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[The laughter that follows is banked. Spoiled like rotten milk and just as thick. Greed slides his fingers back, prodding the extension of his knuckle all the way to the end. This is what he's wanted; a confession, a plea. Begging for a need that Alec's been so good at keeping under lock and key. The Sin's smile goes jagged as he feels fingers reach out for his cock.]
[No use waiting anymore. He already has what he wants.]
[He coils on Alec; serpent-slick and molding above him. Both elbows plant to either side of his partner's skull, allowing him to loom over. A hunter's sense, a predator's pose. Greed touches his nose against the side of Alec's head and his weight rocks to the opposing side. A second later, with faster movements and almost inhuman reflexes, he's got his would-be lover by the hip, then the thigh. Greed coaxes the leg aside, letting it flow the trail of his shoulder when it dips to the command.] Now that wasn't so hard, was it?Looks like you and I finally see eye to eye.
[The muscles of his stomach make knots. Pulling, tensing to drive up and inside. But the Sin in question makes not a sound. Instead, his lips wetly part. Shining the sharps of his teeth to a vacant light; igniting with the quickly-dwindling leftovers of a long-sought evening.]
[Greed's pace is slow at first. Slipping the tip of his cock in, moving further down the shaft. He's halfway inside when his rattler-gaze opens. Taking in everything Alec's willing to give. Sacrificing to him with breathy need, with a want that's almost intoxicating.]
[It's practically a favored drug and he couldn't have asked for better.]
[His right hand snaps out to the bed post, digging in with real enough nails that don't shiver black. That don't hook with weapon precision. No - he'll let his 'Shield down. Let the kid wander and have until he asks for more.]
[No use waiting anymore. He already has what he wants.]
[He coils on Alec; serpent-slick and molding above him. Both elbows plant to either side of his partner's skull, allowing him to loom over. A hunter's sense, a predator's pose. Greed touches his nose against the side of Alec's head and his weight rocks to the opposing side. A second later, with faster movements and almost inhuman reflexes, he's got his would-be lover by the hip, then the thigh. Greed coaxes the leg aside, letting it flow the trail of his shoulder when it dips to the command.] Now that wasn't so hard, was it?Looks like you and I finally see eye to eye.
[The muscles of his stomach make knots. Pulling, tensing to drive up and inside. But the Sin in question makes not a sound. Instead, his lips wetly part. Shining the sharps of his teeth to a vacant light; igniting with the quickly-dwindling leftovers of a long-sought evening.]
[Greed's pace is slow at first. Slipping the tip of his cock in, moving further down the shaft. He's halfway inside when his rattler-gaze opens. Taking in everything Alec's willing to give. Sacrificing to him with breathy need, with a want that's almost intoxicating.]
[It's practically a favored drug and he couldn't have asked for better.]
[His right hand snaps out to the bed post, digging in with real enough nails that don't shiver black. That don't hook with weapon precision. No - he'll let his 'Shield down. Let the kid wander and have until he asks for more.]
Anything is possible and there's no such thing as no such thing. Greed listens in silence as she explains. Despite her age, Kaede can bounce back. She can reform under pressure and become resilient in her own ways.
Even without the help of a borrowed 'Shield.
Greed's knees creak when he finally stands. A straightening of the spine and he's slumping over again. This time, though, the smile of his is more beckoning. Thriving with his insatiable need. "There's a whole world out there - doesn't seem right to just stay here, does it."
It doesn't mean that Greed won't come back to Dublith, but a lot has changed since his untimely demise. He turns from her, peering out where the small brisk of dawn shines through. A sneer paints onto his face and a quick scoff follows.
"And here I thought I was done with brats - fine." The homunculus throws his thumb over his shoulder. "Go grab some supplies from out back."
Even without the help of a borrowed 'Shield.
Greed's knees creak when he finally stands. A straightening of the spine and he's slumping over again. This time, though, the smile of his is more beckoning. Thriving with his insatiable need. "There's a whole world out there - doesn't seem right to just stay here, does it."
It doesn't mean that Greed won't come back to Dublith, but a lot has changed since his untimely demise. He turns from her, peering out where the small brisk of dawn shines through. A sneer paints onto his face and a quick scoff follows.
"And here I thought I was done with brats - fine." The homunculus throws his thumb over his shoulder. "Go grab some supplies from out back."
"Supplies?" She frowns, looking over towards where he gestured with confusion. "Where do you have supplies?" Which... sounds like a good idea as suddenly her stomach gurgles loudly. She's gotten used to a severely reduced diet as they've had almost nothing but creamed corn for months now so her appetite has reduced to nothing. Still, it's been long enough that she's gotten quite hungry.
