Monday April 27th 2009
Who: Mal and Garret What: Husband Loving Where: Mal's house When: Evening Status: In Progress Rating: NSFW [Violent/Abusive content]
When Mal came home, he would discover that the lights in his house (almost all of them) had been left on. He would find his fridge emptied of several of his beers and filled with a veggie supreme pizza and half a cheeseburger. He would find a pair of running shoes in the middle of the kitchen (standing perfectly as though the wearer had just vanished while waiting for the microwave to ding). He would find his television on, and too loud, and he would find a forty year old man child husband shouting obscenities at it.
"You German piece of SHIT!" Garret screamed, looking ready to throw the controller at the screen. "Camp bitch!!!"
Mal paused at the scent in his home, then continued. It was Garret so that was fine. He stepped over the clothes strewn about, and grabbed the uneaten steak from the fridge. Following the shouts, he toed off his shoes by the living room door. "Enjoying the game?"
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"No!" With a growl, Garret mashed buttons furiously, then threw the controller into the chair and slouched back against the sofa. "Fuckin... it's gotta be lag. Stupid internet." It wasn't the internet. Some player across the world had killed him and he was pissed. Grabbing the tv remote, Garret turned it off, snapping the house into quiet. "Hey, baby. How was work."
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Mal bit into the raw steak, licking his lips after swallowing. "It was fine. Some of the kids cut class. Others forgot their homework. So I gave them a pop quiz." He shrugged. He was an ass and knew it. Not like he really cared. "You?"
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Clearly unwilling to share about his day, Garret instead huffed out a breath and then frowned at Mal's food. "I am not kissing you until you brush your teeth," he said, pushing himself up off the couch and padding toward the kitchen. "I refuse to drink cow blood outta your mouth."
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Mal blinked and then shrugged, finishing the steak rather quickly and following Garret to the kitchen to grab a beer. "You've done it before," he replied. He was well aware that his husband didn't answer the question and was willing to let it go for now. The man was obviously unhappy.
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"Exactly why I'm refusing to do it." Fool him once, gross. Fool him twice, still gross. Opening the fridge, Garret searched in it, found nothing he wanted (because he didn't really want anything) and closed it again, moving on to the cabinet. "Where is all your food?" he asked, eyes scanning over boxes of what would appear to any other person as food, but clearly it didn't meet Garret's requirements today.
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Mal arched a brow, watching Garret bypass everything in his cupboards. "Well that depends entirely on what you're looking for," he answered. Garret was really upset over something.
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Because he wasn't looking for anything, Garret couldn't provide an answer. Which bothered him. And he was bothered that he couldn't really tell Mal what was bothering him, because one, Mal would surely roll his eyes at the notion that Garret and Rorie were going through a rough patch and two, Mal didn't like Finn and the thought of telling him that... well no. He wasn't going to tell him that.
Stopping in his search, Garret turned to look at Mal, studied him. "You know what I really want?" he said after a moment. "I want you to fuck me. Hard. Until I bleed."
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"Oh really?" Mal arched a brow, leaning against the door frame and cleaning out his 'cow mouth' with the beer. "Why until you bleed?"
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Ugh, Mal and his questions. Walking over, Garret pulled his shirt off over his head and dropped it on the floor, displaying the goods for his husband. "Because blood is how you know you're doing a good job," he said, like that explained it. "Now come on. You wanna go in the bedroom, or just start here?"
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Mal chugged back his beer and tossed the bottle across the room to land in the can. At least now he didn't have a bloody mouth. "Here," he growled, leaning down to bite at Garret's mouth and tug their bodies together. He'd get whatever information he wanted later.
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Finally! Gasping in surprise, Garret practicaly melted against Mal's body, moaning against the teeth on his lips. This was what he wanted, what he needed. He wanted to forget about what was weighing heavily on his brain and just feel this, feel the pain Mal would bring, feel the teeth and nails and listen to that dark, deep growl.
Both of Garret's hands gripped onto Mal's waist, clinging to him and arching his back against the other's body. "Mmm," he purred, satisfied.
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Mal bit harder, then sealed their mouths together in a hot kiss. He palmed Garret's ass, grinding them together to arouse them both. "Wanna bleed, huh?" Mal licked down to Garret's throat, biting almost hard enough to bruise.
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Craning his neck back, Garret pressed himself as hard to Mal's body as he could. "Stop talking," he grunted, hoping that if he made Mal angry enough then he would see some real punishment.
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Garret wouldn't make Mal angry. Having the hound angry was a surefire way to have his husband end up in the infirmary, or worse. Still, Mal slapped his ass and bit his throat harder. "You'll get what's coming to you, whether I talk or not."
