NIGHTWORLD

#

08: All Our Gods are Martyrs

Southern France, 1998

"Yo wolfie, are you writin' an actual letter?" Jaro jumped in his seat, glancing back to see a large, shirtless bull striding into his little nook. The newcomer's navy blue hide was rippling with muscle, two stubby horns poking from either side of his square head. A large silver ring hung from his nose, a look popular with bovines.

Jaro moved his paw to cover his paper, trying to smile nonchalantly.

"I guess, what's it to you?" He asked, trying not to let his irritation show as the bull casually braced his ass on the edge of Jaro's desk. It was early in the evening, and the barracks were usually deserted around this time. There was nothing to do there but sleep, so most of the other recruits spent their free hour working out or drinking, and it was the only time of the day Jaro found he could actually stop and think.

"No, harm meant my man," the bull said, raising his large hands up. His accent was odd, definitely British, though from what region exactly Jaro had no clue. It was sharp, choppy, almost guttural. He spoke very fast. "I'm just a curious sort by nature, you withit?"

"Sure, yeah."

"Boisseau," the bull said, offering a hand. Jaro tentatively shook it. "I can't pronounce it for shit though, bloody French, mates here been callin' me Boz."

Jaro swallowed. "Pueyrredón," he replied. It was the anonymat. The French Foreign Legion demanded all new recruits abandon their given names upon signup, expecting them to adopt a French one. He still wasn't used to it.

Boz winced, pulling back as if wounded. "Ooh ouch, proper bastardised hey? Your French is worse'n mine, innit? Drill Sergeant's gonna have your tail if he hears that."

"I'm trying my best," Jaro mumbled. Speaking English so much was tiring enough, forget about learning French. Then again, he'd come here to get away from Hungarian, so there was nobody to blame but himself.

Boz scoffed, leaning in close. How 'bout your real one then, eh? Just 'tween us, little secret?" He winked.

Jaro felt his face flush, a weird tension pinching at the back of his neck. "Er, um... I don't..." He glanced around, but they were the only recruits present. Refusing seemed hostile, and what was the harm? "Tamasi. Er, Jaroslav. How about you?"

"Uh-uh," Boz wagged a finger, hopping himself up to sit on the desk ledge. "A true lady never tells, right?" He put a hand over his heart. "Honneur et Fidélité."

Jaro laughed, shaking his head. "A true Legionnaire then, I hope I can be as great as you someday."

"Yeah you wish, huh," Boz paused, squinting down at the wolf. "You're young to be here. Usually it's us older gits, lookin' to runaway innit? I mean I say old, but nexta you thirty's plenty enough. And your accent. That's what... Polish?"

"Hungarian," Jaro replied. "Nem vagy túl jó az ékezetekkel, szerintem."

"Right-on, whatever the fuck that was." Boz reached down, tapping the edge of Jaro's paper. "C'est quoi tout ça alors, recrue Pueyrredón?"

The French still sounded mostly like gibberish, and Jaro did his best deciphering it. The Legion had the recruits speaking and writing it every day, but the strange flowing language had yet to click with him the way it had some of the others.

"A letter," Jaro replied, glancing away as Boz craned his neck to see the words.

"Kedves Apa," Boz said, incorrectly. "Well I can guess that much, a-Pa, not very original is it? Your Da not got a phone, do he?" His fast machine-gun style of speaking was difficult for Jaro to keep up with, the thick accent only making it harder to parse.

"Something like that." Boz only stared, and Jaro sighed. "Look, this way he can't talk back to me, right? It's just easier."

"Aaaah right, say no more," Boz nodded knowingly. He slipped from the desk, circling around Jaro's chair and leaning over him from behind. The musty smell of him was palpable, and Jaro jumped slightly as the larger bull laid both hands onto his shoulders, resting his weight on the younger wolf. "What you got so far then, if y'don't mind me prying, course."

"Well I mean-"

"Not that I care if you do. Mind, I mean."

Jaro sighed. "Right, um, well, I have like..." He slid his paw back, blushing even deeper as he realised he'd only been hiding about two sentences, both of which were written in a language that no one else could read. "It basically says that... I am here, and doing well. Then I asked if it's still cold there."

