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Metal met metal in a symphony of their own making. The sound of it bounced around the air, slamming into walls, each ‘clang’ like a needle through his ears, only compounded by the sound of his heartbeat. Mankira slid along the length of Lovely Assistaff like a cat toying with a mouse, tail caught between nails. Zanka snarled at the uncomfortable feeling, allowing Mankira to glide along Assisstaff’s length before pivoting, swinging her with more force than he initially intended.
Jabber, with his lighter build, slid easily to the side, but he didn’t account for the force of Lovely Assistaff hitting the earth and the dirt beneath him cracked and split open and his balance was uneven. It was a small opportunity, like seeing the smallest glint of the needle in the haystack, but Zanka latched on to it like sinking his teeth into a fat cut of meat. He made to rear his staff back but slid under at the last minute, falling into a crouch as he swept Jabber’s legs from beneath him. Then, he swung Assistaff and trapped Jabber’s neck between her claws.
Jabber kicked out with his legs, trying to catch Zanka and unbalance him, but Zanka dodged before slamming his foot down on Jabber’s shin. Jabber yelped, rearing back but hissed when his neck caught on the sharp ends of Assistaff, digging into his skin. With wild eyes, he grinned up at Zanka, flexing his arms as he tried to extend Mankira farther, just an inch or two, to paralyze Zanka; In turn, Zanka tutted and, almost pettily, kicked Jabber in the stomach.
Jabber wheezed as the sudden force made him dizzy, forcing him to release his grasp on Mankira. He squeezed his eyes shut as he made wet coughing laughs, and then, as soon as Zanka’s foot peeled away from his stomach, he craned upwards to lash out again. This time, Zanka found him stomping on Jabber’s wrist.
Jabber howled as his wrist snapped beneath Zanka’s heel. Pretty, Zanka thought, before he sneered and shoved the thought away like it had burned him. A feeling of disgust welled in his stomach as he looked at Jabber beneath him, who panted with his mouth open and drool forming in the corner of his lips. For a moment, he just stared at the man beneath him, with his broken wrist and cut up neck. Assistaff hummed in his grip, delighting in the view as much as him.
Zanka knew himself; He was an average, run of the mill guy. He wasn’t no exceptional fighter, no natural born talent, no prodigy or genius. Perhaps part of him sought normalcy when he realized he couldn’t be extraordinary.
Now, staring at Jabber beneath him, writhing in pain with half-lidded eyes lit aglow, he felt that part of him seep away like blood pouring down a drain. Right now, he was the stronger one - The one on top. He couldn’t stop the quirk of his lips, even as a bitter sensation clogged his chest and throat. Looking down at Jabber, seeing his locs spread around him like a halo of vipers ready to strike, his spasming hand and teeth bared in a grin like a hyena ready to strike, he couldn’t help but imagine more; Jabber lying in a pool of blood, hearing his delicate bones snap and crack, hear more of that wet wheezing gasp as Jabber fought to breathe and yet delighted in all of it. Zanka felt the oddest concoction of guilt, disgust, and hunger.
Like a cat’s tail being lit on fire, Zanka jolted away, pulling Assistaff out from the dirt. She whirred in disappointment, like a toy being held from a dog, and he immediately felt regret.
The second Assistaff pulled away, Jabber sprung to his feet, his good hand balancing him as he crouched feet away from Zanka. He looked up at him, locs falling in his face as he cocked his head to the side, a small teasing smile.
Jabber sighed, “Man… Blueballing me again, Zan?”
Zanka bristled, lips pulling back as he sneered. “Yer disgusting, ya freak.”
Zanka’s pulse pounded in his ears like a drum, the bitterness only growing in his chest.
“Hah, Zan-zan… When r’ya just gonna give in, man?” Jabber frowned like Zanka was the one inconveniencing him and not the other way around; Like he didn’t fucking jump Zanka in the middle of a supply run for the younger Cleaners.