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Worse was exactly what Garret was looking for. Hissing at the slap, Garret bit down on Mal's shoulder, his teeth fighting the cord of muscle to try and break the skin. His hands groped at the button of Mal's jeans, struggling to free The Beast from its confines.
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Mal grunted at the bite, even though he wouldn't bleed from it. Garret's teeth simply weren't sharp enough. Lifting a finger, he scorched the slacks Garret wore, separating the fabric on either side until it fell to the floor.
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It seemed like it had been too long since they had done this. Garret forgot that sometimes Mal scorched his clothing off, and he cried out in surprise from it. "If you wanted them off, you could've just said so," he whispered, pushing Mal's jeans down over his hips before taking that thick, heady piece in his hands and stroking it hungrily.
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"I wanted them off, I got them off." Garret was now naked in Mal's kitchen. Shoving Garret's hands away, Mal spun him around and shoved him against the nearest wall, pressing his chest to the human's back and licking his shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so hard," he promised with a growl.
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Willing and eager to be thrown around, Garret let himself get shoved, stifling his cry of pain as his ribcage met plaster. The way Mal pressed against his back made it hard to breathe, but Garret gritted his teeth and remained as still as he could stand, his hands pressed palm down on the wall. "You're doing a lot of barking, little pup," he grunted.
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"So are you," Mal murmured, biting the back of Garret's throat sharply. He wasn't going to take the man's ass dry, and not without a bit of foreplay. Hellhound he may be, but that didn't make him completely without mercy. Most of the time.
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Pushing back against Mal, Garret curled his fingers against the wall. "So stop barking, pup, and bite me." He was getting anxious for the pain to begin, for the penance he felt he owed. "Come on, fuck me already." He was practically panting, his forehead against the wall and his back curled out to push against Mal, goading him to push back. If Garret's ribs didn't crack then they weren't doing this right.
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Mal shoved him back, shaking the dishes on the counter when Garret hit the wall. He wanted to be punished, and Mal could do that. "I could beat your ass if it makes you feel better." Biting the crook of his throat, Mal sunk his teeth in, marking Garret and drawing thin trails of blood.
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It wasn't until Garret felt the hot, wet trail of blood trickling down his chest that he felt satisfied. He had started to worry that Mal was just teasing him, that this was a ploy to try and get him to spill whatever it was that was on his mind. Mal hated not having an answer, and Garret was never one to willingly give an answer. "AH-ah!" he whimpered, reaching up to grab a handful of Mal's hair and tugging sharply. "Mmm, yes... get that fat dick inside me..."
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Mal lapped up the blood, savoring the coppery taste of his lover. "How much do you want to be punished? With or without lube?" He would leave this choice up to Garret. It was his ass afterall.
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How many times did he need to be told? "Hurt me, you fucking prick," Garret hissed, grinding his ass against Mal's cock. He needed this, to feel that horrible, burning, agonizing pain of the hellhound's girth inside him.
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Mal licked his hand, spitting on it and giving it some slickness. He was large enough that he'd hurt even with that small concession. Kicking Garret's legs apart, he slapped his ass with a hot hand, punishment for that smart mouth. A moment later, he shoved forward, slamming the head past that ring of muscle with no regard for how Garret cried out.
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Nothing could have prepared Garret for this. His body wasn't ready at all for Mal to just push like that, and his mouth opened to scream though not enough sound could possibly come out to compensate. Letting his head fall back, Garret scrunched his face up tight, his teeth bared and his nails scratching into the paint on the wall. It hurt. But he wanted it to hurt. He deserved it to hurt. It didn't hurt enough for what he deserved.
"Harder," he groaned weakly.
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Mal knew Garret needed time to adjust, so rather than forcing more inside his body, he bit at his throat. All the while he was wondering just what had happened that made this man feel like he needed to be brutalized. Once Garret adjusted a bit, Mal shoved forward more, burying about half of his length inside. He was probably tearing him up, but Garret knew exactly how to make Mal stop.
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Tilting his head, Garret exposed more of his throat for Mal's teeth, the previous bite mark stinging and throbbing with ache. He could barely feel anything below his waist, the adrenaline coursing in his system fighting the screaming pain in his body. His legs felt weak, almost too weak to hold himself upright.
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If he collapsed, Mal would catch him. That's what he was there for. Pressing forward again, he buried himself fully, gently stroking Garret's stomach to soothe him a bit.