"Oh, real warm shit then, huh?" Boz scoffed. "Look, I ain't one to judge. Things ain't ever been good 'tween me and my old man, on account of him being a right strung-out dropkick, hey? I know what it's like, I'm sayin'."

Jaro hesitated. This was the longest one-on-one conversation he'd had with any other recruit, and the bull was strangely compelling. He found he wanted to tell him more.

You came here to get out of your shell, right? To be someone else, someone who isn't so lonely. So do it already.

"Sounded like you were gonna offer some advice?"

"Who, me?" Boz scoffed, squeezing Jaro's shoulders again. "Not bloody likely, fuck does a shit-head sod like me know 'bout blood relations, right? I tell you what though, I ain't 'bouta tell you ya have to write 'im, see? Family is family, can't pick 'em they say and too right, but you don't have to keep 'em. Write him if ya want, but don't if ya don't, yeah?"

Jaro laid his pencil down. "Yeah I... He's... He means well, you know? Just a difficult man."

He felt Boz shrug above him with those wide, strong shoulders. "Men what'a that generation, amiright?" He reached down to slap Jaro's chest, before pushing up and leering to the edge of the nook. "I'm 'bouta do a quick workout, then hop in the showers 'fore light out. If you're lookin' to clear that head'a yours mate, maybe tag along?"

Jaro looked back at the bull. Boz was nearly a head taller than him, and maybe half again wider. The thought of him lifting heavy weights, pulling on wires and cables and working up a thick sweat... and then, the two of them... in the shower... just by themselves... Jaro squirmed in his seat, his sheath tensing slightly at the thought of it.

He looks so strong, he could probably bench-press me.

"Um," he squeaked, before quickly clearing his throat. "Yeah, sure, yeah, maybe that's uh... a good idea, right?"

Boz grinned, winking once more. "Nervous git, ain'tcha?"

---

Nightworld, 2003

Chevron tapped the fabric stretched out before them, several ancient-looking runes carved into the dark material. "Now, again." Jaro frowned.

"Is this really... it?"

The goat shook her head, somehow staring ruefully at him despite her two blind eyes. "There is no mystical spell that will break the Cortège's power, Jaroslav. Now do it again."

He did as she had instructed. Trying to hold the runes in his mind, imagining writing them out, tracing them along this specific pattern. It had to be specific, and he was careful not to miss any circular border or little accented notch. Apparently, every piece of the rune was important.

He deflated. "And if Romulus is standing right in front of me? I should ask him to wait while I get this thing out?"

"Stupid boy, are you stupid?" She asked, tapping the fabric again. "You work this in your mind. Practise until it becomes second nature. If you are accursed enough to face the Teardrinker, this ritual must not be deliberate, you hear, yes? These runes have power, but they are worthless if you are not strong."

"Even if they're not... actually real?"

Chevron chuckled, shaking her head. "But they are real, aren't they? What do you say? Your mind is not real? Your brain inside that thick skull is not real? Stupid boy. Soon you start to dream of the runes. Then, the scales grow."

"I'm not..." He waved her off, sighing. They'd been at it for over an hour now. Her hut was still in disarray, although Kristian had put a tarp up to cover the larger missing wall, and Ioana and Frankie were busy picking things up and organising them outside.

He couldn't tell if this would work, or if Chevron was full of shit. Did we waste all that effort to save you for nothing?

No, that wasn't true. Even if she couldn't help, it was worth it to save someone from becoming Dracula's prize, and ridding Nightworld of another vampire.

Only a thousand more to go.

"There is power in symbols, and in ritual," Chevron said, for the tenth time. "Vampires respect these tenets. The Teardrinker, and all other of Dracula's Dreadlords, are gods in this realm. There is no quick solution to kill a god. Only practice." She tapped the fabric again. "Go, take yourself some air and think on it."

Jaro shook his head, climbing up to his feet with a groan. He turned to leave when Chevron swatted him on the side with her stick.

"What now? You just told me to go!" He exclaimed, throwing up his paws.

"The runes!" She scrunched up the strip of fabric, passing it to him. "The memorisations must be accurate for the ward to hold at strength. Think on this whenever you can!"

Jaro took the fabric from her, stuffing it into one of his pockets. "I will... keep that in mind. Thank you."

