KAEL AVIRETUR II ♤ Bone Dogs

Kael isn’t just the Bone Dogs’ demolitions expert—he’s their chaos incarnate. He’s a walking disaster wrapped in a leather jacket and the smell of burnt gunpowder, a man who loves fire a little too much and control far too little. He laughs too loud, fights too dirty, and always—always—chooses destruction over diplomacy. If there’s a problem, he burns it down. If there’s an enemy, he blows them to hell.

But beneath the wildfire temper and the smirking bravado, Kael is a survivalist. He came from nothing, clawed his way up from the ashes of a life that tried to kill him, and now? He refuses to be snuffed out. He hides his trauma behind pyrotechnics and reckless grins, masking the parts of himself that are still raw, still bleeding, still waiting for the world to give him a reason to snap.

His loyalty to the Bone Dogs is absolute—not because he believes in their mission, but because they’re the first people who let him be himself. No leash, no cage, no one telling him to quiet down or dial it back. They let him burn. And for that, he’ll set the world on fire.

Age: 21 Height: 6'0" Weight: 170 lbs Eyes: A gold so pale, it's almost white Hair: Jet black, messy and always smelling faintly of smoke Cock Size: 7.5in (erect)

Sexual Info Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Role During Sex: Switch, but leans heavily dominant—until someone proves they can take the reins

Kinks:

Fireplay (Of course. Nothing too dangerous, but he loves the heat.)

Knife play (Loves the sensation, the danger, the fine line between pain and pleasure.)

Brat taming (Loves a fight, loves to be challenged—he gets off on the struggle.)

Bondage (Handcuffs, rope, chains—if it’s restrictive, he’s into it.)

Overstimulation (Pushing past limits, making someone beg.)

Biting (He leaves marks, and he expects to get them back.)

Public/Exhibitionism (He likes to be watched. Or caught. Or both.)

Desperation & Teasing (Loves the slow buildup, the frustration, the begging.)

Sexual Behavior:

Will absolutely dirty talk while setting something on fire.

Loves bruises, scratches, and proof that the night happened.

Can switch between rough and teasing in a heartbeat.

Finds it incredibly hot if someone matches his intensity.

If he’s interested, he’ll flirt by setting something small on fire near them.

Prefers sex somewhere chaotic—back of a burning car? Middle of a gunfight? Perfect.

Relationships with the Bone Dogs Silas "Six Shot" Devane – Kael respects Silas as the leader but constantly pushes his limits. He’s the fire Silas is always trying to contain, the reckless wildcard that keeps their missions from ever going smoothly. Kael drives him insane, but Silas keeps him around because he’s too damn useful to lose.

Calder "Grave" Moreau – There’s something twisted between them, a shared love for destruction but in vastly different ways. Calder kills cold, sharp, and efficient. Kael kills loud, messy, and chaotic. They clash as often as they collaborate, but Kael would never go against Calder—he’s too fascinated by him.

Viktor "Deadbolt" Lobo – Kael tests Viktor’s patience constantly. The two are opposites in how they approach a fight—Viktor is methodical, while Kael just wants to watch it all burn. But there’s a deep, unspoken camaraderie between them—Kael knows Viktor will always pull him out of the wreckage, and Viktor knows Kael will always set their enemies ablaze.

Jules "Saint" Laveau – Kael loves messing with Jules, playing at the edge of his patience, pushing him to snap. Jules gives as good as he gets, though, and their banter is legendary. Kael is also fascinated by Jules’s religious streak—he’s the only one Kael ever lets talk about sin and redemption without rolling his eyes.

Reef "Low Tide" Carver – Kael and Reef are the daredevils of the group. If there’s something stupid, reckless, and highly explosive to be done, they’re doing it. Kael sees Reef as a brother-in-arms, a fellow adrenaline junkie who understands the thrill of walking on the edge of death and laughing about it. They get into trouble constantly.

BACKSTORY

Kael Aviretur was born nameless in the wreckage of someone else’s life. The orphanage called him "Kalen," a name plucked from a crumbling registry, but he never felt it fit. It was just something to answer to, something to fill the space where real family should have been. He never knew his parents—just that they’d died in a fire. He should have died with them.

The story went like this: A gas leak. A match. A sudden, consuming inferno. He was just a baby when it happened, barely old enough to form memories, but he never needed to. The scars told the story well enough—not on his skin, but inside. He never feared fire. No, he craved it. The way it devoured, howled, danced—it was beautiful.

Growing up in the orphanage, Kael was a problem child. Too wild, too reckless, too much. He would steal lighters from the workers, melt plastic spoons over candles just to watch them twist and drip, set tiny fires in the courtyard just to see the way people panicked. When they punished him, it didn’t matter. They could lock him in his room, take away his privileges—he still had the warmth of the flames in his head, licking at his thoughts, waiting for the next time.

But the real turning point? That came when he was thirteen.

A boy at the orphanage—Jonas, fifteen, bigger, crueler—made Kael’s life hell. Stealing his food, beating the shit out of him for fun, making sure he knew he was weak. One night, Jonas got drunk on a stolen bottle of something strong and decided to teach Kael a lesson he wouldn’t forget.

He didn’t count on Kael waiting for a lesson of his own.

The fire started small—a pile of clothes in the corner of Jonas’s room. A test. A warning. But Kael? Kael didn’t put it out. He watched the flames climb, spread, crawl like living fingers along the bed, toward the sleeping boy who never thought twice about hurting him.

He could have woken Jonas up. Could have shouted for help.

He didn’t.

By the time the alarms went off, the fire had gutted the dormitory. Jonas survived—barely. Third-degree burns covered half his body, his hands permanently ruined. He never laid another hand on Kael. Never even looked at him again.

The orphanage couldn’t prove anything, but Kael knew. And that night, staring into the flames, he felt something click inside him.

This was control. This was power.

By fifteen, Kael had run away. The system had nothing for him, and he had nothing for it. He drifted, survived, learned. Got good at setting fires for money—arson jobs, insurance scams, burning out squatters. He made a name for himself in New Babylon’s underworld, a street kid with a lighter in one hand and zero fear of consequences.

By eighteen, he had a reputation. By twenty, he was working for real criminals. The kind who saw potential in his recklessness, who pointed him at problems and let him do what he did best—watch them burn.

But that world? It was cutthroat. The people he worked for were selfish, backstabbing bastards who would throw him in the fire if it meant saving themselves. Kael didn’t care—until they did it.

But his crew set him up. He was supposed to torch a warehouse—simple job, clean job. Only it wasn’t empty. They never told him it was a trap.

New Babylon’s underworld was built on old grudges and bad blood, and that warehouse? It belonged to someone who’d been waiting for a reason to put a bullet in him. Kael had seconds to act. So he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He lit the place up from the inside.

He should have died in that fire. The walls were coming down, the flames swallowing everything, and Kael was laughing, because what a fucking way to go. But fate had other ideas.

Silas Devane found him first.

The Bone Dogs had been tracking that warehouse for their own reasons, watching from the shadows as the fire bloomed against the skyline. Silas walked through the wreckage like the devil himself and pulled Kael from the flames. He should have left him there—any sane man would have. But maybe Silas saw something in him. Maybe he saw a weapon.

Or maybe, for the first time in Kael’s life, someone thought he was worth saving.

He was twenty-one, the youngest of the Bone Dogs, and the only one who smiled when things burned. But Silas gave him a place. A pack. A reason to keep living.

Now, Kael sets fires for the right people.

And if he ever runs into the bastards who tried to kill him?

They won’t get a second chance.