Night stretched like a comfortable blanket around their shoulders, keeping them safe from prying eyes. Matija could be grateful for that much. It would be winter soon, and shifting south would be a good choice. Mind busy. Mind always busy. Matija can't help himself, wrapped carefully in his thoughts. Gripping him, holding him by the throat, keeping him caged in... why are there so many thoughts? Why are they all so busy? Trying to untangle the weaves, picking apart the web, as he tries to plan the next move. Long hours and late nights, and it seems he's the only one awake to confront it right now. Too much pacing, too many thoughts. Damn near pacing a rut in the ground beneath his paws. It's not enough work, it's not enough to sort his thoughts. What would help Matija sort himself out? The man knows. He knows that there's a hunger in him, one that can't be sated. Hunger. Gnawing hunger. Is that why he can't focus? Is that why he can't put together the plan he wants to see? Is this why nothing is working for him? Matija's lip twists in disgust, growling to himself as he paces his rut in the moonlight. Rippling muscles and a resolve that can't be corked. Can't be bottled. Matija need an outlet, and he isn't going to be turned back down. Outlet. Fuck. He'd pick his battles, he'd find a fight to pick. There's always a fight for Mati to pick, at least when Idris is around. No, he doesn't want a punching bag. He wants to light his muscles on fire, he wants to bite and be bitten. He wants to scratch and claw and fight. The breaking of skin, the breaking of someone else's skin in his mouth. Matija needs it, and he needs it to feel alive. With grim resolve painted all over his face, Matija storms back to camp. Sweeps back in, high-headed and with long steps. Cutting through the evening, his head tossing. Gaze alight with hunger, with need. It's late, though he should still be awake. Hopefully. "I cannot fucking think," the words come as a bellow. Irritated. All of him is irritated, the annoyance rolling off his shining figure in the moonlight. Tossing head and flexing his muscles. It's dark-- Idris would have the upper hand. Matija was giving him that upper hand, this time. At least in his mind, it's a gift. "I need blood, I can't fucking think." Pacing, grumbling in his brother's direction. His desire is pure, hanging in the space between them. He needs to fight. That will straighten his thoughts, that will calm his head. Matija has needs, and he demands them met. speak bitch

table coding by bunni ♥

WC: 453/1500

Sleep for the pale brute did not come during the night. His diluted eyes squint too hard during the brightness of day. During the Winter and Spring, he may spend more hours outside of the nighttime realm, but only during the cloudiest of days. For now though? Autumn has been harsh, bright, daunting for his day blindness. It frustrates and aggravates him to no end that he might miss out on things that happen, but he leaves that responsibility to his brother. Matija can keep up on the day to day happenings. Their number one importance being Cambria. If one of them wasn't always watching her, there was a chance she'd escape and it wasn't a chance Idris was willing to take. Having recently awoken from his afternoon slumber during the brightest time of day, Idris lounges. His tall, muscular, and handsomely striped frame stretches out for all to see. Right in the middle of the clearing they had claimed as their own in that mangrove jungle, he has no shame. No, he cares not if another walks by to see what happens. It would only give him more of an excuse to shed some blood. Having sent Cambria away after a rousing session that leaves him content and satisfied, Idris sets to grooming his fur and relaxing. His darkened tongue rakes over his ivory and slate fur with precision as the moon wraps him in an envious glow. Ah, how that moons makes him feel all the more better. Even if its closeness leaves him on edge most nights, he tries not to think about it too much. If he does, his anger bubbles, rising to the surface, unable to control himself. Not tonight though. No, he wouldn't allow it. Tonight was for resting and relaxation. Food had been hunted, their camp cleaned up, and their mistress put to bed, everything was good. Life was perfect. His low humming of a melodic tune while he grooms comes to a sudden stop when he hears someone crashing through the brush. Ears perk, eyes opening wide, head rising as he glances about alerted. With a slight tilt of his nose upward, the shifting wind tells him its his brother and there was nothing relaxed about Matija. Already the other male exudes a fury that must be quelled. Instantly, Idris' stomach twists and turns with excitement. His own adrenaline surging quickly as he rises to his paws, tail flagging high as he kicks his paws back to spread some dirt around. Making sure to scuff the dirt as he slinks to the shadows so Matija cannot find his hiding place, Idris sinks down into the large leafed foliage. With baited breath, he waits patiently for his brother to enter the clearing. Matija's roaring voice scatters the nightlife as he bursts onto the scene. Already, Idris is more than excited. The eerie glow of his eyes beneath the moonlight the only thing that could be seen. If blood was what Matija wants, blood would be what he gets. Just as Matija turns to face the place where he hides in the cover, Idris bursts forward. With the illuminating moonlight guiding his steps toward his grey coated brother, Idris doesn't hesitate. This was not the first nor the last time they would meet like this. A snarl rips through him as he collides with Matija, their chests slamming against each other with a resounding thud. Without giving Matija any time to recover, Idris pulls back slightly, shifting to the side and lunging forward once more. His body moves down the length of his brother's smaller form, teeth landing on Matija's thigh, sinking in until blood floods his mouth and covers his muzzle. Blood beneath the moonlight was exactly what they needed.

table coding by bunni ♥

word count: 627
total: 1080 / 1500

Nighttime stillness around them, and Matija was bent on ruining it. Shattering it. Holding it in his clutches, ripping and tearing. The flex of his jaw, and the muscles relentless and rippling beneath his coat. There's something in him-- call it that dog or call it something else. Worse, perhaps. Worse is alright, beneath the silvery light of the moon. Worse is better, for him. There's freedom in being worse, always has been. Always would be. Freedom in being unbound, unshackled, unheld by the laws of men. Unchained and unhinged from the things that are supposed to make them better. Boys, rough boys, who know better and take pleasure in doing worse. Worse. Fighting in the dark was rarely a good choice, and Matija doesn't see his quarry at first. Gaze wild as it scans the underbrush. Searching the silvery pools of moonlight for what could have been a hiding place, what could have been a spot to tuck away. The creature is in the shadows, though Matija knows this is part of the fun. It's part of the game. Dangerous games, he can feel them in his chest. Fuck, he can feel the way his heart throbs, and that's maybe the best of all. Relying on his other senses, Matija hones in on the scents carried by the breeze. His brother springs from cover, and Matija is caught unaware. Off guard. Stumbling, as the man's superior weight comes to crash into his own. It's a surprise attack, and one that's gone off without a hitch. A roar in his throat, he has no qualms about noise. No, he'll draw all the attention in the world to them, if only to have an audience. Locked in combat already, there's something beautiful about it. More than that, it's catharsis. Shoulders rolling back, head tossing forward, a proud silhouette in low light. Chests smashed together, Matija does his best to maintain his balance. Winded and panting, though the man is able to fight breath back to his lungs. Menacing snarl resting high in his throat, he strikes recklessly as they fight for position. Teeth to the point of Idris's shoulder, then readjusting-- desperate for anything he can reach. Too much joy in hurting others, too many concerns to shed light on here. With the moon as their witness, the boys brawl. Slinging through the dirt and slip at their paws, it's already doing wonders to clear his head. To make him feel like a man again, though Matija remains resoundingly beast. Teeth sink into his thigh, a growl wrenching from Matija's throat as he does. It breaks off into something else, breathy, chuckling. Finding the larger man's hip near-level with his face, Matija reaches out. It's a bite of his own, intent on doing unto others as he wishes upon himself. A bite, brazen, blood coating his teeth. This is the fight he needed, and everything that came with it. speak bitch

table coding by bunni ♥

wc: 488
total: 1568/met