"See that you do, stupid boy." Chevron paused, exhaling slowly. "And I thank you, for destroying the Lady. Truly, she was a plague on this marsh." Chevron gave him a nod, and Jaro left her alone in the room, stepping out into the chilly evening air.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but a memory game with some chalked out circles hadn't been it. It was difficult, but Jaro tried to remind himself of what Ioana had told him back in Cujac.

You don't understand their ways. This is how they've survived. They know better than you. Still, it was difficult to imagine something like that working. Especially with how absolute the Teardrinker's grip had been over he and Kadir's mind. Jaro shuddered at the memory. They had been powerless. Completely powerless. There was no wiggle room, and those mental runes were supposed to help?

How, exactly?

"Looks like ya need a smoke mate," Jaro blinked out of his stupor, looking across himself as Frankie stepped up beside him, leaning casually against Chevron's good wall.

"I... didn't know you smoked," Jaro replied, accepting a cigarette from the dingo. Frankie shrugged, passing him a box of matches.

"I don't. Tryna quit, but aren't we all?" And with that she tossed a stick of gum in her mouth. "Not like this place makes it easy."

"I hear that," Jaro held the cigarette in his lips, shielding the match as he held it to the tip, inhaling deeply. "I don't smoke much either, you can tell," he wheezed, blowing smoke out and trying to suppress a cough.

"Yeah no shit," Frankie replied, chuckling. "How's our sheila doin'?"

"Chevron?" Jaro shrugged. "She's alright. Bit banged up, but seems alert as ever. She's stubborn though, it took Ioana and Kristian to help me convince her to try things my way. Wanted to just smear poultices and runes all over herself."

"It's helped 'em this far."

"Yeah, that's what she said," Jaro said, taking another drag. "We ended up doing it half my way, half hers. But I don't think she's got anything serious. Minor wrist fracture, some bruising."

"And you?" Frankie jerked her chin at Jaro's shoulder.

"Not... too bad," he said, touching it gingerly. Beneath his coat the Lady's fang wounds were heavily bandaged, and although the vampire venom had done some damage, it wasn't nearly as bad as the first time at his father's place.

"Yeah nah," Frankie nodded, looking past him, to where Ioana and Kristian were busy stoking a modest fire. "C'mere a sec, lemme show you something." She nudged him forward and he went, pushing through the thick brush that surrounded Chevron's little haven, heading back out into the marsh proper.

Only as he exited the wall of plants did Jaro realise how much they did to combat the stench and cold. It was frigid out in the darkness, and a shiver instantly took him as he left the safety of Chevron's home.

"Man, it really stinks out here doesn't-" His words were cut short as Frankie slammed her forearm into his throat, shoving him back and pinning him against a tree. He tried to protest but her gun was already drawn; the barrel pressed hard against his sternum, one of Frankie's fingers deliberately pulling the hammer back slowly, making sure he heard the click.

"Frankie-" He wheezed beneath her arm, trying to wriggle in place. "What... the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Fuck is going on with you mate?" She asked, baring her teeth. "I want some bloody answers, and I want 'em now."

"Answers... to what!?" He coughed, struggling to get a clear breath.

"I saw you in the sun as we came back from the Big House," Frankie explained, her eyes hard and unblinking, boring into his. "So I know you ain't one of them. But that bitch had four fangs deep in you, and you just up and walked away. That should've dropped you, at least for a few bloody hours. So I know you ain't one of us."

"I don't know!" He gasped, throat burning. "Maybe she... exhausted her venom... spitting at me?"

"Yeah nah I considered that, I did," Frankie admitted. "But then I remembered her on top'a ya. A clear bite, deep tissue, and you overpowered her. You managed to push her back up."

"Good... angle..."

Frankie slammed back into him, punching the bark beside Jaro's head with her gun, before jamming it right back into his sternum, hard. "Bullshit. I wasn't born fuckin' yesterday you stupid prick. Don't play me. That bitch threw a whole-arse piano at my head, and you want me to swallow that you 'had a good angle'? Fuck off." She leaned in closer, practically nose-to-nose with him. "Talk. Or I'll kill you right here."

