obvious. It was odd, yet again, to come from someone else. Someone he could see and not an insubstantial figure or shadow just on the fringes of his vision.

He didn't acknowledge the declaration that he wouldn't have Reinhard's blood. He didn't want it. Instinctively, he knew that would kick up a fight at the best, his new friend's death at the worst. Or his own.

With a soft sigh, his breath clouding a little, Shura stood and started to help. Mimicking what Reinhard was doing because he didn't know what he was really doing – so he took the bodies out into the snow, a bit away, and used his hands to create a place for them. It was cold and there was a lot of hissing, protesting, whining noise in his mind but the overriding thought was he should clean up. The loudest, a growl that smothered it all.

He was single minded in his task, so he wasn't entirely aware that he was quite cold and shivering. That would come once he was done. Once they were done. He could crumple next to the fire, then.

Not what I meant. You're as rock headed as he is. Oor groused as he watched the pair pull bodies out into the snow. The spirit tapped his fingers against his arm. Well there was no getting through to this pair. Volker would continue to foster that misguided sense of paternal care, and Shura would accept it out of ignorance. Oor understood he was still mourning, but how long did the old killer need? He rolled his eyes at the pair as Volker came back inside, their task finished. He sat next to the fire, pulling his knife roll from his thigh and a sharpening stone from the roll. Great. Sharpening those things would take hours and Volker had a very single minded focus when it came to honing them.

Oor sighed and walked over to Shura. Are you a child? Or are you as boring as he is? There's nothing left to kill here. Volker's eyes flicked up to the spirit. He knew what Oor was doing. Oor was bored. That meant he either wanted to goad someone into a fight (which he was monstrously skilled at), tease him for being gay, or shove the pair at one another. "Oor." Volker growled. He didn't appreciate it. He liked silence and peace. Oor didn't. There was a reason they stuck to cities and not towns like this. The silence would drive Oor to do something stupid.

Shura sat next to the fire, tossing a couple of logs onto it, before he peered at the spirit. The one that didn't run away from his attention. His red eyes lingered on Oor before he ran a blood stained had through his matted hair, undoing some of the dried blood tangles. "I don't want him to dislike me," he clarified, glancing back at the spirit. "People... Strangers... don't usually stay near me. I don't want him to leave." It was nice, the sounds he made. The normal noises. Hearing someone else breath in the same room. Having another alive.

Even the quiet song his blood sang to Shura was sweet and comforting. Which meant, that if he did something that upset Reinhard, he needed to fix it.

After he was sure the fire was fed, Shura shifted closer to Reinhard. Watching him to make sure he wasn't encroaching where he wasn't wanted. When he was just within arm's reach, Shura settled next to him and leaned against him. For the warmth, to be close. Then, he murmured, "I don't want you dislike me. You're the first that's ever... stayed. I'll try to be... mm. Better?" He wasn't sure what that meant, and Shura wasn't sure he would even remember next time, but he'd try if it meant he'd get to sleep next to someone and, if that someone would make him food again.

Shura considered the spirit, the black shadow, as though his question had just registered. In a way, it had. "No, I'm not a child. If there's something you want me to do, though, you're going to need to tell me." Subtle was not his strong suit. Neither were reading clues.

Oor raised an eyebrow and looked at Volker. He thinks of you as something hes got to take care of, and there's enough meat around to keep him invested. Trust me, he's not going anywhere. Its irritating the way he thinks he's got to take care of everything. He'll strangle a man to death with his own teeth but can't stand to see a kid like you starve or freeze. He sighed irritably. Just blow him or something so he doesnt start treating you like a baby.

A loud growl was heard from Volker. He had his head lowered, his eyes staring at Oor, and the growl he was making vibrated through his chest with an unnervingly deep tone. He was perfectly fine with the way things were. Oor could go stuff himself; he liked the quiet. He stiffened when he felt Shura lean against him, and it took a little bit for him to relax enough to go back to staring at the fire. Eventually he settled an arm around Shura's shoulders. He would need to move on soon. Perhaps somewhere south, somewhere warmer. The cold had done wonders to shake off those trailing him, but surely they'd given him up for dead by now.

"Ignore Oor. He is bored. When he is bored, he is destructive." Volker told him.

Shura continued to watch the shadow as it... spoke? He had no idea, but he didn't really question it either. Instead, he was processing what he had... said. Not how, because tone didn't always matter either. Instead, Shura eventually glanced at Reinhard and frowned a little. He didn't want to be thought of as a baby. He wasn't one. Hadn't been a child for a very long time.

Granted, he didn't know the exact time on that either because, well, time was odd to Shura. But still. It irked him to be thought of as a babe.

He shifted a little to better face Reinhard and put one hand on Reinhard's upper leg to keep himself propped up. "Do you think of me like that?"

Volker looked at him briefly and then back at the fire. "You do not know how to take care of yourself. You would have frozen or done something to survive the night that you needn't have done. You did not know how to cook. You curled up next to me like a child would have done." he said simply. "You break your toys like a child." he nodded outside to the bodies that waited. It was a roundabout way of saying yes. He did think of Shura like a child. Shura seemed so innocent and so young it was hard not to. "I will teach you how to live. You are surviving, but you are not living."

He put his forehead against Shura's in a rather chaste, affectionate gesture, and looked back into the fire. Oor paced boredly. The spirit tended to flicker in and out of existence. Here pacing around the fire, there messing things up in the kitchen to irritate Rheinhard or exploring the house. The sounds were very similar to an irritated cat let loose in a house. Too many things to get into.

Shura made a face. "I know how to take care of myself, I just don't know how to cook." He sounded indignant because he was. Having grown up alone and frequently an outcast for very obvious reasons, he'd never had anyone teach him or ever had the opportunity to learn. Then, he added, "I also don't make it a habit of crawling into bed with strangers – since they're not usually alive when I'm around. I was trying to give you space."

Shura pushed away from him and swatted at something that buzzed angrily near his ear. Those things broken were not his toys. He did not play with them. What he did was a need, or frequently, not something he could control at all. But to hear it so blatantly stated to his face was both upsetting and, well, hurtful. Shura had spent so much time alone and to have someone be so crass about what he did with that time bothered him.

He felt like he was doing just fine. He had clothes. He had yet to starve, even if he didn't know how to cook, and he didn't consider any of what he'd done wrong. Messy, sure. But certainly not wrong. Instead, Shura murmured, "I'll find my own dinner," and stalked out of the cabin he'd been staying in since Reinhard had arrived. He didn't want to be around someone who thought of him as helpless.

They weren't helpless. And he'd go find his own damn dinner.

Volker watched Shura stomp off. That happened painfully often with him. Volker didn't know how to tell white lies, or sugar coat something. He spoke plainly and he spoke honestly...to a fault. Much like Shura had no idea how to do basic domestic things Volker took for granted, Volker had no idea how to converse properly. When asked, he told the truth and nothing else. When someone stomped off, he didn't follow them or feel a need to make amends. What he did know was that he had the only working fire, and the only bed, and that Shura would return when he needed both of those things.

Volker got up and headed outside to start gathering up the bodies that Shura had butchered. He watched the other man briefly, making sure that he wasn't going to freeze to death. Men often did things like that to prove a point. He eventually approached him and looked at him. "You took offense to my words. I am sorry. I dont know you, and I misjudged." he told him. That was...all he could think of to say. "Come back when you get cold."

Oor chuckled at Shura. Cute. Just go back inside so you don't freeze. Youre going to be a fun one. He grinned at him.

Shura fully intended on not returning. He'd slept many nights – our entire lives – without a companion, a stranger and he could do so now. He'd made a fire, he could do so again. He'd slept without a bed before, and he could now.

He didn't need anyone else. They didn't. He'd been alone for so long that... Well. Company didn't matter. The shadow, the stranger, all of it was just different and new and didn't matter. The stubborn anger fueled him, carried Shura through his butchery of another house. Tearing apart furniture with blood-craft claws to turn into kindling and hauling his own supply of wood with blood-craft tentacles. Setting up a new camp.

Away. Away from him.

It was petty and it was obnoxious, but he was upset. Not even what Reinhard had to say mollified him. If anything, it just incensed Shura. Come back when you get cold. When, when, when, when. It played over and over for Shura until he was certain the sound of it was going to drive him mad.

We won't be cold. Not cold at all.

By the time he had his own fire started, he had used up a bit of his own energy and blood to do it. His hands were faintly blue but bloodstained from his own blood. He sat in front of the fire, a blanket he'd found wrapped around him, and stubbornly remained until he eventually slumped over and dozed off. He was cold, and the fire would eventually dwindle. If, or when, that happened, he'd rouse again and start it up once more.

But he wasn't going to go back and he wasn't going to sleep with Reinhard again.

Volker found him like that. Bundled up in the snow with a big fire cooling off in front of him. Shura had wasted a lot of fuel burning up the place like that. It really didn't help Volker's current image of Shura as a child. Parsing out his resources and not exhausting his magic with a big showy display like that would have been much better. Volker had been slightly more productive with his time. He'd brought in more wood from other houses to keep the fire going, melted bucketfuls of snow to take a bath, and drawn another for Shura. It would be waiting for him when he woke. He'd devised an ingenous little system to keep the bathwater warm; he'd furrowed under the clawfoot tub and built up hot coals, layering them over with cloth that smouldered. It kept warm, and kept the bathwater warm as long as he kept adding live coals.

He bundled up Shura in a fresh blanket and brought him back to bed. His hands and feet were blue. Volker frowned and curled up in bed with him, taking Shura's hands and gently rubbing them in his own to encourage blood to flow back into them. He entangled his feet with Shura's to warm them as well, pulling the blankets up over them to warm Shura's face.

Very independent. He wasted an entire house worth of wood in that temper tantrum. Oor observed with a smirk. Fiery little thing. I like him. Why don't you keep him around a little while longer? You've always been good with the fiesty ones.

Volker sighed and leaned forward. He licked the blood away from Shura's face. He couldn't get him into the bath, but this was about as effective at getting dry, itchy blood off of skin. He licked warmth and cleanliness back into Shura's cheeks.

Shura's brief sleep was deep, but not entirely restful. He recovered some of the spent energy while he was bundled up in the bed and made contented sounds as he was warmed. What did rouse him, however, was the feel of something... on... his face.

It was odd. Different. That seemed to be the theme of the..day? Evening? However long since he'd met this person. Reinhard.

He blearily came to when most of his face had been cleaned, peering at Reinhard with narrow, faintly luminous red eyes. "Wha..." he got out before his brain was able to process where he was. Where he didn't want to be. Shura sure as shit knew he hadn't brought himself back here.

But rather than be upset by it, he was calmed somewhat by the fact that Reinhard had obviously wanted him near. Especially since he was licking Shura's face. Having warmth back in his extremities and not feeling so rough from using his own blood, Shura murmured, "I can take care of myself. I've been doing it before you came around." It was a little defensive, but not the same stubborn, heated words of before.

Not wanting to carry on the fight, though, Shura shifted on his side and pressed closer to Reinhard. He didn't want to tell him he didn't want to fight, or that he was right about some things. Some were obvious. Shura didn't know how to cook and things were certainly warmer with Reinhard... Didn't mean he wanted to say them.  Pressing himself against Reinhard so his face could be buried, he hoped that the conversation would end there.

