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“Holy shit!”
Quackity had a routine.
Given his sleep schedule, one that had only gotten worse since he arrived on this island, he couldn't really control when or why he went to sleep, much less for how long. Every time he woke up, regardless of whether the sun or the moon hung outside, his first move was always to check his communicator for the time and to see who was online. It was standard to wake up to a flood of pings from people either greeting him or demanding his presence, all of which he tried to answer to the best of his ability.
This time, he woke past dusk. The sun had gone below the horizon, and the stars were strangely absent from the night sky. But the most jarring detail was the color washing over him: he had woken up completely covered in red.
It wasn't blood, just the vivid light of a blood moon bleeding through his balcony windows and pooling across his bed.
Quackity vaguely remembered seeing one on the first island, but he’d never faced one like this. Never had the view forced so bluntly into his face. He had to admit, it was mesmerizing. A faint memory of Tina once mentioning how blood moons made her horns ache prompted him to reach for his communicator.
The second his fingers turned it on, all hell broke loose. Dozens of frantic messages flooded one of his private chats, all from the same person, begging him to come over, insisting it was urgent.
He grabbed his warpstone and got to the Reactor immediately, rushing through decontamination.
And walked straight into this mess.
“I need some help,” Multi grunted.
“Holy shit,” the avian repeated, unable to tear his eyes away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Oh, thank you. You’re always so kind, Quackity.” The sarcasm fell flat, coming out raspy and low, deeper than the scientist’s usual voice.
“Oh my God, what the fuck is wrong with your ears??” Freaked out, Quackity completely ignored the remark, inspecting him closer. “And why the fuck do you have fangs now??”
“Look, Quackity, I—” Multi reached out with his arms, trying to calm him down.
It only made it worse.
“Holy shit! What happened to your hands?? Why are they black? Why are your nails so long? Oh my god!” Quackity took a sharp step back, nearly stumbling over his own feet.
“I’m trying to explain that to you!”
“Well, then fucking do it faster, dude!” Quackity yelled back, creating even more distance between them. “Holy shit! What is happening to you?”
“I’m not contagious or something,” Multi pouted, visibly annoyed at being treated like he had a disease.
Reluctantly, Quackity surrendered and stepped closer. “Multi... what the fuck is actually going on?”
“It’s the blood moon!” Multi snapped, immediately wincing as the sound of his own voice worsened his headache. “It’s—it’s not going to affect you. It’s something I’ve always had—Fuck.”
He tried to take a step forward, but as his legs gave out, he tried to hold onto the desk.
“Okay, okay, sorry! Are you—?” Quackity cut himself off as Multi’s eyes shut, his body falling. “Oh, fuck!”
He barely managed to step forward in time to catch him before his head hit the floor.
—
It’s too hot.
He’s burning up.
It feels like he’s in literal hell, being slowly consumed from the inside by flames. He’s never fallen into lava, but he imagines it must feel something like this, heat so strong that it drowns out every other sense.
Through the daze, he senses someone hovering over him, trying to press something against his face.
Instincts that don't quite feel like his own take over; Multi slams a palm into the center of the figure's chest and shoves hard. The newfound strength felt weirdly empowering, a thrum of satisfaction as the person yelps in surprise and hits the floor.
The scent of the person beneath him is magnetic. It numbs his logic, reducing the scientist to pure, primal instinct.
“Multi, what are you—?” The words barely register, cut short by a gasp; Multi’s mind is too clouded to place the avian’s voice.
Quackity stares up from where he was shoved.
It’s definitely Multi.
He’d been taking care of him for the past hour since he passed out. Multi had been paler than a corpse, freezing to the touch, only regaining a little warmth after Quackity had laid beside him, wrapping them both in his wings and periodically checking his forehead.
Now, looking up, Quackity catches his breath: Multi’s eyes have gone completely black, no iris, no white, just an abyss that looked glossy under the dim office lights, thin lashes coming from voidless orbes.
Almost animalistic, he couldn’t quite control himself, the light almost too much, his eyes slowly getting used to it. As their thighs flush against each other, a gasp came from the shiny figure under him.
