My mouth is full of ocean

by deeo

Each individual will present when maturation comes. The alphas are the most aggressive and physically the strongest. The omegas are resilient, energetic, and the most attractive. They possess a vital force that draws the alpha to them. The betas hold the knowledge and the wisdom, they are the balance between the two. Jack/Ralph

…

He knows that is the first time he genuinely cries out for help.

They have never been rescued. Left there to rot, their bodies eventually wearing out, their silhouettes fading into the darkness of the ocean. The fair boy does not remember the time the savage group has separated itself from his own. They were not abiding by his and his friends' rule anymore.

This would not have been a very frightening issue, if not for the killing. Hearing animals screeching in the night as they were slaughtered by the savage tribe. Seeing the light of fires spread under the starry sky. In time, the sounds became less human. More animalistic. They were turning from savages into animals. The next step of involution, away from civilization.

The fair boy and his small group stopped making their own fire after a while. They knew they would be found and slaughtered if they did. They tried hiding from the howling and the violent dancing and the blood rituals as well as they could. Avoid the savage tribe at all costs. Simply survive.

Ralph fiercely tried to hold on to his sanity, just like his friends did. He forgot. He could feel his memories slipping away. First, it was the place he had come from. Then his last name. These matters weren't as important as the moment the faces of his parents turned into white blur.

He shook and rocked back and forth, dirty fingers tugging at messy strands of pale hair. Piggy was beside him, awkwardly patting his back. Simon brought him fruit and water to calm his hiccups down. Samneric weakly attempted throwing a jest or two in, but Ralph couldn't see or hear them. Just the blurry, green ocean, flickering under the golden shine of the sun.

Surviving only with fruit wasn't pleasant, but they couldn't reach out more then. Seeking help was impossible and hunting was even more of a horrifying option to any of them. Ralph could feel the remaining strength that he possessed leaving him. Could see his healthy reflection into the water turning into something sickly and ghastly. He had become a frail child. Still, he survived.

In the run of the cruel years, they succeeded in discovering more sources of food. With the help of a net woven out of thin coconut ropes, a copious amount of fish could be procured. Comestible seaweed, molluscs, oysters, clams, crabs, and even birds fortified their meal. The growing variation helped their bodies develop into healthier constitutions again, offered shape to their once sickly limbs.

In this manner, Sam has grown lanky. Tall. He is stronger and rougher than Ralph, which confuses him, because he is supposed to be the strongest one. He is supposed to be the one who comforts and protects his followers, not the other way around. Eric is surprisingly small compared to his brother, though his body is well-sculpted and his features are refined, charming. There is a beauty to him that his friends often compare to that of Ralph, even though the fair boy cannot understand the meaning of it. Ralph's own physique has transformed, its shape lean and graceful, still reminiscent of his childhood vigour, but different in so many ways now. His friends often admire his and Eric's slender and athletic postures, which are exquisite, flawless even, unlike those of the rest of the boys.

Simon is long, almost as long as Ralph now, and although his frame is thin and bony, he has a swiftness and precision that Ralph cannot find in his own limbs. He is dark, wiry, always concealed by the shadow of the trees, and possesses an inner stability that none of the other boys can reach in themselves. Piggy is considerably thinner, his face gaunt, his eyes scrunched up almost all the time due to the missing glasses. The specs that got stolen a long time ago. His sight has got much worse too. Ralph sees him struggle to pick up the food in front of him with insecure fingers, observes his hesitation as he walks aimlessly down the beach, before he finds his spot.

In spite of everything, Ralph has never shown absolute fear in any situation. He is afraid when he believes the tribe would find them. He is afraid when he hears the screams in the night. The killing. They have probably sacrificed some of the younger children as well for the rituals.

But he has never been utterly horrified. Left without breath, his eyes focused on a point, his pupils wide, his body petrified, but quivering all the same. Not until that moment.

He knows that is the first time he genuinely cries out for help.

He has ventured too deep into the jungle. He has thought that he could find other sorts of fruit. That he would be appreciated and praised by his friends. See the glee in their lifeless looks.

What he didn't think he would see was another pair of eyes watching him from within the blackness of the jungle, and his instinct instantly tells him he is being hunted.

He looks right back into those eyes. They are gleaming, blue and sharp, and he doesn't know how to move. He doesn't even think he can move anymore, he is caged by dread, his breathing is shallow, and his heart is pumping cold blood into his veins. Tremors overtake his limbs and he swallows the air in his throat, before he springs into the opposite direction.

He's choking as the savage instantly bolts after him, faster and stronger. Ralph can hear him. The footsteps are thumping louder and louder and he cries out in shock when a heavy body leaps on him and pins him to the ground.

Exactly like an animal. He knows that is his end. A savage has found him. He will either be murdered right there or taken into the tribe to be sacrificed. He struggles, yells, scratches, bites, trying to repel the attack, but he is brutally restrained. Pinned until he calms himself down and he does after a while, when he realizes that his attacker just simply holds him down without acting on his murderous impulses. He gradually stops moving, panting, then looks up to see a mask. A mask of mud and paint, behind which a pair of cold eyes stare back at him. Measure him with clear interest.

The savage leans in and sniffs him. Ralph turns his head to the side and cringes, but the savage grabs his chin and moves his head back, carefully inhaling his scent. His sharp nose nuzzles the side of Ralph's smaller nose, then trails along Ralph's cheek, before he buries his face into the crown of silver-gold hair, and Ralph tries to disappear into the ground. He is paralyzed with terror, but doesn't struggle anymore. He has probably reached resignation. The moment where he knows he will die, in spite of the fight he puts up.

The savage growls into his ear and Ralph almost springs again. He looks back into those eyes, that have a certain familiarity. Then remarks the wild shock of red hair. Hair the colour of sunset and blood, of fire and hell. A hell he has only read about in books. The place of the demons, where this being has probably come from.

He tries to remember. He tries to remember who those eyes and hair belong to. He knows there was someone with these features a long time ago. Someone who affected him too much, who broke him.

But he doesn't. He is angry now, because he sees the light in the savage's eyes. He has recognized Ralph, but cannot apparently speak up. Just utters low noises and growls into his hair. This animal has the capacity to recognize him and he doesn't, which is not fair. But nothing has ever been fair to him.

"Ralph." He grunts. He takes Ralph into his arms, covers him almost entirely. Ralph protests and tries to push him away with all of his strength, but it's like budging a rock. The savage grabs his sides and brings him into his lap, and Ralph shivers and flushes at the same time, when he realizes the savage is fully bare, while Ralph is covered just by an worn-out piece of clothing, torn from his old schoolboy shorts. He still struggles, but much less. Somehow falls limp into the savage's arms. Sinewy arms, just as the rest of his lean body. Strong from hunting and killing, and red from all the flesh he has feasted upon.

This strangely affects Ralph's reason, his body, because he feels the cloth that protects his intimate area tightening and the small hole between his legs pulsating, wetness trickling and soaking into his garment. The savage presses into him and keeps grunting, his arms closing in around Ralph's lithe body. The sensations that rush through him are unfamiliar, new; his nipples and cock are tingling and his eyelids fall over a foggy sight, his mind lost.

He cannot think lucidly anymore, he cannot see anymore. It feels good, too good, and it's as if he's thrown himself into warm waters. He's glowing and he doesn't know what he's doing. The savage takes off the small cloth that separates them and slides his cock against Ralph's, red and hot and heavy, and he's crying, but not out of fear this time, but out of fulfillment. Relief, because the tightness in his cock intensifies at every motion, until the point where he is sure he will burst out and fly.