Volker continued cleaning Shura. He cleaned the blood out of his ears, dipping his tongue in the creases to get the sticky bits out, and under his chin, along his neck. His tongue was warm and comforting. He put his arms around Shura and pulled him close, sighing deeply. Shura buried his face in his chest, and Volker took that as a cue to stop. He put his head atop Shura's and let him rest there. "There is a bath drawn." he said. "It should stay warm for a few hours yet. I put coals underneath the tub."

He had to admit, though Shura acted a little like a child he wasn't built like one. Shura hadn't shown any interest in him that way, however, and Volker was determined to keep that off the table until Shura presented it as an option. He was content with the cuddle for now. Most would refuse that much. "It will help to get the blood out of places you are not willing to let me clean." he said. He leaned his head down and licked a spatter off of Shura's shoulder that was irritating him.

Apparently, Shura was going to be subject to Reinhard's... method of cleaning.  He squirmed, made odd noises, and definitely shivered when Reinhard's tongue found his ear.

Shura remained against him, considering. A bath... That sounded good. But he wasn't particularly interested in leaving now. Rather, his now warm hands slid up Reinhard's side, along his skin, and he peered up at him. Soft and sweet and definitely sly. "You make it sound like there's somewhere I'm not willing to let you put your mouth."

He started it. Didn't really matter the reason. If the intention had only been to clean Shura, then... using Reinhard's mouth on him was hardly the best way to go about it. Instead, he was far more interested in having it other places and the bath... well, that could come later. Much later. Unless that was just another step in getting Shura out of all his clothes. In which case... The bath could be now.

It didn't bother Shura that he had dried blood on him. He barely noticed. But if it meant that Reinhard was going to pay particular attention to him, like that, Shura was probably going to end up messy around him often.

Volker looked at Shura. The subtle shift in body language from his attentions. He hadn't intended for them to be interpreted that way; it was just an easy way of cleaning someone who was going to squirm and try to flee from a bath. The way Shura touched him was definitely inviting...but he wasn't going to go further with someone who stank of fetid blood. He licked under Shura's chin and pulled his shirt over his head. Even though Shura had been clothed at the start of his rampage, he'd gotten blood soaked through the cloth and smeared all over himself. Volker licked at his collarbone, using his teeth to gently scrape away some of the more stubborn mess. He was thorough. Infinitely thorough. He lapped blood up from Shura's nipples and along his chest, long sweeping strokes.

He sighed in contentment. He liked cleaning like this. It was affectionate and his type of methodical cleaning that helped him turn his brain off. He licked down, along Shura's stomach and over his hips.

Leave it to Reinhard to want to take care of him, even now. Shura chuckled softly but didn't protest. If this was what he wanted to do to Shura, he was complacent. Shifting onto his back to make it easier, his own cool fingertips tracing nonsensical patterns along Reinhard's side.

There was still the rumble of whimpers and the hiss of conversation he couldn't quite make out, but his attention was presently being dominated by the one who thought it prudent to tend to Shura with his mouth.

Not that he was complaining, at all. Sighing sweetly and watching Reinhard. Squirming when teeth or tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot. When Reinhard was low enough, at his hips, one of Shura's hands slid up over his shoulder while the other adjusted the blankets. Keeping them both warm while not smothering Reinhard. Besides, he wanted to see. To watch. Shura wasn't sure if he'd eventually be banished to the bath, to clean up, or if that would be after.

He wasn't the picky one. Reinhard was.

Volker came up and pressed his lips to Shura's. He saw the way Shura shifted to lay onto his back, that look he was giving him. Might as well make his desires known. He settled his weight onto his elbows, laying comfortably against Shura. He deepened the kiss, one of his hands tangling in Shura's white hair. He only broke their contact to kiss along the side of Shura's neck, applying gentle pressure with his teeth. He pressed his arousal against Shura's thigh. A purr rumbled in his throat, a soft and happy growl.

Volker lifted his head up and kissed Shura. He was afraid to speak, worried it would break the mood. He needed some sign of reciprocation. He knew Shura would allow it, but did he want it? That was another question entirely. He brushed Shura's hair out of his face, the question in his eyes but unspoken.

Shura hummed sweetly when Reinhard slid up and actually kissed him. A warm contact, one he didn't share often – when had been the last time? Shura couldn't even remember, his mind being a fickle thing as it were. Even so, he liked it. The singing of Reinhard's body close to his, the heat between them that chased the chill away.

Shura supposed he could forgive him, then.

Cool hands slid to Reinhard's back when he deepened the kiss, tasting the remnants of old blood. Which hardly bothered the blood mage. If anything, it spiked his interest. Wanting to savor that mingled taste, of something so familiar and not.

Another soft, breathy sigh escaped him when Reinhard's attention turned to his neck. Getting to feel how excited he was though, that he wanted him, made Shura squirm under him. A thrill chased up his spine. It wasn't often he was wanted, after all, and it was a rush.

How unfortunate there were still pants in the way. Even so, Shura hooked one of his legs around his hips so that Reinhard would, likewise, feel the echo of Shura's own hard want. Yes, he was quite interested. Yes, he was quite thrilled to be beneath him.

At the second kiss, Shura lightly nipped at his lower lip then murmured, "It'd be really sweet of you to help me out of the rest of my clothes." It was definitely going to be cold, but that was a price Shura was eager to pay. Even now, with so little having happened, Shura was a little breathy. Excited. His red eyes bright and quite clear.

Volker trailed kisses down Shura's neck, his tongue darting out to work over spots he had missed or didn't deem clean enough. He could feel the younger man hook a leg around him and press against him. That was all the reassurance he needed that yes, Shura wanted him as well. Even so, it would get in the way. Volker quietly ducked his head down to Shura's belly again, his lips finding the clasp to Shura's trousers. He used his teeth to undo them and pushed them down, shoving them away into some deep recess of the bed.

He picked up where he had left off in his cleaning. He licked the delicate skin along Shura's inner hip, his tongue wandering close, but never where Shura wanted it. The bath came first, in his mind. He slowly spread Shura's legs to lick along his thighs. Enough teasing. He took Shura's arousal in his hand and licked up the underside of his member, closing his eyes. He wanted to savor this. It had been too long. He closed his lips around it, his tongue exploring the velvety, heated flesh in his mouth.

It was refreshing to have someone touch him so freely. To want him without worry or concern. Without being afraid of what he did. If anything, it had irked Shura that Reinhard thought him hopeless.

Now, though, he just felt wanted. Excited by that sense and squirming because of it. Unable to remain still, especially with that mouth trailing along his skin in sensitive places. Shura continued to watch, even whined a little when he was teased with proximity, but he didn't demand anything. That was hardly any fun and it wasn't in his nature.

He easily helped kick his pants deeper into the blankets – something to worry about later – and sucked in a sharp breath when Reinhard's warm tongue teased the softer, smoother skin of his inner thigh. Shura was a slender man and not particularly hairy either. What he did have was silver-white and fine, which gave his arms and legs the appearance of being hairless despite the contrary.

Neither was he particularly well endowed. Nothing unnatural but he wasn't about to go gagging anyone without extreme effort. Shura groaned long and low when he wasn't teased anymore. The hot feel of Reinhard's mouth  was just... Well, Shura really couldn't remember the last time. His hand was certainly a poor comparison.

He tried not to move so much and one hand gripped the blankets so he wasn't grabbing ahold of Reinhard. Trying to behave, to let the other man do as he wanted. In a way, it was nice to have someone else dictate what was happening rather than Shura have to figure it out. His life was already a mess of him trying to figure things out.

The little whines and squirming were encouraging him. He abandoned the slow, explorative pace, sucking hungrily. His head bobbed between Shura's legs, his hips grinding against the bed to get some sort of relief. It had been a long time for him. Under the covers he was immersed in Shura's scent. He could feel every time his hips quivered or he squirmed and grabbed at the bedsheets. Volker didn't want him to behave. Shura didn't have to pretend around him; he could do as he felt naturally. He lowered his head down to Shura's hips, pushing the other man's cock into the tight ring of his throat. He wanted more of those little sounds.

First he needed out of his trousers. The fabric was beginning to rub uncomfortably. He pulled a hand down to shed his own clothing, kicking it away impatiently. Volker was a respectable size; not much larger than most men but comfortably thick. Volker pulled his head up and kissed the tip of Shura's member, nuzzling down the length of it and guiding Shura's knees over his shoulders. He ran his tongue over his new lover's entrance, just to see how he would react.

What had started out as a slow, heated tease quickly dissolved into... well, not that at all. One of Shura's hands lightly came to rest on the top of Reinhard's head, if only to feel the echo of his movements while he occasionally rocked his hips. He didn't move more than that because he didn't want to ruin the pace, the movements, of that sweet, sweet mouth. His breathing became quick and ragged, needy, while his eyes were half closed, unfocused.

He was far too interested in what he was feeling now.

When Reinhard sought more of those sounds, he easily got them. Shura didn't have any concept of trying to quiet himself so he moaned readily, unable to help but buck a little.

Panting as Reinhard's mouth left him, hard and wet, he was easily moved. Legs shifted over his shoulders. Shura had no idea why, didn't even bother trying to consider. His thoughts were already scattered and lost, apart of the buzz already in his mind.

The new feel, the press of a tongue lower, did startle him. Shura mewled a little and, true to form, squirmed. It was certainly a different position, different sensation, but he didn't protest. At that moment in time, he wouldn't have protested just about anything Reinhard wanted to do. Especially when everything he'd wanted up until now had felt... well. Wonderful.

Those sweet little mews urged Volker on. He dragged his thick, broad tongue over Shura's entrance, growling deep in his throat. He was himself lost in instinct, the want, the need to mount. If he had been a crueler man he'd have simply flipped Shura over and taken him. Instead he carefully prepared him, his tongue dipping deep inside that tight, sweet warmth. He groaned, pulling Shura's hips down close to him. His powerful shoulders pulled Shura down on the bed like he weighed nothing. His mouth worked Shura open, his hand wrapping around his lover's needy cock and stroking him. Slowly. He didn't want his lover to come just yet. No. He wanted to mount Shura and watch him come underneath him.

After a moment he switched. A finger pressed inside of Shura, curling gently and questing for that little spot inside men that would send lightning bolts up his cock. He wanted Shura moaning for him before he finally pressed inside.

Shura was forgetting how to breathe proper. Not that it particularly mattered now. It seemed every time Reinhard moved his tongue just so or then, when his hand moved over his hard length, his breath would catch. Ruin whatever rhythm he'd had before. Caught between mewling and moaning, occasionally sighing Reinhard's name in half strangled syllables. Not quite getting it all out because he was being washed over in a lot of sensation.

Not like he was used to something like this.

Blood he could handle. Murder and broken bodies, sure. But this was a lot and so much and he was processing only so much.

The strange pressure of Reinhard's finger pushing in him made Shura tense for a moment. Requiring a bit more force, but he didn't protest even then. There was a pleasure in that pressure, a sense of want and more until Shura quite literally wiggled against that finger when there was a sharp sense sweet pleasure that teased at a building sensation, and he wanted that. Shura desperately did.

He didn't know it, but he started to breathe "please" between his moans. Wanting, wanting, and unsure what he needed to do, but asking for it anyway.

