Blah. New chapter. Mostly merome and some Jerome having daddy instincts over little cub Sky. Sorry for the wait. Enjoy?
He ached. Not the normal ache that he had grown used to over the years of being forced to sleep in a damp and terribly freezing cold cell, but an even worse ache that had him trembling and fighting for breath as his chest seized. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything. It hurt. It hurt in every sense of the word. It hurt in his tired bones, it hurt in his tender eyes, so unused to the light of glow stone after days upon days spent in the dark. He could deal with the cold, the faint sickness he always carried, the coughs that wrecked his too thin body, the lack of food and the lack of warmth. It was cool. He could deal with it, he'd grown used to it. What he couldn't deal with was most definitely the fact that his only comfort left in this world was gone. Gone were the soft snores he'd grown used to hearing at night and those snarls that kept the guards from hurting him, gone were those comforting words he'd treasured with everything in him -it's okay, biggums, you're okay. I'll protect you, I'll get you out of here one day. We'll escape and we'll be happy, just hang on. Be strong- and gone was that ever present presence of his beloved. That he could not deal with, he couldn't.
Jerome was the single ray of light in his dark and bleak and miserable existence. He didn't have anyone other than his nether bacca. His family was dead, died when Mitch was barely a teenager, and the human never really had many friends in the first place. He'd cut off all ties the day he woke up in a too quiet house only to find his family had left him. Left him in the sense of lips too blue and skin too pale. Left him in the sense that even when he tried to wake them up, eyes bleary with tears as he choked down panicked sobs, they stayed asleep. They left him behind in a too cruel world all by himself. They slept on peacefully even when Mitch had stopped screaming, even when Mitch left them, left them in too cold beds in a too quiet house.
He hadn't wanted to get attached ever again after that. Not after having his family ripped from him by the hands of death. Not after shaking his beautiful older sister, his sister who had always taken care of him and his younger sister when their father was out hunting for their food and his mother was too tired to move from the bed, and she hadn't moved. Not after his still younger sister wouldn't wake up, even after he promised he'd dress up with her and have multitudes of tea parties with her. Not after his father, gruff and quiet, who always gave him piggy backs hadn't answered his calls -you promised you'd teach me to hunt! To hunt for momma and my sisters!-. Not after his mother, his sweet mother who had always been sickly, who even when she was tired, would sing him sweet lullabies and play with his hair, not even she had responded.
They'd died of a sickness, he didn't care which one, it wasn't like knowing would bring them back or anything. It had been a harsh winter and his father hadn't been able to find much food. His older sister had been giving her share of food to him and his younger sister, he'd watched in guilty horror as she'd slowly been reduced to bones. His mom had gotten worse as the cold got to her and his father had spent days worrying after his mother instead of hunting. His younger sister had cried herself to sleep, her stomach rumbling even after he gave her his own share of food along with their older sister's.
He'll never understand why he was the only one to survive that winter. Never understand why his family left him, never understand why he couldn't have died instead of them, or at least died with them.
He'd left the house he'd grown up in, easily learning how to build a small shelter and how to hunt for hisself. He'd learned to mine and to stay away from all the mobs. He'd learned many things by hisself, things his father should've been there to teach him. He'd learned and he'd survived. He joined his first Hunger Games when he was thirteen. The prize money had interested him, an assortment of diamonds, iron and gold, and he had signed up without giving it much thought. So what if he died, in the Games, he'd respawn almost immediately after your death. His family had never approved of the Games, they'd thought it was vulgar and primitive, the thought of Minecraftians fighting to the death in an arena for the enjoyment of others had sickened them. But he'd always been tempted by the idea of fighting, of the adrenaline rush of finding enough weapons and armor to survive only to fight the survivors in a death match. It had thrilled him and even if he lost his first Games, he kept signing up for them and he kept fighting and training and learning.
It was when he was sixteen that he met him. He'd won a fair amount of games by then, gotten a bit of a name for hisself by then. He'd expected it to be just an ordinary Games, he would give it his best shot and then if he won, he won, and if he lost, he lost. He'd gotten addicted to the adrenaline, the suspense, the action and the idea of hunting and being hunted. It was exciting in a way he couldn't describe, only one could win, only one would be victorious and claim the spoils while the losers respawned and gained nothing but sore muscles for a few days.
He'd seen plenty of humans join the Games before, even a few amphibians, baccas and other such creatures that resided in the Overland, but never had he seen a creature from the nether. A nether bacca. He'd expected a hairy animal, much like Overland Baccas were. He did not expect something with the visage to a human. A tall, muscular human with hair that was more fur than anything and a fluffy tail with dangerous claws and long fangs. Shirtless too, the bastard had been shirtless when he first met him in the lobby, all bulging muscles and healed over scars with an aura of dominance that had him squirming and a little hot underneath the collar. His eyes, god he didn't even seem to have a pupil they were so black, had glinted in such a way that left you breathless. His ears, pointy and elf like, had twitched and he'd sent you a grin, all pointy teeth and hidden promise, that had Mitch basically swooning.