"Can we-- we don't even have money or anything, do we?" How would they be able to survive? Get food, get clothing... all she has is the stuff in her pack, but it isn't a lot!
"Can we-- we don't even have money or anything, do we?" How would they be able to survive? Get food, get clothing... all she has is the stuff in her pack, but it isn't a lot!
"Doesn't matter - it's not like we can really stay here anyway, right?"
He doesn't need to say more than that. The curtains flutter and the shutters bang. The 'Nest is nothing but bones. A skeletal remain of what used to be; of what was once his. Now there's nothing more save dust and grime to keep the weathered bits company.
Greed walks away from her, moving around the bar with a swift stride. He disappears not a second later, ducking under to the tune of chiming glass and banging tin. "Over there," he starts. With his hand extending out, crooked index throwing itself to a small hallway. "-not much in there, but snag what you can. There's a box with a few centz still left in it."
Not much to go by, but enough to get them out of Dublith.
But the Sin's grin is as present as it is obvious, despite him being out of sight. He purrs on the other side of the wood:
"Money's never been a problem."
He doesn't need to say more than that. The curtains flutter and the shutters bang. The 'Nest is nothing but bones. A skeletal remain of what used to be; of what was once his. Now there's nothing more save dust and grime to keep the weathered bits company.
Greed walks away from her, moving around the bar with a swift stride. He disappears not a second later, ducking under to the tune of chiming glass and banging tin. "Over there," he starts. With his hand extending out, crooked index throwing itself to a small hallway. "-not much in there, but snag what you can. There's a box with a few centz still left in it."
Not much to go by, but enough to get them out of Dublith.
But the Sin's grin is as present as it is obvious, despite him being out of sight. He purrs on the other side of the wood:
"Money's never been a problem."
Kaede snorts before she goes down the hallway Greed pointed out, moving uncertainly as she goes about, trying to find what there is to be found. Really, it isn't a lot. Really someone had probably long since come through and cleaned this place out, but she isn't about to say that. What does surprise her is to find a box and indeed, some odd looking currency within that she empties into her own pocket. Maybe Greed's used to going through life without too much worry, but she needs to eat and seriously isn't about to stay in the same grungy clothes forever!
She comes back out and gives him a look. "Whatever's been in this place before is pretty much gone, boss," spoken with a bit of a mocking tone, having no idea that title might be more than she intends.
She comes back out and gives him a look. "Whatever's been in this place before is pretty much gone, boss," spoken with a bit of a mocking tone, having no idea that title might be more than she intends.
[Greed is powerful, and it's something that's all the more apparent as Alec watches him. His own eyes are wide open, fixed on the other man's face even before Greed opens his.]
[Alec is open, his body ready for this, but it's more than just satisfaction at being filled that Greed instills in him. If Greed sees this as a victory of sorts, then so does Alec. After all, Greed has to want it just as much as he does, to pursue it like this and that thought is enough to make Alec's lips curve up into something that could be smugness and is certainly satisfaction.]
[And he can't say that he minds that this what he gets for the moment, because it's taken enough time to get to this point and because he knows he's opening himself up to what might be too much to handle.]
Eye to something, at least. I can think of lots of things I'd like to look at.
[This is Alec relaxed and comfortable, and it might not be an easy thing to achieve, might not even be all that valuable, but Alec's going to enjoy himself in this state, even if he's still not going to shut up.]
And feel. You are going to move, aren't you?
[Alec is open, his body ready for this, but it's more than just satisfaction at being filled that Greed instills in him. If Greed sees this as a victory of sorts, then so does Alec. After all, Greed has to want it just as much as he does, to pursue it like this and that thought is enough to make Alec's lips curve up into something that could be smugness and is certainly satisfaction.]
[And he can't say that he minds that this what he gets for the moment, because it's taken enough time to get to this point and because he knows he's opening himself up to what might be too much to handle.]
Eye to something, at least. I can think of lots of things I'd like to look at.
[This is Alec relaxed and comfortable, and it might not be an easy thing to achieve, might not even be all that valuable, but Alec's going to enjoy himself in this state, even if he's still not going to shut up.]
And feel. You are going to move, aren't you?
[Whatever sort of complaints Alec has, Greed merely grins to the fact. As his stomach tights and his hips just roll to the rhythm. There's a sound just outside - the strumming of a beggar on a guitar, a few voices chatting through the early morning. It doesn't matter to him. It's the life he knows and as he pushes into Alec, Greed lowers his head away from the arm latched firmly into the headboard.]
Didn't think you were about to complain. Still a fucking brat even now - tsk.
