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“The gay boy was supposed to be easier to kill than the dick-headed jerk,” Mohawk grunted as he shoved his guts inward. Nicknamed this particular Mark “the gay boy” sounded reasonable.
Sinister raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the corpse in front of them. Maskless had fallen, just as he was supposed to. The victim was going to be the mama’s boy. It was a shame Maskless interfered and gave him a chance to escape. Where did this strange need to be the hero come from? Maybe he’d already considered suicide, and one last good deed sounded nice.
Ridiculous.
“Dick-headed, you say?”
“Yeah, you know…” another sound of Mohawk’s guts being shoved inward. “He’s bald, excessively veiny… He looks like a dick, well, his head looks like a dick.”
“Oh, yeah.” A pause. Sinister crouched down to inspect Maskless's shattered skull more closely. It wasn't THAT bad, they could still use his mouth. "Hah. A big one, no doubt about it."
"Very, very, very big."
Mohawk leaned back against a rock as he watched the darkening sky. He knew they couldn't take down the guard. The soldier and the moron who was miserably copying Dad would probably come for them as soon as they realized they'd killed another one, knowing they might be next.
Mohawk considered killing the Emperor as a second option, but Sinister quickly dismissed his idea, arguing that it was still too soon to go after him because, in his own words, his face would look prettier when he realized only the three of them remained.
Mohawk didn't even fully understand the plan, though he didn't need to, or at least that's what he felt. It sounded convincing at first, though to be honest, he couldn't even remember what he'd said exactly, and he managed to convince him right away.
Something about killing before being killed? Something about hunger taking over? He didn't quite remember it; maybe he didn't even hear the speech properly because his eardrums were burst, and he just went along with it for the sake of it.
Because if he didn't do it, someone else would.
"The mama's boy shouldn't have gone too far. How long do you think it will take us to catch him?" Sinister asked as he detached Maskless's head from his shoulders.
“I don’t know, man. I don’t ‘think,’ I just do.” Mohawk shuddered as he heard the vertebrae crunching under Sinister’s grip. His gaze shifted from the sky to Sinister, then quickly darted away, as if avoiding eye contact. “Oh, please, don’t fuck that head.”
Sinister chuckled before throwing the head in the air and grabbing it again. Mohawk just pretended not to see or hear, not because it was anything really messed up that bothered him, but more because of the sight of himself doing that to another version of him.
“I’ll save that for the emperor’s head. I really want to play soccer with this one.”
Mohawk lay down on the sand, feeling his guts shift around as he did. He let out a growl, silently hoping nothing had moved out of place. The asshole came close to impaling his whole body with just his fist. Mohawk should be grateful to Sinister for ripping that arm out of him.
As the wind blew and the sand stirred, Mohawk listened intently as Sinister chewed and slurped without looking at him—not that he wanted to anyway; the sound alone was truly disgusting. Not wanting to fall asleep just yet, he began to talk.
“I didn’t know you liked soccer.”
“I stopped liking it when I kicked William's bunny teeth out and his mother forbade him from visiting me,” Sinister replied, his teeth tugging at the eyelid.
“Heh. Funny.”
“Very funny.”
Just as he understood that talking to beasts didn't scare them away, he understood that silence somehow attracted them.
“William never played soccer with me,” Mohawk mentioned, not quite understanding why he was saying it.
“Yeah, I can tell.”
“I guess I would have liked to play soccer with him.”
“Yeah...”
He didn't give a shit, it was obvious. What was he trying to do? Get sympathy so his death would be less painful when it was just the two of them left?
Mohawk would have continued talking if the makeshift campfire they'd built hadn't lit him anymore. As his gaze traveled toward the campfire, he found Sinister's shadow covering him. His eyes met the dark pits that his evil twin had for eyes, and he sighed humorously.
“Yeah...?”
“Are you sure you're not hungry?”
... No, maybe not.
He still remembers how Sinister reduced the prisoner's corpse to bones all by himself in just a few hours without even giving it a chance to decompose. Damn, he even used his bones as toothpicks. Had that satiated him, and that's why he was asking if he was hungry? Whatever the case, Mohawk laughed but immediately stopped because of the pain in his abdomen.
“Unless you offer me the heart and we play soccer together, I don't think so.”
Sinister made a strange noise as he pursed his lips, the noise a child would make if forced to share something. He dropped Maskless's head to the ground with a thud. Without asking, he walked over and lay down near his feet, resting his back and head on the rock
That sounded like a no.
