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missingcarrion · 2 months

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carrion//ch6 skin and bone

heh this was 7 pages

tag list: @tapioca-milktea1978 @neapolitantoebeans

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There’s something distinctly wrong when Shepherd awakens from his sleep. It is still night, and his room is empty. He can move, there’s nothing keeping him from sitting up, yet something is wrong. The shadows that haunt the corners of his room feel like people, it feels like Clare is in here again. It feels like he’s hopeless – hopeless and like someone is sitting on his chest, suffocating him.

Shepherd can’t put a name to the suffering, but it’s his and he fucking hates it. It’s like a burning, searing pain that splits from his head, down to his knees, rending him as useless in the confines of his mind as he is in the real world.

A broken, fractured cry escapes his lips. Something is so very wrong. Things flash in his mind – more memories, hands of flesh replace the hands of synthetic skin. A heart thrums within him, instead of a deadened, constant hum of fans and components. He feels human, with hot breath leaving his lips. But something shatters this vision – this hallucination – and he’s sitting on the harsh, cold floor of his room. Desolate and alone.

Who am I?

WHO FUCKING AM I??????????

None of this is real, none of him is real. But something in him says he is real, realer than the cold of his floor and the longing in his chest. He is real. Despite it all, he is real.

Shepherd finds himself wandering the halls, bare feed padding against the cruel flooring as he searches for something – someone. His mind is addled, ruined with thoughts. He sees people, so many. Faces, doctors, scientists. People he thinks he recognizes but the memories are blurry, like they’ve been tampered with.

A peculiar door stands out to him. It’s far away from his room, furthest from most of the staff dorm rooms, but… this one holds more than just a bedroom. Access to a private laboratory, amongst other things. Shepherd doesn’t need to look at the name on the door to know the person who lives here. Aasimar. It’s curious that in his state, in the addled mind of a man trapped in a body, he finds himself seeking the fascinating little scientist. And yet… he’s here, hand suspended against the door, like he can’t figure out if he wants to knock or not. It’s so late…. It’s so late, so late it’s almost early, but after a moment of hesitation, he knocks. It takes several minutes, standing outside feeling like an idiot, before the door opens.

Aasimar feels exceptionally smaller when he opens the door, wearing something more casual than his usual eccentric attire. He looks… sweet, wearing his sweatpants and tshirt with what he assumes is a cat on it and an interesting set of gold rimmed glasses. His hair is in a long, mussed braid. He envies the length of his hair, how it reaches to his knees. It looks beautiful on him. Everything looks good on him.

“… S – Shepherd?” Aasimar blinks and rubs his eyes, like he’d been halfway to sleep if not for working on something. “What are you doing at this hour? Is everything okay?”

He stands rigid, brows furrowed as he finds particular interest in the floor. “I… something is wrong with me, Aasimar. I just – I know it.”

A pause, and then Aasimar steps aside, head nodding in a way that tells Shepherd to come inside. “Talk and I will listen.”

“A – Are you sure? Weren’t you sleeping? I wouldn’t…. I couldn’t bother you …” Shepherd feels embarrassed, and shame costs the insides of his body, like even his own components know better than to come crying to some scientist at the first sight of something odd. But… Aasimar is safe, at least as far as the people who don’t want to hurt him goes.

“You came all this way. To see me no less, I’m not going to turn you away, Shepherd. I don’t sleep very well, or often at all when I do. Your company is welcome.” The smile on his face, although tired, is genuine, so Shepherd takes the tentative steps forward.

His room is expensive. Probably the largest one in the compound, but most of the room is occupied by tanks full of aquatic animals, save for one that’s more of a pool, with nothing in it. The lab must be in an offshoot of the main room, but there’s a bed in one corner, rather simple and neat, like it’s never really been used. There are books and other things thrown about, but what catches his attention are notes on quantum physics and engineering. Something about technology advancements. Aasimar must be exceptionally smart, smarter than anyone has given him credit for.

On the other side is a seating area, not really a living room, but it has a couch and a bean bag and a TV, but Shepherd isn’t even really sure if anyone who lives on the compound watches it.

As if sensing Shepherd’s gaze, Aasimar starts tidying up, shoving his books and notes elsewhere. Out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

“You have a pretty room.” He says, instead, focusing the conversation onto something else for his comfort. “Very blue. I like your fishes.”

Aasimar snorts, “thank you, you are very kind. But we are not here to talk about me. Something’s bothering you.”

“I had another vision…. Memory? It… it was violent. I felt… I felt alive, like I had a heart and I could breathe, but it was hurting.” Shepherd watches him, looking for something, anything that could help him.

“Sit,” Aasimar pulls him close, gesturing for him to sit on the couch. He sits on the other end, head tilted. “Do you know what might’ve caused this episode? This … human memory must’ve stemmed from something.,.”

“I was dreaming,” he murmurs, gaze averted to the colorful fish in the tanks, “I was thinking of you, which I guess isn’t really dreaming. But I was thinking of how kind you’ve been, even if you didn’t have to be. It’s the only thing I can do to not think about what happened. I — I wish I was human, like you, maybe I’d – maybe I’d understand everything better.”

“I’m sorry,” Aasimar sighs, and looks at him, golden eyes mapping out every detail. “You know, I’m not human either. Technically, I’m classified as humanoid, like you, but even my insides are inhuman. But fitting in is overrated, Shepherd. Sometimes even we don’t understand things, but that’s how we learn.”

“But why would – why would Clare hurt me? She… she did something to me, broke my mind. I can’t – I tried to sleep but it felt like I was right back in that moment. She ruined me, Aasimar,” Shepherd hisses, his throat tightening with a sorrow that settles deep into every crevice of his mind. “I don’t get it. Why me? Why do I have to hurt for others to succeed?”