It's some sort of trick, he knows it, but he cannot handle it right then. The red-haired devil has completely caught him under his spell, he has deceived him. If this is death, then he is more than glad to let himself be carried away, carried into this sweet numbness.

"Ralph." The savage growls, rocking against him. He tightens their embrace and forces his tongue into Ralph's open, breathless mouth. Licks inside him and the pale-haired boy doesn't protest, just whimpers and moans and vibrates against him. The friction turns stronger and he bucks up, opens his legs, and wraps them around the savage's sides. Tightly. More wetness leaks out and Ralph becomes slightly frightened at the foreign sensation. His hands fumble along the savage's back, feeling his hardened muscles, then go up, slowly, until they reach the mass of red hair.

It's too much. His whole body stiffens as his cock spills, and he cries out, loud and broken. He feels the savage's cock spilling against his own, and Ralph hums in bliss. The savage pushes him onto his back and rubs onto him, messily, without any precision. Soils Ralph's belly and cock and the wet, puckered hole between his legs. The savage spreads him to paint him there with his seed, which is strange to Ralph, but he doesn't question it. He has never felt better in his life and he lets himself be tainted, trembling with elation.

When it's over, he looks up at the sky. It's dusk and the colour has slowly turned into dark orange. Matching the savage's hair. He leans over Ralph, then gently grabs Ralph's legs, so that they rest over his shoulders. Calloused, large hands caress his bottom, his thighs, then go higher, brushing over his ankles and feet, like they venerate him. The savage watches him intently, then slowly turns his head to lick his toes. Takes them slowly into his mouth and Ralph softly whimpers.

"Ralph." He grunts again. "Beautiful."

He's confused and tormented, but delighted. He is aware he should return to his friends, because the day is almost over, but everything the fire savage has been doing to him has left him almost happy. He doesn't want to go back. Not now. He still doesn't know what they are doing, he simply acts on his instincts and lets the savage handle him. When he searches for fear within, he finds none. It's as if those touches have simply melted all the cold dread from inside. Ralph knows he won't truly hurt him. He knows it when he looks into his eyes. He feels it in the way he touches him.

The fire savage keeps caressing and praising his body for a time. Gently kisses along Ralph's calves, then along the insides of his thighs. Ralph watches him through pale eyelashes, all soft and warm beneath him, stretched out onto the dark ground. He takes in every small gesture, feels his knees going all wobbly over the savage's steady shoulders, feels his belly trembling again. He wants to touch back, he wants to feel the savage's painted chest and hard stomach, he wants to bring his hands into the fire hair once again. But he feels too restrained, too timid. He has never done anything like it in his life and he doesn't know what these urges are supposed to mean.

Eventually, he falls into sleep. It's the most endearing sleep he has ever had in the past couple of years. Free of dreams and light as a feather.

When he opens his eyes, there is only dark jungle around him. The stars are hanging above, woven into the dark-blue infinite. He is gone. And he has taken a small part of Ralph's spirit with him. It's as if he'd been given hope, a small hope at life, at paradise, before it was taken away from him, leaving him barren and empty. Leaving just ache to gnaw at his soul.

He eventually finds his way back to his small camp and blacks out once more. In the morning, a red-faced Piggy wakes him up to tell him they've been worried, afraid he's been caught by the murderous tribe. The boys look genuinely perturbed and Ralph feels guilt and shame burning red in his tanned cheeks, remembering what he's been doing while his friends troubled themselves with his safety.

He remembers he is naked and dirty, but Simon gently offers him another small cloth, one of the few they carefully kept over the years. Piggy admonishes Ralph and tells him to be more attentive and to hold on to his clothes better, and the twins offer equal grins, knowing the situation very well.

Ralph doesn't speak up. Just stretches the corners of his mouth into a fade smile, before he withdraws, silent and brooding. Simon approaches to keep him company, but returns to his strange preoccupations, disappearing into the forest after a while.

He is lying on the beach, sand scratching into his skin, and the sun is burning, but he doesn't feel it. His memories are a jumble, they are like a flow of bubbles reaching the surface of his mind, one memory as different as the next.

He remembers the ponies from the back of the yard, eating from his palm, everything around just wonderfully green. His eighth anniversary. The first time he fell onto the playground, but kept himself from weeping. The moment his parents put him on the plane that crashed a few hours later. The faces in his memories are just blur. He can't remember his parents. He can't remember anyone from the group of boys he found himself with on the island. Just the faces that accompany him at the moment, the faces of his friends, who never leave his side.

He knows the fire savage must have been someone who befriended him, a long time ago. Someone normal and civilized, like they are. He has recognized Ralph almost instantly, so he feels it strongly in his chest. They were close at one point. Perhaps the closest of friends. They had to be.

His hand slowly slides down his cock, squeezing a little, before going up and then down again, in a steady rhythm. He bites his lip and feels the warmth, almost unbearable on his skin, but cannot stop. He still cannot understand it, what he is doing, but he has a vague idea, and a little voice at the back of his mind whispers that it's not alright. That little, terrible voice of society which always says it is not alright to be doing this, especially when thinking of his own sex, but he can't bring himself to care.

He loses himself into the warm waters of the pleasure that the savage has introduced him to, and soon, too soon, he is moving his hips, whimpering, rocking back and forth. Thoughts of hair of fire and eyes that are carved from coldest ice, penetrate his mind, his body, his spirit. He is ravenous for his dark blaze.

The hot wetness is in between his legs again, a peculiar liquid, like some sort of water that leaks out and stains his garment. He wonders if he is getting ill as he feels an unusual pressure there. It is not painful, but tight, like a knot that should be undone, that makes his body seek relief. A spectre of the fire savage that comes for him, moves his lean body with agility, and catches him in a destructive embrace is dancing in front of his eyes. His first instinct is to bring his fingers in between his legs, and he does. They easily slip into the wet, fluttering hole, and it takes only two short back-and-forth movements for him to spill. Fireworks explode behind his eyelids and he cries out, arching into the sweet release, overpowered by a deadly fantasy.

He rests on his back, panting heavily, and his gut tightens with bitter sorrow. A sadness that makes him want to shed tears. He hasn't cried in a while, the last time being when he realized he had forgotten his age. At least this knowledge was in the hands of his friends, so Piggy quickly reassured him that he was most probably around eighteen summers of age. Almost an adult, a far-away society would believe.

In that night, he sees the orange fog in the sky once again, after a while. His friends are gathered around their small hut, watching it slightly tense, but downhearted and resigned at the same time. The ritual is unfolding once again, they can sense the vague smell of burnt flesh. Simon draws in the sand with a thin, dirty finger, seemingly lost into his own universe. Piggy stares at the air, his breathing heavy, choked, his asthma feebly clawing at his throat. Samneric are lying onto the sand, dozing in and out of sleep.

It seems like he has been staring at the sky for hours. The orange smoke has faded, leaving darkness to rule over the island. He can hear soft breaths around and looks about him to see all of his friends now being lost into a deep sleep.

When he raises his gaze, he notices the lean shape of a man into the distance, on the shore. He wonders if he is dreaming, as the air appears to have a surreal-like quality and he cannot discern the features of the man; the moon glows behind him and shadows cover his front. Ralph is slightly frightened by the alluring image, by his own increasing desire, and even more frightened when the man signals him to approach. He knows he shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't go to the man. But he is too captivated by the man's attractive form, by his dominant stature, by the pale blue shadows that creep around him, by an intoxicating, mysterious smell that is dragging him farther toward the shore.