The mention of his name made Volker's hips jerk. He didn't want that name mumbled, he wanted Shura crying it out. Shura was flushed, panting and moaning, begging him. He wasn't going to be any better prepared. Volker moved Shura's knees to his shoulders, taking his own member in his hand and pressing it against Shura. He supported himself with one arm next to Shura's head, watching him intently as he pressed forward. The head of his cock slipped in, the tight ring hugging around his cock. His hips shivered and he stopped, waiting for his lover to adjust. Gods, he desperately wanted to plunge in deep...but he waited. He needed the tenseness in Shura's body to relax just a little bit.

He ran his hand up Shura's side, his eyes hungry and wanting. Slowly he rocked his hips forward, burying himself inch by inch inside of his lover. He leaned forward to kiss his neck, their hips meeting. Volker was enrobed in tight, wet silk and it took every ounce of self control not to rut violently. His pace was slow, grinding, waiting for Shura to get used to the sensation of having Volker's cock move in and out of him.

There was a moment of reprieve as Reinhard moved over him and adjusted his place. Shura watched him, panting, gripping his shoulders. The grip wasn't particularly hard though. Just to help ground him. Remind him where he was, what was going on.

The pressure difference between a finger and Reinhard's cock was vast.  Shura certainly tensed, initially, and looked up at Reinhard with narrowed eyes. He didn't want him to stop, but the patience was certainly appreciated. It was a foreign sensation, as was having someone so close. Quite intimate, at least for Shura. Why would anyone want to be with a bloodmage? He should be scary...

He certainly did not feel scary right now.

When Reinhard started to sink into him, Shura keened softly and clutched at his shoulders. Not telling him to quit, but damn. It was a filling pleasure. A raw sense of being... full but not in a way he could compare to anything else. Uniquely tied to the way Reinhard pushed into him until, with a shuddering breath, he was buried. His breath shuddered some and he groaned a little on the exhale.

Definitely a good thing they were the only ones around.

His own hips rocked a little reflexively in kind with Reinhard's, encouraging, testing. The pressure felt good, hit places in Shura that he liked having touched. His grip on Reinhard's shoulders was a little tigher now, but he was far more relaxed, and accepting, and eager, second by second.

Fear wasn't a sensation Volker had felt around Shura. Respect for his destructive power, but not fear. He considered them equals. After all, who would want to be a cannibal, especially a man of his age? He kissed Shura's neck, encouraging him when he felt the other man's fingers tighten on his shoulders. He wasn't sure if this was Shura's first time, but from the way he was reacting it seemed like it. He needed to be slow, and pay attention to the cues his lover was giving him. He could feel how tight Shura was...how hot he was, every little fold and velvety touch of his flesh begging him in deeper.

Then Shura was lifting his hips, encouraging him to fuck. Volker growled possessively and kissed Shura. It was rough, dominant. He needed to go faster and his hips began to pick up the pace, driving himself against his lover's body. He wanted to hold the pace but it had been too long. He wanted to spill his seed inside of his new lover. His hips rutted sharply against Shura, Volker's breathing picking up.

He sat up, looking down at the place where their bodies met. "Scream my name." he growled, thrusting his hips sharply against Shura, shoving him powerfully a few inches up the bed.

There was another shift in the mood, the momentum. From the slow grind to the rough, possessive growl. Shura liked that growl. It wasn't one that came from his own mind. A wordless sound from someone else.

He really liked it. The sound alone sent a ripple through him and he eagerly responded to Reinhard. Wanting him in the kiss and, once he started moving, groaning hotly between his quick breaths. Every time Reinhard pushed into him, it was like he chased the breath out of Shura's lungs. There was a bit of dull pain – it'd been a long time for Shura and Reinhard's thrusts were hardly kind – but Shura didn't mind that either.

It was nice. Like the growl. A certain flair to it that had him rocking into it, as much as he could, and holding onto Reinhard so he could use the other man to move. To brace himself.

When Reinhard shifted and the position changed, so too did the feel of him fucking Shura. He mewled sharply between a couple of breaths and, then there was that growl again. Demanding and rough and, coupled with the rough thrust, was more than enough to prompt Shura to mindlessly obey. He screamed and felt his entire body tense up. It was painful, the way he tensed around Reinhard, but that only seemed to spike the electric pleasure that invariably spilled out on his stomach and abs.

Watching Shura move and squirm beneath him was something he'd never forget. He was being rough with Shura, but the other rose to the occasion and moaned for him. His lover was bucking back greedily against him. He wanted more and Volker could only provide. He gripped Shura's hips, pinning him down and forcing him to focus more on the pleasure he was getting from each thrust.

Gods, then the obedience. The way Shura screamed his name and came. The way his body tensed up and every cry became a strangled mewl. He bared his teeth, his hands planted on either side of Shura's head and his hips slamming into him relentlessly. He could feel his own orgasm building, tensing deep in his belly. Shura squeezed him as he came, prompting Rheinhard to thrust deep and fill him with a loud roar.

He didn't immediately pull out. He slowed his pace to an aching crawl, drawing out the feeling of his orgasm as his cock pulsed and spurted his seed inside of the blood mage. Volker kissed him hungrily, biting his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed. He never wanted to leave Shura's warmth, but eventually his body made the decision for him. He arched his back, letting the cool air between them.

That was fun to watch. Oor told them in an amused tone of voice. Volker half-blindly threw a pillow at him.

Now that there was a lack of pleasure, there was a ragged soreness. He was still panting, softly, with his eyes barely open while he lazily watched Reinhard over him. Shura's hands lazily released his shoulders and fell to the mattress. Boneless and spent, he wasn't going to be moving any time soon.

He did lick at his lip where he'd been bit. Where it throbbed and had bled. Just a little. A sweet note in the otherwise honeyed rush of... well, all of that.

When he threw the pillow, Shura chuckled a little and shifted. Testing what hurt to move and what didn't. Legs. Hips. Ass. Mm. He definitely wasn't going to be moving anywhere quick. Just... just lay there. Even though Shura now considered himself quite the mess. Blood, old or new, didn't bother him. But the remainder of sex, on him and in him? Well, that'd need taken care of eventually.

When his breathing calmed and his thoughts weren't so scattered, Shura smiled just a little. Almost a smirk. "I wouldn't have guessed you'd be so rough..." Teasing. Just a little.

Volker stretched, moving to flop next to Shura and catch his breath. He was exhausted, with a satisfying ache in his groin. He too, needed to clean himself. He wanted to rest, but he wasn't sure he wanted to sleep in his own mess. That had never appealed to him. Shura broke the blessed silence, and Volker looked at him. He was fairly sure that Shura was teasing him. "You enjoyed it." Volker said with a soft smile. "You were begging me to mount you."

He arched his back, rolling his shoulders and letting a series of rolling pops cascade down his joints. He yawned, and turned his head to lick Shura's neck. He got up, shaking the overheated feeling of laboring under a pile of blankets off in the chilly air. "Come bathe with me." he offered, extending his hand to Shura to help him up. If he wasn't able to rise, Volker would simply scoop him up out of bed and head toward the bathtub.

It would be barely big enough to fit both of them, but it would do.

Shura made sure the blanket didn't fall on him, and in the mess he'd made on himself. That meant his skin was exposed to the chill air. There was no winning. He still didn't move though, attention drifting from Reinhard, to the ceiling, to the low fire, and back again.

It wasn't so bad. He could use the cooling off.

The smile from Reinhard was its own reward. Not like he'd been smiling a lot since they'd met. Though what he added, about Shura wanted it, had a dark blush coloring his cheeks and neck. He hadn't been entirely aware about a lot of the things that had come out of his mouth, in the moment. Not that he was upset it had, or that he'd taken it back, just that... Well.

It had been awhile. Shura couldn't remember the last time. Memory is faulty anyway. He sighed a little and rubbed at his eyes. He would likely forget this, too, if Reinhard left him for any long period of time. Not because it wasn't worth remembering or Shura hadn't enjoyed himself, his mind just... His memory was just that bad.

When Reinhard licked at his neck, Shura made a pleased, lazy noise in the back of his throat and lightly touched his shoulder. The idea of getting up and getting in water sounded good. Gathering up the will, and energy, Shura sat up and reached for his hand. His legs and ass was not happy with this motion, but he stood anyway. He definitely needed a bath. The smell of sex lingered in the air – which wasn't bad in and of itself – but Shura definitely wanted to wash it off of himself.

Seeing the tub full of water, he murmured, "That was nice of you..." before he glanced at Reinhard, red eyes narrowing a little, "Did you plan this?" He wasn't upset. That'd have been silly, and there wasn't really a way for Reinhard to have planned it. But it was an amusing accusation.

Volker looked at him, eyes showing no emotion. "No. I didn't expect it." he said. "I cleaned myself, and I thought that you would appreciate the same. If you didn't take me up on the offer, I would have simply washed my clothes in it. It had two potentials." He pointed out. After all the steamy bath would have done just as well for his clothes as it did for Shura's body. The sex had been a bit of an unexpected kink in his plans for the bath. He nodded to it, letting Shura slowly climb in, then did the same. Volker was rather utilitarian in the bath. He washed himself, getting the scent of sweat, sex and Shura off of him, then climbed out. He would dry himself by the fire, and give Shura some privacy.

He went to melt more snow for his clothes. The rest of his time waiting for Shura was spent washing his clothes, and laying them out by the fire to dry. He settled onto the bed naked, waiting quietly for them to be dry. He would have to move on soon. They couldn't stay here forever. A city would do him much better than being out in the country; there were more resources and more places to hide. It would be warmer, as well. Oor would be happier. The spirit would only get amused by sex for so long.

Perhaps he'd go visit an old friend. If he could find him. Volker stretched out on his back on top of the bed, lazily watching the fire. He wouldn't mind company from Shura.

Shura didn't pay any more mind to the question he'd asked and forgot about it entirely once he was in the water. Unlike Reinhard, he did linger. Leaning against the rim and relaxing. Seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

Which, well, he was. Adrift in the various buzzing of conversation he couldn't quite hear, the crackle of fire, and the sounds of someone moving around him. A real someone. Odd. Welcomed, but odd. And the ever present background siren song of moving blood. Not his own. Someone else's. He could identify Reinhard by it now. A plucked melody on an off key harp. Just under the whispered words. He could hear it, and if he wanted to, Shura could reach for it.

But he didn't. Just listened.

It was only after Reinhard laid down that Shura eventually cleaned himself up, movements stiff and a little mechanical, then up and out of the water. There was still a chilled bite to the air and he grabbed the closest thing – his coat – and wrapped himself in it before depositing himself near the fire to dry and warm up. After feeding it another piece of wood.

He didn't have any plans. Shura didn't plan. He moved around depending on his needs, on whatever called him, and wherever he needed or wanted to go. Same as how he'd ended up where he presently was. Breaking the quiet, he asked, "Where will you go now?" Did it matter? Should it?

It did. In a way.

He rubbed at one of his eyes, where an ache started just behind it. That press like someone else was in his head, just searching for a way to get out. Should it, should it? Probably not. No. But he liked the company and it was rare that someone didn't scream and flee from him. That mattered... didn't it?

