Serph is nowhere near as fragile as he seems, if he's subject to this as often as the rumors suggest. (bloody Heat/Gale)
He isn't expecting anyone to sit down next to him, but he definitely isn't expecting it to be Heat that does it. The others know he doesn't enjoy being disturbed when he's out here. It's only been a few times that situations were urgent enough to warrant Gale's immediate attention, and it's always been Serph's duty to get him. What's more, Heat's not moving, nor even talking, just settling himself down too far away to touch but still too close to allow Gale to fully relax. Gale's curious as to what he wants.
Not curious enough to go to the trouble of asking, though. So they sit silently, rain gradually soaking through Heat's clothes as well, and still Gale pretends not to notice that anything has changed at all.
"Gale. You got time?" Heat supposedly asks, but it comes out sounding a lot more like a statement than a true question. There's something in his voice, a note off of anger, resembling frustration, in addition to the usual growl, and it tells Gale that Heat knows exactly what he wants -- he's just trying to seem polite.
"I do," Gale answers. It's not nearly what Heat wants to hear, but Heat needs to learn that two can play at these pointless word games.
Again, silence. It seems Heat doesn't have anything smart to say to that. It wouldn't be surprising if he didn't -- Gale's the smart one, they both know it. Gale would smirk, if it didn't seem so out of place in the current tension.
"Heat," Gale says simply, a demand.
Heat is on him before either has time to consider the implications of such activity, legs on either side of his hips, hands to his shoulders to press him down, eyes staring.
Gale doesn't let his surprise show, because, in his own defense, he's a strategist -- it goes against his nature. He could tell that Heat was hungry from the beginning.
"What do you want?" Gale asks, even though it's wholly unnecessary, staring right back.
Heat growls. "What do you think?" and he doesn't give time to answer before holding Gale still and kissing him, hard.
The kiss starts out intense, more teeth than is entirely comfortable, and Heat's tongue wastes no time intensifying it further. Gale half-tries to resist, knowing full well that, unless Serph is polar opposite of usual in bed, all Heat requires is a warm body, but, damn it, Heat's good , and something in him wants to reciprocate.
As soon as he starts, though, wraps his arms as best he can around the muscles in Heat's back and tries to return the feeling, a pressure begins in the back of his head, a pressure that is nearly unbearable as it moves closer to his eyes, and he's probably physically resisting now but Heat was holding him down even before, and it feels just like a bad blow to the head, and he doesn't want this at all...
And then it's gone, just as quickly as it arose, and Gale allows himself to relax into the feeling of Heat's strength once again.
Heat pulls away not long after, and even Gale would reluctantly acknowledge that he looks like, for lack of a better term, pure sex -- flushed and dripping wet and lips red from sheer force. They stare, again, and Gale's glad to note that Heat's just as breathless as he is.
"What do you say, Gale? You gonna stop me?" Heat says, and Gale doesn't reply, almost daring in his silence. "Heh. Fair enough."
It isn't that Gale particularly wants it, he tells himself, it's just that it's easier to give in than to go to the trouble of fighting him off. He'll end up with fewer bruises this way.
When Heat stops staring like the predator he is to go for Gale's throat, Gale finds himself rocking his head back, just to make things go as smooth as possible -- still, perhaps he spoke too soon about the bruises. He can take it, sure, but it's rough, and Serph is nowhere near as fragile as he seems, if he's subject to this as often as the rumors suggest.
"Ah," Gale gasps, against his better judgement, when a particularly hard bite has teeth sinking deep into his skin. Heat probably needs to make him bleed -- they all crave it, and sure enough, Heat is nearly purring when he sucks at the wound. It stings, not a little, but he doesn't bother objecting, figuring that if Heat is this rough already it'll only encourage him if he hears that it hurts.
Heat's lips move back to Gale's, and he tastes the surprisingly sweet, metallic tint of his own blood. It's a thin liquid, not quite as warm as it should be, and -- he shudders, pressure returning -- damn addictive. It's no wonder Heat wants it.
Gale doesn't know how he let himself get this far gone, but he isn't about to back out now, not when Heat's weight is a constant reminder of his power, his percieved dominance, and he's getting kissed so hard that it's difficult even to call it a kiss, because that implies romance and there is none of that, only rough handling and lost -- or nonexistent -- restraint, his own fucking blood mixing in their mouths, and if there was time when he was afraid to take pleasure in this it's long gone, and he realizes with both horror and fascination that his hips are slowly rocking up into Heat's body and he can't stop it even if he wanted to.
Heat's hands move from his shoulders to his hips to hold them still, and Gale nearly lets himself express his disappointment as his mouth withdraws as well, the sudden loss of sensation frustrating. Heat sits back, looks up and down Gale's body, seemingly with a satisfied edge, and then goes to work on Gale's pants.
Gale scrambles to stop him. A minute ago, Gale would've consented to just about anything, but now that the pressure in his head is gone and the feelings aren't so immediate, he isn't sure if the benefits outweight the risks, if it would be beneficial to morale considering the circumstances. Heat growls in response when he works up the breath.
"Do you really think we should?" Gale asks, hoping his voice sounds as digified as usual and not at all like he'd just been kissed senseless by his Tribe leader's partner.
"You aren't in much position for second thoughts, Gale." Heat replies, as if he isn't willing to force him just yet but threatening to become that way if much more resistance was presented.
"What about, ah--" he's interrupted, and, as much as he doesn't want to accept it, thrown off his guard by the way Heat suddenly starts sucking at the same wound from before, hands not leaving Gale's hips, "--what about the others? Cielo?"
The stinging kisses stop only long enough for Heat to reply. "Cielo knows not to fuck with either of us."
"Left for Manipura."
Heat presses the knuckles of one hand hard into Gale's hip, and holds his face with the other, hovering close, letting their breath mix and their lips barely touch in a mock of a romantic gesture not matched at all by the tone of his voice. "Why the fuck does it matter, Gale? I don't know."
Gale lowers his voice, staying calm while bracing himself for the worst. "Serph?"
Things stop for a second, while Heat processes the statement. Gale starts formulating his plan; he'll flee as soon as Heat's weight is off, perhaps hiding in the vendor or some other place that Heat will never look in his anger, at least until he's had a while to calm down.
But the pain he expects never comes, and then Heat's standing and stalking off, all the while spitting curses that Gale doesn't recognize. Gale sits up, not so much disappointed that he could've given up something good as confused by the reaction. He could ask where he's going, if he wanted to try his luck, but chances are the answer would be that he's going hunting, and Gale doesn't want to be the first of the prey.
He sits, recovers, lets the rain soothe his face and the wound on his neck. The drops don't sting anymore, just feel cool, and he relaxes as best he can after that encounter. When his heartbeat returns to normal, he almost feels content, like he did before.