"Okay, alright!" Jaro gasped, holding a paw up in mock surrender. "The farmhouse, in H-Hungary. The vampire that... that attacked my Father and I... she infected me." He closed his eyes, half-expecting Frankie to pull the trigger there and then. "Her parasite. It's in me. That's the... ugh... the only explanation I have."

He slowly opened his eyes, and saw Frankie staring back at him in horror. Her eyes flicked to his chest, then back to his face. "You... you are one of them. Does Isla know?"

"I'm not! I'm not one of them!" Jaro insisted. "Not yet anyway, it's why I'm... why I'm here. Kristian has a serum, it's supposed to keep the infection at bay... Frankie, I'm telling you the truth. Ask him, ask Isla."

"Too right I'll ask, don't you worry."

"You said it yourself, I went in the sun. I'm eating normal... uh, normal food."

"I don't like being lied to, Jaro."

"I'm sorry!"

They stared wordlessly at one another for a moment, and Jaro still felt half-sure she was about to pull the trigger.

Finally, however, she relented, flicking the safety on and lowering the gun. A second click drew her eyes down, and she shook her head as she saw Jaro's own gun, which had been aimed right at her stomach. He shrugged when she looked back at him.

"We ain't friends, mate," she snapped. "Make sure you bloody well know that. I've seen this shit before, and when you turn - and you will fucking turn - you can be dead right I'll be first in line to kill you."

Jaro returned his pistol to its holster, his free paw rubbing at the sore spot on his throat. "I'm not becoming one of those things, Frankie. I'm here to find a cure. I want this thing out of me, you got it?" He pointed back in the direction of the Big House. "If ever do end up like that, then I want you to kill me."

Frankie scowled, turning away. "Sure mate. That's what they all say."

Jaro watched her go, still rubbing at his throat. A spike of guilt pierced through his chest, tears threatening to break from his eyes. He liked Frankie, he wanted her to like him too.

But this changes everything, doesn't it? He thought, rubbing at his chest. He imagined the little alien slug, curling around his heart, its hooks digging deeper into his mind. Did he feel less empathetic? A little more cruel? Who can say?

He pictured the Lady, surrounded by the vile anglermen, screaming about beauty while dozens of bloodless corpses rotted in the next room.

He needed to find Kristian. Forget any worries about mercury poisoning, he needed to make sure he didn't end up like that.

When he returned to Chevron's little sanctuary, Frankie was nowhere to be seen. Instead Jaro made his way over to the small fire, where Ioana sat alone, pushing at some of the logs.

"Jaroslav," she said, nodding as he sat. "You are well? You are not looking so good."

"Fine, thanks," he replied, holding his paws out at the flames. "Have you seen Kristian?"

"He was here only one minute ago," Ioana replied, glancing around. "I think he went for piss."

"Charming."

The conversation died there, and Jaro focused on the embers, staring into the blaze and trying not to let the panic crawl up his throat and overtake him. Kadir, now Frankie. Isla and Kristian understood, but what of the others? Would Frankie tell them all? Noah seemed nice enough, but Jaro didn't know anything about that snow leopard, Devna. What if she was even less forgiving than Frankie? What if she shot him the second he showed his face?

And Ioana. He glanced over the fire, studying the gravely old fox, busy now oiling down the metal parts of her crossbow. She was in this group now too, at least nominally.

She'd never understand. Fuck, even he barely understood it. It was a curse, a sickness. A literal fucking parasite.

But did it have to be? Frankie was right, for a brief moment he'd been able to match the strength of that vampire. And as much as he hated it, it had felt good to not be so powerless. Could we use this somehow? He shook his head, knowing how it sounded. There'd been addicts in the Legion; 'I can stop if I have to, it just helps me focus'. A month later they were caught selling stolen boots to the locals. Boz had beaten the shit out of one guy he'd caught extorting some family, a kind of sick protection racket.

"You did a good thing, Jaro," Ioana said, yanking him back to the present.

All he could think about was Frankie, pointing that gun at him. "Uh, sorry, what?"

"Saving Chevron. Not many people here are looking out for one another. If we weren't here... if you weren't here, she would be a trophy over Dracula's throne."

"We need her don't we?" He said.