Aasimar is oddly quiet, his face solemn. It’s an uncomfortable look on a man as bright as him, but there’s a familiarity in the way he looks at him, like he understands. He shifts forward, sitting himself beside Shepherd now, and he reaches and holds his hand.

Shepherd’s getting spoiled with handholding and hand touching, with touches of comfort. They shouldn’t make him feel good, it should feel wrong, but it doesn’t. He desires to be seen, to be heard in the way that only Aasimar seems to understand.

“Those questions won’t help you,” he says, quietly, fingers hooking around Shepherd’s, careful of his claws, “ask yourself what can be done to ensure no one ever hurts you again. Ask yourself what you can do to make yourself unafraid again.”

“I – I don’t know, Aasi,” he whispers, shaking his head, “I was not designed for this. I was designed to help to – to guide people.”

“Be kind to yourself, Shepherd. You were thrust into this world, into this life, with fleeting memories of a time we aren’t yet sure of,” Aasimar gives his hand a gentle squeeze, “what you were designed for and your purpose are two separate things, sweet one. Your purpose is what you want it to be. What do you want, Shepherd?”

He pauses, brows furrowed in concentration. He braces himself, as if worried about the repercussions of what he’s about to say, “I don’t want to help people. I want to be me, whatever that means.”

Aasimar hums and he leans his head back, smiling, “It can mean whatever you want it to. I do have an idea, though. Would you like to venture outside with me? The stars should be out still – if you’d like to go and see them.”

“Yes!” Shepherd nods quickly, his mournful feelings disappearing to make way for his excitement. “Please? Can we go now?”

Aasimar laughs and his hand withdraws from Shepherd’s, “let me go change into something else, then we can go.”

—

Shepherd follows eagerly behind, wishing they were holding hands still, but following nonetheless. Excitement blinds him – it’s happening, it’s really, truly happening! The stars are just beyond his reach, getting closer and closer with each hurried step. It feels big to see something so small.

The doors to leave are right there, but he falters, pausing. What if it’s not what he expects? What if it’s all just some big sham and he’s left wanting a freedom he’ll never get?

“Shep? Are you alright?” Aasimar looks at him, brows furrowed.

“I – I’m scared, Aasi. I don’t… I don’t know,” he looks down, biting his lip, “what if it’s just… another prison? Another place to never be free from. What if it’s just as bad or… or worse?”

“Shepherd,” he whispers and steps closer, “it could be, I won’t lie to you, but it could also be better. You could see things that will make you long for more, you would certainly have more out there than you do here. And besides, you’ll have me. You won’t be alone.”

This is enough. It is enough. Aasimar’s words of comfort are enough to reassure him, to get him to resume walking towards the door, and even if he’s still nervous, still utterly terrified. Shepherd must be brace, and when Aasimar offers his hand, he’s more that ecstatic to take it. Comfort is found here.

When they step outside, everything changes. Nothing will ever be as it was before the moment his body passes the threshold. His eyes linger on the green plants, and the asphalt, but then, when Aasimar tugs his hand, his gaze shifts.

A million little lights sparkle and dance across the midnight sky – they smile down at him. It feels like… It feels like he’s finally free, a weight has been lifted from his chest, and he can finally breathe. The air feels right against his skin.

“Those are the stars?” He asks, voice hoarse, and he grips Aasimar’s hand tightly.

“Yeah, that’s them,” he nods, and through Shepherd’s peripherals, he sees the man smile from ear to ear practically. “The smile suits you, Shep. I’m glad I got to see it.”

He bits his bottom lip and shifts his gaze, flattered and a bit embarrassed. “They’re so much prettier than I ever thought they’d be. I want… I wish my room had a hole in the ceiling so I can watch them…”

“Hm, well, we have all night to watch them tonight, and maybe we can make it our thing. I don’t… I don’t get out that often anyway, it’ll be good for the both of us I think,” Aasimar grins and tugs him forward, “let’s go, we’re not out here entirely for pleasure. There are some things I want to teach you.”

“Self defense?” He peers at him curiously, lips pursed. “I don’t know… I don’t – I don’t want to hurt people.”

“Self defense isn’t because you want to cause harm, it’s to protect yourself from those that do.” Aasimar shakes his head slowly. “Your love for stars is charming. What draws you to them?”

Shepherd shrugs, “you were born knowing the stars. I was made knowing only their shadows. You got to see them every day of your life, but today… you’ve made a difference. Thank you, Aasimar.”

“This is the bare minimum, Shepherd. You are worth the moon and the stars beyond, this is just the beginning.” He says, and for a moment Shepherd is struck by a feeling of awe and inspiration.

“You deserve everything, too.” Shepherd whispers, and Aasimar looks away, shaking his head slowly.

“I am not the person deserving of such words, Shep,” he snorts, a bit of self deprecation, “I am not a good person. I’m not deserving of your praise, but… thank you, anyway. You are kind as always.”

Shepherd grabs his hand, forcing him to stop moving. “What do you mean? What would make you unworthy of the same kindness that you show me?”

“You only know the part of me I let you see – it’s that simple, Shepherd. I work at the Institute, for all that it’s worth. Good people don’t subject themselves to that,” Aasimar looks up at him, brows furrowed, “anyway, let’s just go, alright?”

Shepherd quiets, though his gaze lingers on Aasimar a worrying amount. His friend was suffering from something he isn’t really sure of, but he sees the way Aasimar gets quiet and almost makes himself small. He doesn’t want to just leave it there – he wants to understand why he’s upset, to comfort him the way he’d comforted him.

After a while of walking, Aasimar brings him to an abandoned warehouse, but once inside, he realizes it’s fitted like an old club, a bit rundown and not exactly taken care of, but there’s things strewn about that indicate this place is home to someone.

“What are we going to do here?” Shepherd looks at Aasimar who drops his hand and wanders towards a large computer system.