His body moves as if he is in a trance, steps closer and closer, until he can distinguish the fire hair once again, only as dark as spilled blood now; red and black lines are painted over a tanned, harsh face and fierce blue eyes penetrate him. Real blood covers his front and half of his face, and Ralph's gut wrenches at the sight. He is afraid, but he keens for more of the paradise. More of the paradise the fire savage has offered him before. The intoxicating smell drowns him now; the leaking is in between his legs once more and his mouth waters. Once Ralph is in his reach, the savage takes his hand and fiercely drags him toward his chest, before he grabs Ralph's jaw and opens his mouth with fingers that smell like burnt flesh, dry blood, and earth. Ralph is malleable. He doesn't protest or push him away, in spite of the savage's aggressiveness. His mouth opens wider and lets the savage's tongue breach and plunder. Wet mouths melt into each other and Ralph finds himself on his back in the soft sand, as the savage licks and mouths all over his body.

He softly murmurs as the savage brings his mouth in between his legs and laps at the taut hole that is leaking. The strange, unknown smell is now stronger than ever, a combination of transpiration, blood, and something both sweet and spicy, that Ralph cannot precise. His mind and vision are blurry once again, and he moans as his whole body burns, as the savage's tongue slurps at the juice of his quivering hole like it's honey. The unbearable pressure builds up, more intense than he has ever felt it. The savage groans and Ralph feels his hot, damp body covering his own and his cock rubbing at his hole. Flesh burns into flesh. Ralph cries out as water pools inside and out of him onto the sand, underneath the spot where their bodies are joined. His erect cock is hurting and the savage fiercely bites his neck, growling. He clumsily but aggressively pushes into Ralph's body without any heed, lost into the ocean of pleasure. Ralph grabs and scratches at his hair and back, bites back into the clammy skin of the savage's neck like he is now a savage and an animal himself, lost into the same ocean. His eyes water and he cries out in shock as his cock quickly releases its seed in between their slick bellies. His hole pulsates, squeezing around the savage's cock, and then he feels the savage's seed inside, mingling with the liquid that is dripping out of him.

He never wants to leave this paradise. Never wants to leave the fire savage again, ever. When the savage is about to abruptly leave, Ralph grasps at his arm, almost too tightly, almost too desperate, his eyes infuriatingly pleading.

„Stay." He says with a daring defiance and the savage is briefly taken aback, eyes slightly wide, mouth slightly hanging open. That is when Ralph knows that he is not dreaming. The savage is real and their bond is now the most powerful. Ralph feels it, deep in his core, feels that they are bonded to each other now, both physically and spiritually. His words come out as if they are separate from his mind. "I am yours and you are mine now. You cannot go back to your tribe anymore. You cannot be their leader anymore." He feels surprised at his bold declaration, but mostly at his words. His mind didn't remember that this young man was the leader of the savage tribe. His mind didn't remember, but his spirit apparently did. And it has reminded Ralph of it after the heat of their union.

The savage narrows his sharp eyes, before he pushes Ralph's hand aside, although not brutally.

"Ralph." He growls. "No." He turns to leave, but Ralph hangs onto his back, his arms tightening around the savage's bloodied neck, his face burying in the dirty fire hair.

"I am starting to remember." He whispers. "I am remembering you. Please."

He sees half of the savage's face, as it turns around, a very evident surprise marking his features. They stay like that for moments, Ralph hanging onto the strong back, while the savage slowly descends into the sand. He turns and takes Ralph into his arms, and Ralph feebly smiles at him. The savage stares at him in curious wonder, before his mouth softly, but determinedly covers Ralph's. Ralph responds, the ocean now having become smaller, tightened into a focal point in his belly, burning as if a flame is heating it inside of him. A growing affection for the savage sears in his core and he cannot control it. His hole is quivering again and the savage seems to feel it, because his hand is in between Ralph's cheeks, rubbing there, at the wetness. He sighs as they grind into each other, and more wetness leaks out at the friction of their cocks. The savage growls possessively, ferociously eats his mouth, before he easily turns Ralph in one move. Then he takes him again. And again. And again.

And the hot ocean entirely swallows him up in its furious storm.

…

Blinding light dissipating through crowns of tress wakes him up. Everything about is green. A small waterfall clinks in the distance and water splashing brings him further to consciousness. He weakly stands up and sees a small, dark-green pond and the savage bathing into it. His back is turned to Ralph and his hair is damp and leaking, spilling over the muscles in his back. A windstorm sets off in his belly again, in anticipation, curiosity, and a warm, unfamiliar sentiment.

He tries not to make much noise as he creeps up and furtively slips into the water. The savage immediately feels his presence and moves to turn, but Ralph quickly reaches and embraces him from behind, his arms pressing into the savage's chest, his mouth melting into the skin of his shoulders.

The savage does not turn, only breathes tense. He takes Ralph's hand into his rough one and brings it to his dry lips.

"Ralph." He mutters. He slightly turns his head to the side and Ralph's breathing stops in his throat when he sees freckles. So many, covering the savage's cheek and nose and even spreading underneath, under his nose and mouth. His eyelashes are more or less of the same red colour, but lighter, almost matching Ralph's gold, if not for the red reflexes that blend in. His face is angular, although his cheeks have a certain prominence to them that indicate almost full maturation, something that Ralph is yet to observe about his own features. He is not standardly beautiful, but has a particular handsomeness that Ralph has rarely seen in people.

He is wonderful. Majestic. Perfect.

Ralph places one palm on his cheek and the other on his shoulder and fully turns him around. The savage resists for a moment, tries to turn away from him, self-conscious and uneasy about his sudden nakedness. He doesn't meet Ralph's gaze, as Ralph silently gapes in reverence at every detail that makes up his face, at every little imperfection. There is a long scar that stretches from the centre of his forehead to his temple, and Ralph's fingers gently go over it. Of course he has scars. In fact, he has plenty of them; small ones on his cheeks and long ones on his chest and shoulders, which are also stained in freckles.

"Beautiful." Ralph whispers the one word that the savage always uses when praising him. The savage plucks the nerve to look into his eyes, and the curve of his mouth slightly turns upward in response. He tentatively leans forward to press his lips into Ralph's eyebrow.

"Beautiful." He echoes.

…

There is an intensity that rises with the heat of their joining. It envelops and suffocates and crushes him, and he's not struggling to swim at the surface of the ocean anymore, into its ferocious storm, but falls deep into it. He reaches the hard bottom, the pressure that compresses him from all sides, and his mind is barely holding on to the instinct to fight it off, retreat from this feeling, because it is too powerful, it drives him mad; he cannot speak, see or hear anything else, except this. His body keens for the savage's touch, for his fingers that burn into his skin and flesh, for his shameful cock that forces itself in between his legs, and he lets him take him, until he cannot breathe or think from the rapture. A far-away whisper lingers in his mind, a whisper that reaches from beyond the ocean, that tells him to snap out of it, to return to the real world, to his friends that have probably been looking for him for days now.

But he can't. He can't, when he is overwhelmed by the body that thrusts into him, over and over, by the deafening grunts and moans that fill up the jungle around them, as they are entirely devoured by the fierce tumult that stuns his mind and his body. In between his raspy gasps and blurry vision, he perceives the savage's eyes, the light in them turned dark now, his pupils ringed only by a bright circle of pale blue, like those of an animal that completely gives in to his instincts as he bites, tears apart, mates. He feels his own eyes holding the same intensity as he whimpers and cries out for hours and days, his voice almost gone, his body hurting, but unable to cease. His cock and the hole between his legs are red and raw and numb, and he is beaten. It's too much and his mind screams at his body, even though his body doesn't listen. His limbs shiver into the savage's embrace and the savage seems to feel the same, his movement gradually becoming less definite, less aggressive. He wavers above him and the fair boy clings to him and sobs.