“There ain’t shit to give into, asshole,” Zanka said, planting his feet sturdier in the ground in case Jabber tried to dive for him.
“And that’s why you ain’t gonna beat me, man,” Jabber threw his head back like he was trying to explain the alphabet to an infant. Anger flooded Zanka, pooling in his fingertips like lava, heating the metal of Lovely Assistaff in his hand as conflicting feelings bubbled in the pot known as Zanka’s head.
“Sorry we ain’t all geniuses,” Zanka spat like dirt coated his tongue, feeling like his teeth were too big for his mouth. Jabber just shook his head, like there was some sort of point Zanka just simply wasn’t getting. “What the fuck am I givin’ into, huh? What am I missing here, Jabber?” The words sloughed from his mouth like dead skin, anger and confusion and worst of all, embarrassment, rubbing him raw in the worst way.
Suddenly, Jabber was up next to him, feet silent. Assistaff clattered to the ground as Jabber grabbed both of Zanka’s hands in his own, Mankira so cold it almost burned against his overheated skin, and raised them to Jabber’s neck. Zanka just stared at him, eyes probably as wide as a bug’s as his brain stuttered to a halt, anger draining from his as bewilderment took its place.
“Give in.” The words were simple as Jabber pried apart Zanka’s fingers to wrap them around his neck. It was like his brain was melting, all parts of him focused on the feeling of Jabber’s pulse bouncing beneath his hands, the wetness of the cuts from earlier scrapping against his palms, and the next thing Zanka knows is he was throwing Jabber to the ground, straddling him as his hands found their way around Jabber’s neck again, and squeezed.
Jabber made a weak noise as his back hit the ground hard, both hands instinctively reaching up to press against Zanka’s chest, just for another broken sound to escape as his broken wrist crumpled. Despite that, he was grinning, teeth bared so wide it looked painful. “Yeah-,” He wheezed, a sound like his voice was being dragged to the dirt, “Just… like that- Zan-” His voice broke off as Zanka squeezed harder, a soundless laugh escaping his lips.
Zanka felt heat in all parts of him, thrumming a rhythm so deep in his body, it’s like he had fused with it. Jabber kicked and spasmed beneath him, legs kicking futilely; Jabber was built for speed, with strong legs and lithe muscles, whereas Zanka was all upper body strength, thick arms built for swinging. His hand with the unbroken wrist reached out to grab Zanka’s forearm and squeeze, but his nails only traced the skin, didn’t dig in or draw blood.
It wasn’t until Jabber’s eyes began to roll back that Zanka released his grip. Jabber made a gross gasp as air suddenly flooded his lungs, a relief so vicious it was painful. For a minute, Zanka just stared at Jabber beneath him, heaving air, eyes wide and burning from how he refused to blink.
Jabber’s face, which had started to go pale, was quickly turning red and drool dripped down his chin. The urge to lick it up crossed Zanka’s mind and before he could think twice, he was dipping his head down, tongue laving from the bottom of Jabber’s chin to the corner of his lips as he cleaned the spit.
Jabber made a half-choked sound of surprise, which only delighted Zanka further. Jabber’s skin is warm, almost too warm. He smells like musk and metal and something that burns at his nose, like antiseptic. Zanka pulled back, licking his lips, watching bleary fuschia eyes struggle to meet his.
Yet, somehow, on top as he is, Zanka feels like he’s lost.
He finds his hands squeezing again, just once, harsher than he had earlier, but he draws back quickly, standing up and summoning Assistaff to his hand. Jabber is panting on the floor still and Zanka sneers when he notices Jabber’s legs twitching, one hand hovering over his crotch like he doesn’t know what to do.
“Yer disgusting,” Zanka says again, though he doesn’t know if he’s talking to Jabber or himself, especially with the boiling feeling deep in his stomach and the fact that he’s grateful his pants are so baggy. So he turns away from Jabber, leaving him on the dirt, and disappears out of the alley.