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One of Garret's arms reached back, hooking itself around Mal's neck. Now he could hold on, stay on his feet, and keep Mal close to him. He knew what Mal was doing. He could almost feel the tenderness and consideration radiating off the hound. "Where... where's my Malcoda?" he said breathlessly, letting his head fall back onto Mal's shoulder. He bit at the hound's chin, teeth scraping on barely there stubble. "He used to scare me when he fucked me... nails like claws, growling like... like he was calling forth the dead..." With a short burst of energy, Garret captured Mal's mouth in a kiss and bit hard on the bottom lip, drawing blood.
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"Even then when I fucked you," Mal bit Garret's ear, making clear the distinction between the third and first person. "Even then I tried not to hurt you too much. But since you're asking." Reaching around, Mal gripped Garret's balls and shaft in his hand, squeezing hard. He used that leverage to pull Garret from the wall, shoving him over the kitchen table instead and slamming deep again. His free hand, he allowed to actually lenthen into his claws, scraping them over the tender skin layed out before him.
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There weren't many people who could throw Garret around like a rag doll, but Mal was one of them. Especially now, since he was causing pain to almost every sensitive area that Garret had. With a short, sharp scream not too unlike a bark, Garret was thrown onto the table, his bones popping beneath the strain and bright white light blazing behind his eyes. He couldn't comprehend everything going on around him, but his body could still feel all of it- the burning tightness as he gripped Mal's cock inside his body, the blood dripping in tiny droplets from his neck onto the table, the raking claws on his back and shoulders, the scorching heat from Mal's touch. His lungs ached from sucking in sharp, quick breaths. It was becoming too much for his body to take. Tears were already spilling from his eyes, although Garret was completely unaware of this because (as far as he knew) he wasn't crying. But it hurt, fuck did it all hurt so much. And there was only one thing to say about it.
"Master..."
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Mal growled, low and deep in his throat. Leaning forward, he licked Garret's cheek,
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Mal growled, low and deep in his throat. Leaning forward, he licked Garret's cheek, picking up the salt tears. He hurt for this man, not knowing what it was that set him like this. He rocked forward, starting to slide in and out.
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That growl was so familiar, deep and chilling and strangely comforting. Garret whimpered softly, pushing back into Mal's thrusts. "I love how you feel in me," he whispered, looking back over his shoulder. "Don't stop."
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Mal bared his teeth, fire blazing in his eyes. He took his hands off Garret and set them on the table, scorching the wood rather than skin. He thrust forward sharply, scooting the table forward on the tile.
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At the sharp thrust Garret cried out, the sound quickly dying into a low, gravelly moan. "Fuck," he grunted, putting both hands onto the tabletop and pushing himself upright, testing to see how much leeway Mal was giving him. That hard, burning chest pressed against Garret's back, making him flinch in pain. "Come on," he moaned, shoving back with his shoulders to make Mal push back harder. "I can barely feel you fucking me..."
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Mal raised a burning hand and shoved it against the back of Garret's neck, forcing him back down flat. His other hand slid between them, gripping Garret's sack and squeezing painfully tight. "You feel this?" He gave a jerk of his wrist, tugging them sharply.
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Drawing in a sharp, short breath, it took all of Garret's willpower not to scream like a little girl. His knees did give out though, his body being held up only by the table and held in place by Mal's hips. His junk was fragile and wasn't meant to be gripped like that. "Mmm... mm hm," he managed to croak out, his face pressed against the cool wood of Mal's kitchen table.
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Garret's ass could take a pounding but his nuts couldn't take a squeeze? "Thought you might." Mal gave another twist to make his point before releasing his sack, he kept his hand on Garret's neck, shoving his hips forward and pack, starting to pound his ass. There still was nothing to make things slick, so everytime he moved, skin pulled just a bit.
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Panting through gritted teeth, Garret hissed in pain with each thrust. It felt he was being ripped apart from the inside, but there was a sick pleasure in it as well. Hurting himself this way made it hurt less in his heart. Filling his mind with desperate screams of agonizing pleasure drowned out the constant berating he'd been doing to himself all day. And he knew that Mal liked this, liked being in control and pushing Garret's body as far as it could go. Garret wanted to be able to make at least one of his husbands happy.
"W-wanna... hear you.. come," he panted, the front of his thighs slamming into the table with each thrust Mal delivered, leaving two thin bruise lines across his skin.
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Mal growled again. "I'll come when I'm damned good and ready," he bit back. He thrust forward once more, giving Garret the pain that he wanted so badly.
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Choking back a cry, Garret nodded. "Y-yes, Master," he said dutifully, bracing himself for a long ride ahead of him. Mal could go on for days if he really wanted to.