After a beat of staring at the creature beneath him, his vision blurry, trying to focus, his gaze only seeing grey scales instead of color, Multi drops to his knees between the stranger's legs and looms over him. Almost animalistic. He couldn’t quite control himself; the light almost too much, his eyes slowly getting used to it.
As their thighs flush against each other, another sharp intake of breath comes from the figure beneath him.
“Multi?”
The familiarity of the voice softens something in his chest, but his body feels heavy, his stomach twisting with a sudden hunger.
As his vision clears, he catches the messy black hair as the avian props himself up on his elbows. Multi takes advantage of the closed distance, leaning down to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.
The scent grows intoxicatingly thick. Under his own skin, Multi can feel his blood thrumming, echoing in his head. His control is slipping out of his reach, even more now that he knows who was beneath him.
“Multi, can you see me?”
The moment Quackity raises a hand to push him back, just trying to feel his temperature, Multi snatches his wrists and pins them firmly to the floor, locking them together.
Quackity collapses back against the ground, offering a weak squirm before surrendering completely. He’s not really trying to fight, just patiently watching this new side of the scientist.
The solid weight he’s pressing down brings Multi back into his own head. He nuzzles deeper into the junction of Quackity's neck, listening to the frantic, heavy thrumming of the pulse against his ear. And then he sees them: two small moles sitting close together on the curve of Quackity's neck, perfectly mimicking the mark of canine teeth.
They look like a target. An X marking the spot.
Multi wonders, dazed and fascinated, if he’s looking at someone made specifically for him.
His gums ache in anticipation. He parts his lips, ready to sink his teeth in.
Then he looks up and meets the avian’s eyes; Quackity is looking back at him with an expression that is dangerously close to curious amusement.
Right. He had called for him.
This was Quackity.
He quickly sits back up, still between the avian’s legs.
“Were you just—” Quackity lets out a nervous, loud giggle, utterly in shock. “Were you just about to bite me?”
“No—no! I don’t—I don’t know! I can’t think, I—” Multi whines, forcing himself to breathe through his mouth to stop Quackity's scent from completely frying his brain. “I’m hungry.”
He is a sight to behold.
Without Multi even realizing it, bat-like wings have sprouted from beneath his arms, fused seamlessly to his sides. Dark shadows have consumed his limbs, staining them pitch black. Pointed ears cut through his hair, and every tooth in his mouth has sharpened to a deadly point. His panic is visible through the pale skin he has left, black veins and arteries shining underneath the surface.
Quackity just lies there, taking him in.
“Fuck, dude…” The duck-hybrid mutters, the fear entirely gone, replaced by a new feeling brewing inside of him. “Am I a monster fuck—?”
“Quackity,” Multi interrupts, trying to cover his eyes that still feel sensitive, pointing a dark finger to the research desk.
“Oh! Yeah, sorry—one second, I’ll grab it!” Quackity stutters as he’s getting up, recognizing the vial as one of his own blood samples.
He slides the vials over to Multi, who snatches them up, downing the contents in seconds.
As the liquid hits his system, the black, visible lines of his circulatory system light up with a vivid, neon green glow.
Quackity glances over at Multi’s watch. The night is still young; the sun is nowhere in sight, still hidden behind the Earth.
It doesn’t look like that’s going to be enough, Quackity thinks.
“Because it’s not,” Multi snaps, his voice sharp.
The avian flushes, embarrassed that he’d accidentally said it out loud. Then, he looks down at him.
“Can I help? Do you need… mine?”
And Quackity had always been a kind soul, of course. This definitely wasn't driven by his own twisted curiosity, not at all.
So when Multi turns, his black eyes flickering with neon green, ready to jump him, Quackity really has no one to blame but himself.
As he felt the shadowed hands taking off his hoodie, throwing it to the floor, leaving him only in his white tanktop. A chill breeze, goosebumps all over him, he felt an ice-cold hand grabbing the side of his head gently and the other easily tearing apart his undershirt, with his new sharp nails, in order to get a better view of his collarbone.
“Ready?”
With what seemed to be the last of his sanity, Multi asked for one last confirmation; Quackity laughed before answering by pushing him closer.
He’s always had a high tolerance for pain, anyway.
It was going to be a long night.