Of course, after the Games, it was only logical that he invited himself to the human's home, which had grown into a full blown tree house, and he'd just about encouraged the other to come inside. It was kind of skeevy thinking about it, but the minute he even hinted at something intimate, Mitch had pounced him. It wasn't his fault that the way Jerome's muscles flexed while fighting had gotten Mitch all hot and bothered, it should be illegal for the bacca to wield such a heavy weapon like an axe and make it look effortless with his perfect arms and perfect chest and perfect everything really. Mitch hadn't even protested when the bacca's clawed hand had slipped into his pants or when the other left an alarmingly large amount of hickeys across his chest and neck or when there were no clothes separating the two of them and it was all a blur of sweat slicked bodies and deep grunts that made his breathing hard. Mitch didn't want to think about how he'd bent him over, made Mitch beg and writhe under his touch because he teased and teased and teased and god, why did he love such a cocktease like his bacca? Seriously.
He'd licked Mitch and he should've been grossed out but it had even deliciously hot and he'd nipped at the back of his neck as he thrusted into the smaller of the two at an alarming pace and he'd barely kept up with him and Mitch had arched his back, choking on sobs as Jerome tortured him so thoroughly. Even when he came, Jerome hadn't been satisfied and neither had Mitch. He'd moved the human onto his lap and in that single night and part of the morning, he'd brought Mitch to ecstasy more times than he could willingly count without turning embarrassingly red. Jerome was a beast, it was him.
After that, well, Mitch hadn't let Jerome out of his sight. Hell, he hadn't let the bacca leave his metaphorical pants, mostly because Mitch had learned walking in the nude would get the bacca to comply to the others wishes so much faster. It hadn't been long before they made it official and only two years later they finally became mates.
Then Squid had kidnapped the two o them, had practically sent an army to grab the pair, and or seemingly no reason at all. The two had fought, managing to slaughter more than half of the army, but they were tired as they were outnumbered and they knew they were eachother's weak spot and they'd taken advantage of that, taken advantage so thoroughly of the love the two of them had for each other and used it against them.
Squid admitted he'd only grabbed the two of them on a whim, he was a sick thing, Squid was. Wanted to have Jerome and Mitch because of their fighting abilities and their 'scandalous' love affair. Mitch had spit in Squid's face when he learned that was the only reason he had kidnapped the pair and Squid had beaten the already beaten Mitch while Jerome fought in his own cage, wild with rage.
Now, now Mitch was alone. Alone in Squid's castle in a room he was meant to stay in while he waited. Waited for his mate to return. What then though? After Jerome returned? It was highly unlikely Squid would keep his end of the bargain, so why did it matter? Mitch huddled on the bed, the too soft bed and too soft sheets, feeling more vulnerable than he had in his entire existence without his mate. He wanted Jerome back, wanted to feel those strong arms wrap around him and hear those embarrassingly adorable sweet words that would spill out of Jerome's lips. -I love you, biggums, always will, always, always, always love my Mitch.-
The room is too big and the air is too cold and his face was too wet with his tears and his it was too bleary to see. His chest ached and he couldn't stop crying and he missed Jerome, missed him so much it physically hurt. He wanted Jerome back, wanted to hide in those strong arms and pretend they were the only two that existed and he'd never hurt again because Jerome would protect him. Mitch sniffled, burying his face into his arms. He missed Jerome, he missed his bacca.
The body of the human slung over his shoulder was deadweight. Jerome buried his guilt as he continued making his way to the portal he'd left a good ways away from the king's palace. He made sure to leave absolutely no trace as he ran onwards. The king would still be able to follow the trail, but hopefully he would take long enough for Jerome to dump the human off with Squid, grab Mitch and make it out of the Squid's palace when the demon king destroyed the place.
The human didn't so much as stir and Jerome bit his lip with a mixture of guilt and worry. Why couldn't the human be covered in blood and bruises? Why couldn't he have been shackled and chained and abused? Sure, it wasn't something Jerome particularly would have wished on anyone, but anything would have alleviated the immense amount of guilt he felt. The kid had been fucking sleeping on the king's bed, fully clothed and healthy and comfortable and so at home looking that Jerome felt awful for having to do this. The little human was so young, younger and smaller than Mitch. Tiny and vulnerable and precious. He could understand why the king hadn't hurt the little human. Something like this human should be treasured and protected. Not hurt or stolen or kidnapped.
Jerome felt like the scum of the earth, especially when the smell of blood hit his nose. Oh, oh, the poor kid. Jerome wanted to curl his arms around the small kid, cradle the little human and hush him and promise him everything would be okay. He wanted to protect the small kid, wanted to nuzzle his face against the human, rub his scent against soft human flesh so that no other demon would hurt the small bundle that was this kid. He was like a cub, a cub that Jerome felt the strong need to shield from the horrors of the world. In any other circumstance, Jerome would've outright adopted the small kid into his little family.
Notch. Jerome cursed, shaking his head. No. Fuck life, fuck everything, fuck Squid, fuck this stupid task, fuck the kid for looking so vulnerable and fuck his goddamn instincts. This kid was a human, not a cub, he needed to stop thinking about him like that.
Crossing through the portal was quick and easy, Jerome broke the portal once he was done, making sure the king would have to work damn fucking hard to get the cub back. There was still a days travel to Squid's palace, Jerome was dreading the fact that he'd have to speak to the cub, Notch his guilt would only grow. Maybe the cub would stay knocked out for the next day or so?
A groan came from the bundle over his shoulder and Jerome cursed Squid to hell and back.