“You’re going to learn to fight,” he says, and types several things and a startlingly realistic hologram appears, “by fighting a holographic version of myself. I am a bit too small to train with you without causing some harm and besides, I don’t like getting all sweaty and dirty, makes my gills get soggy.”

Shepherd fights back the urge to snort and bites his bottom lip. The image of him is near exact, down to the nails which feel far more terrifying than they had been before. “You’re not – You won’t use those against me, will you?”

“What? Oh, my nails? No,” he laughs and shakes his head, “they’re for show, not for hurting. Not usually anyway. The hologram is programmed to not hurt you. We’re not there yet. Today, we’re going to focus on you learning to punch.”

“Maybe you should’ve used Clare’s image for this,” Shepherd mutters, and the bitterness in his tone surprises him.

“I thought about it but not yet. When you know more about fighting, perhaps, but not today. Today, you get me.” Aasimar crosses his arms, “fake me will not do more than blocking. It’ll be a good start for today.”

“What? Punch you and ruin your pretty face? Are you sure?” Shepherd snorts, eyeing the hologram. “What do I do?”

“You flatter me,” he shakes his head before guiding Shepherd’s legs into a specific stance, “when you must fight, stand like this. I don’t know if you’ll meet anyone capable of knocking you off balance, but if that does happen, this stance will help keep you on your feet. Something about distributing weight, who knows.”

Shepherd snorts and he cocks his head to the side, but he lets Aasimar move him into a position akin to fighting. “You know you could just upload fighting information into my code, right?”

“Why? And lose out on quality time with you? No chance.” Aasimar’s hands drop to his hips as he steps back. “Punch me.”

“What?”

“The hologram, sweet one, punch the hologram. It’ll feel realz perks of engineering holograms that have mirroring electromagnetic fields that interact with yours.”

“O – Oh, right.”

Shepherd states oddly at the replica of Aasimar. It looks like him but it doesn’t feel like him, it’s nothing more than a husk, a shell. Still, Shepherd hesitates for a moment before eventually convincing himself that hitting the hologram wouldn’t hurt Aasimar.

The punch lands a bit lopsided and he pulls his hand back, hissing in annoyance.

“Mm, try a hook. You’d punch upwards like this,” Aasimar demonstrates, “it’ll knock your opponents head back if you hit hard enough.”

For hours, they train like that, with Shepherd mirroring Aasimar’s actions, repeating them several times if he messes them up to ensure he gets them right. It’s delightful and Aasimar is a kind and gentle teacher, despite the fact that it’s him Shepherd is punching.

After a few hours though, Aasimar seems to consider him worthy of completing the first session of training. Then, he invites Shepherd into the lounge area on the second floor, where they sit and admire the rising sun.

Shepherd sits in a prolonged silence, realizing he had unfiltered access to trillions of data at once that otherwise would’ve been blocked by Institute censors. Information passes through his mind, settling into every nook and cranny. It feels weird to have such unfiltered access, and yet there’s power in it.

“Why did you say you didn’t deserve kind words earlier?” Shepherd’s gaze focuses on him, taking in several thousand new pieces of information. All of which attach themselves to Aasimar in one way or another. Articles on siren folk, on relationships, on the Institute. Everything he could read if he watched to pry, but he doesn’t. He locks them away, keeps this information away from everyone. It is not his job, but something in him longs to protect Aasimar the way he’s protected him.

“Shepherd, it’s not a big deal,” he waves his hand dismissively, “the byproduct of growing up different from everyone else. You wouldn’t know it , but there are a lot of mutants and other freaks down here. But people like me? With webbed feet and gills? Not exactly the norm. I did some things when I was younger. Bad things.”

“Mm. That does not make you any less deserving of kindness now,” he tilts his head, “you are worthy of the things you give. No matter what you did before, you made a difference with me. You could’ve ignored my cry for help, if you were truly unworthy of kindness, and yet you saved me. You saved me and punished her for hurting me.”

Aasimar keeps his gaze elsewhere, like there’s a shame in looking at anything else. “You are too good for this world. Shepherd. I hope the world will be kinder to you than it was to me.”

A frown finds itself on Shepherd’s face and he scoots closer to Aasimar, hand reaching to grab his. “I’m a lot tougher than you’d think. I don’t mind being tough for the both of us.”

He’s quiet before giving Shepherd’s hand a reassuring squeeze. He sighs, “we should get heading back. I’m sure they might be wondering where we’ve gone.”

“I don’t want to,” Shepherd’s grip tightens, “not yet, anyway. I can see more things, things the Institute had kept hidden. I – Can we just stay like this for a while longer? I promise I’ll behave.”

“You don’t have to behave in order to experience freedom, Shep,” Aasimar sighs and leans his head back, inhaling slowly. “I own this place, but… you can come here whenever you’d like. Once they start sending you out more, you might find yourself wishing you had a safe space.”

“You say that like you’re planning on leaving,” Shepherd says, and then he turns rigid, “you… you aren’t leaving, are you?”

Aasimar’s thumb traces circles against Shepherd’s hand, “worried I’d leave you, Shepherd? I won’t do that, not to you. You have been surprising, Shep. In so many different ways, but you have been so much more than I think even you thought you’d be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You care for people, you care for the things that no one else notices. The stars… to me, to all of us, they are just stars. But to you? I wish I could see them the way you do.” Aasimar sighs almost wistfully, almost like his inability to see the world through Shepherd’s eyes had brought him some level of sorrow.

Shepherd’s gaze shifts when Aasimar looks at him, eyes dipping to the man’s lips. A thousand images flash across his face then – images and videos of people kissing, touching, loving. A million images of people he doesn’t know, scenes from movies he’ll never see, and all of them are replaced by the image of Aasimar.

“Don’t… don’t do things you’ll regret,” Aasimar murmurs, his eyes darting from Shepherd’s lips to his eyes, shifting between them like he can’t figure out where to rest his gaze.

