we scream our very souls free

The forest is at the same time miniscule and endless. For a youth like Haunt, what is far is merely a step and what is near could be an eternity. The shadow does not measure time and distance in the same way others do. The shadows are home, and where they touch, so too does the congruous creature. The space belongs to it, much the same way the sun does to the ones who revel in its glory.

The land is ephemeral beneath impossibly dark feet as a lithe and gangly body stretches across strewn leaves and weaves between haphazard trucks. It feels good, this pursuit, an almost unnatural amalgamation of predator and prey. The eerie silence of Haunt’s step and the shockingly sharp slant of not-quite equine teeth speak of a dangerous predator, but the creature needs no meat to sustain life. Just as no sun or breath are required either.

No, this hunt is for joy and pleasure alone. For the thrill of the chase and the giddy delight of the capture.

It’s easy enough to bring the chase to an end when Haunt grows tired of the flight through seemingly endless trees. There is barely a breath of space in this forest shadow does not touch, and those shadows belong to the creature. One moment Haunt is slipping into the curls of the mist, the next Misfit is crashing into the darkness, breaking the still silence with the clip of his hooves and rasp of his breath. To Haunt, it is a beautiful sound.

The blue and gray youth drops his head, staring almost sightlessly into the hollow darkness, waiting for the creature he knows to be there. But Haunt does not take the expected course of action. A faint huff of laughter is all that give’s the shadow’s presence away, followed by a few trilling words.

“Fiiiiittttt.” A soft whispered melody, eerie if not for the familiarity of that name on it’s tongue. “Come here.”

A single blink, glowing yellow eyes the only trail to follow.

we scream our very souls free

The whispered taunt of temptation is enough to draw the young man in, though his steps bleed caution as he tests the ground before him. The shadows are endless and malleable, and should Haunt so desire, the shadow creature could send Misfit tumbling down for eons. Haunt would never do that to Misfit, of course, but the blue and gray stallion is correct to use such caution in a place where his eyes can stretch no farther than the barest of spaces. But as Misfit closes the gap, a wide, delighted smile stretches Haunt’s lips, sharp teeth gleaming invisibly in the endless pitch.

With the softest huff of laughter, the odd creature dances forth, pressing abruptly into his paler companion, leaning eagerly into the boy’s hungry touch. Yellow eyes glow with feral triumph as the game fades into something altogether different. Something far more dangerous.

Haunt returns the eager touches, teeth perhaps a little to sharp against sensitive skin, though they do not break the surface. Following the planes of Misfit’s body, Haunt tracks the changes there, the sharper lines, the more masculine ripple of sinew and muscle. Pressing closer, the creature almost idly tugs a blue strand of Misfit’s tail before sighing with delight. “Oh Misfit,” the shadow whispers, voice caught in a tenor timbre, neither feminine nor masculine, so easily mistaken for both. “You’re my favorite.”

Without warning, the light begins to brighten, allowing subtle shapes to echo through. Though the place the now stand is filled with deep shadow, it must seem as daylight after the impossible black they had just exited. Damp rock surrounds them, the hush heavy here, but not nearly so deafening as only moments earlier. A low, pleasing gurgle lends a tantalizing musical note, indicating the unobtrusive presence of an underground stream.

Haunt had discovered this place only recently, and determined Misfit must come too. A lovely, dark space accessible only by those who could move by unnatural means. Yellow eyes gleaming, the shadowy youth blinks mischievously at it’s oldest friend before coiling almost unnaturally around and pressing against Misfit until he is caught between impossible dark skin and unforgiving rock. Reaching up, Haunt nibbles gently at a blue tipped ear, teasing the edge with a sharp tooth.

“Do you like it?” Haunt asks breathily, voice harboring more than a hint of glee. “I found it just for us.”

we scream our very souls free

There is an almost forbidden thrill in bringing him here. A delicious secrecy in the moment that delight’s Haunt’s every last sense. In showing Misfit this place that only the shadow could bring him to. That would forever be theirs and theirs alone. A perfect backdrop to the tantalizing wonders they had, to this point, only been teasing and toying with.

Cool, shadow-black skin presses so easily against dusky gray, almost natural in it’s deviance. Yellow eyes gleam with such wicked delight that there could be no question as to the thoughts tumbling through the dark creature’s mind. Haunt claims Misfit with touch and taste as much as Misfit had claimed the unusual creature with his words. The claim might not offer monogamy, but it is binding nonetheless. Eternal, in all the ways that matter.

Haunt’s tongue trails over blue and gray, tasting the earthy tones of Taiga’s air, the damp mustiness of underground stone, and a masculinity all Misfit’s own. It’s a teasing touch, one designed to provoke. To promise.

With a small trill of almost-laughter, Haunt pulls abruptly back, gleaming eyes fixing on their delicious companion. “This is anywhere we want it to be,” the creature murmurs huskily, eyes bright with wicked humor. Another step back. And another, until the splash of water breaks the silence and wets one invisible hoof. Disembodied eyes tease, a less than subtle invitation. “This is my gift. To you.” A whisper and a promise. “Only you.”

we scream our very souls free

It seems everything in their lives had been building to this moment. This endless breath in time. Perhaps in the distant clearing where they had first met, there had been some inkling of it, if only one looked close enough. A thought planted when Haunt had first touched tongue to skin in bold playfulness.

Now though, there is anything but playfulness threaded so thickly through the air.

“Something else?” The whisper hangs teasingly in the air, daring dangerous truths to be drawn from where they’d been sheltered. A hum of delight and wicked temptation. A demand to put the thoughts into words. The lips touching theirs is one answer. A sinful one, but only half the satisfaction.

Still, the creature leans into it. Teeth scrape perhaps just a bit too roughly, tingeing tongues with a faint hint of copper. Heightening senses and reminding the pair of the dangerous reality of the moment. Something that serves only to spike the delight already coursing through Haunt, sending them invariably down a path of no return.

Dark lips trail up, teasing the sensitive hollow above one corner of Misfits lips, trailing along his cheek, finding the dip just beneath. Warmth radiates from him, pulse throbbing against Haunt’s lips and tongue. Teeth toy with that vulnerable curve, teasing with almost impossible patience.

“Tell me, Misfit,” the shadow whispers, a gentle, lyrical taunt. “What else?” A breath blown, deliberately cooling the dampness of the skin where tongue and teeth had been teasing. “Say it.”

we scream our very souls free

In this moment, time seems to hover both superfluous and eternal in the same breath. Everything stills with the exception of the two of them, impossible black entwined so sinuously with rich grey and blue. And yet, somehow, black presses even closer, as though the pair might truly meld into one effervescent being. As though they might somehow defy all laws of magic and physics.

Here in the darkness, in a cave share only by the two of them, known by none other, anything seems possible.

As shared warmth suffuses normally cool flesh, Haunt teases lips over gray skin, seeking more. Ever more. The shadow is not certain more would ever be enough. Not for them. The feeling of blunt teeth against jet strands and arching crest is divine, and Haunt hungers for more, almost wishing for a bite to those regrettably equine teeth. The sharpened teeth tucked so precariously behind their own lips nibble teasingly, dragging a sharp line. Not quite enough to draw blood, but enough to feel it bubble beneath the surface.

In a low, husky whisper, Misfit answers the question, and Haunt smiles against his skin in wicked pleasure. The creature doesn’t answer immediately, instead nibbling rewarding little carresses along along the vulnerable hollows of Misfit’s throat.

Finally, in a nearly inaudible whisper against Misfit’s skin, Haunt replies, “You have me. You’ve always had me. And I you.”