death sentence (explicit) (sixwulf)

10 June 2024

He had respected Six once, or something close to it. It had been easier before, still with the Pack; the distance, maybe, the separation, only brushing by each other in fits of violence. And it was the violence he had respected, after all. Maybe the close quarters had pulled back the curtain. (Maybe one day his master would learn that humans were all too fallible, and that even this one would fail him, and then the issue would take care of itself.) Now, Biowulf tolerated Six at best, and at worst - it wasn't Biowulf's responsibility to keep him out of harm's way, anyway.

White Knight disagreed. Six had come away from their last outing only lightly bruised, even after Biowulf had been unfortunately unable to catch him in time before the rock face collapsed underfoot,  but White Knight had cornered him after. Clipped tones, a clear message: the line had long been crossed.

It did not occur to him until an hour in, hunched awkwardly in the stolen Providence transport, that White Knight may not be expecting to see him back. This was how he knew he'd gone soft, weak, frayed at the edges; too many days spent around humans who took their lives as a given; too long spent pitying himself. White Knight had told him it was something like a 'training mission.' He could read between the lines. From the driver's seat, Six glanced back at him, but said nothing. Alone like this, Six could have killed him still in the vehicle, but the mess would have been difficult to clean.

When the transport stopped Biowulf tensed through every muscle. He wouldn't go down easy, but ultimately - he wasn't so stupid as to pretend otherwise - he would be put down, like a guardian dog that had killed too many of the flock. He waited for Six to step out of the vehicle first. His fists clenched so tight that his claws threatened to prick holes into his palms.

In the empty orange of the desert, Six turned to him and said, "I need you to know I'm not going to kill you."

Time stretched a little. Biowulf held himself taut and tried to pinpoint what part of him gave the fear away. Six sighed, then shook the blades out of his sleeves. "You won't give me a break unless I try, though, will you."

--

Fighting Six, as it turned out, soothed something wild and panicked that had lurked unnoticed in the back of Biowulf's brain. Losing against Six made it roll over and show its belly. He had ended up on his back in the dirt, somehow whole - every time that one of Six's swords came near enough to cut, Six would turn it so that only the flat side of it touched him, infuriating and impressive in the control he showed - but winded, sore, outmatched. Six still could have killed him then: he had one of his blades angled to bite at Biowulf's throat. His fur dulled the sting, but when he breathed in, the point still found skin.

"Are we settled now?" Six asked from above him. He stood with one foot on either side of Biowulf's ribcage, casting a long and harsh shadow across Biowulf's body. "Jealousy is a bad look on you. Whatever it is you have going on with White Knight, it can't keep interfering with our work."

There was one last hiss of aggression in him. "What I have with White Knight is mine of your business."

Six looked, briefly, exasperated. "It isn't," he agreed, and then twisted the sword so it caught more surely underneath Biowulf's fur, piercing only just into the surface of his skin, enough to make Biowulf's breath catch, "until you cross another line and White Knight makes it my business. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

No. Yes. The hierarchy started falling, unstoppably, into place. Biowulf stared at the sword and at Six's grip and at Six's dark sunglasses. This was not the Pack; he served White Knight, of course, but between them, on another pedestal -

Biowulf closed a hand carefully around Six's ankle. He felt the pulse there.  He tipped his head toward the sword, to feel the pain bloom brighter. "Yes."

Six - after a long second - pulled the blade back, snapping it into the hidden housing in its sleeve. "There really is something wrong with you," he said, but he didn't step away, and he had a look on his face that reminded Biowulf then of White Knight.

--

Six didn't have half the physical bulk of White Knight, but sitting across Biowulf's hips he still had the dense musclebound weight, and the certainty. More startling was his steady warmth and the gentle, organic give of skin, soft under Biowulf's palms. Biowulf didn't know how to touch him, like this, so far outside of violence, and he had hesitated until Six had fixed him with a look and said, "Are you scared?"

He had forgotten this: the half-buzzing sensation where they touched, nanites swirling within range of each other. He wasn't sure that Six could feel it. It was just distracting enough to make his head swim, little jolts of electricity at the edges of him, between Six's hips and his waist. He fell into the haze of it, kneading hands on Six's thighs, until Six took him by the ear and pulled, and he realized he had missed Six speaking.

"I'm not him," Six said, slowly, clearly repeating himself - something near shame burned through Biowulf's gut. "You'll need to put a little more work in. It won't be enough to just sit there and get stepped on."

The shame blossomed out and coiled into him. What had White Knight told Six, on those late nights when they closed the door behind them, what weaknesses had he willingly given up - or could Six just see it written out plain, something about Biowulf that made itself obvious? Which was better? Which was worse, cutting through him hot with humiliation? Anger chased in after. Biowulf's hands tightened on Six's thighs, claws catching the fabric of his slacks. Whatever Six saw twisting on Biowulf's face made him smirk, and he smoothed his thumb over the ear he still had in his grip. "Easy," he said, and then he leaned back, shifting over Biowulf's hips. It felt like a sizzle of hungry nanites followed after him, a dizzying sensation against the almost sickening churn of humiliation and rage.