Volker watched Shura deposit himself by the fire...in the filthy coat.He sighed and got up, kissing Shura's neck and gently peeling the coat off of him so he could wash it properly. He settled Shura on the bed, wrapping the warmed blankets around him so he'd have something while Volker worked to get their clothes clean. He looked up at Shura when the man asked him where he would go. "I am seeking a friend of mine. Jonathan Burr. A skilled mage in his own right; a man who works to transform the properties of things around him. He is haunted, like myself. We have been friends for a very long time. I have not seen him in years." Volker said. "He tends to stick around cities. I wanted to try the nearest one."

Great. You're subjecting me to Hob on top of everything else? Oor asked sourly. What happened to staying here for a few weeks? Fuck yourself silly and glut on meat. It's completely safe. No one would bother you out here.

"There is only so much wood, and the bodies will attract predators soon. There will be traders. A town does not reach this size without trading with the outside." Volker reasoned. "It is time to move on."

He laid Shura's coat out to dry and joined him on the bed, putting his arm around Shura's waist and pulling him against his side. "You are welcome to come with us, if you choose." he said quietly.

Shura made a faint noise of protest when his jacket was pulled off, frowning at Reinhard. The noise was the only protest though and he was easily moved bodily as the other man wanted. That, too, was odd. No one just... manhandled him... like that. Moved him around as they wanted, did as they wanted.

Reinhard just did it without question.

The bloodmage watched him from on the mattress, wrapped in blankets but otherwise still unclothed. It didn't surprise Shura that Reinhard would have friends – other people he knew – or that he'd want to see them. All Shura generally had for company were, well, the shadows around him and the whispers. It made for poor conversation, generally.

At the mention of the bodies and predators, Shura glanced at the door. To what he knew was beyond it. He never really stayed anywhere long enough to even think about what became of it after he was there. Before. After. What does any of that even matter?

It didn't, he supposed.

The offer to join them, though... "You're full of surprises," Shura said, glancing at him before settling comfortably against Reinhard's side.

He wasn't paranoid – he didn't think Reinhard was trying to put him in some sort of trap. This would've been a very weird way to go about it, but he was a little hesitant. Shura knew he had bouts of being less than lucid. If Reinhard hadn't liked the mess he'd walked in on, Shura doubted he'd like traveling with him. "I'll go with you until you get tired of me." That seemed to be the better answer.

"We will go in the morning, then." Volker said. It was fair. The pair did have their differences; Shura seemed to favor mass destruction over careful planning and waste didn't bother him as much as it did Volker. Strangely enough, he could picture Jonathan and Shura getting along. The other mage had the same lackadaisical attitude toward mess and definitely generated enough of it to drive Volker up the wall. Volker was painfully organized about some things. He didn't see anything wrong with everything having a place.

Volker nuzzled into Shura's neck. "I do not think we will get tired of one another any time soon." he purred into Shura's ear, kissing along his jaw. "Somehow I think you around to keep me warm will prove very beneficial." he scooped up Shura and moved the man to his lap, blankets and all. He arranged them so they were chest to chest, Shura's legs on either side of his hips, sharing the blanket cocoon. He kissed him.

Shura smiled a little more at what Reinhard had to say. He seemed optimistic, which was good, yes? He was still trying to get used to the idea that someone wanted him around. Was next to him. Near and warm.

The words against his ear and mouth on his neck near melted him. Making him pliable. Shura was so used to be alone and cold, or at least chilled, that he liked being close and warm. Sliding his arms around Reinhard's neck loosely while he settled on his lap. The blankets kept the chill from getting at his back, trapping their warmth together.

He smiled a little into the kiss and squirmed just a little, nipping at Reinhard's lower lip. "I'd follow you around for the food alone," he teased softly, playfully. That really wasn't all but that had been the first thing – what had started it all. A hot meal in a cold place. Shura wanted to remember that. Remember this. Maybe... if he was around Reinhard enough, the man would stick in his mind and he would. Since he'd never had the opportunity to try... It was worth giving it a shot.

Volker hissed in a breath when Shura squirmed on his lap. He wrapped his arms around Shura's waist, encouraging him to grind down on him. He nipped back at Shura's lip, playful. "It will only improve in the city. I will take spices with us." he said softly. There were so many things the city could provide that the wilderness couldn't. Soap, hot water, vegetables and ripe fruit. He leaned forward and kissed Shura deeply. He wanted to lounge in a nice hotel room with Shura, feeding him peaches poached in cream and fucking until the small hours of the morning.

He gave that low, deep, possessive growl again. The kind that vibrated his entire chest and thrummed against Shura. He nipped along Shura's collarbone, giving him a nice little half-necklace of reddened bites, each sealed with a little flick of his tongue. Jonathan's house was big. Surely he wouldn't mind Volker bringing along Shura. He ran his hands up Shura's back, then down to squeeze his rear. He liked the idea of seeing Shura tangled up in silk sheets, sleeping away a good meal and a good fuck.

He hadn't meant to prompt the response he got, but Shura certainly didn't mind it. Making a pleased sound when he was encouraged to move more so – and he did. The blood mage had no idea what spices might do to food, he couldn't name a one besides salt. Pepper? Were those spices? Spending so much time wandering from small home and farm house, tasting dried meat and hard bread, Shura would pretty much be thankful for anything made – anything cooked.

Granted, he also enjoyed the company. The possessive growl made him shiver and groan softly. It was such a visceral noise to come from someone. One of his hands lightly gripped the back of Reinhard's neck as he decorated Shura's pale skin with red marks.

Faintly breathy, he murmured, "If we're going to leave in the morning, should we sleep?" Because this didn't feel like it was leading to sleep. Or was apart of sleeping. Not that he overly minded. Being touched and, in a way, pampered like this was new and exciting. Having someone pay so much attention to him was thrilling. Shura wasn't sure how he could begin to repay it all, but he'd try. Maybe by doing things, in kind, for Reinhard.

That was a thought. A scattered one, at the moment, but Shura clung to it as he did Reinhard. It was something new, like the man he was with, and he liked it. Liked this.

"Sleep will come." Volker muttered, and captured Shura's lips again. The way they were grinding together was nursing his arousal. He lifted his hips, rocking himself against his lover's body. He deepened the kiss, his hands squeezing Shura's rear. He rubbed a finger across his lover's entrance, kissing his jaw and biting his chin. Volker used his teeth as much as his lips and tongue to communicate his affections. Sometimes, when he got excited, he drew blood. Tiny beads of it popped up along a particularly sharp bite to the side of Shura's neck.

Volker's lips trailed lower, kissing across his throat. He gently closed his teeth around it, and squeezed ever so slightly. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make breathing a little more difficult. From his own experience it would take the edge off of being mounted. It also tended to make arousal hit twice as hard. He pressed his finger inside of Shura, searching for his spot. He grazed it, tending to it with little strokes of his fingerpad.

Shura let out a soft laugh at the vocal reply. So it would seem his new found friend had other things on his mind. Not that he, nor his rocking hips, were complaining. Shura was soaking up the attention, the kiss, reveling in the way someone else responded to him that wasn't fright. It was thrilling.

He sucked in a sharp breath when Reinhard teased him with a finger, though the exhale was a long groan. The smell of his blood, light in the air, was sweet and tangy. Shura adored it. Like a perfumed accent to the already sharp scent of them being together. Shura's blood didn't run on his skin, like it might on someone else, but clung to him like it didn't want to leave.

And it didn't.

The bloodmage mewled a little when Reinhard bit him, harder, and rocked back against his hand. He was still a little sore from before, but that wasn't particularly stopping Shura either. Encouraging Reinhard to touch and stroke, sending shocks of pleasure through him. The dull pain was a sweet treat on all of it. Something that kept him sharp and alert to what was being done to him. He squeezed the back of Reinhard's neck reflexively – nowhere near hard enough to do anything – and tried to keep his breathing as even as possible. Which was incredibly difficult, given all the things being done to him.

Volker kept Shura still. His jaws were powerful, and it was his preferred way of killing. He could hold on like a bulldog, stubbornly cutting off the air of his victims until their kicks and punches died away into weak flailing. With Shura it was a gentle pressure. Just enough so Volker could feel the pulse throbbing against his teeth. He teased and stroked with his finger, lubricated with the leavings of their earlier coupling. His cock pressed against Shura's belly, hot and swollen.

Eventually he kept his hand still, spreading his fingers so Shura could rock back onto his finger a little more comfortably. Every movement rubbed his fingertip against Shura's spot, sending electric pulses of pleasure through his pale lover. Volker released his throat briefly, enough to kiss his ear. "Look at you, grinding back on me. You want to come." he purred deeply, darkly. His teeth nipped at Shura's ear, sending a hot little droplet of blood welling up on the edge of his ear like a tiny ruby. "Do you want to come for me?" he licked the blood away, dragging his finger against Shura's spot in a long, slow, tantalizing stroke.

The bite didn't bother him. If anything, it seemed to encourage Shura to move. To squirm and rock as much as his body might while not tempting any more pressure from Reinhard's mouth. A maddening game of be still but not too still. It was lovely. With one hand gripping Reinhard's neck, a way of grounding himself where he was, the other long fingered hand slipped between them so he could, in turn, touch and explore the cock that had, not so long ago, been buried in him. Tracing around the tip of the length with his fingertips before wrapping his hand around and slowly, in time to his own rocking, stroke him.

Shura didn't have the capacity to be ashamed, but he could certainly be embarrassed by what Reinhard whispered against his ear. His already flushed, pale skin darkening a shade though that didn't stop him. He was a creature of response and reaction. He wasn't about to think about what he was doing now. That was not only against his nature, but entirely counterproductive. So, breathy and trembling from the way Reinhard was still touching him, he answered, "Y-yes..." It wouldn't take much, or any time at all. He was already painfully hard with a glistening drop of precum perched precariously  at the tip. He just wanted... needed... a little more coaxing. Already awash in sensation, he was easily at Reinhard's mercy.

Volker groaned at the gentle, exploratory touches. He loved the little flames of pleasure that followed Shura's hand as his lover rubbed him. He kissed Shura affectionately, a sadistic thought coming to him. He wrapped his hand around Shura's member and gave it a slow, squeezing stroke. He then put his thumb securely against the small area where the underside of Shura's cock met his balls, preventing him from orgasming. "You're going to have to ask better than that." he purred teasingly, pressing his finger deep and brushing Shura's spot. Not the nice, dragging touches of before but a teasing little graze that barely touched him. "And what are you going to do for me if I let you come?" Volker whispered in his ear, his voice hoarse with pleasure.

He wanted Shura to feel that delicious, almost painful burn of teetering on the edge of orgasm but not being allowed to tip over the edge. He wanted to watch him squirm, blush and beg to come. He had to admit, he was curious to see what he would come up with in answer to his question. Did Shura have a little spark of sexual creativity in him?

Shura was panting when Reinhard kissed him, stealing what breath he had. He thought that would be how he'd come undone. Moaning against his mouth. But no. Reinhard was cruel indeed when the rough pressure made Shura cry out and squeeze the back of Reinhard's neck again, desperate this time.

He's being cruel. Very.

Thoughts scattered and sluggish, Shura was at the point he'd have said just about anything Reinhard wanted him to. So when he was prompted to ask better, he did. He begged softly and ran his thumb over the tip of Reinhard's cock out of reflex, wanting to touch him in kind. He still tried to rock back, seeking the pressure of the finger in him. Wanting the relief of it all.