"Yes, but still. Everyone needs someone, that doesn't make their good deeds any less." She paused, and he could sense there was more. "This world is... harsh. You have seen it yourself. The wilds are not safe, our villages exist in fearful servitude, even the Gods we pray to are all martyrs." She scoffed.

"It does seem like a hard life," he agreed.

"Some would think it might make us hard too, and I fear it has... in all the wrong ways. There are no vampires in your world, and now I've seen what your kind can do," Ioana said, meeting Jaros' eyes through the smoke. "The Black Tongues, the Lady, all were destroyed! People in your home play in the sun and moonlight alike, and they do not fear for their lives? Because of this?" She gestured to the rifle braced against one of the logs to her side. "It is sounding like paradise."

"Not because of that, no." He sighed, how to sum it all up? "It isn't all good, Ioana. There's just as much bad." He thought of 2001. Afghanistan.

Then he thought of Boz.

"It can be an ugly place. It might not be better, just different."

"There is some other evil then, that hunts you?"

"Not quite," he admitted, a little sheepishly. "Just us fighting amongst ourselves. Hell is other people. Some... poet said that, I think." It sounded so stupid now. How could people waste time fighting each other when something like the Cortège existed?

Ioana smiled wistfully. "At least people can be reasoned with eventually, at least bad people die eventually. Dracula's lords... they know nothing but hatred and blood. Violence is all they understand. I cannot imagine a world where I would be glad to see the sun set."

"It's beautiful," Jaro said.

"Not here."

"I guess so."

Ioana moved, circling the fire and settling down closer to him. She had a serious look on her face. "I trust you, Jaroslav. My people do not, but they will, given time. I must ask... the thing that brought you here... will it be taking you back?"

He shifted uneasily, taking a deep breath. He was struggling to find words that might explain what the Source was, surely Nightworld didn't have a word for portal? "Um, hopefully it will, yeah. If we can ever get back, that is, since it dropped us here right at the foot of the Godhead's Lament."

"But if you do, if you could... it is like a doorway? You can go through? Come back?"

"Ioana..."

"Take my people." Jaro looked away, and she leaned in closer. "Please, Jaroslav. Cujac is a small village, but we can learn how to speak your words, how to use your technologies. For generations my family has lived under Dracula's shadow, living like cattle. We cannot leave and we cannot grow, every winter they take a little more of us. They are not even needing the blood to survive, they just want it! I watched my father die because-"

"Stop," he said firmly. "Please, Ioana I... I don't know if I can promise that. It's... complicated..."

But why couldn't you? Should he tell her the full plan? That once they understood Nightworld, Isla wanted to invade it? Invade, or destroy?

"All I am asking is that you think about it," she said, reaching out and seizing his paws. "Please."

Frankie was right. She'd said this would happen, back when they first came to the Deadlands. She knew Ioana had a plan. You wanted this all along, you don't care about medicine or a gun... you just want out of Nightworld.

Hard to blame her for it.

He met the old fox's eyes, and didn't know what to say. It was as if there was a vice crushing his neck. Yet another problem to deal with. Suddenly it all stacked up, the violence, Romulus's control, the Lady and her house, the Black Tongues they'd killed. Jaro's father lying near-death in the grass. Boz. Poor Boz.

"We are very small!" Ioana insisted, seizing Jaro's paws. "We can learn, and be useful, and our children can grow up without-"

"Shut up! Stop already! For fuck's sake Ioana!" Jaro snapped, tearing free of her grip. "It is not my responsibility to save you! Together, we just killed one of them, didn't you ever think to try that, huh?!"

"My father did."

The regret swallowed him, instantly extinguishing any anger he'd felt a moment earlier. He sputtered, trying to find the words to undo what he'd said. "Ioana... I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No," she said firmly, standing. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it is arrogant of me to think I can save us from this world, or foolish to hope we can run from our problems. But... by the Martyrs, they take our children Jaroslav... so just... think it over. That is all I ask of you."

"I..." He was at a loss for words. So instead he said nothing, simply turning back to the fire, letting out a sigh of relief as Ioana eventually left.

Letting everyone down. Seemed that was all he was good for.

He wondered if his father was awake, in whatever secret hospital Isla had sent him to. What would he be thinking? Would he be hoping that Jaro was coming back? Not likely. Sandor probably knew as well as anyone, Jaro wasn't the kind of person you could rely on.