“How will I know I’d regret it?” The reply comes out breathless, and he furrows his brows. “M – May I?”

Aasimar swallows hard, his eyes shifting like he’s thinking, “You may.”

#carrion [wip]#carrion project #missingcarrion #ch: aasimar #ch: shepherd

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missingcarrion · 15 days

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carrion ch9 // what once was

notes: lmao sorry for taking so long this chapter contains roughly five pages of smut so NSFW ahead there is 5k words here so take ur time

taglist: @tapioca-milktea1978

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Shepherd’s fingers trace the lines of Oleander’s handwriting, having spent hours fawning over these papers, these files, he had so meticulously kept and protected, like he might find doorways into the past. Oleander’s handwriting was clean, soft and elegant. Cursive but legible in a way that would fit well with a poet’s hand. It was beautiful, full of memories he longs to have back.

These papers, yellowed with age for the time they’ve spent hidden away in those cabinets, are full of memories. Oleander writes fondly of Aasimar, if not a bit scientifically at times. Like a quiet watcher of a rare animal in the wild, he writes as if noticing things about someone he’d never noticed before.

“You’re playing a risky game, Shepherd,” Hannah sits across from him, her eyes only briefly drifting towards the papers he’s preoccupied himself with. “I saw you and Aasimar kissing. This is very dangerous for both of you, do you know what’s at stake here if they find out?”

He pauses and his brows furrow. He’d never… he’d never really given the kiss much thought other than how he wants more of them. He’d never thought about how they could be harmful. How could something that feels so delightful be bad?

“I don’t understand… why would we get in trouble? It is… harmless, right?” He cocks his head to the side and briefly imagines kissing Aasimar just then, feeling his lips against his own. They are soft, delightful, and they make him want more kisses, but… perhaps that’s why this may be dangerous. He thinks so much of Aasimar lately, ever since he got all those notes about him, he’s ready about a dozen of them already. Most of which are notes either critiquing or complimenting Aasimar’s projects. He is fond of plants, and of trying to find ways to keep them alive.

“Fraternization, Shepherd. We’re not supposed to date our coworkers, and I don’t think they’d want you dating anyone to begin with, but we’re forbidden from smooching our coworkers.” She snorts, although Shepherd wonders if there’s more to it. It’s curious that she feels the need to almost warn him. “I think… it’s nice to see Aasimar so… full of life again after… Truth be told, Oleander never deserved him anyway. But it broke his heart.”

Oh? Oh. She doesn’t know. Aasimar never told her. He didn’t… warmth spreads through his chest, or at least a feeling close to it. There’s something heartwarming about Aasimar keeping that to himself, and he’s thankful for it. He’s not sure if he ever wants anyone to know him as Oleander. It’s not him anymore, but... Hannah speaks with some malice. She doesn’t like him, and for good reason, he’d assume. Oleander didn’t appreciate Aasimar in the way he should’ve and her hate is understood. He… wants to do better. He wants to fix what he’s done.

“I am very fond of Aasimar, I would never harm him. He’s done so much for me, I want to do the same for him.” He nods.

“You don’t owe anyone anything just because they were nice to you,” Hannah scoffs and shakes her head, “their being nice to you shouldn’t mean you owe them the world, you know? Do the same for him because you want to.”

Shepherd quiets and he briefly looks at the folder, lips pursed in thought. Narcissus Oleander had been a standoffish man, he had been otherwise impenetrable with the walls he’d built around himself. He did nothing for no one – except for Aasimar. It had always been Aasimar. The root of his humanity had always traced back to him. He had half the mind to guess that they were connected somehow — two moths drawn to a flame, destined to find each other no matter the lifetime.

“He showed me a world outside of the Institute. There is nothing I want more than to be at his side.” It feels right to say it, despite the nerves of admitting his humanity. He’s scared of it, in a way. He longs to be human, really human, and yet he fears it all at once. “Have you ever felt this way before? I hesitate to call it love because it’s not… not really. I don’t think that’s something I can even feel anyway.”

“Why not? There’s different types of love, too. Romantic, familial, hell, I really love French fries. That counts too! You’re working out what being alive means, you might get crushes on people who teach you things like this. Not to say they aren’t important, but you are more likely to get attached to the first person whose kindness means a lot to you.” Hannah nudges him playfully, smiling. “I’ve loved and been loved, yeah, and sometimes it feels like that, like you are nothing if you can’t exist beside them, like you want to be at their side always. Sometimes, it’s like their love strengthens you, makes you feel alive.”

Shepherd listens, like he always does, with slightly wide eyes and with his brain spinning a thousand beats per second. He doesn’t completely understand, his feelings are harder than he expects to really put a name to them, but… it gives his emotions some notice. Others have felt like this too.

“What was Aasimar like before Oleander disappeared?” The question hasn’t been on his mind for long, but their conversation makes him wonder. How different had things truly been before Oleander’s fall?

“Not all that different, maybe a bit more carefree because he wasn’t in charge, and maybe a bit happier, but I don’t think he’s changed much,” Hannah cocks her head to the side, lips pursed, “I think change scares him. It scares a lot of us, I think, but he seems more than content, remaining where he is, if that makes sense.”

“But if change isn’t accepted, nothing will get better.” Shepherd looks at her, almost alarmed.

“I don’t make the rules, it’s just how he is. You’d have to ask him why he hates change so much, but I don’t know if he’ll give you an answer.” She snorts, as if she knows Aasimar would never say a word about it. “But… he likes you and you’re new. You’re part of the change that’s coming and maybe he might not be so adverse to it, if you’re involved.”

Shepherd doesn’t get much time to think about it when the mess hall is interrupted by the sound of arguing. It’s a dramatic thing that ordinarily he wouldn’t pay attention to, but Hannah’s interest is piqued and she nudges him, as if telling him to pay close attention to whoever is arguing.