Six reached between them - his hand slid flat against Biowulf's middle for a moment, testing, maybe, for a reaction, the tiny jump of muscles under his palm - to open the front of his pants, pulling himself free still only halfway hard. Biowulf found himself staring: at the sheer vulnerable flesh, the pale stretch that came visible when Six's shirt got pushed up, scars cutting across his stomach, at the practiced squeeze of Six's hand around his cock. Six had only taken off his jacket but Biowulf suddenly hungered for more of him, a sudden searing familiar want, imagining bared flesh, and he jerked his gaze away with embarrassment. Six allowed it. Biowulf could still hear him, anyway, the soft rustle of fabric, the skin-on-skin sound getting a little wet over time, and he could feel the shock of excited nanites when the first drip of precome slid off Six's knuckles and onto Biowulf's stomach. He looked back.

Of course Six was so focused, his face perfectly still, except the moment when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, a sweet pink crack in the mask. He slowed, somehow excruciating, and paused with the head of his cock trapped beneath his thumb. With his other hand - he had been leaning back against it, and when he lifted it Biowulf could feel his thighs flex for balance - he took Biowulf's, peeled the claws up off his leg. He folded them around his cock, apparently unafraid, unfazed by the ungainly size of his hand. Biowulf only stared for a moment, stunned by the softness of skin, the feeling of a pulse, until Six made a disappointed sound and put his own hand around Biowulf's to guide him into movement.

The embarrassment, again, fluttering hot in Biowulf's belly, but also Six's unwavering grip, the tension of his stomach where Biowulf's knuckles just brushed against it, the faint pull of nanites between Six's body and his slick cock. He could hardly focus.

"How long has it been since you did this for someone?" Six asked too-coolly above him. As though there was an answer that wasn't unbearable - as though Biowulf could hope to pull enough of his mind away from the double-edged blade of want and hate to even speak. Six shifted his hips forward into their joined hands. "Not White Knight. You couldn't, for him. Might not have even let you if you could."

He wished Six would stop talking. All that silence and he picked now to chatter - every word carefully sharpened, razor wire in sound. Biowulf twisted his fist around Six's cock and only barely got a hiss in response. He kept talking: "Before going EVO, maybe. Going on seven years. Explains why you're shaking."

He was. It was fury. It was awful cloying humiliation. It was him trying to find the words to say fuck you, fuck you, and then pull him closer anyway. Biowulf pushed his other hand up under Six's shirt to dig his claws into the skin at his waist and that was almost a mistake, more clean bare flesh under his hands, thumb just at the ripple of muscle over Six's ribs. He heard himself make a sound, half whine and half growl. Six leaned forward over him, close enough that Biowulf could see his eyes through the sunglasses.

"Here," Six said. He shifted his grip over Biowulf's hand. "I'll show you how White Knight likes it."

He wished Six had killed him after all, maybe, or would kill him still; he wished he could record this, the short, rough jerks of their hands over Six's cock, Biowulf's palm slick now, feeling Six's breath come short underneath his other hand. He could almost imagine this, Six and White Knight crowded into a corner together, but when trying to picture it Biowulf kept coming back to here, now, Six heavy and hot over him, his breath trained carefully quiet, twitching forward into their combined hands. Maybe Six was thinking of a memory like that now, a real one, something Biowulf could never have, and he growled again, helpless and jealous, staring at the place where Six fucked his fist until Six grabbed him by the wrist and held him still to come hard against Biowulf's belly. It oozed wet over Biowulf's fingers, pooled body-hot over his stomach. Biowulf found himself wanting - he didn't know - he wanted, he couldn't have.

Six pried his claws off of him and sat back to eye the mess. He looked all too put together, even with his pants loose and his cock softening. He tucked himself away and then stood, easy as anything. "Wait here."

There was nowhere for Biowulf to go, anyway. Six left, then came back with some kind of wipe salvaged from the transport vehicle's first aid kit to clean his come off Biowulf's middle. Biowulf let him, half dazed, still overwarm, awash with shame and need that had nowhere to go. Six crouched over him to do it, but before he stood again, he touched two fingers to Biowulf's throat.

"There," Six said, and then touched low towards the middle of Biowulf's chest, pointing just slightly upwards, "and there." He stood, stuffing the wipe back into its paper packaging. "If I do need to kill you. You aren't so different from a human being. We're leaving in five."

Six collected his jacket before he left, shaking the red sand out, and Biowulf - there wasn't much he could do but push himself to his feet and follow, dutiful, led on his long leash.

(Later, at the base, Six slipped into White Knight's office. Biowulf, this one time, did not try to listen in.)