"I-I need-stop," He sighs, and a remnant of reason makes him briefly push the savage away, but his flesh still screams for more, so he pulls him back again. His hands quiver and his nails dig into the skin of his back, until he feels blood burst out underneath them. His fingers trail up to burrow into the savage's hair and tug at it, and the savage grunts and pants, and he forces himself to withdraw from Ralph's bruised, naked body.

It has been going on for days now. This torturous heaven or sweet hell. He has barely been eating or sleeping or doing anything else, except release himself into the thrill of the bliss, and his body is indecisive, as it breaks, but continues to cry out for the touch, for the heat. The savage looks spent. He makes a sudden move to return to Ralph and Ralph instantly responds, reaching out for him, but then pulls away again.

They're heaving as sweat pours over them, and the intensity of the heat is slowly lessening as the distance between them grows; the fair boy does not wish for that, for the savage to leave again, but his well-being needs him to leave. He must leave, in order for them not to be completely caught into a glamour from where they cannot return anymore.

The savage turns to look at him. His pupils are smaller now, but still dark and intense. The fair boy sees him fight his instinct to knock him back into the ground and rut into him. Stiff, hardly controlling himself, the savage slowly brushes Ralph's damp, pale bangs aside from his forehead. Ralph feverishly takes his hand into his own and brings it to his mouth, licking and sucking on his finger with a moan. A rumble escapes the savage's throat and he dashes at Ralph with a snarl, removing his hand from his mouth to replace it with his lips and tongue that thrusts into Ralph's hungry rim, and Ralph mindlessly responds for one moment, before the savage retreats again, farther this time.

"No." It comes out of his mouth, a breathless sound. "No." He rages, and the fair boy moans, half-drunk with arousal. The savage frantically stands up and paces around, restless and growling, like an animal in a cage. He wants to leave, but his bond to the fair boy does not allow him to easily desert the place. There is an energy that flows in their bodies, around them, in the air, in the earth, in the trees. Unseen threads spring up from their cores; threads that are tightly intertwined and hurt each time one of them makes a move to pull farther away. The low grunts and growls of the savage turn louder now, wrathful, ferocious, as he forces his body to move, and Ralph cries out in pain.

It is when the savage pulls so fiercely away to stretch and rip the threads, to run and disappear into the forest, that pain becomes agony. He screams until he hears nothing but his own broken sounds, and crepuscule takes over him.

…

He is jolted awake by a warm hand on his shoulder that gently tries to shake him. Water is being pushed into his lips and he gulps it down greedily. It soothes his painfully dry mouth and throat, trickles like an elixir into his stomach, giving him life again. His eyes hurt as he tries to open them, as the light is too powerful, blinding. All feeling instantly returns into his body and he is suddenly trembling and curling into himself, like a small child, from the pain that pulses in every inch of his flesh. The hand caresses his hair, and a voice firmly speaks above him.

"He needs food." It is Simon's voice, steady and calm, but holding a certain authority in it, a power that Ralph has never heard in it before. Food is brought to him by the twins and he devours it, the juices of the fruit smearing the corners of his mouth and his cheeks, leaking down his chin. When he looks up, his friends are gathered in a small circle around him, watching his movement with curious eyes. He tries to open his mouth to say something, but his voice is lost. A choke comes out.

"Your alpha has done well." Simon simply says when his mind clears out. His words stir Ralph up in confusion. Samneric react the same, but Piggy has a neutrality in his expression that suggests he already has the knowledge that Simon has spoken out. "He had the strength and control to leave you during your first heat, the fiercest and most dangerous heat." He continues, and the words just become more tangled in Ralph's thoughts, hieroglyphs.

"What are you on about?" Sam angrily asks. Simon turns his head to him, his deep green eyes holding a secrecy that Ralph can only believe to be mystical.

"Each individual will present when maturation comes." He discloses. "The alphas are the most aggressive and physically the strongest. The omegas are resilient, energetic, and the most attractive. They possess a vital force that draws the alpha to them. The betas hold the knowledge and the wisdom, they are the balance between the two."

Silence surrounds them at the awareness that Simon brings to them. The twins frown as they don't fully understand it, but Ralph does; the enigma of what his body has been going through for a while, a dark veil of clouds that has now dissipated. His craving for the flesh of another, a strong and red-blooded young man, whose body burns into his and leaves him yearning and gasping for more, like breaths of air that he needs to take as he struggles to swim in between violent waves, as he tries to rise at the surface. This brings memories of him back, reminds Ralph that he needs him. He needs him more than anyone and anything.

"The alphas and omegas mostly act on instinct or feeling, while the betas are guided by reason." Piggy continues in Simon's place. "Both of them are also physically better built than the betas, their shapely bodies allowing them to withstand the mating process." Ralph meekly turns to him, and the realization suddenly comes forward. Simon and Piggy are both betas.

The twins' eyes trail over Ralph's trembling figure, over the scratches and wounds in his skin, over his nether parts that are shamefully bare, throbbing in red, tender. The fair boy weakly attempts to cover himself, his body tightly curves, even though they have all seen it by now. He has mated with a savage.

"Your alpha is from the tribe." The horrified whisper leaves Eric's mouth, and the other boys stare in astonishment and concern. Ralph shivers, tries to turn away from their inquisitive eyes. He breathes in and out, deeply, attempting to find his voice. The first sounds that escape his throat are scratchy, barely words. Simon offers him more water and he drowns in it. He quickly swallows, then wipes his mouth with a trembling hand, eyes lost in a daze as he looks up, not at them, but in between them, at the blue-green line of the horizon.

"I need him," It's the first thing he says, out of instinct. "He is part of me, now." He mumbles with glassy eyes, shining into the bright light, the figure of a lunatic. "He is me." His voice is louder, clearer, as the heat soars in him, at the image of the savage young man that takes shape before his eyes. He stretches his arm in front of him to touch him, but his fingers only grasp air. Simon lets a gust of breath out.

"The bond that forms between the alpha and the omega can be very strong." He elucidates. "So strong, that their heat can become maddening for the two." Ralph is pulled back into the scene by his words. He tries to focus, listens to the sane voice of his friend. The reality sinks into him, and shame suddenly scorches his body. He flushes deeply. The fire savage is at the back of his mind now, his figure slowly dissolving into the cloud of his memory.

The knowledge that Simon and Piggy have brought out has changed things. He can see his friends look differently at him now. There is sympathy in their gaze, but also curiosity, the inability to understand him, his actions, his will to offer his body, himself away to such a menacing predator. He avoids them, sleeps farther away from their place with each day. They can't and will never see that it is not only his will, but the primeval instinct which is overpowering, makes him completely throw himself into the tumultuous ocean. It is an unwritten law of the universe, stronger than any human mind, than any reason that they could desperately cling on to. It is an experience that not even betas, with all of their logic and born intuition, will ever be able to make sense of.

The peak of his first heat gradually drops, day by day. He is writhing and squirming and thrashing as apparitions of the fire savage plague his mind, the power of his memory making the fair boy stroke his cock and press his fingers in between his legs, spill in agony, in torturous want for him. He hides in the forest, hides from his friends, hoping he will come for him. He hopes every day, until his vivid dream, that is coated in violent shades of gold and red, turns into grey, into a faded melancholy. He doesn't know how much time passes, he only knows the heat inside of him turns into lukewarm, then into cold. A cold that grows ugly limbs in his chest, a depression that preys on him like a parasite.

He will come back. A reassuring voice repeats inside his head, an echo, every day, every hour, every minute. He will come back for you. He still finds comfort in the pleasure of touching his own body, but the pleasure is not intense and hectic anymore, it is laced with dullness.