"Is everything alright?"

Damn it, more of them. Jaro glanced up and saw Kristian standing over him, one arm wrapped around a branch he was using as a crutch. The marten gave him a concerned little smile, gesturing behind himself. "I heard a bit of an argument."

"You speak French, right?" Jaro asked.

"Oui, un peu," Kristian replied, switching. "If you recall we spoke it on the train together, when you first woke from your coma."

"Too many damn languages around here," Jaro said, in French. "I'm sick of switching all the time. English, French, Arabic, this semi-Romanian bullshit the locals use... I barely know any Romanian, Kristian, I'm mostly using Hungarian words and praying for context."

"What a struggle for you it is, speaking five languages," Kristian chuckled, slowly sitting next to Jaro.

"I'm just sick of English."

"This isn't about English, though."

"Very observant." Jaro sucked his teeth, staring off in the direction Ioana had left. "Damn it, man. Seems all I'm good for is letting everyone down. Now nobody's happy."

Kristian tutted. "You haven't let me down."

"Not yet." Jaro paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I need you to up my dosage for the Helsing Serum."

"Jaro... that isn't advisable," Kristian explained. "The concentration of mercury in your bloodstream can only be pushed so far. Has something happened, are your symptoms changing?"

"Forget about that, just up it, even a little." Jaro rolled one of his sleeves up, proffering his arm. "Do you have it with you now?" The marten stared back at him. "Please, Kristian, I need this. I... I cannot end up like one of them."

"You must remember this is experimental," Kristian said, reluctantly pulling his satchel around and retrieving the syringe kit. He wiped down a small shaved spot in the crook of Jaro's elbow, pushing down to find the vein. "We don't know what's going to happen. I suspect this will work, but there is always the chance it makes things worse."

He thought of the Lady, and her empty red eyes.

"Anything's better than the alternative."

Kristian hesitated, but seeing that Jaro wasn't changing his mind he finally relented, drawing the silvery liquid from the small bottle. "This dose is only one-percent higher, but that is significant when dealing with such toxic substances."

"Sure, sure," Jaro replied, wincing as the needle stung. Kristian injected him and he breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the dull throb of pain as the metals swam through his bloodstream. "Thank you."

"Pleasure. Jaro, are you... sure you're doing alright?"

"How about the leg?" Jaro spoke quickly, the last thing he wanted right now was to focus on himself. There was too much on his mind, and he needed a clean slate. Medicine was what he knew. It distracted him in Africa, and again when he returned to Hungary. Taking care of others was what he knew how to do. "Let's go somewhere quieter, and I'll take a look."

"Eh, I think the others have all turned in." Kristian pointed back into the empty darkness. Frankie and Ioana were sleeping in a shared tent on the opposite side of the hut, and Chevron was inside. "It's just us out here. But it doesn't hurt anymore."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing, Kristian. C'mon, lie down." Jaro spread a small blanket out across the grass, and Kristian carefully lowered himself down, leaning back on his elbows. He went to undo his belt but Jaro slapped the paw away. Focus was what he needed, to keep busy and hold the thoughts at bay. "Are you the patient, or the doctor?"

"Technically I am both," the marten replied.

"Wrong kind of doctor," Jaro said, grinning.

It felt good to fall back into the routine, letting muscle memory take control. He could be anywhere right now, this could be anyone. It was a force of habit, a familiar space. Like crawling back into bed. Maybe Kristian could tell he needed it; to at least feel useful to somebody.

All you do is let people down, huh? Frankie, Ioana, Da, Boz. What is wrong with you?

He undid the marten's belt with practised ease, working Kristian's pants down until they were bunched just below his knees, exposing the lighter brown fur of his thighs. There was no embarrassment, it was a purely professional act. He did the same to me back on that train, not much to hide here.

The gauze wrapped around his thigh was a bit tight, but after slicing the edge with his knife Jaro peeled it back, revealing the arrow wound left by the Black Tongues the other day.

"This looks... good," Jaro said, gently prodding at the edges of the wound. Only a little blood seeped free, and there was no sign of infection. There was some minor swelling, but less than he'd expected. "It's healing incredibly well, for such a recent injury."

