Not Even Here

"AAHHH," The blood curdling sound that came from Xuan Jian's throat, made Xu Feng's tears fall faster. The big man's cries, an ear piercing cry, was like someone died.

Oh. He was dying.

Xu Feng tried once again to drain the remaining seeds in his left hand, but there was nothing left of him. Nothing at all.

He wanted to be more put together for his lovers, but his mind was wandering too far away, too far out of his own reach.

"Take care of our babies." He mumbled low to Xuan Yang. The only one not crying like a banshee.

Xuan Yang glanced at the two eggs, his body still shaking, before he focused back on the silver haired ger. The bed he lay in soaked in his own blood.

Even if Xu Feng's face seemed more serene than ever, more calm, there was no way Xuan Yang could keep the scent of blood out of his nose. It had permeated everything. All he could smell was blood.