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Mal started up a steady pace, but he reached over and grabbed the vegetable oil, pouring a thin, steady stream over his cock. It was more for his comfort than for Garret's at this point. At least, that's what he'd tell him. He didn't do anything about the table or the scorching though. Garret wanted to feel this and he would. As soon as things were slick enough, the bottle was capped and Mal started fucking him hard.
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Those few brief moments when Mal paused were excrutiating, and Garret had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from simpering and wincing. It was a satisfying hurt, but a hurt nonetheless. Thankfully it ended soon enough, and Mal's monstrous cock was slamming hard and fast back in Garret's body, this time with lubrication. He was so grateful, and after a little while it started feeling more good than painful. He could feel his own climax building, forced and unrelenting but a climax nonetheless. He couldn't have stopped it even if he'd wanted to. The thick, pulsing head of Mal's cock pushed hard on Garret's g-spot, demanding the human to orgasm. And Garret's body obliged, his hot seed shooting out beneath the table, a short, low cry escaping his lips.
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Mal paused while Garret came, letting him relax in the sensations for a moment. But then he growled and the sound was dark and rife with warning. "Did I say you could come?" He thrust in roughly, punishing the man further.
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It wasn't as though Garret had had any say in his climax, but he knew he'd be getting blamed for it anyway. "I'm sorry," he grunted, breathless and weak. "I'm sorry, won't... happen again..."
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Mal slapped his bare ass, letting it sting. "No, it won't." Pulling out, he tugged Garret up, leading him from the kitchen back to the bedroom. Pushing his lover onto the bed, Mal went to the closet and pulled out a cock ring with a quick snap release. "This will make sure of it." Moving back to the bed, he settled the ring around Garret's shaft and balls, pulling it tight.
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Grimmacing at the slap, Garret had to grab onto the table when Mal pulled out of him just to stay upright. His muscles were exhausted and had decided they weren't going to support him and his wrecklessness anymore. Thankfully, Mal wasn't going to make him stand by himself. He could be dragged around easily, thrown onto the bed. Landing on his back, Garret sighed a breath of relief, even though his body screamed in protest. He knew something dangerous was coming, and something dangerous came indeed. "AH!" he cried out, arching his back and gripping at the sheets. "Y-yes, master..."
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Mal made sure that it wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it would keep him from getting off again without it being released. Tugging Garret to the edge of the bed, he stepped between the spread legs and thrust into his body in one smooth move. "Much better."
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Letting his arms fall above his head, Garret opened himself up to Mal, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. He was tired, but the cocky, hungry way Mal was looking at him sent a chill throughout his body. His aching, bleeding body. This was a side of Mal that Garret hadn't seen in a while. He had almost forgotten how dangerous and dark Mal could get when they had sex.
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Mal arched over Garret, not worried about scorching the sheets since they were flame resistant. Arching over, he licked the wounds that still bled, pounding his body into the other's. It wouldn't do for Garret to forget just what it was he'd married.
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Garret would never forget what he married. Mal was beautiful, and gentle, but fierce and terrifying as well. Mal did his best never to let Garret forget that he was a killer at heart. Lifting himself upward, Garret pressed a kiss to Mal's mouth, keeping it tender for the moment. "You use to tell me that I would never want to see you unleashed," he said, wrapping his legs around Mal's waist and hooking them at the ankles. "Show it to me."
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Mal returned the kiss, keeping it just as soft. "No," he answered with a shake of his head. "Unleashed I'd kill you. Or at the least put you in a hospital." Garret may have survived a gunshot wound, but Mal was still hesitant to test it.
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Garret had survived a gunshot wound. To the head. "You can't kill me," he pointed out. "And you're already at hospitalization point. Or at least a serious healing session. Might as well go for broke, babe."
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"Tell me you're sure," he demanded. If Garret wanted to try, Mal wanted complete confirmation.
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Laying back, Garret held his arms up over his head, crossing them at the wrist. His total submission. "Give it to me."
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And just like that, Mal grew even harder inside Garret. Closing hsi eyes he shivered. "Fuck baby." Growling, the sound pure animal, Mal opened his eyes, seeing red literally. He bared his teeth, shoving his full length inside Garret and feeling something tear along the way. Dropping his head, he bit Garret's chest, claiming his territory and leaving punctures from unnaturally sharp teeth.
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There was the briefest second when Garret realized that this was not such a great idea, and it was very likely that Mal was going to kill him. He managed to get out a quick gasp before the hound above him let loose, tearing his insides and making him scream out in agony. The teeth in his chest were razor sharp, tearing through his skin like he had seen Mal tear through a raw steak. He could barely feel the pain anymore, the nerve receptors shutting off for his own sake. His entire just felt like burning, aching flesh, unattached to anything, just laying there and being torn to shreds.
