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His body burned, though he couldn’t tell if it was overexertion or poison ripping through him. Not that it mattered, it never did. He kept striking, kept dancing around the rippling stroke of pure *blue* painted in front of him.
The mixture flowing through him now made everything soft around the edges, like smeared petals in the bottom of his mortar. It made Zanka brighter, made every sweep of Lovely Assistaff even more rhythmic than normal.
The crack of metal hitting his ribs snaps him from his amusement, tearing a broken cackle from his throat. He’s on his back before he can even stop sliding across the concrete. Pretty blue sinks into his field of vision as he pants, the smooth curve of Lovely Assistaff digging into his throat.
“You’re.. *distracted*, Jabber.” Zanka snaps, the heel of his boot dug into the soft spot under Jabber's rib, his own chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
The fight hadn’t been easy, it never was. Not with Jabber, but it had been sloppy. Sloppier than usual. Sure, Zanka had dropped in on Jabber this time, not the other way around, but still..
He was distracted.
“What, thought you *wanted* to win, Zan-Zan..” Jabber purred, tongue swiping blood from his teeth as he snarked up at Zanka. Mankira is wrapped around the metal shaft of Lovely Assistaff, metal on metal making them both shiver despite the heat and humidity of the underground hideout.
Zanka was hazy above him, unfocused around the edges and more a blue-d out smear than anything, but Jabber could see his eyes. Those were clear.
Brow always furrowed, eyes always pinned and sharp.. Jabber wanted to smooth the crease of his nose, wanted to see how soft his face got when he wasn’t pissed off.
*Gross. Soft, icky, gooey, fucking disgusting.*
Zanka’s weight shifted, a pout replacing his snarl as he looked Jabber over. He looked.. Fine? Not fine by normal standards but.. By Jabber standards? He seemed perfectly fine. So why the hell wasn’t he giving it his all like normal..?
“You sick or somethin’, man?” Zanka chuffed, leaning back a half-step while still keeping Lovely Assistaff in place. Jabber felt more pressure lift off of his throat. More than Zanka meant to give.
Zanka was sliding back, spine cracking against the floor with a dull thunk, before he could process the change in position. Jabber was on his feet, Mankira swirling with some dull purple gloss as he palms at his throat. What a pretty bruise that was going to make..
“Come on, Zan-Zan.. Can’t be letting your guard down man.. Quit makin’ this easy..” Jabber huffed, almost leisurely pacing to where Zanka lay, still struggling to catch his breath from the impact. Lovely Assistaff was a soft blue streak beside Zanka, and Mankira practically thrummed as her claws wrapped around the shaft.
“Mm.. it’s been too long, Zan.. look at how much the girls missed eachother..” The soft rasp of metal on metal punctuates his words, and Zanka rasps out his protest as he tries to sit up, pain blooming through his back and ribs.
Jabber's weight settled over his thighs doesn’t help his efforts to move either.
The soft pierce of pain in his leg makes Jabber shiver, the tips of Mankira dipped in blood when he pulls them away. Whatever the hell he mixed up was starting to fade, fuck that.. This shit was too much fun to stop now.
Everything began to soften again, though his focus didn’t seem too deeply affected. He just.. didn’t care. It was nice, quiet in his mind.
Until Zanka started one of his spiels about how he was going to kick Jabbers ass, beat him black blue and bloody so he would fuck off, blah blah.
“Man.. You are so damn lucky Mankira likes you.. Noisy..” Jabber grumbles, hand pressing over Zanka's mouth to shut him up.
Could he just stick him, sleepy night night style? Yes. yes he could.
Is watching him scramble to push his hand off infinitely funnier? Yes.. yes it is.
Jabber can feel Zanka trying to speak. To push his hand off or turn his head, but he’s still reeling from how hard he hit the ground, his arms are still shaking from overexertion.
While Jabber acts entirely enamoured by the rasp of Mankira against Lovely Assistaff, Zanka seems intent on breaking that focus.
At least.. That was the only reasonable purpose for *biting* his fucking hand.
Jabber jerks back, glaring down at the glaring not-brunette brunette under him, whose lip is smeared with blood.
“You just bit me..?” Wow.. real fuckin observant Jabber.. Think, man. Think.
Maybe he shouldn’t have dosed himself again.. Actually.
“Get.. yer fuckin ass.. Off’a me..” Zanka pants, trying to grab Lovely Assistaff back from Jabber. The shaft of the staff is just a bit too far when Jabber lays her down, putting his full focus on Zanka. The faint purplish haze of Mankira deactivating is the only pause in movement.
“Ohh Zan-Zan.. If you wanted a taste you shoulda said somethin’ earlier!” Jabber practically chirps, taking that bite and running with it. Zanka is still futilely trying to push him off, but Jabber has the lower body strength advantage, locking his legs either side of Zanka's slim hips.
The press of his thumb to Zanka’s snarling lips shouldn’t please him this much, but the feeling of his own blood on the cleaner's lips is far too appealing.
Today.., the day of surprises.
He made a perfect new mixture for his next fight with Zanka, only for the aforementioned hot-head to burst through his door for a fight.. Now, he’s got Zanka under him, tasting his blood on his lips and biting at his thumb.
A day for surprises indeed.
At the clink of metal against teeth, Jabber expects Zanka to bite him and jerk away, to spit all those nasty, vile insults that only come out once he's been beaten.
He does *not* expect Zanka to fucking lick the ring.
Oh.
*oh..*
It is Jabber's turn, once again, to be speechless. Only the sound of their shared breathing and racing pulses interrupts the sudden quiet.., then?
Then Zanka starts to murmur, his steadier hand coming to grasp Jabbers, if only to splay out Mankira. His breath is hot, soft. It sends more down Jabber's spine than he would ever admit to.
“Such a pretty girl.. Pity your daddy’s such a fuckin’ psycho. He takes real good care of you though, huh.. Not a scratch on you..” Both Zanka's thumb and lips ghost over Jabber's fingers, focused over Mankira.
This gooey shit was fucking gross.. But.. seeing Zanka of all people so reverently touching Mankira?.. Jabber finds he does not have it in himself to pull away..