"Come back to me." His lips murmur emptily into salty tears, as he lies on the ground, naked, cold, covered in perspiration and the fading warmth of his spilled seed. The pain is unforgivable, unbearable. He believes this is the end.

The fire savage doesn't completely fade away from his mind, even though the fair boy thought he would. The discoveries of his present trace contour over blurry pictures of his past. The tanned, freckled skin was once pallid, he remembers. The lean, strong body was once thin and lanky. The mess of fire hair was covered by a small, black hat. The hat of a school boy, proud and fiery. A boy who was always chasing a goal.

The colour trickles into the pictures, but it is not bright enough yet. He torments himself as he struggles and struggles to paint over the pictures, but he doesn't succeed. I don't want to forget you again, the fear inside whispers. Not now. Not when I have seen you.

The fire savage is a small flame, there, feebly flickering into the darkness of his thoughts, turning brighter each time he caresses himself, but paler when his mind is taken over by other stimuli. The life at their small camp is not as monotonous as it once was. He sees Sam burst out in rage, weeping, for he finds his smaller brother in the woods, bleeding and bruised, and the betas immediately jump to help. Ralph only stares numbly from the sides, sees the boy's private parts pulse in a bright red, just like his did, days or weeks ago. His body is worse though. He looks as if he's been mauled.

"You found him in time, Sam." Simon mutters worriedly, after the intensity of their trouble and fright dwindles. "His alpha almost killed him." He gently places leaves covered in an unfamiliar substance over Eric's raw wounds, and Ralph tries to wrap his mind around what happened.

When Eric gains consciousness, half of day later, he is fighting to escape his brother's firm grasp, tries to run into the woods again. His pupils are dilated, as he scratches, bites, fights Sam to chase after his instinct, go after his predator. Sam looks at him with pained eyes and the betas help him drag Eric into the hut and hold him down.

"He is mine, mine now-" Eric gasps and chokes, sweat pouring over his burning body. The image is frightening, an image of possession. The realization that Eric goes through the same thing as he did is daunting. It is daunting assisting at the experience like a spectator, and he understands now the serious concern his friends fostered for him at the time. The small boy is almost an animal, snarling and clawing, corrupted by a fantasy that he perceives as euphoria, but that is actually brutality and savagery to the rest of them, that watch in silence.

"I had to fight him off." Sam speaks, forlorn. "He was powerful and aggressive, very much so, especially in the peak of their heat, but he eventually ran away." The betas silently take this knowledge in. Ralph fades into the background, the sounds around him blending into the turbulence of his emotions. He has become bitter and even furious at the fire savage for leaving him so quickly, with such immovable determination, but now- now he understands Simon's words.

Your alpha has done well. He had the strength and control to leave you during your first heat, the fiercest and most dangerous heat.

His alpha could have killed him during the first heat. The fire savage realized the peril that their joining had become, and he forced himself to protect Ralph from his own destructive power. He did not possess Ralph under the absolute control of the animalistic urge, did not let himself be entirely carried away by his instincts, in mindless abandon. Something else, something that is deeper affected him, affected them both, and the fair boy knows, that their joining has not only been physical, but deeply emotional as well. He becomes aware of the fact that it is not always typical of alpha-omega bonds to manifest in both carnal lust and emotional attachment. He knows it when he sees Eric barely hold life in him anymore, after what his alpha has done to him.

The depression veils them all like a dark shroud over the next few days. Eric's cries of longing and pain just intensify the ominous sentiment that lingers in the air. They all take turns in keeping a watch on him. Ralph holds on to his duty as well as he can, even though he cannot look at him for long. He cannot let his gaze linger on his friend, that has turned into something else, a shadow of a bright and handsome boy. Once his watch is over, he runs into the jungle, escapes the stifling bleakness that has taken over their once peaceful camp.

He runs and runs, breathless, his mind racy, his chest numb, runs until he finds the clearing where he met the fire savage for the first time. He lets himself fall to his knees, crushed by despair and sorrow, lets his tears fall freely on his sunburned cheeks. He shakes, as he watches the dark ground, the fade prints that they have left when they first touched each other. The prints are barely recognizable anymore, washed out by rain and covered by other animal traces now, but he can still discern the contour of his own body that lay there as the savage caressed him with searing kisses. He can still trace the mark of the savage's palm that dug into the earth as he took Ralph into his embrace.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, there is just obscurity that simply takes over his eyelids without his consciousness interfering into the process. The soft rays of the morning cloak him when his eyelids flutter open. A shuffle in the nearest creeper suddenly jolts him awake and he springs up, sharp alertness taking control of his senses.

A hand pushes through the leaves of the creeper and places a wide, flat rock, that one could see it as a resemblance of the once civilized platter, in front of him. Harshly cooked meat is lying on it, and the fair boy's heart is thundering inside his chest. He freezes in his spot and warily peers at the creeper, which remains still. He doesn't know how to react, he thinks of fleeing for one brief moment, but then the hand appears again. It lays a necklace made of bones and leaves and pale yellow flowers this time on the dark ground, and the fair boy's gut tightens in excitement. It's him.

A torrent of emotions rushes through him, it makes him twitch nervously, in anticipation and eagerness. He keeps staring at the creeper, waiting for another move. The silence is deafening for a few moments, until he slowly reveals himself. Strong arms covered in mud and paint push out from between the leaves, followed by the familiar lean figure. The sharp eyes of the fire savage intensely follow him, as he carefully but securely crawls toward the fair boy, his face only a mask of dark, white, red, which enhances the pale blue in his irises. The fair boy's breath is trapped in his throat; the presence of the other young man kindles nervousness, elation, pure happiness inside of him.

The savage gazes at him in slight confusion, when Ralph does not make any gesture. His stare then shortly falls on the gifts that he has placed on the ground, in front of the fair boy, before he looks up again, motioning with a firm hand.

"Food. Meat." He grunts, as he points at the rock that imitates the shape of a platter, at the scorched ribs that he has carefully laid there. "For you." He points at Ralph. The fair boy studies him, his movement, his eyes glued to his figure, trying to take in every little detail that makes up the savage's physique, before he will disappear again. Before his memory will fade again.

The savage pushes the rock into his face, and Ralph's eyes finally fall on the treat. His mouth waters at the sight. He hasn't eaten anything but fruit and sea food in years. He swallows deeply, before he remembers his resentment toward the savage, for having left him for so long. His lips press tightly together, his pale brow furrows in ire. He stubbornly fights his hunger, and turns his head to the side when the savage brings the rock closer to his mouth, then twists his body away from him. The savage pauses, uncertain. Then crawls around Ralph, and attempts to push the food to his mouth again, but the fair boy refuses him once more. That should teach him a lesson.

He yelps when the savage grabs his chin with dirty fingers to twist his head back to him and push one rib of brown flesh past his lips and teeth, and Ralph fights and bites. His teeth sink into the savage's finger and the savage hisses in pain. He lets the rib fall onto the rock, before he grabs Ralph by the back of his neck and brings him close to him, his fierce stare burning holes into Ralph's skin. Ralph stares back with keen eyes, defiant, obstinate. They breathe heavily as the enmity shortly rises between them, before the savage presses into him with a low groan, thrusts his hungry mouth onto Ralph's, pushes his slick tongue past his lips. The fair boy instinctively submits, moans as he opens for him, but then something else flares inside. His judgement is not entirely clouded by the heat of his lust anymore, so in spite of the longing that burns in him, he forces himself to listen to a deeper voice. A reason that tells him he needs to demand sense from the savage that has abandoned him, that has not returned to him for such a long time; who only comes to see him on a whim.