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Mal pulled his teeth away, licking at the marks, lapping up the blood. The fire in his eyes died a bit, watching Garret writhe in pain. Shaking his head, he started to pull back. This was why he didn't let loose. It was too much for a human.
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Watching Mal carefully, warily, Garret waited for more, for Mal to bite or claw or thrust or something, whatever else he had coming to him. But it was stopping. Something was wrong. "Mal?" Garret breathed, swallowing in his dry throat. "Why... d'you stop?"
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Mal shook his head. "You wanted pain, not to be demolished." He lapped at the wounds again, slightly apologetic.
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With a soft groan, Garret touched Mal's hair, stroking it reassuringly. "I wanted you," he murmured. "Don't... don't stop. I want it... I do."
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Mal nuzzled Garret's jaw. "You've got me. I'm not going anywhere." He started rocking forward again, using a pace designed to please them both, but more so Garret.
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"Th-then, ah, mmm..." Rocking up into Mal's body, Garret let his eyes fall closed, the hand stroking Mal's hair taking hold. "Then let me see you. Like you want to be. I know you want to... I want you to... You started. Don't stop."
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"I'll break you," he murmured, already gently nipping at his chest. Having released the chain he kept on himself once, it wouldn't be hard to do so again. Still, this felt wrong to Mal. Hellhound sex was rough to say the least. Violent, bloodthirsty and flaming at best. He would be trying to pin the bitch all while she tried to rip out his throat. It was brutal. That's what was wrong with this. It wasn't equal. "Fight back," he growled.
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Fight back. If there was one thing that Garret could do, it was fight with somebody. Granted, it didn't usually happen when he was torn up from the inside and bleeding from bite marks to his chest, but he was also very good at improvise. He was also good at forcing his body to its limits, which was another skill he'd need to utilize right now.
Licking his lips, Garret looked up at Mal, his eyes tired but a soft smile in his face. His hand curved around the back of Mal's neck. "I love you, baby," he murmured, drawing himself up and striking Mal in the face with his forehead, bloodying his husband's nose.
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Mal reared back, slapping a hand to his nose in surprise. Hellfuck. He watched the blood pour over his hand and stared at Garret. Snapping the bone back into place, he cauterized the wound and smiled. "Fuck, I love you." Mal bared his teeth in a fucked up grin, dropping his hand to Garret's throat in an effort to pin him. His hips shoved forward sharply, Mal's mind once more engaged.
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Well, obviously Mal hadn't seen that coming. Garret actually grinned with pride. It was very rare that he could shock Mal, and he definitely had. And he would pay for it, there was no doubt about it. But he held onto that glowing pride, right until the pain shot through his body again. With his windpipe being crushed, he needed to think fast in order to get the reward of breathing restored to him. Time to think back. Martial arts training. He could kill a man in three hits, surely he could disarm a hellhound in four or five... or seven...
Sucking in a strangled breath through his teeth, Garret punched Mal's inner elbow, forcing it to bend and granting himself a deep breath. "Sissy bitch!" he spat, seizing the moment to bite hard on Mal's forearm, tugging against the skin with his canines in the hopes of shredding Mal up a bit.
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Mal shoved his arm into Garret's mouth more. He didn't care about being bit, his forearm was far more effective as a gag right now. He slammed forward, scooting the bed across the floor with the force. Dropping his head, he bit Garret's shoulder, drawing blood again.
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The gag was definitely needed. As Mal drove into him again, Garret screamed, the sound muffled by the hound's arm. He could do this. He had survived a gunshot to the face, for fuck's sake, surely he could put up a decent enough fight against Mal. And if he couldn't, well... he wouldn't stay dead long.
But he couldn't do anything here. Pinned to the bed, Garret was helpless and he knew it. Time to cheat. Releasing his bite on Mal (and spatting out blood onto the bed), Garret phased through the hound's body and pushed himself up, taking off at a run toward the kitchen. He had to get to the kitchen.
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Mal fell forward onto the bed, his eyes flashing as he growled. Shoving off, he stalked down the hall. Naked, bloodied and proud. Seeing where Garret was trying to go, he leapt forward, tackling the other man and wrestling him to the ground, biting the back of his throat to hold him down while his cock slid back inside.