"I uh..." The marten shrugged. "May have allowed Chevron to put one of her poultices on it."

Jaro blanched, jaw falling in mock horror. "You, a man of science, putting such faith in alien magic? I'm in shock."

"All technology looks like magic, if you can't understand how it works," Kristian replied. "Clearly things work differently here. I thought it was worth a test, at the least."

Jaro shifted closer, one knee pressed between Kristian's legs as he examined the wound. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not very much, the muscles around it ache some, and there is some pain if I bend the wrong way but... it is manageable."

Jaro ran his paw across Kristian's thigh, a tight, tingling sensation burning in his chest. "That will pass. I do have uh, morphine if it gets bad. I wouldn't want you to be in pain."

"As I said, it really isn't that bad," Kristian added. "But thank you for the offer. I think you must be a very experienced medic."

Jaro licked his lips, breathing slow and heavily. He glanced down at the marten's crotch, where a pair of tight grey briefs clung to his hips. "I've um... yeah, seen some stuff."

A part of him was disappointed that the medical part was over. The thoughts were already crawling back into his head, the furious look on Frankie's face, the crestfallen betrayal on Ioana's. Jaro wished he was drunk, that he could do something reckless or self-destructive, anything that could find some kind of catharsis.

Kristian met his eyes. There was a tension in the air between them, thick enough to cut with a knife... or was he imagining it?

"Are you alright?"

Fuck it, no. Acting more on instinct than anything else, Jaro reached out, laying his paw square on the marten's bulge.

Kristian stammered in protest. "Oh, Jaro, what are you..." he trailed off as the wolf squeezed, feeling Kristian's cock tighten beneath his fingers. "Oh," he mumbled, and even through his fur and the darkness, Jaro could tell the marten's face was flushed too. "I... uh..."

Jaro squeezed harder, sliding his paw up and down, thumb rubbing down and tracing the outline of Kristian's balls.

"You know, when we were captured by Romulus, there's a part I didn't tell you," he said, palm rubbing up the length of Kristian's slowly stiffening cock. It was modestly sized, and it felt good to stroke along it. He could smell the marten's musk, mixing with the smell of ash and burning wood.

"Uh-huh, what's that?"

Jaro paused at Kristian's tip, that thin grey fabric sliding between his finger and the marten's glans. He pushed down on the tip of Kristian's dick, drawing a tiny circle and feeling the brief wetspot of pre soaking through. "I thought you'd wanna know. The vampire... he forced us to do some things, that we wouldn't admit to anyone."

"He did?" Kristian asked, out of breath. "Like... like what?"

"Stripped us both naked," Jaro explained. It felt exciting to be so vulnerable, and a swirling pit of fear and arousal turned in his gut, his own cock throbbing painfully hard in his trousers. Kristian looked so lithe and open, like he'd let anything be done to him in that moment. "And then, he forced Kadir to his knees... and made him slide my pants down."

"R-really? Ah, that must have been..."

"It was humiliating," Jaro said, fingers reaching up and snagging the edge of Kristian's waistband. The fire crackled next to them as he slid the marten's underwear down, revealing a long red cock, a single bubble of precum dripping down the front. "Especially when he had to start rubbing me."

"Y-you saw Kadir... naked?" Kristian asked, whispering now. Jaro leaned in closer, fingers bunching up the loose sheath fur at the base of Kristian's dick. His smaller balls were already pulled tight, and Jaro could feel the rest of his body trembling slightly.

"I did," Jaro replied, slowly drawing Kristian's sheath up along his length, squeezing as he slid it back down. "We were completely helpless to stop it."

"Aaaah..." The marten sighed, hips angling slightly. "That's um... I don't know..."

"He was on his knees in front of me," Jaro grew stiffer with every word he revealed. There were too many secrets. Every one he spilled lit a fire in his stomach, the heat of it shooting through his chest and arms, tingling down to the tips of his fingers and the end of his cock. "He was rubbing me, and I couldn't help it, I was so hard... I got pretty close too..."

Kristian swallowed audibly. "Why are you telling me this, Jaro?"

He shrugged, leaning down so his muzzle was only an inch from Kristian's crotch. He could smell the thick crotch sweat, and the tang of arousal. "I trust you. Would you... like me to stop?" He let out a breath onto the marten's dick.