With no ulterior motives beyond getting comfortable, Mohawk positioned his hands under his head and his legs on Sinister's thighs, ready to go to sleep. The warmth of another body made him ignore the fact of how brutally injured he was and how he definitely wouldn't be getting better anytime soon.
Silence.
It was absurdly bad how everything was so quiet when nature was always so noisy.
Mohawk's eyelids were starting to feel heavy, and assuming Sinister would be watching that night, he allowed himself the luxury of relaxing and dreaming of a world where if he was given a heart or a ball to play soccer with his William... Or a world where he didn't end up in that desert wasteland, anything.
And he would have if the cold hadn't hit his ass. Glancing over his shoulder, Mohawk noticed his toned butt was exposed and the top of his suit was slightly lifted, exposing two piercings in his venus dimples and a relatively thin pink thong.
"Hey, dumbass, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Mohawk growled, unable to find the strength or desire to face him or move.
“Nice thong.” Sinister pointedly ignored him as he tugged on the string of the thong. “It’s from Eve?”
Mohawk found something amusing in this and laughed, then simply dropped his head into the sand. “It’s a gift from her, yeah.”
“She has good taste,” Sinister confessed, tugging at the string that had slipped between his variant’s buttocks. “Birthday?”
“Anniversary.”
God bless Eve for giving her boyfriend the most unusual gifts during her lifetime.
Mohawk shifted position briefly, raising his hips higher to allow Sinister a better view. Sinister shifted slightly from his position to observe how the thong, while pretty, didn’t cover his ally’s cock very well. Far from wearing it for comfort or practicality, he seemed to wear it because it was a very special gift.
Sinister's face moved closer to his rear, he reluctantly moved his thong aside, and began sniffing. “You smell so good...”
"Oh, yeah?" Mohawk asked playfully, starting to wiggle his hips in circles, though he stopped instantly when he felt a sharp pain, lowering his ass considerably. "O-ouch... Ignore that, I don't know what I was really trying to do."
And so he did. Ignoring that, Sinister slid his blood-dampened finger into Mohawk's tight, stifling hole, much tighter than any hole he'd ever put his finger in before, and that was saying something considering he touched a lot of holes... including the ones he wasn't supposed to.
Mohawk bit his lip and let out a huff, briefly kicking up the sand under his face. His tight asshole, which hadn't been explored since Eve's death, tensed at the intrusion, trying to expel him while trying to keep him. It was dry; the blood wouldn't be enough to lubricate it, but he didn't seem to mind.
Even so, Sinister seemed to notice. Stretching his anus slightly with his fingers, he spit accurately into the back of his dark hole. Lightly hairy, the anus a shade of brown... Sinister wished he'd started this game during the day so he could take in every detail.
“I can't wait to put it inside...” he sighed in a weird, almost affectionate tone as he leaned down and buried his nose in the hole, sniffing and licking it as his finger created a delicious sway.
Mohawk's hairy thighs went numb, and not knowing how or what to respond, he moaned softly and reached back, spreading his cheeks wide open. Faced with such an invitation, Sinister had no choice but to simply playfully rub his nose against Mohawk's anus and, seconds later, begin tongue-fucking him.
“F-fuck... F-fuck..”
Ignoring the crust of blood Sinister had around his mouth from the feast he'd had on his other self's head was the best he could do; he also didn't seem inclined to end the fun over something as trivial as a little blood.
“Eating your ass feels good, but I want to fuck you too” he murmured between his warm, sweet-smelling cheeks.
“Y-you’re not going to fuck me, idiot… A-ahh…” rearranging his insides with the help of a cock was not in Mohawk's plans.
“Come on, man... Just the tip, okay? It'll feel so good, you'll like it.”
It was hard to say no to the longest tongue anyone had ever stuck inside him.
It seemed Sinister wasn't going to get a positive answer anytime soon. His hand wrapped around the base of Mohawk's cock, massaging the piercings covering it, moving up and down, then squeezing both balls with his hand, rotating them briefly.
“Oh go—...”
Mohawk's eyes widened in surprise as his head was pressed against the ground, tasting sand and coughing in the process. He tried to turn his head to see what the fuck Sinister was thinking, only to find a pain in his scalp. Sinister was tugging at his crest.
Sinister lifted his head off the ground by grabbing his crest. Mohawk's hands left his own ass and returned to the sand for stability. Now he was on all fours, with Sinister right behind him, his bare manhood smacking against the crack of his ass even though he'd told him not to.