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Running had not gone nearly as well as Garret had planned. Just because he was demanding his body to move didn't mean that it wanted to. In fact, much like himself, it was being downright stubborn. His legs felt like jelly, like they did in bad dreams when he tried to run from the monster chasing him but he couldn't move. It was exactly like that now, except he didn't wake up from it. Instead, the monster caught him, and then shoved its enourmous flaming cock up his ass. "Shit!" he shouted, both in anger and in hurt, his chest pressed to the floor from the weight on top of him. Fine. If he couldn't run, he'd crawl. Clawing at the floor, Garret dragged them both, growling and swearing as Mal continued to keep him pinned down.
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Mal reared back up on his knees, pulling Garret back the several inches progress that he'd made. "You're not going anywhere until I'm through with you," he growled, smoke streaming from his nose. Reaching out, he unsnapped the cock ring, gripping his lover tight enough to encourage, and fucking him hard. This was fucking incredible, this lack of restraint. Mal loved this man for letting him do this.
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It was becoming clear that Garret was never going to be able to reach the kitchen, and he was never going to level this playing field. Even if he phased through Mal over and over, he was always going to get caught. Plus, he didn't know if his legs had it in them to stand up again. He was defeated on the physical playground, but there was more than one way to fight back.
"Fucking cunt," he growled, gritting his teeth as another erection was forced upon him. His body had fallen into complete obedience, doing what Mal demanded, giving in to the hound's desires. His mind wasn't so willing. Mal wanted him to fight back, and Garret was going to do just that, come hellhound or no water. He knew how to push peoples' buttons. "You're pathetic, reduced to fucking humans! A bitch could've taken you out by now!" It wasn't much of a testament to his own species, but Garret knew it would hit a hound where it hurt- in his pride.
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Mal growled, snorting sulfur. Garret definitely caught him in his pride and were he a lesser hound, one more prone to emotional displays, he would show it. "Why bother taking a bitch when you're so fucking easy?" Mal threw the words back, ramming his cock deep. He was close, so close.
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Although Garret couldn't see Mal's reaction, he could feel it. He could feel it in the nails digging into his skin, in the hot smoke that was blown onto his back, in the renewed fury of Mal's thrusts. "You're boring me, Malcoda," Garret hissed. If he kept talking then he was still conscious, still fighting. Raising himself up onto his elbows, Garret pulled himself forward again, legs struggling beneath Mal's weight to help himself along. He couldn't stop now.
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Mal let his nails lengthen into talons, digging into Garret's abdomen, just barely breaking skin. There were delicate organs there. "Then try to get away." He bit the sharp column of the throat in front of him, huffing and snorting. Slamming forward again, he lengthened another inch, coming hard and hot inside Garret.
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Struggling, panting and shaking all over, Garret did try to get away. He couldn't, he knew that, but he was going to try regardless. It was hard, though, with Mal's teeth sinking into his skin again. All his energy was drining from his body, and by the time Mal delivered that last thrust, Garret couldn't take any more. His arms gave out and he dropped to the floor, cheek resting on the hardwood, his lungs burning and his muscles aching.
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Removing his teeth and letting his claws retreat, Mal panted against Garret's back. Carefully, he pulled out, trying not to injure the man anymore. He rolled to the side, holding Garret gently and trying to soothe him.
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Also panting, Garret stayed completely still. He couldn't have moved himself now even if he wanted to. He was vaguely aware of Mal at his side, of the gentle, quickly cooling hands on his body. Mal was probably worried about him, and would soon be feeling like he had done something wrong. Garret couldn't let him think like that.
Drawing in a slow breath, he opened one eye, looking at Mal on the floor beside him. "So..." he mumbled weakly. "I won, right?"
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Mal nodded, eyes already worried. "Yeah. Yeah, you won baby." Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. The hound was regretting this already and he wouldn't do it again. Not to this man.
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Uh oh. Mal didn't call Garret 'baby' unless he was being particularly sweet, and he was only sweet when he needed to either butter Garret up or apologize. With a faint whimper, Garret moved his hand to reach Mal's face, cupping his cheek. "Thank you," he whispered.
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Mal wouldn't say it. He wouldn't accept thanks for this abuse to his lover. "Should I call a healer?" He wouldn't call Starbuck, that man wouldn't understand. Maybe Wesley? Or that other pretty healer. She was discreet.
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With a shuddering little exhale, Garret shook his head. "I'll do it. Just get me my phone... unless you melted it when you burned off my pants." Smiling weakly, he studied Mal, his eyes and his face and the way he moved. "Don't do this, please."
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"Don't do what?" Mal shrugged. He probably did melt the phone, at least partially. "I'll get you another." Muttering under his breath, Mal levitated his own phone to him, passing it to Garret.