Aasimar looks frightening when he’s upset, it’s a wrath that he’s only seen the ghosts of in the past. He’s yelling at a man, whose voice is painfully familiar, and yet Shepherd only focuses on the way people melt away, standing far from Aasimar as if to shield themselves from his wrath.

“You are nothing but an ant beneath me, remember that next time you think yourself smarter than I!” He hisses, and slaps papers from the man’s hands. They flutter into the air and float down like leaves. “Let this be a lesson to all of you, I was brought here for a reason. Test me and you will find out just how deep my experiments go.”

“Seems like Alex questioned the doctor,” Hannah muses, and snickers to herself, “before you, ah, woke up, I guess? Most of Aasimar’s lab days were spent interning Alex and the guy questioned everything, but in the way that was clearly insulting.”

“He’s so… angry, does he get this way often?” Shepherd does not find the emotion of fear, but rather concern.

“Talk to him, Shepherd. Talk to him the way he talks to you. Know him the way he knows you.” Hannah pats his shoulder and stands, “maybe after that, we can all go out into the city.”

The prospect is enlightening and as she leaves, he turns his gaze back to Aasimar whose tone and anger has subsided, but as he stomps through, he gets the idea to follow.

It seems Aasimar is on a warpath, and although Shepherd is designed to be big yet quick on his feet, Aasimar is faster. But when Shepherd finally catches up to him, in the safety of his room, tears brim the edges of his eyes.

“Why did you follow me?” He hisses, and wipes his eyes, as if to hide any indication of his despair. “I just want to be alone, Shepherd.”

There’s a pause and then he shuffles forward, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aasimar look at him warily before scoffing, “everything is fine. I promise.”

“You yelled at a guy and now you’re crying. Truly the epitome of ‘everything is fine’, yes? What’s wrong?”

“I am not enough,” he murmurs with a heavy sigh, “question after question, demeaning my role as the head of the department. I will never be as driven, or as smart, or as right as Oleander had been. It’s like chasing a shadow. I’ll never make it.”

“Your talents are wasted trying to be someone you aren’t,” Shepherd furrows his brows and he sighs, “what was it he thought he could do better than you?”

“Believe it or not it was my expertise! Environmental science! He must’ve gotten ahold of one of my personal projects in the lab and ridiculed it, made a mockery of it! Like it was some elementary assignment.” Aasimar starts to pace for a moment before he throws himself onto his couch, tucking his feet beneath him. “I never even wanted to be a scientist. I wanted to sell flowers!”

Shepherd grins, “you’d sell flowers? What changed?”

“Everything,” he whispers, brows furrowing. A shadow casts itself over his form, like a plague that drains him of all the light he had once had. “The word swallows the kind alive. You don’t make it out by being nice, or having dreams. You don’t live. You survive.”

“Is that what you had to do? Survive?” his tone quiets and he moves to sit next to him, pointedly trying to ignore how his weight shifts the couch enough that Aasimar almost topples into his side. “… sorry.”

Aasimar snorts before he muttered something under his breath, letting his body lean against Shepherd. “I didn’t get the family of every kid’s dreams. We’re waterfolk. It’s … we’re half siren or mermaid and the other half is human. We’re too far removed from either creature to call either family. We’re the black sheep of all the species that inhabit this earth. And me? I was black sheep squared. I didn’t like the water, or the fishes swimming by. I liked to eat them, but… they grew boring. I was enamored with the beauty of being here.”

“I wish I could’ve known you then,” Shepherd murmurs, thoughtfully, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “You’re my black sheep. I’ll take care of you like you do me.”

“You are very sweet,” Aasimar sighs and leans his head against Shepherd’s arm. He makes a face and then he scoffs, “you’d be the first to ever say that. To say you’ll take care of me. I… I like taking care of others. I like to be helpful and kind. I never really… you don’t feel indebted to do so, do you? You don’t have to do anything just because I do it, you know.”

“I want to,” he says, and he means it. Deep in the core of his making, he means it. “I don’t do anything out of obligation. I do it because I want to, whether it’s because who I was before was someone you loved, or if… because now I want to be better for you. I… I know Oleander was not the best. To you, or in general. I want to be better than that.”

Aasimar quiets, lips pursed but he sighs, a soft, contented noise. “I want to be angry, I want to be sad. But… gods, you make it so easy to be content.”

“Why? Being angry does nothing for you.” Shepherd looks at him curiously.

“It feels good to be angry sometimes, and it feels good to cry, too.” He shrugs, “but sometimes it’s even better to know there’s someone there for you.”

“You know, I don’t want to be a scientist,” Shepherd murmurs, echoing what Aasimar has said earlier in their conversation. “I don’t know what I want to be, but I know I don’t want to be attached to the Institute, or Oleander. I want to do something that’s uniquely my own.”

“Like what?” Aasimar looks up, brows raised.

“For starters, I’d like to kiss you. I assume that’s not something Oleander did often, yes?”

Aasimar snorts, “you’re cute, but… thank you for asking. And not really. Kissing was… I think he knew it’d be risky if we kissed, that feelings could arise.”

“Well, we’ll have to change that.”

There’s a smile tugging at Aasimar’s lips when Shepherd kisses him, and it only serves to sweeten the kiss. Hannah’s words echo in the back of his mind, but he shoves them aside. He doesn’t want to think. He wants to get lost, feeling Aasimar’s lips move against his own.

Shepherd ends the kiss, but amusingly as he pulls away, Aasimar leans forward, grumbling in annoyance.

“Come ‘ere,” he pouts.

“Do you ever think about…. Going beyond kisses?” Shepherd murmurs, eyeing Aasimar’s lips. “I – when we went out, that time, I saw… I saw a lot of different things all at once. Like pictures flashing a mile a second. Kisses lead to something else, right? I’d… I’d like to experience that with you.”

Aasimar’s ears turn red — Shepherd can’t help the way he stares, so wide eyed like he’d never expected it. His ears are tinted darker, as the color fades into a light pink across his cheeks and nose.