And what would he do? Shura would do... well, just about anything. But that was probably not going to be satisfying answer or one taken too seriously. Though he didn't know Reinhard well enough to have a long list of things to suggest, nor was his memory going to help him, so he offered in a desperate plea, "If you let me, I'll use my mouth for you..." It'd certainly been lovely when the same had been done to him.

Volker kissed Shura's neck as he begged, squirming and whining on his lap. Still his thumb stayed unmoving. He loved it. He loved the way Shura squealed and quivered. His orgasm was going to hit him so much harder the more seconds ticked by with Shura on the edge, shivering and pleading with him. The way he whined made his cock jerk in Shura's hand, precome running over his lover's fingers. "Good boy." he purred, taking his time to look at the spectacle before him.

Begging to suck him. He licked Shura's cheek and released him. He pinned down Shura's hips, preventing him from moving and forcing him to focus on every tiny sensation. He rubbed Shura's spot mercilessly, stroking again and again in a feverish pace. "Come." he growled. That lovely baritone reserved for flaying men alive...or when he was feeling particularly dominant. If he timed it right this orgasm would be much rougher than the one he'd fucked out of Shura. It would be an inferno of need and want coiled deep.

Shura really thought he was being tortured. It was mean of Reinhard to tease him so. Denying him. He writhed and played his hand over the other man's cock in an attempt to convince him otherwise. It didn't work, of course. Reinhard was far better at this control thing. Shura wasn't. At all. He wanted and reacted and cared little more for anything else.

He ached so much it hurt.

When he was finally released, he cried out sharply and rest his forehead on Reinhard's shoulder. He didn't process that he was making yet another mess on himself, the suppressed orgasm shooting cum along his already pale abs and over he rest of his cock. There shouldn't have been so much but it was almost as much as before. Shura clung to Reinhard, the lovely growled command echoing in his head.

The cry turned into a whimper and he shivered, clenching painfully around Reinhard's finger in him and squirming in an effort to get away because everything just seemed too much then.

Volker held Shura through his orgasm, nuzzling him gently and slowly pulling his finger out. He didn't let him go. He held him against his shoulder and kissed him. He could feel Shura's abdomen flexing violently as he came between them. Orgasming that hard for the second time in a night must have felt draining. He rubbed his back, nuzzling his nose into Shura's hair and inhaling. "You aren't used to that yet." he said, his fingers ghosting along Shura's skin. For some reason the way Shura had bucked and screamed had turned him on more than he had been in a very, very long time. Even though he was comforting Shura through it, his own member was still hard and aching between them.

He waited for Shura to calm down a bit from the overstimulation and ran a hand over Shura's hips. He would be so sensitive. "Ride it out." he said calmly, putting a hand under Shura's chin and tilting the other man's head toward him.

Shura panted softly and mewled into the kiss. He was, literally and figuratively, spent. Sore and tired and empty and drained. He was tired and everything felt heavy. He'd been clean, but that was history. Faintly sweaty, covered in his own release once more. That seemed to be the theme of the night.

Used to that yet. Yet, yet. That sounded deliciously ominous.

The touches were light but still so electric. He wanted to just sprawl on the mattress. To just lay down and... exist, but he also didn't really want to move either. Especially when Reinhard caught his chin and directed his half-lidded red eyes to his own. "I might not be able to move in the morning," he murmured.

Volker picked up his dry shirt from the floor and mopped up Shura with it, letting him flop onto the mattress. A little pinch to his own nether regions corrected his own problem, much as it threatened to bring water to his eyes with the stinging pain of it. He kissed Shura's forehead. "Sleep. I have to prepare." he said. He'd brought a pack with him, but precious little else. He needed rags to wrap food in. He needed to gather the spice bottles from the kitchen, and melt water for the journey. Surely someone here had canteens. Warm clothing was all around them; he'd just need to find a set that fit him and wash them.

He bundled up Shura in bed, washed his shirt (again), tugged up his trousers and started on his own list. Occasionally he came back to add a log to the fire so Shura wouldnt' be too cold. He gathered up their supplies with the ease of a man who had done so many times. When he finally curled up in bed with Shura it was extremely late in the night.

Wake up, lovebirds. Oor poked the edge of the bed. Volker sighed and pulled Shura closer to him in bed. He didn't want to wake up yet. 

Shura grunted a little when Reinhard cleaned him up, leaning back until he was just laying down. He did frown a little when that seemed to be it, but he couldn't right proper summon the energy for much else unless the other man was just going to fuck his mouth.

Instead, Shura was told to sleep while Reinhard prepared. He didn't understand what that really meant. Shura just... went places. Though he was rapidly learning that nothing was ever so simple with Reinhard. He make a noise of acknowledgement and curled up in the blankets. He wanted to help. Maybe after a nap.

That was the intention. Shura didn't wake up. Not even when Reinhard joined him, though he was drawn to the warmth of the other body and tangled himself with it. Warm and nice. Not how he usually slept.

At the prompting in the morning, Shura cracked one red eye open to peer at the shadow-thing. Oor. Was it morning? Already? It felt like he'd just gotten to rest and now... He grunted a little and hid his face in Reinhard's chest, in the warmth and darkness of the blankets. "Really set on leaving today?" he groaned, dramatically whining.

Volker flopped on his back and put his arm around Shura. He didn't want to leave the safety of the bed, but Oor was right. They had to go. He groaned and got up, kissing Shura's neck. "Come." he said simply, pulling on his shirt and the thick coat he'd found. He bundled himself up with thick wool socks, some gloves, and better pants. He even had a pair of wool socks for Shura. His pack had enough meat in it to last a few solid weeks. The last of the butter he'd wrapped in oilcloth and sealed in a tin lined with snow so it wouldn't go rancid.

He wrapped his knives to his leg, picked up his pack, and looked at Shura. "It's time to leave." He knew it was nice being there alone without a soul to bother them, but the truth was they had no recourse. Wood would run out eventually and as much as he loved meat...a man couldn't live off of it alone. They needed vegetables and bread, and Volker desperately craved cheese and beer. A life here was surviving but it wasn't living.

Volker headed out into the snow. As far as he could tell, the nearest city was south? Southeast of them? "I have not traveled much." he admitted to Shura. "Tell me about the cities near us."

While the kiss did somewhat mollify the bloodmage to the idea of getting up, he still wasn't happy about facing the cold after a warm, exhausting night. Shura laid there a little longer, protesting in his own way, before he grunted and slid out of the blankets. He dressed in his clothes quickly and pulled on his frayed coat. It was warm, it'd just been through a lot.

Since he didn't have nearly as much to wear, or pack, he was done faster than Reinhard. He sat back on the mattress and wrapped his arms around his legs, drawn up, and watched through partially closed eyes. He didn't know where they were going but he didn't really care either. Shura didn't have a place to go, a timetable he had to keep, or anyone that was expecting him.

He was, quite literally, free to go anywhere or do whatever.

When it was time to go, Shura sighed again and stood. There was a heavy reluctance in his footsteps but he did follow Reinhard out into the cold, white snow. He made a small game out of stepping in the other mans steps, making it easier to go through what snow had fallen. The question lingered in the chill between them before Shura eventually answered. "There aren't any real big cities." Absently, his hand lifted and gestured south-west. He could feel blood. A different song, a different calling, than Reinhard's sweet, shattered harp song. "Closest is there, I think. The biggest is..." he paused, glanced over his shoulder like someone else might've said something, "Hyoite?" He had been born there.

How he knew that, Shura couldn't remember. But there it was. "But that's..." Shura shook his head. He wasn't entirely sure where. He could only tell the closest source of blood, of energy, where he might sate that hunger. "It's close to a really cold, big ocean." Shura didn't know the name of that either.

Names weren't his strong suit.

"We will go there then." Volker nodded and turned toward where Shura had pointed. Once Volker made up his mind to go somewhere, he was like a machine. He didn't stop or rest. He kept up a slow, plodding pace that while not very quick, it was relentless. He had enough strength to keep slogging through the snow for hours. He puffed warm air into the freezing snow, focused on the direction Shura had pointed them in. "You can sense them, cant you?The blood, just as you sense mine." he said, looking back at his lover. "We will camp when we hit shallower snow, or the trees where we will build shelter. Keep pointing us in that direction."

They eventually did hit a copse of trees, after hours of walking. Volker looked around, at the few inches of snow covering the frozen ground, and settled his pack on the forest floor. He pulled out one of his larger knives, a skinner blade that looked more like a short-sword, its hilt a human femur. He hacked at low hanging branches, cutting apart firewood and large, furry boughs for their shelter.

Shura shrugged a little and nodded when Reinhard decided where they'd go. He had no feelings either way. All in all, he just wanted to go wherever his newfound... friend?... went. Whatever they were to eachother. Shura wasn't particularly worried about assigning a label to it and he was just content to be around him.

He liked the warmth and attention. Certainly the food too. And the odd sounds of normalcy. Of someone being around him that wasn't frightened or screaming.

It was a little frustrating trying to keep up though. Shura wasn't tall and he certainly wasn't made to plow through the snow. He strayed behind Reinhard and let him lead the way through it, stepping in his tracks. "Mm. I can. It calls to me, in a... way. Like a song? Or sometimes a scream. Or just voices. So I go to it." What usually happened then was... well, Shura didn't always remember.

He did keep Reinhard in the right direction though. That, he could do.

By the time they could stop, Shura was irritable from travel. He was tired, sweating some despite being cold, and his throat was sore from breathing in sharp, chill air. All in all, he was unhappy. He didn't know the first thing about setting up a camp, since he didn't usually camp out in the woods, so he stood, hunkered in his coat. "If you want me to d-do something, l-let me know," he murmured.

Volker could tell from his voice he'd been breathing through his mouth. It was a common mistake. People got tired and instead of puffing like bulls through their noses, they hung their mouths open and dried their throats into ragged, raw messes. He knelt in front of Shura and pulled something out of his shirt. A waterskin, hung from a cord around his neck to keep it from freezing. He offered it to Shura. The water was warm from being next to Rheinhard's skin as he exerted himself. "In through your nose, not your mouth." Volker instructed. "If you are tired, you must tell me. I am stronger than most men. I forget this."

He reached out and put a hand against Shura's cheek. "Walk, slowly. So you dry your clothes but do not sweat more." he instructed. He got up and began building a pine-bough bed, along with more sets of longer boughs propped up against a low hanging branch in a semi-lean-to. It would be enough to keep any snowfall off of them, and keep them off the freezing ground. He gestured to the bed, and began to light a fire. He had two other things with him. The frying pan from the village, and one of the lumps of meat, spiced and wrapped in cheesecloth.

Shura happily took small sips to sooth his sore, aching throat and looked about as happy as he felt. To emphasize he was doing as instructed, Shura took a long sigh through his nose. "I don't usually travel by foot," he whined a little, glancing around again. He wasn't afraid to admit that this sort of thing just wasn't his... forte. Shura was a bloodmage by nature, by birth. Certainly not a woodland survivalist. He'd spent his entire life literally relying on his craft.

Even so, he did as he was told because... he didn't have anything better to do and he had decided to go with Reinhard. This was apparently apart of that.