He squirms and closes his mouth as the savage aggressively rolls his tongue against his, attempting to subdue him. The fair boy scrunches his eyes shut and writhes and objects, pushing into his chest, and it doesn't take long for the savage to realize he is not wanted. Not then. He retreats from the heated kiss and peers at Ralph in turmoil at the rejection.

"I have been waiting for you for so long." The fair boy murmurs, bitter. "So long. Why have you done this to me?" He inquires, his voice rising along with the intensity of the pain that churns in him. The savage gazes at him, his usually fierce stare now clouded by grief. He lets callous fingers graze against the side of Ralph's face, longingly, achingly. The fair boy softly leans into his touch.

"Me, no good." He forces himself to find words, barely remembers the sounds that he has once learned, the marks of a strongly built civilization. "You." His finger gently brushes past Ralph's temple, pushes pale, soft hair aside to caress his skin there; the fair boy's breath catches in his throat. "You good." His hand falls to motion to himself, then to Ralph. "Me kill you." The fair boy puckers his lips, a sense of fortitude making way through the shadow of his sorrow.

"I am not afraid of you." He speaks up, resolutely, chin high. He shifts toward the savage, slowly but certainly places his slim arms around his torso, trying to curl into his chest. The savage stiffens at sudden gesture of open affection, then softens as he clumsily brings one arm around Ralph in a small embrace. "Not anymore." The fair boy's lips whisper against his shoulder. Rough fingers trail up and down the small of his back and he lets a heavy breath out, clinging tighter to the strong body against him. The savage brings his mouth into his hair, inhales his scent. He moves his other arm to the side, searches a bit, and Ralph lifts his head to see him grab the necklace of bones and pale yellow flowers. A proud smile graces the savage's lips as he carefully lays the totem around Ralph's neck, and the fair boy admires it for a moment, then smiles back at him.

"Gold moon flower." The savage names it, a light sparking his blue eye as he appreciates the perfect fit of his handicraft. He offers Ralph a meaningful grin, touches the necklace around the fair boy's neck, then brings his hand to his own neck, and the fair boy remarks for the first time that the savage is wearing a matching totem, partially concealed by paint and mud, one made of bone and red rock. "Fire sun stone." He roughly explains. The fair boy's smile widens, the warmth in his belly simmering at the intimate trade, at the way the savage graces him with devotion and tenderness.

He brings his hands high, kindly grasps the sides of the savage's face, lets his forehead touch his own. They melt together into another embrace, more intense, more powerful, their ripped threads springing to life, interweaving, as moon water and sun fire flourish and spiral in a communion of energy.

…

The savage does not leave him often after that. He comes to Ralph, in the dead of the night, in the warmth of the morning, brings him food, animal skins, herbs, vines braided with flowers. He caresses him with burning lips, pushes his eager mouth into his own, soothes him with meaningful touches. Their joining is not frenzied anymore, but heartfelt, deep. Ralph wakes up into his embrace almost every dawn, sees him, constantly by his side. The savage looks after him, watches him, as the fair boy's breath turns soft in between his lips, as he murmurs in his dreams. He opens his eyes to meet intense blue staring back at him, from behind a fearsome mask, and the fair boy touches the dried-out paint on his cheek.

"I want to see you." He says, and the savage looks back at him, restlessly, thoughtfully.

One day, a while after they have begun their life together, he sees the savage return to him, his chest still covered in black and white, but his face naked. There is uncertainty in the savage's hard eyes, as he looks to the side, hesitating to meet the fair boy's eye. The fair boy smiles, the flutter in his belly turning wild. He makes a motion for the savage to approach. The savage does, and the fair boy feels his bare skin, his pale scars. Their gazes finally meet, the blue stare impenetrable as he tries to hold on to a fierce façade.

"You don't have to hide from me. I have seen you before and I will keep seeing you, from now on." Ralph tells him firmly, before he lets his lips brush against a long, white cut on his cheekbone. The savage lets a heavy breath out. Leaving his guise behind is a beginning for him, something unnatural. It is a vulnerability in the violent world of masks and blood rituals.

A powerful longing twists in the fair boy's gut, a sentiment that moves his body. He has never lain with the savage when his face was bare, so he knows he must see him, clearly, openly, as he loses himself into the storm of the ocean that they create together. Must observe every little twitch, every little expanse of his skin, as he forgets himself inside of Ralph. This is an intimacy stronger than everything they've done.

He tries to coax the savage to lie on his back, but the savage bares his teeth in a snarl at him, catches his wrist with a wrathful look, in a display of fierce domination. The aggressive nature of the alpha will not allow him to be steered by Ralph, not at first, the fair boy knows. He doesn't flinch anymore at the sight of the savage's sharp teeth, is not intimidated by the ice in his gaze. He just simply rests his palm against his cheek, and the blaze in the savage's core slightly fades, as he silently tries to read Ralph's gestures.

"I want to see you." The fair boy repeats, regarding him with an intensity that makes the savage understand. His narrow eyes widen at the smell of the honey that drips in between Ralph's legs, and he is suddenly feral, not guided by the instinct of violence, but by one of hunger, as his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare. The fair boy feels his body heating up as the ocean falls over them, its waves crashing with a building force in the soaring storm. He puts his hands on the savage's chest, touches him first for the first time, and the savage lets him, lets the fair boy climb on him, lets him take the savage's hot cock and bring it in between his legs.

He is gasping for air, his body and spirit fading into the brilliant rush of the universe, but his eyes remain on the savage's maskless, human face, that contorts in mindless exhilaration, on his mouth that opens breathless as he wildly thrusts up into Ralph, on his eyes that are not blue, but black again, framed by copper eyelashes, and the fair boy loses his mind and finds it at the same time.

…

More colour percolates through the pictures of his memory as the visage of the savage moves around him, as the fair boy opens his eyes and sees him, scalded in the golden light of the sun, as he closes them with his figure in mind, veiled by the ink of the starry sky. A child voice sings in his ear, in his memories and dreams, a voice that is nothing like the one he hears coming from the savage's mouth, as he tries to communicate with Ralph. The child song turns into words, words that are vicious. Words that hurt his friends. A voice that roars after the hunt, after the blood, that instills harsh obedience into its followers.

The depths of his consciousness let him see the nightmare child the savage was. A child always chasing cruelty and bloodshed, that plunged himself into disorder. Traces of that child are still there, part of the savage's spirit. The fair boy silently observes it, when the savage rushes for the hunt, when his pupils grow at the sight of blood, when he growls as he tries to take control over a persistent and stubborn Ralph. But these characteristics are not as acute and jagged as they once were. The malice that once spurred the child into action does not move the grown man anymore. The chaotic energy is still there, but it is a natural, spontaneous energy, one that makes the savage run, shout, enthusiastically grin at the fair boy, an energy that does not give in to wickedness anymore. It is a maturity that has taken roots in him, that has grown to transform him on the path of an evolution.

This maturity also causes him to carry the meanings of his thoughts with remarkable courtesy, in spite of the brutality that characterizes him. He grapples with his words, frowning and gritting his teeth in frustration, as he attempts to put sounds together, strings of sentences.

"My tribe-" He starts out, drops of sweat damping the sides of his forehead, as he furrows his brow in concentration. "Need me." He points in the direction of the tower of rocks that rises above the island like an ominous giant, on the other side, and the fair boy exhales, deception numbly gripping his insides. He swallows.

"I know." His empty voice shortly replies, his rigid stare falling past the savage's shoulder, as he tries not to let his chagrin overwhelm him. The savage immediately feels his trouble. He comes to him, gently grasps his jaw to bring his eyes to his.

