Chapter Text
Zanka walked alone through an elevated area of the Abyss — an abandoned city, to be precise. The structures showed clear signs of decay after years of being unoccupied due to the high risk to human life. They were crumbling little by little; some no longer even had floors, roofs, or walls. Thanks to their dilapidated state, there had been quite a few accidents. Not only that, but this city used to be one of the most unsafe places to live, as it was located near a landfill frequently visited by the Sphere. That was why the HellGuard had evacuated the area years ago. Now the desolate city stood alone against the gray sky.The air was thick, heavy with toxic humidity that clung to the skin. He had been patrolling for several hours, but his mind wasn’t on the trash beasts or any potential threats reported after years of inactivity in the zone. Instead, his thoughts were stuck on his own body, and that infuriated him.It had all started three days ago, after his last fight with Jabber. He had been ambushed by that madman, who claimed he was bored and that Zanka owed him a fight — and many more — after disappointing him inside the giant beast. Jabber had waited too long during his recovery. What angered Zanka the most was that it had only taken a single graze. Just that. Once again, one of Mankira’s claws had torn his uniform and lightly scratched his left side. The wound was superficial, almost nothing. He had lost again.But ever since then...
Something had changed.
At first it was just a mild warmth on his skin, like a low fever. Then came the constant tingling at the back of his neck. Now, as he walked, he felt something much worse: a slow, deep pulse between his legs. His core was growing wet without reason — hot, slippery slick that gradually soaked his underwear and made every step uncomfortable. What he was sure of was that he definitely wasn’t in heat or entering one. But to him, it felt even worse. It was as if his body was constantly feverish, his skin hot and sensitive, to the point that he wanted to rip off his uniform. But he resisted.Another annoying thing was that his brain kept recalling the invasive, wild scent of Jabber. He could swear he smelled it at the worst moments, when the symptoms seemed to intensify or persist. But it made no sense. Eishia had examined and healed him. How the hell could a toxin slip past someone as skilled as her? Although if that had happened (and it had, let’s be honest), he wouldn’t blame her. She always did her best, and he acknowledged that.
Zanka clenched his teeth and stopped beside a rusted column. As usual, the symptoms had returned, and it seemed luck wasn’t on his side — as always. These discomforts were more noticeable this time, but they didn’t feel the same as during those three days. They didn’t seem more intense, and that was starting to worry him. Shit, he knew he should have reported it instead of enduring it, but he hadn’t thought it was urgent or important.He could feel Lovely Assistaff, resting in his right hand in its normal form, vibrating slowly, trying to offer him some comfort. He confirmed it when he glanced at his beloved weapon, which glowed subtly in a beautiful, deep blue that reflected the dim light. But the staff seemed restless too, as if it could sense its owner and partner’s agitation.
“This is ridiculous,” Zanka muttered to himself, his voice low and rough. He leaned against the cold metal, trying to calm his breathing as his fingers traced the surface of Assistaff.
But his treacherous mind wouldn’t cooperate. He remembered the last fight with painful clarity: Jabber’s lanky body moving with that sickly, predatory grace, the crooked smile, the red eyes shining with pleasure every time Zanka hit him. He remembered how Jabber moaned when Lovely struck him — not from pain, but from something much darker. And now that memory made his cunt clench hard, releasing another gush of slick. For the first time in those days, it slid a little down his inner thigh, terribly wet, making him grimace in disgust at his own body.Zanka cursed under his breath and pressed his thighs together. The movement only made things worse. The damp fabric stuck to his sensitive skin, rubbing right where he needed friction the most. He could feel his womb throbbing with a painful emptiness, as if begging to be filled. Little by little, against his will, his mind imagined what it would be like to have something thick and hot pushing inside him, stretching him, pounding deep against his cervix, every vein rubbing against his insides. He imagined the knot swelling, sealing him, filling him until his belly swelled slightly. The mere idea made him gasp.
Gasp?.Shit.
Snapping back to reality, he shook his head violently, trying to push those thoughts away and ignore the sensations — the way his clothes stuck to his gradually sweating skin, the way his oxygen mask was starting to irritate and itch, the way his underwear was soaking through and making him want to touch himself just to ease the discomfort.
“No,” he growled. “It’s not real. It’s just the poison.”
But his body didn’t believe him. The heat climbed up his spine, making his nipples harden under the clinging fabric. His breathing grew heavier. Lovely Assistaff vibrated a little more, as if nervous… or excited. Zanka closed his eyes and tried to focus on the ache in his muscles, on the cold metal against his back, on the feeling of Assistaff in his hands… It didn’t work. Instead, Jabber appeared in his mind: that crooked mouth saying “Zanka-kun” in that hoarse, annoying voice, the chemical scent that had clung to his skin ever since, the same scent the bastard carried, which he had caught a glimpse of in his pheromones.He wanted to hate him. He wanted to beat him until he bled, to see him crumble under his fingers and his deepest emotions — the ones he showed to no one else. But he also wanted… something else. Something that embarrassed him and made him despise his biology even more. He wanted Jabber to shove him against this very column, pull down his pants, and fuck him mercilessly. He wanted to feel that thick cock opening him up. He wanted it to hurt inside while he clawed and bit from the outside, choking him, driving the alpha insane, seeing that deranged smile. A low moan escaped his throat before he could stop it. His free hand moved almost on instinct, pressing his palm against his crotch over his clothes. The contact made him gasp. He was almost drenched. The slick had soaked through his underwear; he could feel it.
