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The sky flashed violet once, indicating the start of the break— a peaceful, grace period where all of them could rid themselves of the constant bloodlust, constant worry, and the constant urge to win, whatever the costs may be.
Grian let out a relieved sigh and his posture relaxed. Finally. He didn’t know how long he could stay on edge. But now he could finally unwind. He pulled out his communicator and sent a message to Scar.
Scarrrrrrrrrr
yes?
bad boy bakery please come c:
omw
He grinned, shoving the communicator in the pocket of his leather jacket. He and Scar may not be allies during the actual thing, but they were still partners and deserved little moments like this to themselves.
Meanwhile, Grian decided to make the bakery a bit more… comfortable. He walked over to the chest behind the counter, and took out some blankets and pillows. He laid the blankets on the floor, and placed pillows around the blankets in a fence-like manner. It resembled a nest, and it pleased the bird-like instincts in him.
Chirping, he sat down, cross-legged, and made himself at home. It was comfortable and soft and warm and so, so perfect. All that was missing was Scar now.
He was about to message Scar again before he heard loud, thumping footsteps. The door sprung open and Grian’s smile grew impossibly wider. Scar stood in the doorframe, looking as carefree and cocky and insanely handsome as ever. His blue and orange shirt was ruffled and messed, one sleeve stained with the barest bit of dried blood. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal his scarred forearms, and Grian instantly spotted a bunch of new ones. How many of the scars was he responsible for?
Probably a lot. But they all got hurt in this game. Especially at the hands of those they loved and trusted. Grian knew that well.
“You’ve gotten quite comfortable there, ey?” Scar chuckled, amused, crossing the distance over to him and plopping himself next to Grian, pulling him into his arms.
Grian hummed, melting in his hold, “Yeah… missed you.”
“Missed you, too,” Scar pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, resting his chin on his golden locks. “Things have been rough.”
“They really are. The entire server’s against us innocent, little Bad Boys,” Grian groaned, “Even you are,” he frowned, “What did we even do to you?”
“Except trying to kill us every single time?” Scar arched a brow.
“Right…” he couldn’t argue with that. Scar and his allies had a fair reason for not liking them, “Uh, sorry about that. I guess. Even though you kind of deserved it. Sometimes.”
“That was a horrible apology.”
“No it wasn’t. It was perfectly fine!” He huffed. “Oh and Scar?”
“Yeah?”
“Think you can preen my wings? They’ve been bothering me but I couldn’t find time during the session to take care of them,” he admitted, almost embarrassed at asking Scar to help him, “If you don’t want to, you really don’t have to,” he reminded him.
Scar didn’t respond. At least not verbally. Instead he wrapped his arms around Grian’s middle and moved him effortlessly, sitting him down in front of him, almost in his lap. Grian suppressed a squeak at the sudden movement. “Scar, war—” All protests died in his throat as Scar’s soft fingers trailed up his leather jacket, till they reached the hole cut out to accommodate his wings. He gently rubbed and stroked the pale patch of skin, before caressing the feathers on Grian’s backs.
Grian sighed, his eyes fluttering shut. He missed this. He missed Scar so bad. He missed the little tender moments between them.
Scar knew what to do, even if he rarely preened his wings due to how shy Grian would get. It took him a long while to be comfortable with Scar touching his wings this intimately. It involved a lot of trust, which now, Grian was wholly ready to give Scar.
He pulled out the loose, dead feathers, tiny rocks, twigs, grass blades, and everything stuck in between— his touch gentle and tender as he did so, careful to not hurt Grian in the slightest. At least not now. Occasionally he would scratch or stroke the sensitive skin intentionally to earn a sweet, sweet chirp or a delicious whimper from him.
“Scar, stop,” he spared a glance over his shoulder, flashing him a pout. Scar smirked, lips tugging upwards.
“Stop what?” He leaned in to press a kiss to the small feathers at his back. Grian jolted and squeaked, his skin immediately flushing a deep red.
That smug bastard.
“Jerk,” he grumbled.
“I know,” Scar chuckled unfairly sweetly in response, “Done.” He wrapped his arms around Grian once more and pulled him into himself. All the air was knocked out of his lungs as he fell backwards.
“What did I say about warning me when you do stuff like that?” Grian rolled over, supporting himself on one hand, the other cupping Scar’s cheek.
“Heh. Sorry, I guess. Even though you kind of deserve it. And it’s fun seeing you all angry and flustered,” Scar flashed him a cocky, crooked grin.
“That was the worst apology ever.”
“Didn’t you just apologise like that earlier?”
“I might’ve,” Grian hummed. He shuffled a bit, face hovering just a few inches from Scar’s. An earthy scent blended perfectly with something sweet filled his nose. It was a familiar smell. It belonged to Scar. He could always recognise it.
“Wow, my Bad Boy,” Scar caressed his face, running his thumbs under his eyes. “Have I ever mentioned how handsome you look in this jacket and with those glasses? To be fair, when do you not look a-may-zin’?”
Grian turned red. He blushed a lot. Especially when complimented by Scar. Who could blame him, though? “You look alright, too, I guess,” he rolled his eyes. He was bluffing. Scar didn’t look just ‘alright’, he looked absolutely angelic even if he was anything but, he was perfect, every inch of him was perfect. And from the way he was staring at him, Scar could tell what he was thinking because he only grinned wider.
“A—” Scar was about to make some silly remark but before he could, Grian kissed him, drowning out any word he intended to utter.
Their kiss was hungry, uncoordinated and no doubt, messy. They kissed as if trying to devour the other. They kissed as if they were starving men deprived of everything. And they were. They were deprived of eachother during these stupid games. It was unfair, it was cruel, it was torture.
Scar bit down on his lower lip. Grian gasped, whimpering as Scar shoved his tongue in his mouth.
Usually, Grian would take the lead, but this time he let Scar explore his mouth, map every inch of it, consume him like a flame. Because after all, despite everything, he belonged to Scar the same way Scar was his.
Black spots started to dance around at the edge of his vision and it was then that Scar, unfortunately, pulled away.
Grian’s head rested on Scar’s shoulder as he gulped for breath. Scar’s fingers tangled into his wild, sun-coloured locks that were basically glowing as the golden, afternoon light poured in from the tiny window, the other hand running up and down his spine.
Grian spread his wings, wrapping them around both of them, and let out a deep, rumbling sound. He purred as he got even more comfortable. Scar chuckled, a sound honeyed and melodic.
“I still can’t get over the fact you purr. It’s so cute!” Scar pressed a kiss to the side of his face, smiling against his cheek.
“Shut up,” he mumbled with no real bite to his words. He was practically melting in Scar’s arms.
“You’re even more adorable when you’re grumpy,” Scar cooed at him.
“Scar, if you call me cute or adorable one more time, I-” he paused. What was he going to do?
“Whatcha gonna do, birdie?” Scar teased, gently rocking him side to side.
“I’ll do… something,” he huffed.
“Very threatening,” Scar chuckled, holding him even closer, “Such a scary, pretty bird,” he stroked his wings.
“Scaaar,” he jutted his lower lip out in a pout.
“Okay, okay. Love you,” Scar whispered softly.
“Love you too.”