"You." He mutters harshly. "Join." The fair boy snaps his gaze back to the blue flame, conflicted.

"I cannot leave my friends." He protests in indignation, pushing his hand away. The savage intently peers at him.

"They join." He quickly decides. The fair boy shakes his head, unable to fathom such a thought. Despite his joining with the savage leader, he cannot risk his friends' lives by exposing them to the tribe. Their more civilized mentality, habits, way of living are entirely different, clashing. His friends would never participate in the rituals, would never let themselves be submerged into the thirst for hunting and blood. The tribe would see that and would eventually eliminate what they would consider to be weakness, the pawns that do not conform to their violent society.

"No." The fair boy firmly retorts. "It is not safe." He explains, and he is suddenly upset with the savage, in spite of the reason that tells him he shouldn't be. The burning feeling simmers in him, grows red inside. "You should not leave anymore, you are mine now. Not theirs." He declares possessively, eyes flashing at the fire savage, who looks back at a loss. It is not just to demand this ultimatum from him, but the fair boy knows they won't be able to continue their life together, if the savage always returns to a place where Ralph and his friends are not accepted and will never be. The fire savage seems afflicted, turns away from him, then approaches again. It is a battle of instincts that unfolds in him, the craving for power and rule fighting a much stronger, deeper energy, that binds him to the fair boy. Ralph holds his breath for a moment, unsettled, a terrible sickness developing in his chest, at the growing conviction that the savage will ultimately abandon him again.

The conviction crumbles then, when the savage returns to him, appearing to have made his decision. His eyes are unflinching, as he takes Ralph's hand into his own.

"You, mine." He solidly says, and the fair boy warms up, knowing then that their bond cannot be undone anymore, even though that will not be the last time the conflict of interest will rise to breach it.

…

In the search for food, Ralph is picking up the fruit that he is the most familiar with, while the savage shuffles around him, chasing his prey. He is silently gathering red beads into his pouch of leaves, when other sounds, animal sounds that don't resemble the ones that the catch of the savage makes, echo around him. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand up, and he drops the pouch. He lets himself fall to the ground, vigilant and perceptive, before he starts crawling toward the source.

The image that he stumbles upon is shocking, but stirring at the same time, it stops his movement, freezes his limbs, but heats his core up. It is a joining between an alpha and an omega, wild, brutal, murderous. The alpha is dark-haired and plunges into the omega like a beast, without any control or feeling. His conquering does not hold any of the sensuality or passion that guides the fire savage's body, it is not ardent, but ruthless. The omega barely cries out anymore, the split sounds of his voice being smothered by the sharp teeth of the alpha that bite into his shoulder, face, and mouth. He turns his head to the side, and Ralph's stomach clenches when he recognizes, among the red and purple bruises on his skin, the once pleasant features of his friend. His heart slams into his rib cage as his mind frets, pondering over an act of salvation, but his body is immovable, as it knows that it would be impossible for another omega to face an alpha.

He jumps when he senses the rugged palm of the fire savage on his shoulder, and turns his troubled eyes to him. The fire savage instantly reads his silent plea and prepares himself for an attack, his features twisting with sharp focus, severe and grim. He takes a quick leap, jumps the other alpha, and the intensity of their growling and howling breaks through the serenity of the jungle, makes birds take off from the nearest tress and wild animals run around in all directions. The clash is callous and inhuman, as they bite and claw at each other like two tigers. The fire savage eventually manages to knock the dark savage out, pinning him to the ground with steady arms, and the dark savage snarls at him, but is unable to effect any power on the bigger alpha anymore.

"Roger!" The fire savage roars at him as he holds him down, and the dark savage stops and widens his eyes in discovery, at the bare face of his leader. He keeps struggling, but the curling impulse for violence gradually deteriorates, as the power of the fire savage's rule overcomes his carnal instincts. The intensity in the fire savage's eyes speaks out to him. The dark savage seems to want to breach the order for one moment, but the primordial will to submit to a higher authority is stronger. He does not struggle anymore, allows himself to temper under the larger body, and as the fire savage releases him from the clutch, the dark savage instantly springs, rushes through the tangle of the jungle, a shadow that disperses into the sea of green.

…

The dark alpha does not come into the picture anymore. Not for a while, at least.

The fair boy is slightly tentative to return to his friends' camp with the fire savage by his side. They bring Eric to the beach, and the perturbed looks of Simon and Piggy are speaking more than one thousand words. They are terrified of him. Sam's concern for his brother overcomes his distress at the sight of the red alpha, and he approaches to receive his brother in his arms. Simon immediately leaves aside the unease that troubles him and comes to help. Piggy keeps studying the fire savage with a cloudy look though, distrustful, as his poor sight does not allow him to immediately distinguish the features of the savage.

"You're Jack Merridew, aren't you," Piggy speaks out after a while, loudly and thunderously, and Ralph leaps at the words, the name prompting ripples in his memory, like a pebble that is thrown into a lake and leaves undulations at its surface. He stares in wonder at the fire savage and the savage intensely looks back, carefully watches him, waiting for the fair boy to identify him. The undulations in his memory make the moving pictures of the devil child tremble, bring forward more sounds, sounds that once belonged to the child.

Why should I be Jack. They call me Merridew. A smooth, polished voice reverberates at the back of his mind, a voice that speaks with so much clarity. He remembers the child distinctly now. He remembers his once callous face, his physical and behavioral characteristics, almost everything the child was and was not. What he doesn't remember, is what they were to each other, their previous connection, which seems to be non-existent in the fair boy's memory, in spite of the recollections that he holds of the child.

"Were you my friend?" Ralph suddenly asks with painful curiosity, praying for the confirmation of his doubt. The savage's shoulders tense up, and he averts his gaze. Piggy opens his mouth, apparently intent on responding to his inquiry, but then he seems to change his mind. No one answers him. This spurs strange fear in him. Something happened between his child self and that of the savage, something that both his friends and the savage avoid on touching.

At dusk, his friends are following him and the savage with drawn eyes, astonished. They study their movement, the way the fire savage lies down next to him, takes him into his arms. He hears Piggy grumble something, apparently miffed at the sight of him and the fire savage curled up together, but he doesn't attempt to discern his discourse. He feels slightly conscious of their stares, but the warmth of the chest pressed against his back seeps through his muscles, loosens his stiff limbs. He doesn't intend to push the fire savage away, does not pretend to be a stranger to him in front of his friends, in spite of their judging demeanor; they believe he is their enemy. They believe he is Ralph's enemy, but the fair boy does not and will never see him as he once did.

In the night, his eyes open, bright and full of memories. The savage's breathing is harsh, and the fair boy knows he is not deep in slumber.

"You betrayed me, didn't you," He whispers. He tightens his grip on the savage's arm when he instantly attempts to remove himself from Ralph, at the apparent accusation. The savage's frame is rigid. Ralph feels him fight his impulse to run away, from his guilt, from his responsibility. He loops his fingers around the savage's hand. "That does not matter to me anymore." He comforts him. "You were a stubborn child. I was a stubborn child." He continues softly. He feels wetness permeate the skin of his neck and back, bitter tears that the savage tries to swallow. His lips skim against the back of Ralph's neck. Ralph turns and takes his head into palms, coddles him, brushes fire hair aside to press his mouth into his forehead.