“Fuck…” he whispered, ashamed and furious with himself.
He didn’t touch himself any further. He pulled his hand away as if burned and gripped Lovely Assistaff tightly. The staff was now vibrating with a steady, almost urgent rhythm. Zanka took several deep breaths, trying to regain control. He wasn’t an animal. He wasn’t going to give in to this. Not for Jabber Wonger.But the desire didn’t disappear. It stayed there, pulsing between his legs, making his womb clench with empty need. And deep in his mind, a treacherous voice whispered that only Jabber could quench that fire.
-----------------------/lovers¿/---------------------------
Jabber Wonger sat atop a crumbling structure, several hundred meters away from where Zanka was. Mankira glowed softly pink on his fingers, pulsing slowly. He hadn’t activated his full claws. There was no need. He was just… waiting.He had been following Zanka’s scent for hours. That sweet scent, now contaminated with his own poison. Just thinking about how it was affecting the other boy’s body made him laugh. He was probably having a really bad time, sulking and angry at him. He’d surely land some good hits. Just thinking about it made Jabber feel like he could come.Jabber inhaled deeply once more, letting the trail invade him. His cock had been hard almost all day, throbbing uncomfortably inside his loose pants. Every time he caught a new wave of Zanka’s aroma, his knot swelled a little at the base, reminding him of what he wanted, what he desired with all his energy. But he wasn’t stupid. He had to wait until his “food” burned and produced that rough itch that only he could cause.
“Zan-zan…” he murmured to himself, a slow, sickly smile curving his lips.
He knew exactly what was happening to the omega, of course he did. He had seen how his poison worked on other people, but he had never expected it to work so well on Zanka, considering his apparent resistance. Maybe he had never encountered a toxin like this one — one with… other intentions. That “accidental” graze had been enough. Now Zanka’s body was craving him. It needed him. And Jabber was completely obsessed with that idea.He imagined Zanka right now: probably alone, trying to deny what he was feeling, clenching those strong thighs while his cunt dripped slick because of him, angry at Jabber for causing those sensations, wanting to kill him.
The image made him moan softly. He wanted to see him. He wanted to smell him up close. He wanted to push his cock into that tight heat and feel Zanka claw and bite him while denying everything, leaving bruises and making him bleed. Mankira glowed brighter, the pink intensifying as if sharing his excitement. Jabber ran his thumb over one of the rings, feeling the warm pulse of the jinki.
“He wants you too, right? And you want to be with your lady,” Jabber whispered, almost with sick affection. “My cute Mister Bad Attitude… so strong, so proud… and now wet for me.”
He stood up slowly, stretching his arms above his head. His cock ached. His knot throbbed. He knew he shouldn’t approach yet. Zanka was still fighting. And Jabber enjoyed that struggle. He enjoyed imagining Zanka secretly touching himself and then hating himself for it. He enjoyed knowing that soon the omega wouldn’t be able to resist anymore.But the scent kept coming, sweeter, more desperate. Jabber closed his eyes and let his imagination run wild: Zanka on his knees, his cunt dripping, begging with a broken voice while he fucked him against the floor of the Abyss. Zanka biting him until he bled while riding him furiously. Zanka with his belly swollen, full of his cum, marked forever. Shit, just thinking about the reaction of those Cleaners and his family (if he even had one), how they would beat him and reduce him to an unrecognizable pile of shit for touching their innocent Zan-zan… a masochistic shiver of pleasure ran down his spine.He wanted Zanka to hurt him. He wanted Zanka to hate him while coming around his cock. He wanted Zanka to call him trash and at the same time beg for his knot.Jabber opened his eyes, pink and bright.
“Soon, Zanka-kun,” he murmured, his voice heavy with dark promise. “Soon you’re going to admit that you need me. And when you do… I’m going to give you everything your body is asking for. I’ll be the only one for you, and you’ll be the only one for me… if you don’t disappoint me again.”
Mankira glowed even more intensely, as if in agreement, eager to taste the blond’s blood. Jabber smiled, took a step toward the edge of the structure, and jumped down, disappearing into the ruins. He wouldn’t approach yet. But he was close. Very close.And Zanka… he knew Zanka could already feel him.
------------------------/together/--------------------------
Zanka hadn’t been able to sleep that night. The heat under his skin had become unbearable. Every time he closed his eyes he saw fragments of Jabber, of that sexy man: that crooked smile, the pink eyes, the way his body arched when he took a hit, how Mankira glowed and jingled when it clashed with Lovely, the way he controlled Mankira’s attacks despite its size, as if it weighed nothing.The slick wouldn’t stop. He had changed his underwear twice and still felt the sticky wetness between his thighs. His cunt throbbed with a painful emptiness, clenching around nothing, begging for something Zanka refused to name. That was how he spent his sleepless night, in that pleasurable torture.
He only hoped it wouldn’t affect his missions any more. Tomorrow he had one with his team. He didn’t think he’d have such bad luck… right?