Bloodlines

Chapter 2

Lizard’s mood was broken by another clatter of plates and cutlery. Seconds later, Three Finger elbowed the screen door open and presented the feast to his mate, big gummed smile beaming. Split lip forming a slight smile, Lizard could not help but be amused. Eyeballs had been carefully plucked from any head in the icebox and adorned the stack of steaming ribs like strawberries decorating pancakes.

A breakfast fit for a king. A deserving king, at least.

Halfway through his meal, Lizard had to stop. He would have finished the succulent ribs and delightfully squishy eyeballs, but he was simply too full. The situation was bad enough with all the extra weight added to his rounder form, but his uninvited little guest was now barging in on the space where his lungs and stomach used to peacefully reside. Lizard often wondered how long it would take while sleeping on his back for him to asphyxiate to death.

“I gotta move,” he said under his breath as he awkwardly stood. Three Finger noticed the obvious wince on his companion’s face when they rose to their feet. Since Lizard did not talk much when he was in discomfort, it was hard to understand what bothered him at times. And that weird gibberish the forest dweller desperately tried to learn and imitate hardly made things any easier. It was the same speak the two-legged prey his family hunted for generations spoke. His clan only accepted it; they were the ones who were normal anyway…

Seconds after the noticeable wince from his mate, Three Finger saw the problem. Lizard had hidden it well, even from his ever attentive mate, but as he stood, his long shirt shifted over his burdensome belly and revealed the snug fit of his trousers. Hell, snug was hardly the description. The waistband hardly gave way to any sort of flexibility in the first place and thus the unyielding clothing made a painfully evident interruption in the curve of Lizard’s middle. The red flesh was an even deeper color of irritation, possibly a sign the skin might be broken.

“… ‘the fuck yew starin’ at?”

Three Finger became surprisingly silent and only looked away, turning to go inside. Lifting a curious, annoyed eyebrow, Lizard pursued.

Damn, I wish I could move faster.

The currently skinnier hunter was already at the top of the steps by the time Lizard reached the railing. Torn lip curled, he followed, stubbornly refusing to let his current situation get the best of him just because of a stupid backwoods motherfucker who wanted to play games.

Winded by the time he made it halfway, he stopped to regain his strength and was inspired to go on by the sound of deranged giggling. Dumb fuck… there was only one reason why Three Finger wanted him to follow up these god damn steps when he was not even sleepy. Lizard hoped all this effort meant he could punch the man in his lumpy head while they went to town.

“Yew better be bare-ass buck naked when I get there!” he yelled once he reached the top and ambled down the hall. Thankfully, the sight which met him on his bed did not disappoint him.

Bony rump pointed toward heaven like a cat in heat, Three Finger wiggled his hips and snickered enticingly, or at least as enticingly as he could attempt. When Lizard only stood there, staring at the lovely sight of a welcoming fuck hole, his companion bounced in place, his laugh fluttering along.

“Well, look at that,” Lizard observed aloud. “Is it my birthday or what?”

Three Finger bounced again.

Normally Lizard would have taken a running leap onto the mattress and pounced on top of his gangly mate, but once again, his current condition foiled such fun and games. Thus, with Three Finger’s help, he carefully and rather inappropriately shuffled onto the bed, losing his balance twice and breaking a sweat by the time he collapsed onto his back. He would have changed his mind about the whole idea of sex, but before he could speak an objection, he felt his clothes being harshly yanked off.

“Whoa there, ya coyote,” Lizard chuckled, already feeling his third leg inhale to life. “I’m fragile, y’know…” He then proceeded to yank Three Finger toward him, fingers entwined in greasy yellow strands of hair. Three Finger leant into the pull and their faces collided nearly to the point of bruising each other, but they continued to kiss. Their lips attacked one another as though one scarred, disfigured visage might devour the other in a single bite. Lizard even dug his misshapen jaws into his mate’s neck, his grip threatening but never quite breaking the tough skin under his jagged teeth.