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Groaning, Garret rolled onto his side, immediately regretting it. "Don't think exactly what you're thinking right no-ow." Grimmacing, Garret paused, then pushed himself onto his back, landing with an undignified thump. "I asked you to do it. You said no twice, but I persisted. So don't... don't think like I know you're thinking. Promise me you won't." His gaze was stern, if not tired. He wouldn't let Mal beat himself up over this.
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Mal wasn't beating himself up. He was just regretting his decision and now chose not to do it again. Standing, he reached down and carefully picked up Garret, carrying him through the halls to the bedroom. "Are you going to tell me what prompted this?" Garret was settled onto the mattress, and Mal laid out beside him. Closing his eyes, he started to murmur under his breath. He knew a few healing spells to take the edge off.
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Biting the inside of his lip, Garret winced as Mal lifted him up, but didn't make a sound. He didn't appreciate being carried around like some swoony woman, but he couldn't exactly protest it either.
Sucking in a sharp breath as Mal laid him down, Garret finally allowed himself to relax. He didn't have to move anywhere for a while, and he didn't plan to. The pain was satisfying and excrutiating. He knew he deserved it. Which was exactly why, when seeing Mal doing his magic thing, Garret put a hand on the hound's lips to quiet him. "No," he said simply, both an answer to the question and a command.
Cinigoscilo is available
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Mal didn't have to use the words to cast the spell, it just made it easier. Pulling away so he could speak, he asked, "Why?" It was to question both Garret's reasons for not telling him, and for stopping him. He was calling a healer anyways. Why not let Mal repair the worst of the damage? Wesley didn't need to see Garret like this.
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The simplest answer was that Garret wanted to suffer a little. But to Mal, he simply said (with the cockiest smirk he could muster), "You wouldn't coddle a bitch, would you? You would leave her to her own devices and make her figure out a way to fix herself." Unlocking Mal's phone, Garret started texting. "I'm your bitch tonight."
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With that simple question, Garret proved just how little he knew about hellhound matings. For one, though the bitch would have received some damage of her own, Mal would have been the one to walk away limping or worse. He had yet to be coddled after an affair. "Let me do this? At least to repair your ribs."
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"Nooooo...." Garret whined, pouting. "I'll be fine as long as I don't have to move. Okay? Don't worry about me. Just... just. Just be here. And tell me about your day." Yes, this was a normal time, talking about their day while they were both bloodied and banged up.
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Mal arched a brow and shook his head. "No. You'll tell me what happened earlier today with you. I can smell some of it, so you may as well." Now was the time when Mal was going to dig his own heels in. Garret would tell him. One way or another.
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Garret drew in a deep, slow, annoyed breath. He could really dig in his heels if he wanted. After all, what was Mal going to do, tear him to shreds and make him bleed? Heal him against his will? None of it was much incentive to cooperate. But then again, Mal had just shared something with Garret that Garret knew he'd been reluctant to do. And one good turn deserved another, or so he was telling himself.
"I fought with Rorie," he admitted quietly. "And I made him cry. Is that good enough for you?"
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Mal shook his head. "No. Tell me what happened." He could attempt to resolve anything if he didn't know what had happened. Not that Garret would let him solve it, but if there were problems in his marriage, he wanted to know.
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"I just told you. We fought, he cried. I told him I'd give him space, he looked crushed." Turning his head away (as much pout as he could muster), Garret huffed. "Routine fight for us. No big deal."
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Mal leaned forward and nose-bumped Garret's shoulder. "If that was all it was, you wouldn't have come here asking for what you did."
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Goddamn Malcoda. Did he really have to be cute, and intutive, right then? "I'm... stupid," he mumbled. "That's about it."
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It was a canine thing. It was bred into the genes to be cute so that he could get what he wanted. "You're not. So tell me."
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"Yes, yes I am." Frowning and pouting, Garret nevertheless leaned in a little toward Mal. "I don't want to tell you because you'll get mad. And you'll think I'm stupid. Right now, you can say 'Oh no, Garret, you're not' and I can feel a little better even though I know you're wrong. But if I tell you, you'll just go 'Oh no yeah you're right, you're a fucking idiot' and then you'll probably laugh at me for being so... fucking stupid."
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[Offline IM sent 53m ago] "And just maybe I'll surprise you. Either way, tell me." Mal leaned forward and sniffed at Garret's hair, nuzzling him.
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"No." The word was sullen and moody. "You won't surprise me. You'll judge me." Sighing, he turned his face to look back at Mal. "I might have let myself get too attached to someone I shouldn't have."
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Mal nodded. "It happens. Especially when it's so easy for you to care about people." He was trying very hard to be considerate to Garret. To care, but it was contradictory to his nature.