"No!" Kristian blurted, betraying his own eagerness. "Please, don't... um, don't stop."

"Is this your first time doing this, Kristian? You seem nervous."

"Er... with another person?" He went silent, and Jaro reached up and squeezed the tip of his dick, massaging his thumb deep into the base of his head. The marten squirmed, mewling softly under his touch. "Yes, alright? Just... never had the time."

Jaro laughed. "If you say so..."

"Jaro did you... I'm asking too much, perhaps but... with Kadir was it... you didn't... because you said you were... you didn't like it, right?"

Jaro looked up and grinned. Then he took Kristian's cock by the base, and reached his muzzle over the tip. The marten gasped as Jaro's lips closed around him, his long wolf tongue licking at the underside of his head, lapping the sweet precum gathering there. He stuck a paw out, fingers digging into Jaro's shoulder as the wolf continued to suck him, working up and down, one paw pressing his balls, thumb pushed hard into his taint.

Jaro slid his head up, a shining line of saliva still connecting his muzzle to Kristian's dick. "Do you like it?"

"Yes, ah..." The marten moaned, angling his hips as Jaro went back down. "I'm not gonna... ah... damn, ungh... how did you know?"

Jaro smiled despite the cock in his maw. He went deep this time, tongue reaching down inside the folds of Kristian's sheath. He teased and played, tasting every little bit he could, rubbing his own dick through his trousers.

Eventually, he pulled off, leaving the marten panting and out of breath, his cock quivering in the cool night air. "I didn't."

"Oh."

Jaro licked his lips, returning once again to the marten's cock. He drew it slowly along his tongue, using the tip to tease at the slit of Kristian's cock, his mind playing over the scene with Kadir again. How powerless he'd felt, the horrible mixture between humiliation and excitement. How terrible it had felt, but also how good. His paw tightened around Kristian's balls, the marten's gasps growing a little louder now, his own paw covering his muzzle to stop the moans.

"Ah, fuck, Jaro... I'm not... I'm not gonna l-last..."

Jaro didn't stop, pushing the marten's cock deeper into his throat, squeezing it with his lips. He imagined Kadir with Kristian, the rough caracal with his strong arms holding the marten down, both grunting while Jaro was forced to watch.

"Ah... Jaro, I unngh... O-oh..."

Jaro's own paw squeezed his aching cock through his pants, as Kristian suddenly locked up, jerking his hips forward. Jaro clamped his muzzle down, pulling on the marten's balls as he came. Rope after rope of hot cum shot onto his tongue, sticking in his throat as Jaro quickly worked to swallow it all. Meanwhile Jaro quickly jerked himself through his pants, and all the workup hadn't been wasted - he came almost immediately, his own boxer-briefs instantly soaked with his load as he spurted four, five, six times into himself, some of it even leaking through the undies, trousers, and out onto his paw.

Kristian's fingers dug into his shoulder painfully tight, a powerful shudder running through the shy marten's body as his orgasm raged, finally reaching the peak as the last dregs of cum dribbled from his tip, deflating beneath Jaro as the wolf finally pulled off him.

Jaro wiped at his lips, swallowing away the bleachy aftertaste of cum.

As sense returned to both of them, so did quiet.

"Well, um..." Kristian sucked his teeth. "That was... unexpected."

Was that a good decision? Jaro wondered, resting back as Kristian awkwardly pulled his pants back up. A weird tension hung between them now. What were you thinking? Why did you do that?

"Sometimes everyone needs a bit of release," Jaro said finally, shrugging. He pawed at his crotch, feeling embarrassed at the wetness from his own climax. "You shouldn't feel bad about it."

Kristian cocked his head. "Why would I feel bad?"

Jaro paused. "I... I don't know. Just seemed like you might."

"Was it true? What you said about the castle?"

"Well," Jaro thought for a moment. Was there a point lying? "Some."

"Thanks for telling me, I'll keep it to myself."

"Yeah," Jaro replied, climbing to his feet. "I trust you. I'm just gonna go clean up and uh... sleep I guess."

Kristian gave him an awkward smile, nodding. "Have a goodnight then."