After a full minute of wiggling in vain, Lizard allowed assistance in removing his clothes. He felt suffocated in them anyway and had he not felt like a bloated pig carcass, he would have remained nude since three months before. Three Finger grinned his maniacal grin and threw the garments aside, leaving the rounded form below him completely naked. Two pink nubs already hardened on tender mounds of craggy flesh. The prostrate hunter’s hardened red fingers absently rubbed against them, eliciting a very agreeable grunt from his deformed lips.

“Go on,” he growled wantonly.

Without missing a beat, Three Finger spun on his knees and readied his spread legs for entry. He felt the need to tease his companion, coming dangerously close to allowing penetration, but every time he had Lizard convinced, he pulled away.

“Quit fuckin’ around already, yew bastard fudge-packer!” The man behind him snapped. His anxious voice rang loud and clear in the forest hunter’s ear and he suppressed a giggle as he reached back to prod at the pulsing, practically raging cock. Its erect form looked as though it were pinned against the swollen belly of its master.

“Well??”

Licking his imperfect gums, Three Finger seemed to ignore his mate’s urges and turned to lower his head closer and closer to the throbbing organ. Loud snuffling noises arose as he imitated the actions of a dog, investigating between full thighs and nudging at sweaty flesh with his tongue.

“Th-tt-t-thhrr…” Lizard managed to croak within his sharp moans. “Ohhh, fuck… jesus, fuck…”

This time a giggle came from between his legs, and he could feel the hot breaths of laughter against his spread nether regions. But with a cruel irony, the stimulation stopped within seconds and the mountain man from beyond the deserts raised his bumpy, misshapen head.

“God damn it!” Lizard all but whined. “Why’d yew stop?!”

Spidery arms reached forward and Three Finger’s bony hands grasped the naked red shoulders of his anxious mate, pulling him toward him. Eyebrow lifted, the desert dweller hoped he could trust that whatever this move would lead to, he would soon enjoy like nothing else. Wincing as he struggled to his knees, he spread his legs when gestured to and had to land on his hands in order to keep his balance. Already the tense, atrophied muscle of his back were aching.

“Hurry up.”

Sliding between the spread thighs until his head was beneath Lizard’s, Three Finger allowed his bony fingers to creep up the slightly plumper halves of his mate’s rump, grasping firmly to the point of his nails to dig into skin. A sharp grunt of discomfort shot from Lizard’s lips and his legs tightened against the man below him. Giving his typical Cheshire grin, the fellow hunter released his grip and gently guided the halves toward him, reaching upward with tongue unsheathed.

Lizard let loose yet another string of curses mixed with half finished words and the puckered ring his companion expertly tasted and intruded tightened for only a second. Three Finger immersed his face into the succulent flesh, feasting upon it like a ripe fruit, feeling the tremors passing through the body overtop of him. His tongue entered the place where their own child would pass through and greet them in time, and the greatest shaking traveled down Lizard’s spine like electricity as his cry of pleasure was unleashed. Three Finger could tell his lover was spent; the hot splash against his bony chest was proof enough.

Falling onto his side, Lizard’s heavy body caused the mattress to bounce and he giggled as he hit the rickety springs. Joining in, his rail thin partner took delight in how content the exhausted great hunter looked, his eyes singing absolute bliss. If only the crabby old cuss could stay that way more often. However, Three Finger had a feeling that he could help at least a little.

“Where’s my clothes?” Lizard grumbled as he looked off the side of the bed curiously. Giving another splutter of laughter, Three Finger shoved the discarded clothing under the bed, especially that damned pair of pants.

“Quit dickin’ ‘round and fork ‘em over,” came the muffled snarl from the other side of the bed frame.

“Nuh-huh,” Three Finger barked as he bounced off of the bed and ran into the other room. Before Lizard could shout after him or even shuffle onto the floor to take back his attire, the forest native ran back into the room, tossing a large bundle onto the foot of the mattress. Flabbergasted, Lizard could only watch as two mismatched hands fished around the wrinkled pile and produced a pair of long johns. He remembered those belonged to Big Mama once.

“Yew gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”