"Almost kill you." The savage shakes, devastated, bringing rough arms around Ralph's slighter form. Flashes of the chase flicker before his eyes. The hunt that the fire child instigated for him, the fair child that he thought to be a threat to his rule at the time, the inferno that scorched almost an entire island. As if sharing his memory, another shudder breaks the savage's strong body, and he buries his face in Ralph's chest. "Never again." He grieves, and the fair boy presses his fingers into the tangle of his hair. The savage raises his eyes, luminous underneath the night sky. "You, my moon, my stars." He brings a salty mouth to Ralph's, and Ralph realizes his own cheeks and mouth are wet. "You, my everything." He repeats, like a mantra, murmuring into the fair boy's lips, worshipping him with the desperate brush of his kiss. His hand trails down the side of his waist, down his backside. The fair boy sighs and softens as the savage holds him, presses his body into his, feverishly thrusts in between his legs. Their damp mouths and burning bodies bleed into each other, forming one entity, a quintessence that heals the marks of the past and brings the birth of another dawn.

…

Everything becomes unusual, but somewhat comforting, with the fire savage by their side. The concern that the dark savage would return, or that the tribe would come for them is still there, especially since the presence of the fire savage would attract such occurrences, but the protection that he offers is reassuring at the same time. He hunts for them, assists them in the physical work that they're putting up to maintain their small home, and in spite of the distaste that he has for the prying and still somewhat distrustful eyes of his friends, he does not protest or run away in fierce anger, like he would have done once.

With each day, his friends get more accustomed to his presence, and with each day, Ralph's memories and the savage's ability to speak find their progress. He speaks with more certainty in his voice, more fluency, and Ralph calls out his name for the first time in years, which sounds odd on his tongue, but not unfamiliar.

"Jack," He speaks out, and the fire savage rises his bewildered gaze from his spear; glee sparks then in his blue eye. He grins at the fair boy, and the fair boy grins back. "Help me with this, please." He gestures at the net full of fish that he holds in his hands, and the fire savage is immediately by his side, grappling with the catch.

They are friends, lovers, partners in everything, but still adversaries at times, when they collide into each other, because if not for the quarrel, it would not be them; when the fire savage still keens for the riot of his tribe, when he intends to break through the dark-green of the jungle, when Ralph fumes and turns his back to him in resentment and fear that he would be gone forever.

"Leave then!" Ralph shouts at him in a shattered voice, then turns away, and the savage's eye turns mad and ruthless and too blue. He rages back that he will, shaking, before he sprints through the wilderness of the forest, runs breathless after his prey for hours and hours, returns covered in sweat and blood and paint. The first thing he always does after the hunt though is leave the bloodied carcass behind and go to the fair boy, take him into his embrace, mutter countless of soothing words, and the fair boy always accepts him.

His friends go on about their troubles, and soon enough, the focus shifts to Eric, who falls into a deep depression, weeps for his alpha. The image of Ralph and his alpha by his side only stirs more torment and agony in the small boy, who gazes at them, wistful, despairing. They catch him the first few times in his attempt to flee away. The nature of the omega makes him agile and stealthy though, and he eventually slips from their grasp. They search for hours for him, until the sky turns from light blue to dark orange to dark blue, and they know he is gone.

"We cannot oppose the alpha-omega bond. Not forever." Simon speaks sadly, trying to comfort a quivering Sam, whose tears flood his cheeks, leak into his mouth and underneath his chin, who rips his own hair out in anguish. Silence rules over them for some time, before the fire savage steps forth, addresses Sam.

"You, alpha." He calls, pointing his finger at the trembling twin, before he points to himself. "You, me. We face Roger." He says resolutely, and the rest of the boys stare at him in awe. Sam wipes his tears away, before he furrows his brow with a hard gaze. He nods.

Ralph grabs his wrist as they're about to leave. He peers at him in distress, and the fire savage pushes his breathless mouth into his with fierce determination. The fair boy can read his excitement for violence and blood into his expression, into his movement. The savage's steadfast gaze inspirits him though.

"Come back to you soon." He declares with a look full of promise, before he escapes into the unknown of the island, followed by a headstrong Sam.

…

A day later, the fire savage arrives at the camp without any of the twins by his side. Terror suffocates them for one moment, until the savage announces them of the assimilation of the twins into his tribe, and Ralph is absolutely livid. He seethes and yells and storms, and Piggy and Simon attempt to pacify him, with no good outcome though. The fire savage defends himself, revealing that it is not his will, but that of the alpha and omega brothers. The omega has decided to remain by the side of the dark alpha, the fire savage's right-hand man in the tribe, and his alpha brother would not leave his twin.

The fair boy cannot look at him, cannot hear him. He curls into himself and hides at the back of the hut. The fire savage kneels by his side, hesitantly touches him, breathes into the silver-gold hair.

"Join me." He mutters gruffly. "Be with me." The fair boy shakily sighs, then slightly turns his head, brilliant azure eyes glimmering in apprehension and uncertainty.

"It's not safe." He meekly repeats his belief, and the fire savage comes closer, melts into his side.

"Safe with me." He asserts, and the perilous but optimistic thought takes root inside his mind, inside his chest. His heart beats with want for a life where they will not have to fret over the precariousness of their bond, over the unpredictability of their lives. A life where they do not have to hide anymore, even if it means letting themselves fall into the mouth of the beast first, in order to escape with burning flesh marks, but with freedom elevating their hearts.

The fire savage does not return to his tribe. The second heat approaches and they both feel it, as it rushes through them, the hurricane of the warm ocean moving them through the whirlwind, and they lose themselves into each other again. He is not blindsided by the whipping tempest this time, but guided through it, by the fire alpha who takes him, more ferociously than the times they were not under the heat, but less chaotic and more skillful than their first mating. They are the ones who are controlling it this time, and they succeed in performing other activities during the weeks they are under its possession.

He is nibbling on sea fruit by the beach, peacefully enjoying the time off from the uproar of the heat and the company of his remaining friends. The betas silently look into the distance of the vast ocean, ponder over the unspoken question between them.

"We will have to join, won't we," Piggy openly acknowledges, tired, defeated. Simon nods.

"I believe fate guides us on this path, yes." He honestly replies. Ralph remains silent, his voice gone into the heat that has mostly drained him of his forces. The wind ruffles his pale hair, the setting sun colors his bronzed skin into incandescent orange. He lets the small shell of an oyster fall from his hand, into the warm sand.

"Jack will make sure we will be accepted." His feeble voice comes out. His friends restlessly peer at him. "He has promised."

Once, he and his friends would have not believed in the fire savage's promises. The fire child would have broken that promise, would have let it slip through his fingers, would have stepped on it with his foot, vengeful, vicious. But that child is not there anymore. That child has metamorphosed into a fierce, sober young man, who rages at the wilderness, but is susceptible to the thoughts and emotions of the people around him.

The fair boy believes now in his promise. The fire savage is still a leader, the leader of the tribe, despite that the humanity of the people in his tribe is fickle; they have descended so deeply into barbarism. The incertitude of the undomesticated mind will always be there, a mind which can be overcome by instinct, and not even the fire savage himself can resolutely fight against that instinct.

Still, he has observed the authority the fire savage held over the dark savage in the moment of their inhumane clash. The dark savage, even cruder, more brutal than anything the fair boy has ever seen, has eventually bent to the will of the primary alpha of the tribe. They have their own unspoken hierarchy in the tribe now, despite that they have started out as chaotic, with no law to guide them at the time they were mere children.

He does not make up his mind with absolute certainty though. Not for a while. The fire savage is always there with him, in spite of everything. The fair boy basks in the warmth of his body, lets his blazing passion conquer him. He is the fire sun to his water moon, and they will thrive only together, like the celestial bodies that revolve around each other in the same cosmos.

The fair boy has seen it in his touches, in his caresses, in his tears. He has seen it in his heart, as it merged with his on the swell of the thunderous ocean.