Crimson Bonds [MxM]

18

 Red Desert

Peter awakes with a jolt, his head pounding like a drum. His body aches, and a sharp cold cuts through him. The first thing he notices is the unforgiving hardness beneath him. Groaning, he cracks an eye open and realises he's sprawled on the floor, next to his bed, without even a blanket to cover him.

He frowns, trying to piece together what happened last night. A haze of gold, green, and vivid lights swirls in his mind, but everything is foggy. He remembers going to the pub for Saifa's gig, but beyond that, nothing. The thought of Saifa makes his heart stutter and his stomach twists. What did I do?

Peter sits up slowly, his head spinning. He's still half-dressed, his socks missing, and his chest bare, shivering from the cold. The broken heater isn't helping. His clothes are strewn messily across the floor. He scratches his head, his claws grazing his horns as he tries to comfort himself. He rarely gets so drunk that he forgets what happened, but last night is a blank slate.

A groan escapes him as the headache sharpens, nausea rising in his throat. He sits there, eyes closed, trying to keep the sickness at bay. When the dizziness subsides, Peter stumbles to his closet, grabs a grey sweater and sweatpants, and quickly changes into them, seeking warmth. He's just pulling on a pair of woollen socks when the door to his room swings open.

Anouk stands in the doorway, her expression a mix of confusion and determination, her finger pointed at him like an accusation. "Alright, Peter, you better explain what got into you last night."

Peter blinks at her, trying to make sense of her words through the haze in his mind. Anouk, still in her pyjamas, her blonde hair in a messy bun, walks into the room and sits on his bed, waiting.

"Well?" she presses, patting the bed next to her.

With a sigh, Peter drags himself over, sinking onto the mattress beside her. His head is still throbbing, his tail curling protectively around his waist. "I don't know," he mumbles, staring at his clawed hands. "I can't remember."

"What do you mean, you can't remember?" Anouk's voice is sharp, cutting through his haze.

"I remember going to Saifa's show, then we had shots, and after that... nothing. It's all a blur," he says, pointing to his temple. The ache intensifies, but Anouk's expression is one of exasperation rather than sympathy.

"Peter, you came back home crying," she says, her tone serious. "And then Aiman called me, saying he couldn't come because he had to take care of Saifa."

Her words hit Peter like a punch to the gut. He doesn't remember crying, but the thought of Saifa being hurt or upset because of him makes his stomach churn. What in the Four Hells did I do?

Anouk's gaze is piercing. "So, explain what happened."

Peter shakes his head. "I told you, I don't remember. I don't even remember crying. I remember drinking with Saifa, maybe dancing, and..."

Suddenly, the memories flood back in sharp, disjointed flashes. Saifa's hands on his hips, the heat between them, the kiss.

He kissed Saifa.

And then he ran.

"Shit," Peter whispers, the word escaping him in a rush of breath. His headache worsens, his whole body tensing as the reality of what he did crashes down on him.

"What?" Anouk leans closer, sensing his distress.

Peter inhales deeply, trying to steady himself, but it's no use. His hands start to tremble, and an angry red glow begins to seep from his skin. He clenches his fists, trying to contain the power surging through him. Anouk quickly snaps her fingers, enveloping him in a protective white bubble before he can burn the bed.