At the gesture, Shura sat down with a long, suffering, and certainly dramatic sigh and drew his legs up to hold them close. He was starting to feel like it was going to be a lot of walking...

Volker looked at him. Shura was exhausted, and his legs probably hurt. Volker did the best he could with the fire, settled the pan over it, and put a generous amount of meat into the pan. He wanted to make sure Shura's belly was full. He could build strong muscles on such a rich diet and a lot of walking. Walking through snow was like trying to run with bags of stones strapped to your legs. It certainly was more exhausting to get half the distance of a man on bare ground.

Their dinner cooking, he sat next to Shura and drank a little of the water. "Give me your legs." he gently pulled Shura's legs into his lap. He massaged them with his strong, gnarled hands. Hopefully it would prevent cramps while Shura was sleeping. "It will be a long journey, but hopefully we will start hitting shallower snow." he told the bloodmage. "Cities generate warmth of their own. They make marks on the land around them."

Shura watched Reinhard through half lidded eyes. The sounds of him setting up the fire and preparing another meal were things he could get used to, things he liked. It wasn't so much he was retaining any of it – Shura wouldn't likely be able to cook on his own beyond putting meat in a pan, he was getting that much. It was just nice having someone around that likewise wanted to be around him.

He did resist a little when Reinhard wanted his legs. He liked having them close to his body, but he easily relented. "You do far too much walking," he groaned. It hurt somewhat, but it was a good hurt. One that his legs would be thankful for later on. It wasn't like he could just... take Reinhard to a city the way he usually went, though. It was generally exhausting for Shura to carry himself as he did – one of the reasons he tended to kill people upon arrival.

He wasn't sure walking was much better. Being physically worn out was just as bad as being worn in another way.

Volker gently rubbed Shura's legs up and down. "I am old, Shura. I must work harder to maintain my body. Oor only does so much. Horses and dogs do not abide me, they know what I am and will do their best to avoid my company. My feet are my only option. Walking is good for you. It will build your strength." he chided gently, running his hands up Shura's thighs. "Come. Eat dinner. You will feel better when your muscles are given something to build themselves back up with."

He'd packed a pair of tin plates, and gave Shura his meat. He ate his own rather quickly, washed his plate with snow, and stowed it back in his bag. He did have one trick up his sleeve...he'd brought a thick blanket, neatly rolled up and covered in oilcloth, for sleeping. He set the oilcloth over the pine boughs, and then set the blanket over it. "We will keep one another warm." Volker kissed Shura. He pulled the other into his lap, pulling the blanket around them and wrapping Shura in his arms. It was bitterly cold outside but Volker was warm from exertion and the fire. He cupped Shura's face in his hand. "Trust me."

Shura eyed Reinhard skeptically. He did not think that the other man was old, but he was also a terrible judge of age since he didn't get to interact with people on a regular basis. He could easily count on his fingers the number of conversations he'd had with people... Certainly the number of conversations he remembered.

It didn't occur to him to ask where the meat came from and he wouldn't have cared what it was anyways. Blood was blood, meat was meat, and Shura was hungry. Walking all day had ramped up his appetite and having something, anything, cooked for him was wonderful. He made a noise of appreciation and gladly, but slowly, ate what he was given.

As he did, he watched Reinhard. Who was far quicker than he was. He mimicked the method of cleaning off the plate and offered it back, feeling a little better about the entire affair. That and getting to sleep next to someone warm was definitely more appealing then being cold again. Settling on Reinhard, he pressed against him and hummed a little into the kiss. " I trust you," he said, eyes partially closed. "I just don't like walking." He wasn't really complaining now. Just talking. His hands slid up against Reinhard's sides, just to touch him. Marveling that he could touch him. "What... what is Oor? The shadow thing?"

Shura wouldn't likely remember but he was curious now. All of Shura's magic and talent came from his own energy, the voices from the blood. It was interesting to meet someone who had something else too, something that talked that he could see.

Volker purred appreciatively and kissed Shura. He wasnt sure if he wanted to make love tonight...but it had been a while. Having someone who sought out his touch and initiated mating was very unusual for him. Volker was learning he liked being touched. He liked it immensely. He kissed Shura's neck, running his hands up and down Shuras back. Being asked about Oor wasn't unusual. Everyone did eventually.

The shadow thing can speak for itself thank you very much. Oor appeared in front of them with a scowl. He didn't know why Shura insisted on calling him a shadow thing. He wasnt a shadow at all! He appeared as a burned corpse in a funerary shroud with a red light near his heart. Nary a shadow about him. I'm a Harvester. We're beings that live off the essence of what makes a human soul unique. We attach ourselves to men who've experienced great trauma and persevered through it. I'm a physical as you are. Quit calling me shadow thing.

Volker nuzzle Shura. "He is right. I think of him as a mentor and friend. He raised me."

He nipped at Reinhard's lower lip after the kiss, easily distracted by such things. Especially when they were so close and already touching. It wasn't like Shura had been able to just sit with someone and kiss them whenever he'd wanted to. It was a novelty, and he liked it. Especially the touching and being able to freely touch in turn.

He glanced over at Oor when he appeared. Shura looked a little chagrined but gestured, just off to the side. "I see shadows all the time. The corner of my vision. Off to the side. You remind me of them, is all, and... I didn't know what else to call you."

Shura studied Oor a long moment before shaking his head "I see. What does he... do?" The question faltered some at the nuzzle and he squirmed some, brushing his lips along Reinhard's jaw. "It must be nice to have constant company." In that, Shura was a little jealous.

How about my name? That's always worked fine. I'm here to clean up the spiritual remains of Reinhards kills. He can't use a souls ether like I can, and I don't eat physical food. It's more of a symbiotic relationship than anything else. Oor grumbled. I heal him through the bond we share and I can grant him some abilities in combat. That's all. Otherwise the old shit would bleed out every time someone stuck him.

Volker nodded and growled a little when Shura squirmed on his lap. Even through thick pants...it was rousing him. "It is hard to concentrate when you squirm like that." Volker told him, though not in a tone that suggested it was a bad thung. Quite the opposite. He squeezed Shuras rear and kissed his ear.

Shura smiled a little at Oor, though it was a lazy sort of amused smile that tracked across his face. "Your name is not what you are?" he clarified. Though he'd never gotten the name of his own shadow demon things that frequently haunted his own vision. They were too fickle and ran from his attention. He'd known from the beginning that Oor was different, not his own, because he didn't move. Didn't run. At least, not when Shura looked directly at him.

The bloodmage didn't know anything about spiritual remains. Hadn't seen anything of the like, or if he had, he wouldn't have known what to call it. Probably unwanted left overs.

"It's your fault," Shura accused when Reinhard mentioned the squirming. He'd done so in response to what the other man had done to him. Shura was hardly used to someone being so eager to be near him and touch him. A lot of it was going to make him squirm. Not that the accusation was a real one or that he particularly wanted him to stop. Especially when he kissed at his ear, prompting Shura to make a soft, pleased sound in the back of his throat.

He was beginning to understand what the appeal of somewhere warmer might be. It'd be a whole lot easier to lose his clothes with Reinhard when they weren't in the middle of the frozen damn middle of nowhere. It might feel good to be with him, but there was no way that removing clothes here sounded like a good idea. Or one he wanted to do. Even with a fire. There was only so much warmth it could provide... Granted, being next to Reinhard in the blankets help quite a bit. At least he wouldn't be extremely uncomfortable when he slept.

In that, he continued to lightly touch his sides and back. Just because he could, before kissing just beneath his jaw. He murmured against Reinhard's skin, "I liked it better when we were inside and clothes weren't so much a requirement."

Just call me Oor and quit making everything so damn complicated. Oor groused, and vanished.

Volker growled playfully and wormed his hands under Shura's shirt, his fingers finding one of his nipples and slowly rolling it between his fingers. "Sometimes having clothes on makes it better. I brought rags." he murmured in Shura's ear, shifting his lover so he ground down on the hard lump of Volker's erection. He pushed his hips up, grinding them together. It was hard not to touch Shura. His libido had lain dormant for so long he felt like he wanted to mount the younger man for half the day. He kissed along his neck and nuzzled into his coat to find his collarbone. His rolling hips became more insistent.

Complicated? Shura? Hardly. He didn't get how he made anything more complicated than it was. Rather, it was weird shadow demon devourer things that made such complicated. Not that he was going to say that out loud either. Since it seemed said demon devourer thing was also grumpy.

Well, that and Reinhard was being awfully distracting.

At what he had to say, Shura made a soft sound and leaned into the touches. "I can't imagine how that's going to work without one of us getting cold. Mostly me," he complained, though it had no weight or real bluster behind it. Mostly he just didn't want to be cold when he was already so warm and comfortable on top of him. Rocking on Reinhard and groaning softly. The rest of the world didn't feel so important then. Neither did where they were going and he was having trouble remembering why they'd left the nice, warm room to begin with.

Still, Shura was easily malleable to what Reinhard wanted. Why shouldn't he be? To have someone want him in such a way was... well, it was lovely.

"I'm going to warm you.." Volker growled, reaching down to undo Shura's trousers. He slowly eased Shura up, enough to pull down his pants to his ankles. He was quick to get Shura's pants off and welcome him back into the warm folds of the blanket. He put Shura's thighs around him, to the warmest portions of Rheinhard's body. He undid his own pants, pulling his cock out. "Ride me..." Volker purred. He wanted Shura to take it himself, to have some measure of control over the pace. He pressed himself to Shura's entrance, already stretched and warm from the other night. "I need you to ride me.."

Well. So much for that particular teasing. Shura actually chuckled softly when he was quite literally man handled so his clothes were off. Not that he was particularly protesting. He did help with the removal of his pants, mostly because it meant limited exposure to the cold and he could quickly resettle back into the warmth that was Reinhard.

The purred order was lovely. Shura gripped the back of Reinhard's neck, watching him while he adjusted just a little, biting at his lower lip in concentration. He was a little dubious about the position, about how it might feel, about whether or not Reinhard would even fit...

But he did as he was told. Squirming a little in both anticipation and anxiousness before Shura buried his face against Reinhard's neck and slowly, because of the sore pressure, impaled himself. It was rough, certainly raw, but hot and shot electric want up his spine and along his own length. There was something wickedly wonderful about being able to be on Reinhard like this, being able to go as slow as he liked until he was seated completely.  Gasping softly in the cold and clinging to him.

Volker loved this position. It gave Shura a lot of control, and though the pace was a little slow for Rheinhard he was patient. Besides, he got to watch Shura's face as his lover sank down into his lap, impaled on his member. It was exquisite, watching Shura gasp and adjust to him. Rheinhard did his part to make sure the blankets were enrobed around them, protecting Shura from the cold. He kissed him, his hands wrapping around Shura's back. "Good.." he groaned, kissing Shura's ear and nipping playfully at the lobe. He struggled to keep his own hips still. It was hard when Shura was so tight and hot around him.

The heat generated between them was incredible. Enough to prompt Rheinhard to lay on his back, giving Shura as much of the blankets as he wanted. Everything, except seeing what he wanted to see. His eyes watched Shura on his lap, his hand lazily going to stroke his lover's cock. "Ride." he purred, low and lustful. The sound rolled up from his chest, his eyes meeting Shura's.