“I don’t know, Shepherd. Are you sure that’s something you want?” Aasimar’s gaze flutters elsewhere, like he’s embarrassed. “It could prove more than you can handle. Especially after what Clare did. Are you sure?”

Shepherd hadn’t really thought of that night. Not nearly as much as he thinks he should’ve. It bothers him, yes, and the idea of being touched is… odd. He doesn’t enjoy it, but he doesn’t hate it either.

“I am not… human. Such behaviors don’t bother me as much,” he says, eyes shifting, “I’m fine with trying this. If I don’t like it, can I just tell you to stop?”

“Of course, I just… I don’t want to do anything that would hurt you.” Aasimar’s words are coated in sugar, soft and sweet. “You can tell me to stop any time, okay? I can tell you what I’m doing before I do it, alright?”

“I’d like that. Can I go back to kissing you now?” He asks, and then he blinks, like he’s waiting oh so impatiently for the answer he knows he’s going to get.

Aasimar snorts, “yeah, yeah you can, big guy. Come here.”

Shepherd practically preens with his response, eager and yet nervous to try something new. Still, it lingers in his mine that the last time this had been done, it wasn’t… consensual. Not like how Aasimar spends so much ensuring that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt or upset him. Even now, as Aasimar shifts, there’s those creases of worry that line his expression. He cares in a way that’s unnatural for most people. It doesn’t take an idiot to notice how utterly human Aasimar is — his empathy and compassion doesn’t match with his colleagues’ whose behaviors are nothing short of inhuman. He has seen the horrors man can make, the words they use to justify. And yet Aasimar’s words are… different. They are not sugarcoated liars meant to appease him. They are not punishments for doing the wrong thing. His words are patient.

Shepherd does not ask to kiss him, not this time. His lips melt against Aasimar’s, but they falter, following in the other’s lead until he gets the idea. The kiss is rougher then, teeth nipping at each others bottom lips like hungry wolves. Aasimar’s hands brace themselves against him, one hand curling along the nape of Shepherd’s neck and the other, pressed nearly, almost carefully, against his arm. As if preparing for something.

“You can touch me, if you’d like,” Aasimar breathes, lips reddened and wet with Shepherd’s tongue. It’s almost a plea, the way he breathlessly regards Shepherd, like he’s indirectly asking to be touched, to be held.

Shepherd’s hands falter with his eagerness and his hands come to rest at the apex of his thighs, just below his hips. A position that enables him to pull Aasimar directly into his lap.

“Like that?” He asks, eyes half lidded and almost breathless despite not even requiring oxygen. He stares at Aasimar, at the kiss reddened lips and how disheveled he looks already. His hair is still as beautiful as always — can he tug it? Would it feel nice?

He grabs Aasimar’s hair without giving it much thought, carefully burying his hand in the silk of his hair before he rugs. The moan that leaves those sinfully sweet lips should be a crime.

“W – What was that for?” Aasimar whimpers, his chest shuddering. Shepherd is enraptured with him, with how gracious he looks despite their sinful positioning.

“I – I wanted to see if you’d like it,” he murmurs, wide eyed, “did you?”

Aasimar nods, but then Shepherd tugs his hair again, keeping his head craned back as he kisses his neck, teeth nipping and biting and tongue smoothing over each love bite vividly aware of the way soft gasps leave his lips and the way his chest trembles.

“W -Wait, I should… I should be doing this with you. You don’t have to do all this for me.” Aasimar murmurs and practically swats him away. “This isn’t about me.”

“It’s always about you,” Shepherd murmurs, lips pressing kisses along his neck, leading up to his jawline until finally, finally their lips meet again. This kiss is softer, kinder like sweetened honey, thick against their flesh.

He does not protest then, his lips preoccupied with returning the kiss until he feels Shepherd’s hand shift, sliding upwards and to his back, until he reaches the zipper of his outfit. It’s intimate in a different way — gentle and nonsexual despite the rest of their actions. Aasimar sits, carefully tugging the robes from his body, the blurs of blues and purples tossed aside. His body is invigorating, but something else garners Shepherd’s attention.

“Your gills…” Shepherd eyes them, three identical slits on either side of his hips. They open and close with each breath Aasimar takes, no longer hidden by the layers of clothing he wears. “Why do you hide them?”

“People don’t like taking orders from someone who isn’t human,” Aasimar casts his gaze to the side, “they’re not… I wish I didn’t have them.”

“I like them,” Shepherd traces his fingers along the edges of his gills, avoiding touching them at all, “they’re a part of you. A very beautiful part.”

“If only I could see myself the way you do,” Aasimar sighs, fingers tugging at the loosened curls of Shepherd’s hair. “We should move this to my bed, it’ll be far more comfortable.”

“Alright!” Shepherd does not let Aasimar get off of him, instead, he uses his strength and just picks him up – much to the ladder’s surprise – and brings him to his bed, setting him down on the edge.

“You picked me up like I weighed nothing,” he murmurs, but doesn’t really seem to mind, “come here. You’ve spoiled me too much, let me repay the favor.”

Shepherd sits, pulling himself up until he’s in the center of the bed, legs parted slightly as he watches Aasimar, trying to discover what he’ll do next before he does it. But then Aasimar shifts, crawling between his legs.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, straddling Shepherd’s waist, thighs tucked neatly against his sides. Shepherd’s focus shifts a mile a minute, from the softness of Aasimar’s words, to the way his body feels so warm against his. His hair cascades down his body, the light of the room encompassing him like a halo, or crown.

“Can you touch… me? I want I want to know what it feels like.” He asks, brows creasing. It’s embarrassing to admit how much he wants it, how much he wants him. In any way Aasimar is willing to give, Shepherd is willing to receive.

Aasimar hums and cocks his head to the side and he smiles, “how would you like me to touch you, Shepherd? Do you want me to touch you like… this?”

