Sighing softly the Demon Lord looked through the window, his view of the peculiar Twilight realm obscured by his prisons light beams. His eyes once more wandered over the magical beams that acted as the bars to his cell. Without the added power of Master Demise he hadn't a hope of escape, he doubted that even Ganondorf could help him out of this had he not been destroyed. His musings were interrupted when the cell door swung open and the screeching Twilight man was thrown in, neon blood dripping from his odd split mouth. Ghirahim remained still until the guards left and he then rushed to his injured comrade.
"Zant? Are you alright?" He knelt down beside the Usurper King, who simply laid on the ground.
Nodding the Twilight being propped himself up, allowing Ghirahims' help with standing.
"The torture they give me is weak, were I still on the throne it would be much worse."
Before Zant could get another word in the demon shushed him.
"Were you on the throne we wouldn't be in this bloody mess." He hissed.
The two fell silent, both mulling over their defeats at the hands of the Goddess's Chosen Hero, a boy with no right to defeat them. Given their latest failings the wounds were still fresh.
"Ghirahim?" The Twilight's odd accent rang throughout the cell.
Looking at his companion the demon waited for the inevitable ask for help. It was always the same boring routine, they would stew in thought, and then Zant would ask for help cleaning his cuts or whine endlessly until Ghirahim caved.
"Could you help wi-" He was cut off.
"Yes I'll help you just please be silent." Ghirahim spoke sharply.
Zant whimpered lightly and waited for the Demon Lords assistance. Looking over Zants' face Ghirahim could clearly see the cuts, all seemingly shallow but with much blood. Blood had coated most of the left cheek and the left side of the Twilight's lips, where Ghirahims' gaze lingered, taking in their soft shape. He shook his head to bring back his focus, after all now was not the time to be staring at those gorgeous lips. Frowning the demon looked away.
"Clean it yourself, they're not deep."
Zant saw the light blush on the demons face. Smiling he reached forward and lightly brushed Ghirahims' cheek with his long index finger.
Turning sharply Ghirahim opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off by Zants' mouth on his own. The Demon Lord immediately went to pull back but the Twilights' long arms were already wrapped around him, holding him up against Zants' cold body. Reason taking a back seat to desire Ghirahim snaked his fingers through the others red hair and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of the kiss, his long tongue taking no time to invade the others mouth.
Neither was sure if they really wanted this or were stir crazy, but at the moment they didn't care. What mattered now was the feeling of contact.