He did whimper just a little when he was finally on Reinhard' slap. Fully seated on him, flushed and panting softly. It always felt like so much and almost too deep. An odd rush of pleasurable pressure that made his blood rush through him. A lovely feeling, all in all. Especially when he was rewarded with the kiss and response from his partner.

Knowing he had such an affect was a heady thing too.

His eyes went a little wide when Reinhard laid back and his hands splayed on his abdomen to remain upright. Braced and seated, still. At the prompting, Shura shifted his legs to either side how he'd need and sucked in a sharp breath before he lifted himself just a little, testing the drag of Reinhard leaving him. The touch to his own cock forced a strangled mewl from his throat and he sank back on quickly. Shura's eyes closed and he repeated the motion, lifting higher. Moving a little faster. Testing how much he could lift himself while still keeping Reinhard in him.

Gods, the sight was almost as good as the feeling. Volker growled low in his throat, one hand moving to support Shura's hips and the other giving him slow, encouraging strokes. "That's it.." he growled, watching Shura rise up, and sink back down. The sweet ring of pleasure riding up and down. Volker laid his head back, panting as Shura took ocntrol, riding him up and down. He started to roll his own hips, rising them up to meet Shura when he sank back down. He loved the feeling. He groaned every time Shura thrust him back into that sweet warmth.

"You're beautiful..." Volker looked up at Shura, framed by firelight, his white hair falling into his face and those ruby eyes watching him. "Every inch of you. Your pale skin. Your long legs. This..." he squeezed, long and slow, up Shura's cock.

It was entirely exciting to have Reinhard beneath him. Feeling both in control and wildly not at the same time. Gasping into the cold air and trembling on the way down his partner's cock. There was so much to feel, so much to experience that he was having trouble processing it all. The cold, the pressure, the heat of Reinhard beneath him, the play of his hand over Shura's own length... He was trapped in a play of pleasure, encouraged to move and drive himself down on Reinhard over and over. Shura couldn't move too fast, didn't want to. His pale skin as flushed in some places – his face, neck, and top of his chest.

When Reinhard called him beautiful, the blush on his face only darkened and he closed his eyes briefly. That... that was a new one. He'd been called a lot of things that echoed in his memory. Monster. Killer. But that? Seemed reserved for sweeter, graceful people that did not leave bloody messes made from small outposts of people.

In that, he appreciated it all the more. Craved that sense of validation from Reinhard because he was the only one that seemed to both accept and understand Shura in an odd way. Wanted him. Unfortunately, he neither had the voice to say as much and feared to even try to put words to that. What was there to say?

So, he said the easiest. The most immediate. "I like you beneath me... Like this." Breathy and soft. Testing the words in the midst of being impaled over and over. Words he'd certainly never remembered saying before.

Volker liked giving up control like this. It was difficult for him and he wasn't sure Shura understood how hard it was to let him take the reins. He looked Shura up and down, his eyes bright and burning with lust. Shura's little gasps made him want to rut, made him want to throw Shura down on his back and violently give in to the need. But he didn't. He laid there watching his lover pleasure himself, his hand moving faster on Shura's member. A little adjustment though....Shura was sitting a little low on his thighs. He brought Shura forward just a few inches with gentle pressure on the other's lower back. Now when Shura settled back down on his cock, it would press right up against his spot. Volker groaned, satisfied when he felt the head of his member stroke achingly slow past that hard little place inside of Shura.

"Why do you like it?" Volker purred teasingly. "I like being able to watch you...being able to watch myself sink into you."

It had already been a building, rocking pleasure with Reinhard stroking him while he drove himself down repeatedly, it was near unbearable when he was adjusted. A soft whimper escaped his throat and he had to pause the first time. To brace himself for the next as he reflexively tensed and tightened almost painfully.

It always felt like too much. Like Reinhard might break him if Shura went too fast. Moved too hard. Now there were spikes of electric pleasure accompanying that sense of what if and closer, closer. His movements became less refined and his breathing uneven between faint, breathy moans in the cold air.

He couldn't turn any more red than he was, but the question still drove him mad. Why indeed. He couldn't imagine how he must look, needy and pale skin colored so as he moved. Such a thing didn't sound appealing to him, but Shura certainly enjoyed being on Reinhard, having him there. Stretched out beneath him. Letting Shura do as he would. Feeling both in control and on the verge of losing it all.

Shura's breathing was a little more ragged as he answered, "Feeling like... you're... mine..." A spark of possession, a bit of feral want in that. To have something that wouldn't break because of who he was or what he was. H

He was faintly trembling. Eyes narrowed and digging his fingers into Reinhard's abdomen just a little. "I'm not... I can't..." He couldn't find the words to express that he was going to break.

Volker could feel how Shura trembled, how he braced against his abdomen and whined for more. His uneven breathing and the way he ground down on Volker. Volker was close. Every little movement seemed to  urge him close and closer toward that edge. He licked his lips as Shura answered. "I'm yours." he urged, growling deeply in his throat. "I'm yours..." That feral light in his eyes was more than Volker could bear. He brought his finger to his lips and cut it deeply with his teeth. He used the blood to lubricate his hand rubbing up and down on Shura's cock, little movements of his finger keeping the wound from closing. He pulled Shura close and bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed, making their kiss hot and bloody.

His hips bucked up with a ragged snarl. He pinned Shura to his hips and began to fuck, slowly and hard. He bucked up and snarled, spilling his seed deeply inside of Shura. "Come." he growled, his hand working faster on Shura's member. "Call my name...I want to hear it when you come undone."

There were a lot of things Reinhard could've said and Shura was so lost in what was going on, he didn't expect an answer. The growled response though, made him tremble all the more. He loved it when Reinhard growled at him and the words coupled with the sound nearly had him undone.

When the sharp tang of blood filled the air, Shura's red eyes sharpened on Reinhard and his breath caught for several beats. Losing his breath to the kiss he was quickly pulled into that tasted of that sweet, coppery tang that had Shura's own pulse racing to answer, his response to the kiss just as needy and hungry. A shudder rocked through him when he knew, knew, Reinhard came. In him.

He needed very little prompting. Holding onto Reinhard, panting against his mouth only a breath or two before he arched some and did just that. Crying out his name – letting it play through the quite, snow filled forest – and quivering through his own messy orgasm. For several breaths Shura's thoughts were scattered and he just collapsed, wallowing in the way his body trembled and the delicious taste of blood in his mouth, and the smell of it in the air. Coupled with the heady addition of sex.

He was certainly being spoiled.

Volker chuckled, laying his head down and wrapping an arm lazily around Shura. He kissed his neck, planting bloody kisses down Shura's throat. "I see blood is an interesting addition to sex...but one that you enjoy." Volker panted, running his hand up and down Shura's back. He pulled the blaket up over them. He ran his hands down and gripped Shura's rear. He slid his fingers between his legs, groaning as he felt his member slide out of Shura's body with a little rush of fresh seed.

He gave them a few minutes of rest before he turned over and grabbed a cloth from his pack. He slowly wiped Shura clean so they didn't have to deal with the mess of his lover's orgasm down their fronts in the morning. He kissed him, sighing in contentment. They would be warm together, listening to the fire die down and keeping the heat of their exercise trapped in the blanket. He stroked Shura's cheek, petting him idly as he drifted off to sleep.

Shura continued to soak in the scent of blood and the feel of it on his skin. Reinhard's broken harp of a song was louder now that he'd spilt his own blood and it was lovely. Willingly offered, coupled with the orgasm, it was just... a lovely, addictive harmony. He hummed a little in tune to it when Reinhard kissed along his neck.  "Mm. Bloodmage," he murmured lazily, as if that was an answer and it explained it all.

For Shura, it did.

He did grunt and flinch when Reinhard shifted out of him. He really was going to be sore. Walking was going to be awful. In that, he weakly glared at Reinhard for the span of a breath before simply relaxing on him. Nearly asleep up until he moved to clean them both up.

Over stimulated and really sensitive, Shura squeaked  and squirmed when Reinhard did, though he was able to settle pretty quick after. Exhausted and spent, he wondered idly if they could just... sleep... tomorrow. That'd be fine, right?

He doubted it. Shura also knew he was going to hate getting dressed when he woke up. But that sounded like a future problem.

Volker slept soundly. He liked this new way of sleeping and rising; going to sleep after a good orgasm with his lover cuddled on top of him, and waking up to the same. Oor was wandering around the camp listlessly, bored. Volker let Shura sleep a little longer, getting up and letting him curl up in the warm spot where Volker had laid. He started the fire, cooked a little hard tack and the last of the bacon for breakfast, then broke down the camp.

It was more walking. Walking for miles. Volker was going slower to mind Shura, and he took breaks he didn't need. The old man was right; it was getting easier. The snowdrifts got shallower and shallower the further south they went. The cold loosened its grip ever so slightly, enough for them to shatter thin ice to get drinks from streams, and start to see more than the occasional evergreen tree. Volker had used up the food he'd taken along, so he was treading much more carefully now.

When he spotted a herd of deer through the trees, he froze. He gestured for Shura to stay and rest on a nearby stone, and began to circle around to get close. The attack came suddenly with an explosion of movement. Volker rammed shoulder-first into the lead buck. The animal staggered, clearly surprised, while the rest of the herd began to flee. Volker took advantage of the stag being off his balance and seized ahold of his throat in his teeth. The standoff began. Volker trying to wrest the animal to the ground with his hands on the stag's antlers and its throat in his teeth. The stag pulling backwards, trying to loosen Volker's grip and drive the antler tines into him. It was a tense, surprisingly quiet struggle. The two opponents were still, except for the occasional struggle or kick.

Shura decided he hated traveling. Waking up in the cold was something he was certainly accustom, but he didn't like having to walk through it. Or trudge through it, as it were. Getting dressed in it was certainly a shitty thing to do too and he immediately regretted allowing his pants to be taken off to begin with.

The entire walk, his eyes were narrowed and faintly luminescent, but he was quiet. Listening to the hissed complaints and growled protests that echoed in his mind. Ignoring the darting shapes and figures in the corner of his vision. Ever pointing Reinhard in the direction of the song. The pull of blood and the promise of energy, of relaxation, of an end to all of this.

The call to stop was abrupt and made him scowl a little, but he did. Shura didn't understand why until he heard the startled deer take off. Well, all but the one Reinhard was fighting. Shura understood that people fought, physically, but it just wasn't something he did. His eyes still narrowed, his breath puffed into the cold while he contemplated if he should help or not. It wasn't that he thought Reinhard needed his help. It was just a damn deer. Their blood was thick, sluggish, with no song and certainly no pull to Shura. He could take it, if he wanted, but it was more energy than it was worth.

So he didn't bother. He just watched, instead, and shivered in the cold.

Volker took a look at Shura and let the elk go. The creature kicked out and stumbled away from him, yanking in a ragged gasp. Volker shoved him away with his own antlers. The elk stumbled to his feet and went down hard, panting, eyes rolling wildly. It wouldn't attack him. It was mad with terror and the blinding luck it had suddenly crashed into. It was alive. Volker looked at Shura, closer. His mate was hurting, and cold. He was hungry, but not in the way Volker was thinking. He had gone about this all wrong. The elk wasn't what Shura needed.