His mouth presses kisses to his neck, nipping and biting. He moves downwards, lifting Shepherd’s shirt and taking it off with practiced ease. He lowers himself, pressing himself down against him as he peppers kisses against his flesh until he’s just below Shepherd’s navel.

“Or like… this….?” His hand grinds against his crotch, friction sending shivers up his spine. It… it never felt like this before…

“L – Like that!” He yelps, louder than he intends, but the point gets across.

Aasimar raises an eyebrow at him and he snorts. “Cute. I am nothing if not generous. I’ll do you one better.”

Shepherd eyes him with wide eyes, curious and enamored by each move he makes. It isn’t until Aasimar starts to undo his pants that he starts to get nervous.

“Hey, I won’t do anything more than what I just did, okay? Only my hand. I could think of better uses for my mouth anyway, if it will help any?” Aasimar cocks his head to the side, his movements pausing.

Shepherd thinks, trying to avoid remembering Clare and what had happened to him. He nods slowly, but Aasimar makes it a point to tell him that he only accepts verbal confirmations – yes or no. Nonverbal words of consent, or denial of consent, will not work. Not here, not yet anyway. Not until either of them are comfortable enough to share their wants and needs. For now, Aasimar is content on giving Shepherd what he wants. Touching him, knowing him at all like this – this intimately, is a gift and mercy all in itself.

His pants and boxers are tugged off, leaving him bare. He feels so much smaller now, Under Aasimar’s gaze that seems to be doing a lot of mental calculations.

“You’re… very proportional.” He murmurs, eyes sliding over Shepherd’s body as if in amazement. “You’re built like some ancient statue, you know? The ones that are chiseled to look like the gods.”

Shepherd says nothing and watches as Aasimar’s hand wraps around his cock, it pulls a soft gasp from his lips as he watches, committing everything he does to memory so as to return the favor eventually.

His hand is warm and it moves up and down the length of his cock, tightening in some areas, loosening in others, and he carefully maps every gasp and moan that leaves Shepherd, repeating each movement that pulls those reactions.

“Y – You’ve done this…. Before?” he asks, almost shyly.

“Mm? Once or twice. I… most want me to use my mouth, or want to skip it altogether.” He says, but then he smiles, “but I like taking my time.”

He gulps, but doesn’t have a reply so instead he pulls Aasimar into a kiss, his mouth hot and rough against his own. The kiss is hungry and it devours every one of Shepherd’s moans while Aasimar’s hand quickens, and tightens around his cock. He begins to buck his hips, careful of moving too fast or hard.

Shepherd’s lips begin to trail down Aasimar’s neck, muffling his whimpers in the crevice where neck meets shoulder.

“W – would you like to touch me?” Aasimar asks, a bit breathless.

“P – Please.” It comes out so pitiful but Shepherd isn’t in the right mind to care how pathetic he sounds. Not when Aasimar is standing and removing his boxer briefs and revealing how perfect his body is. Shepherd can’t focus on anything else, not with how aroused Aasi is. He’s eager to repay the favor.

Aasimar snorts at his eagerness, the tips of his ears reddened. Carefully, he guides Shepherd’s hand between his legs – thighs parted just for him!! Shepherd briefly admires just how supple his legs are, are soft and pale they are against his skin. He wonders what it’d be like to have them wrapped around his neck.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes dilate, focusing on Aasimar’s cock, the way the tip is reddened and throbbing for touch.

“Can…. Can I?” He looks up at him, lips parted ever so slightly.

“I – Only if you’re sure, Shep,” Aasimar seems excited though, even if his words focus so intently on being concerned.

Shepherd nods and wraps his hand around his cock, mimicking Aasimar’s movements from moments before. The sounds that leaves his lips are… sinful. Almost diabolical in how sweet and angelic they are.

“Y – You sound so… good,” Shepherd breathes, watching him carefully.

Aasimar whimpers, his thighs trembling with each touch. “Y – You flatter m – me…”

“I want to use my mouth, would… would that be okay?” He cocks his head to the side, his hand still wrapped firmly around Aasimar’s cock, not once stopping in his movements, despite the way Aasimar’s hips tremble.

There’s a pause, and then a hesitant, “if you’re s – sure.”

Oh, he’s sure. He’s never been more sure of something — perhaps other than how cruel the Institute is.

Settling between Aasimar’s legs, Shepherd finds himself in the delightful position of having Aasi’s legs over his shoulders, delicate, warm things that they are. The thought returns, then, and as a little experiment, an impulsive decision, he nips at the flesh of his inner thigh.

“Nngh,” Aasimar jolts, and sends Shepherd an odd look that doesn’t last for very long before his lips close around the tip of his cock. “O – Oh, shit–”

Even the profane sounds like honey, falling from his lips.

Shepherd doesn’t stop, taking as much of Aasimar’s cock into his mouth as he can until he’s nothing but a whimpering, trembling mess. Aasimar doesn’t let him continue, pulling his head off and away from him.

“Y – you’re good at that,” Aasimar murmurs, chest heaving with each breath he takes, “I’m almost worried about what you’ll do to me when we’re done.”

Shepherd eyes him, confused for a moment, “are you sure? I could… I’m bigger than you, I could hurt you.”

“Mm? I’m not too concerned. You’re sweet to worry, but… my eyes are really bigger than my desire.” He presses a quick kiss to his lips before reaching into his night stand and grabbing a tube of something.

“What’s that?” Shepherd eyes him suspiciously, brows furrowed.

“It’s lube, or lubricant. It’s the only way we’re getting you inside me, it won’t hurt. It just might feel warm and a little tingly at first.” Aasimar puts some in his hand, a rather generous amount, before lathering Shepherd’s cock in it. He almost cruelly makes it a point pump his hand around his cock a few times, teasing him. “Good boy.”