“S-stop doing that you piece of shit!" Before he could even get an answer, Sinister's hand left his hair and gripped one of his pecs, and then another hand joined in, starting to grope his man boobs through his clothes.
Mohawk began to moan as he felt his pecs being squeezed so hard, it got worse when those long, flesh-shredding nails tore through the suit and made his tits jump and bounce slightly from the lack of pressure. His nipples were nothing more than victims of the cannibal's filthy fingers.
How was he going to explain to the other Marks about being covered in blood and sand, and his suit being ripped in the chest area? Well, he doubts the first thing he'd do when he saw them was speak, given the circumstances.
He couldn't think about that clearly, though, when he felt sharp teeth digging into his skin, biting and threatening to tear a chunk off.
Mohawk screamed in pain as he watched over his shoulder as his cry excited Sinister, who ground himself harder against his ass, searching for a way to penetrate him. He pulled him even closer to his crotch, and unable to refuse, Mohawk thrust his hips back, seeking more friction.
When the cannibal was certain his teeth were imprinted on the flesh, he let him go, licking the fresh wound with such hunger and fervor. If blood in general was delicious, Mohawk's in particular was a delicacy.
"Aughh..." Mohawk moaned in pain. He never thought the sensation of his skin being abused would turn him on so much.
Sinister began licking Mohawk's face like a dog, attempts at kisses only leaving him dirtier than he initially was.
Sinister aligned himself perfectly with Mohawk's toned ass. He spread his cheeks once more, rubbing his tip dripping against the other man's quivering anus. Those wet muscles opened and closed around nothing, begging for it.
“F-fuck, dude…” Mohawk moaned as he did his best to keep his knees from buckling, though he couldn't help it.
“I need to see you cry all over this fat cock.” Sinister rubbed his manhood, teasing that needy hole once more. “Sobbing, begging.”
“J-just fuck me, you fucking idiot--! A-AH!”
Mohawk was surprised when a thick, veiny cock slid in, much larger than he'd initially thought, and funny considering they both had the same cock, it wasn't something he expected. The air left his lungs, and he simply collapsed to the floor as deep, brutal thrusts pounded into him.
“You’re so tight... I love it... You want it hard?” Sinister moaned as he cupped one of Mohawk’s cheeks with his hands, wanting to see his cock go in and out.
“Yeah... yeah... more... o-oh! F-fuck!” Mohawk’s prostate was simply being abused with breathtaking intensity, but he didn’t seem to care; his ass was taking it all while his upper body lay on the floor, breathing heavily, as if each powerful thrust was knocking the air out of him.
“You want my fucking cum in your fucking ass? You want all this thick, hot cum inside your guts?” Sinister moaned as he ran his hand over Mohawk’s piercings in his Venus dimples, gently touching them. “Say it, whore.”
“Y-yes!” Mohawk moaned breathlessly.
“Say it right! Spell it!”
“I want... I-I want all your hot cum in my fucking guts...!”
This would be humiliating the next day, but not as much as the pain in his legs.
“My fat, superior cock is going to impregnate you, make you a mom. Do you like the sound of that?”
Neither of them thought clearly about his words; Mohawk just moaned for more and squealed as Sinister's brain was completely induced by heat and the primal Viltrumite desire to mate.
As the slapping of skin against skin grew louder, Mohawk's moans turned to mush. Eventually, he stopped saying anything coherent, only moaning and letting out small words that could be interpreted as "please" or "more," though Sinister would have to be very drunk to understand them.
Mowhak wasn't prepared when his own cock spat out a powerful jet of semen that stained his chest and part of his neck due to the angle of his body, leaving him completely sticky.
“SHit!”
Sinister let a growl escape his smiling lips as he felt those wet walls sucking him in, unwilling to let go. His thrusts lost rhythm, driven by raw need, and he finally exploded inside him.
"Don't let a single drop go to waste," Sinister moaned as he fucked his own cum into Mohawk's tight ass.
When his cock finally went numb, Sinister slumped forward onto Mohawk's back. His cock felt too good inside him, so he wouldn't be pulling out anytime soon. They were both breathing heavily, and even though the ache in Mohawk's stomach returned, he chose to ignore it as he glanced at Sinister out of the corner of his eye.
Sinister smiled in a way that Mohawk would have found pleasing if he didn't look positively ghoulish.
“Maybe...” Sinister took a moment to catch his breath. "Maybe I should give you the heart."
Mohawk laughed, considering pushing him to clean himself up. “The gay boy's heart?”
“No, mine.”
“That’s what I said.”