He came close and picked up Shura abruptly, wrapping him in their extra blanket and holding him close. He walked, carrying Shura with him. Shura was heavy, but Volker was trying to apologize. His mate wasn't used to this. Wasn't used to slogging through the snow for hours and staving off the elements. He, in turn, had ignored that fact.

This time, he headed across the snow covered glade into shallower snow and muddy land. He was tracking something else now, and the elk had been an unwitting trap. The stumbling idiot animal was irresistable to hunters in the trees. All Volker had to do was wait, and keep following his half-dead quarry. It only took an hour. The elk had probably just recovered when Volker heard a rustle in the tree above his head, and a strangled bugle a hundred yards off.

Volker gently let Shura down, and waited. The hunter climbed down out of the trees, and Volker slashed the backs of his knees and threw him down in front of his mate. He looked at Shura, and waited. The man screamed and tried to get up. Each time Volker let him stumble, and simply pulled him back if he tried to crawl off. It was like a lioness presenting an injured gazelle to a group of cubs. He wouldn't kill the man howling and clutching at his knees, but he couldn't leave either.

Shura couldn't have begun to guess what was going through Reinhard's mind, and he wasn't about to start trying. He simply stood and waited, as he'd been told to. Annoyed. Cold. Grumpy. He didn't have to understand what it was the other man was doing – hell, he barely understood half the reasons for the things he did. So he really didn't understand what was going on when the elk was allowed to stumble off.

Neither did he say anything either. What was he going to say? It's getting away. That was obvious.

His eyes opened some in surprise when Reinhard picked him up, quite abruptly, but he didn't protest. Not at all. The blanket was lovely, getting off his own damn feet was a godsend, and he nestled as close to the warmth of the one carrying him as he could. This was better. Shura's eyes went from narrowed to damn near closed.

The bloodmage was tired. The walk was draining on him.

He didn't rouse from his half-sleep until he was gently put back on his feet. He slow blinked, trying to take stock of where he was. What was going on. He didn't hear anything, didn't feel the pulse of anyone until the hunter was tossed down in front of him. He'd been so tired and wrapped up in the sound of Reinhard he'd missed it. The simpering sound of a lone soul out in the woods.

Shura looked from the pleading man to Reinhard, then back down. Only once. It wasn't a questioning look, but a little surprised. Then, crouching where he was, Shura simply reached out. The man, mistakenly thinking Shura was offering aid, reached back.

Then screamed. It was brief. Most of the time it was. Shura hummed sweetly as the man's body contorted in unnatural ways, breaking itself as the blood in him was pulled, quite eagerly, to the blood mage. Steaming and hot in the air, cutting through what snow was on the ground, to coil in front of Shura like some sort of slick, black and red worm. The heat from it all leeched into him and he drained the energy from the coiled worm until it turned to brown sludge in front of him.

Only then did Shura rock back and sit on his ass, still wrapped in the blankets, and let out a long, contented sigh. Warm, his aching muscles no longer aching, he smiled a little at Reinhard. "You do spoil me," he murmured lazily, red eyes damn near glowing.

That had fixed it. Volker purred in satisfaction and picked up Shura. He kissed him, nuzzling into the soft nest around Shura's neck and licking his skin. He nipped his nose briefly and started walking again. He headed toward the elk, and let Shura down briefly. He hung it, gutted it, skinned it, and began to work on paring down the meat into something they could eat. He had enough oilcloth to wrap some of the larger pieces and strap them to the outside of his pack, but they'd need to be cooked soon since he couldn't freeze them.

When he was satisfied he gave Shura the bloody fur to cuddle, picked him up again, and down the road they went. Volker was loaded down like a mule, so he didn't make half the progress he wanted to. When he set up camp again he was puffing like a bull, but had enough forethought to cook a little spiced venison for Shura and himself. He ate ravenously, like a man who had been hauling around half a carcass and his mate all day.

They needed an actual tent. He barely got a lean-to together before he flopped on the pine boughs beneath it, exhausted. He beckoned Shura to his side, wanting him to share some of the blanket.

Shura was quite happy and enthusiastically returned the kiss, nipping at him, and making pleased sounds. He was far more alert as he watched Reinhard take apart the elk. He understood why. Parts of the animal were the parts they'd eaten before, other parts not so much. The bloodmage hardly knew the difference but Reinhard certainly seemed to.

He murmured to himself, trying to take note of at least some of the major parts so that he might be able to do it in the future. Animal blood didn't respond to him, and it'd take effort, but not so much.

Shura was expecting to have to walk more, so he was quite surprised when he was picked up once more. Not that he was going to complain about that either. He hated walking. Hated it. It made all of him ache and angry and hungry. He did feel bad that it made Reinhard tire though and helped some to set up the lean to. At least, in the way he knew how. All of this was still very new to the bloodmage. Walking around, camping, cooking.

Things Shura just... didn't do.

When Reinhard flopped down, Shura didn't move to his side. Rather, he stretched out over him so that both the mage and the blankets pretty much covered the other man. Legs to either side of Reinhard's hips, he crossed his arms over Reinhard's chest and rest his chin on the back of his hands. "You don't have to wear yourself out for me," he murmured, feeling a tad guilty. Hearing the repeated accusation bouncing around in his mind.

However, he was quite appreciative, warm, and didn't feel like he'd been pulled through miles of snow. So he peppered kisses along Reinhard's jaw and up to his ear, biting at him. "You should've let me try to cook for you," he teased in a playful whisper. It might not have ended so well, but at least Reinhard would've been able to relax sooner.

Volker grunted at the idea of Shura cooking. "I told you I don't waste." he muttered, though the joke didn't have any malice to it. He ran his hand over Shura's back, breathing in deeply and looking at him. "I will teach you to make camp tomorrow so you can help." he sighed deeply, running his hand up and down Shura's back. He lifted his hips half-heartedly, grinding for a moment against Shura. He wasn't sure he had the energy. Carrying even a slip of a thing like his mate was a bit much.

He kissed Shura sleepily. "Then i will have the energy to fuck you." he mumbled, his palm squeezing over Shura's rear. The spirit was willing but the flesh was very, very exhausted. He watched Shura a moment, his hand coming up to touch Shura's cheek. "When we reach civilization you must be civilized. Killing men like it is nothing is easy in the wild. Not so in the town."

Shura hadn't quite realized how much he liked being touched. Having Reinhard's hands on him was lovely. The pressure, the contact. Having someone so close, so warm, so alive, that he did not kill. It was an odd novelty, but he didn't really want to drain Reinhard. He wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to given the odd shadow thing bonded to him, but Shura liked the broken harp music that was his... partner? Lover? Whatever Reinhard was to him.

Having him around had significantly improved Shura's life in a lot of ways – minus the traveling. That was awful. But the camping at night? The meals? The warmth and touching? The bloodmage liked all of that. Wanted it all. He made soft, pleased sounds and supposed it wasn't so bad being cold a little if it meant that Reinhard touched his skin and not his clothes. So he shrugged out of his jacket and shoved it aside. The less between them, the better.

When Reinhard made mention of fucking him, Shura snorted a soft laugh. "I did not think you would want to so soon." He had no idea how such things worked. If he'd been with someone before, he certainly didn't remember it and they'd not lingered around long enough for it to matter.

The bloodmage leaned into the touch and sighed some. "Mm. I know. Towns are noisy. Different. A mess. I..." He made a face and his eyes darted all over Reinhard's face. "I don't always remember everything I do in a town, around a lot of people. But I don't try to draw attention to myself."

It wasn't that Shura went crazy so much as... he just had holes in his memory. Gaps. So he couldn't say that he'd always behave, because he didn't know. But towns and cities were very noisy. So many people, so much temptation. It'd be so easy to... He buried his face against Reinhard's neck and played his hands up the other man's sides. "I'll try to be good for you."

Volker ran his hands over Shura's skin, down his sides and around to his hips and rear. "Were we in Jonathan's house in his guest bedroom...I would mount you any time you would let me." he purred in Shura's ear. "Your alabaster skin begs to be bitten." he nuzzled along Shura's neck and gently touched his teeth to it, to make his point. He did want to. "You will be good for me. There is no try. It does not mean I will not satisfy your urges. It means you must be more careful than wild abandoned killing."

He yawned and stretched, rolling his muscular shoulders and wrapping his arms lazily around Shura's hips. He didn't have the energy to do much but tease. He pressed his thumb in lazy circles around Shura's entrance, rubbing gently. Little teases here and there to drive Shura wild and get his blood up...even if Volker had no intention of doing anything other than toy.

Shura shivered at what Reinhard had to say. He couldn't fathom someone that would be so... enthusiastic so he would just have to... wait and see? Not that he was particularly complaining at that moment, though. Cold be damned, he was quite happy then to be touched and nipped at. Later Shura could deal with the cold and frown about it, but right now there wasn't anything could about being against Reinhard when he was being touched.

He hummed a little when it was reiterated he had to be good. Yes, yes. He would. Try. His best. Obviously. Hopefully that wouldn't upset Reinhard if he did make a mistake. Shura had thus far been quite good at getting away when he did. Granted, he could fly. Most couldn't.

Still, he wanted to be around the broken harp of a song that was his Reinhard, which would mean... not breaking other people. Mm. An interesting way to test control.

He jumped and squirmed some when Reinhard meant to tease him. Hardly fair. He tried to get away and even scowled at Reinhard, though there was no real malice or heat to it. "You shouldn't mess with me," he grumbled. Even so, one of his hands slipped between them so he could tease in turn. Wanting to touch Reinhard as much as he was being touched. It didn't matter to Shura if he was too exhausted to do anything – that was fine. No harm in just exploring and touching then, hm? That seemed to be what Reinhard had in mind, anyway.

So he deftly slipped his slender hand beneath the waist of the other man's pants so he could do just that.

Volker growled back at Shura. Not with any real power behind it. It was just a touch of that low possessive growl that he knew made Shura's heart shiver. He kneaded the flesh in his hand and ever so gently stroked his thumb over Shura's entrance. His lover's hands on him coaxed another growl from his throat. His cock didn't need much to respond to the tentative, ghostly little touches of Shura's fingers. He laid back, enjoying being touched and petted almost as much as doing the same himself. His hands slid over Shura's hips, teasing the soft skin there, up his stomach and to his nipples.

"You will be good for me...and I will give you anything you desire." Volker told him. He desperately wanted to see Shura in the bath again. Warm and wet, sliding against him like a siren.

Shura did, indeed, adore that growl. Animalistic and possessive, he groaned softly in response and caught Reinhard in a needy kiss. Wanting to swallow that sound while he couldn't help but rock some against his thigh. Seeking some manner of relief as the other man tormented him. Teased him.

Shura's fingers over Reinhard's length were less sure. As inexperienced, but certainly enthusiastic, he still wanted to tease in turn. Eventually wrapping his hand around the tip and slowly stroking. When it became uncomfortable to do so with the pants in the way, his free hand loosened them enough so he could push them down just enough to free Reinhard's cock, making it free to Shura's eager hands.

Being told to be good felt like a tease in and of itself. Wicked with promise. The bloodmage chuckled softly against Reinhard's mouth, nipping at his lower lip. Just enough to sting.  "I'm not sure you could resist staying away from me either way." It was a bold statement and one he wouldn't have said otherwise, but... there they were. Touching and teasing beneath blankets in the cold. The current mood made him just a little more bold when he otherwise wouldn't be.