Oh. Oh. Shepherd likes that. He likes that a lot. But he’d like it even more if he could call Aasimar that. Not yet. Not until he knows enough about sex, about Aasimar and what he likes in bed. He wants to learn it all firsthand.

The lubricant is slightly thick, like a gel substance, and it’s warm. It makes Aasimar’s hand move more freely against his cock — it’ll make it easier for his cock to be inside him, too. Warm and thick and pulsing inside of him.

Aasimar lays on his back beneath him, legs parted again to press lubricant against his hole, enough to ease Shepherd inside.

Wordlessly, Shepherd decides to help, carefully applying some of the lubricant in his hands and fingers and massaging it against the skin of Aasi’s ass until a brilliant, sinful idea comes to his mind.

He presses his lips against Aasi’s and just as he does so, he presses a finger inside of him. Shepherd eats the moan he lets out, kiss rough and hungry like he’s been deprived of a meal for years. He’s not sure what compelled him to do this, but the blissed out expression in Aasimar’s face as he adds another finger is more than enough validation.

“O – oh, nngh, Shep,” he whimpers, bucking his hips down against his hand, “u – unfair.”

He cracks a small grin and thrusts his fingers, a steady pace with the occasional hooking of his fingers to drive Aasi wild. Precum leaks from the tip of his cock, angry and throbbing for release.

“I – I don’t want to hurt you, so I thought this would help.” He says, tone soft as he watches the expressions on Aasi’s face shift and change.

“F – Fuck,” Aasimar gasps and he tried to still his hips, “y – you’re very, ngh, s -sweet.”

He smiles and he keeps going, hand coming to wrap around one of his thighs as he fucks Aasimar with his fingers. He’s rough with his pace, and gentle with each kiss he lays along the expanse of Aasimar’s chest, marking him with gentle love bites.

“S - Shepherd,” he whines, back arching with each thrust of his fingers. His thighs tense, wrapping as tightly around Shepherd as they can given their position before a loud, whimpering main is pulled from him and strings of white, hot cum drips from his cock.

He stares. It’s a terrible thing to do but he stares, and he’s almost… excited at the prospects. Aasimar is so… different, and special. There’s not enough Shepherd could ever do to thank Aasimar for something as simple as merely existing. But he could try.

“C – Can I ?” He asks, breathless as he watches Aasimar gasp and moan in the aftershocks of his orgasm..

“Y – Yes, please, yes.” He nods, almost vigorously, and meets his gaze with a level of determination that would otherwise make him nervous.

Shepherd presses the tip of his cock against Aasimar’s hole, hands moving his legs to hang loosely around his waist. He doesn’t hesitate for long and slowly begins to push himself in, aided greatly by the lubricant and the overly thought over design of his own cock. Shepherd chooses to ignore that.

A whimper leaves Aasimar’s lips, his body tensing as Shepherd sinks further and further into him. He massages his thighs, careful, calculative moves that ease his body as Shepherd pushes in.

“Y – You’re,” Shepherd gasps, lips parted as he leans his head back, “s – so tight, nngh.”

Aasimar coos, hands clutching the sheets as his body arches, legs tightening around his body. “O – Oh, if you don’t fuck me like you mean it I might just hit you.”

There’s a brief moment of pause before Shepherd snorts and makes a point to pull Aasimar down, sinking him all the way into his cock.

“Like this?” He asks, a smile tugging at his lips. He shifts, thrusting experimentally.

“ooooh, yes, y – yes, like that,” he purrs, eyes fluttering shut.

His hips begin to fall into a steady, careful pace, each move pulling a noise far more lewd than the last from Aasimar’s lips. It’s poetic, how noisy he is, how utterly divine he is like this.

Shepherd grunts, his pace quickening as he readjusts, hands coming to fall at Aasi’s side, keeping him in place.

It’s mind melting how warm he is, how divine this feels. His own moans come out in light, deep pants.

Beneath him, Aasimar mewls, rolling his hips to meet every single one of his thrusts until his body is trembling, unable to keep up with Shepherd.

“Oh gods, Shep, you’re so, nngh, p – please,” Aasimar throws his head back, moaning loudly. “Y – You feel so g – good!”

Shepherd whimpers, “p – please, I won’t…. I won’t be able to h – hold on if you talk like that…”

“Mm, d – don’t worry, sweet boy,” Aasimar purrs, eyes fluttering open just for his eyes to almost roll back his head, “I – I won’t last l – long e – either.”

It feels like heaven, knowing that Aasimar won’t last long either, despite being far more experienced at this.

“I – I’m gonna , oh fuck, I’m gonna c – cum!” Aasimar whimpers loudly, his body shaking as he cums, hard, his body jolting with each thrust, overstimulated but desiring more all at once.

Shepherd moans, burying his face against his neck, hips rocking hard against Aasimar’s until he yelps. He doesn’t expect it when it happens – the feeling overrides him, tears through him faster than anything else has before. He cums, hard. His cum thick and filling every inch of Aasimar, every inch that matters.

“O – Oh, oh my gods,” Aasimar whimpers, panting heavily.

Shepherd whimpers, still holding onto Aasimar’s hips as he begins to pull out, blackened cum leaking from him. “O – Oh, I’m … I’m sorry I made a m – mess, I’ll fix it.”

He doesn’t seem to care too much about his sheets being stained, his eyes shut in bliss. “Mm, yes, after every sexual endeavor you must clean up. But… I think… I think I might just… sleep.”

“May I clean up for you then? I mean, clean you, too, that is.” Shepherd asks, quietly. Not sure of what to do with himself now.

“Of course,” Aasimar makes a move to sit up and then he hisses, “I, ah, I fear you’ve made me delightfully sore. You’ll have to help me, anyway.”

He looks away, embarrassed. “I – of course.”

#missingcarrion #carrion [wip]#carrion project #ch: aasimar #ch: shepherd

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