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"It was Finn." Watching Mal's reaction, Garret waited for the look of distaste, or for him to get up and leave, to pull away, for something. He knew Mal wasn't a fan of Finn, and he knew that Mal would immediately think about how this affected Rorie, because when things went wrong, everyone thought about how it affected Rorie. It was quite ironically one of the reasons that Garret had started caring about Finn.
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Okay. So Mal didn't like Finn, but he knew that Garret had developed a friendship for their brother in law. Nothing wrong with that. Just because he didn't like and no longer trusted Finn, he wasn't going to judge. "Okay. And how do you feel about all this going down?"
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Mal sounded like a shrink. Snorting with derision, Garret rolled his eyes. "Well, Doc," he grumbled, reading the text from Wesley and sending one back, "I feel like an asshole. And I feel like shit for hurting Rorie like that. And I feel like an idiot for even letting myself..." Trailing off, Garret shook his head. "And now I feel stupid for saying anything at all."
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Mal nuzzled Garret again. "You're such a smartass." Chuckling, he stroked over the man's body, starting the healing process again.
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"I know I am." Closing his eyes, Garret sighed. "And knock that off. I've been healed enough to know what you're doing."
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"Make me," Mal challenged. Wesley was already on his way over and the hound knew that the man was always exhausted after dealing with Garret. He was trying to be considerate in giving him less work to do.
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With a weak swat, Garret tried to push Mal's hand away, but gave up after a few seconds. He was too tired to really fight him off. "Please?" he asked softly.
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"Why?" Mal didn't understand that. Garret was going to be healed soon, why not get the headstart? It didn't make sense.
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"Just don't, okay? Just... let me bleed for a bit." Finding Mal's hand, Garret laced their fingers together, squeezing gently. "I'm fine."
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Mal had stopped the one that was important to him. The internal bleeding. Everything else was mostly superficial in a hell's mind. "Alright." He squeezed back and laid down on the bed, watching his husband.
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"Quit staring at me." Closing his eyes, Garret settled against the pillows. Things didn't hurt as much as they had before, and for that he was very grateful. And after Wesley came, he'd be fine.
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"Then sleep." Mal didn't take his eyes off Garret, all the while monitoring things like his heartrate and breathing. If he was going to die, Mal would know first.
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With a growl, Garret nudged his husband. "I can't sleep if you're staring at me. Besides, I don't wanna be sleeping when Wesley gets here. I don't want him thinking I'm dead." He already figured that what Wesley would see might scare him a lot, he didn't want to give the guy a heart attack.
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Mal blinked, just to proved that he wasn't staring. "I'll wake you."
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"I don't wanna sleep." Turning slightly, Garret faced his husband, and kissed his chin. "You know I love you, right? I mean, you know that?"
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"You've got a funny definition of love," Mal grumbled, referring to their most recent romping.
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"Hey." Garret's voice was sharp, commanding of attention to be paid. "I asked you to show me that, and you did. I know you didn't want to but you did anyway. That's a part of you, and it's... scary. But it's still you, and I love that. I love all of it."
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Mal's brow shot up, amused at the tone. It wasn't one Garret often had with him. "Yes. I did. Don't expect to see it again."
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"But why not?" Shifting himself and wincing and groaning in the process, Garret rolled onto his side to face Mal, touching his face. "I thought you liked being like that..."
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Mal rolled his cheek into the hand. "You don't need to be bloodied and broken like that. As you said. I've had to resort to fucking humans and I have to remember your bone structure is different. "
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It was obvious what was laden in those simple words, and Garret's expression fell. "I didn't mean it, what I said. I was just... I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't fight back so I... I just said whatever I could think of to make you work harder. I didn't mean it though."
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Mal ducked his head and kissed Garret softly. "I know. I told you to. I just didn't expect that. I should have." If there was a next time, he would be prepared. But there wouldn't be. Garret didn't need to be broken like this.
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"No, baby... no." He felt awful. Mal didn't show his emotions like most people did, but there were signs when he had been bruised, and Garret could see them. "I shouldn't have said those things. I have a way of finding what hurts most and jumping all over it. It's kind of a gift, I guess." Scoffing, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mal."
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"It's fine." Mal brushed it off and tried to let it go. He knew that Garret didn't mean it and he'd get over it. At some point, at least. He needed to lick his own wounds for that first.
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"It's not fine. It was horrible." It was horrible, too. He felt even worse than before, if that was even possible. "I'm glad you've wrecked my insides. I'm glad you cracked my ribs. I wish you'd given me an anneurism."