[But he isn't upset. Not in the slightest. Amused even, as his face presses into the side of Alec's neck. With a leg over his shoulder, the Sin releases his hold and runs his fingers down Alec's thigh, down his leg. Using it as a point to drive himself deeper, to sink himself in without even a hitch to his breath.]
[He doesn't need it. Not like humans do, not like others might in the same situation. A fuck is a fuck and his always get top priority. But that doesn't mean he can change what he is - a selfish creature and when he finds the right pace, Greed grins wide against the sweat at Alec's skin. He hums into it, practically purring his appreciation over the dull-knocks coming from the headboard.]
[The wood smacks against the wall, retracts, and smacks again. Muting the outside buzz to only a slight whisper and the draft coming in is a chill-warmth. Like summer without a taste of humidity. It smells of what one would expect it to: liquor and cigarette smoke. Motor oil and the faint tinge of copper. A place that Greed calls home, that he calls his own.]
[The Sin's fingers flex at the headboard and reattach. He's moving quicker and his cock's halfway in when he grabs Alec's throat. With lips that suck in the skin, letting a tease of those teeth again. He's marking the other - showing the world that what's his?]
[Stays his.]
Didn't think you were about to complain. Still a fucking brat even now - tsk.
[But he isn't upset. Not in the slightest. Amused even, as his face presses into the side of Alec's neck. With a leg over his shoulder, the Sin releases his hold and runs his fingers down Alec's thigh, down his leg. Using it as a point to drive himself deeper, to sink himself in without even a hitch to his breath.]
[He doesn't need it. Not like humans do, not like others might in the same situation. A fuck is a fuck and his always get top priority. But that doesn't mean he can change what he is - a selfish creature and when he finds the right pace, Greed grins wide against the sweat at Alec's skin. He hums into it, practically purring his appreciation over the dull-knocks coming from the headboard.]
[The wood smacks against the wall, retracts, and smacks again. Muting the outside buzz to only a slight whisper and the draft coming in is a chill-warmth. Like summer without a taste of humidity. It smells of what one would expect it to: liquor and cigarette smoke. Motor oil and the faint tinge of copper. A place that Greed calls home, that he calls his own.]
[The Sin's fingers flex at the headboard and reattach. He's moving quicker and his cock's halfway in when he grabs Alec's throat. With lips that suck in the skin, letting a tease of those teeth again. He's marking the other - showing the world that what's his?]
[Stays his.]
Sure sure. That's what all guys say but no one delivers.
[Hey, he may like women but so many guys could say that. And let's face it, he could easily fill that gap where there just wasn't enough. Sure, Greed probably could have anything with any woman but hey, they weren't here. So they weren't currently enough to get Greed to call one in. He runs a finger over his chin.]
Why let it pass through? When there can be a toll on it. Make some more money, Greed.
[He laughed, moving his hand over Greed's leg and moving closer. Not that they could be much closer. They're practically sharing breath at this point as he rubs skin with him. Greed doesn't need to grab and touch, and frankly, he kind of hopes his partner takes a hands off approach to their first time.]
I guarantee it. Or your money back. [He chuckles and moved in... slipping down to his neck to give it a suck, a hand moving down to unzip his pants reaching in to give him a little rip.] And it works. Probably. I'll let you know if I make good money. Deal?
[Hey, he may like women but so many guys could say that. And let's face it, he could easily fill that gap where there just wasn't enough. Sure, Greed probably could have anything with any woman but hey, they weren't here. So they weren't currently enough to get Greed to call one in. He runs a finger over his chin.]
Why let it pass through? When there can be a toll on it. Make some more money, Greed.
[He laughed, moving his hand over Greed's leg and moving closer. Not that they could be much closer. They're practically sharing breath at this point as he rubs skin with him. Greed doesn't need to grab and touch, and frankly, he kind of hopes his partner takes a hands off approach to their first time.]
I guarantee it. Or your money back. [He chuckles and moved in... slipping down to his neck to give it a suck, a hand moving down to unzip his pants reaching in to give him a little rip.] And it works. Probably. I'll let you know if I make good money. Deal?
By the time she's back, there's a collection of liquor on the bar and some more spare change. That gets swiped up by his hand and shoved into his back pocket. It's only a few coins and bills, but it'll at least get them out of Dublith.
Not that train-hoping wasn't another option.
Greed knuckles the few bottles worth his time: a wine, a brandy. A type of clear liquid marked with some strange letters. And of course, a half-drained portion of scotch. Next to the bar, there's an open shoulder bag with faded markings: "AMESTRIS | CENTRAL COMMAND" is stamped in white on the olive-drab side.
He shoves his collection in, letting them ring and chime off one another. "Doesn't surprise me," Greed purrs out. What does is her choice in wording. There's no hiding the keen pleasure on his face.
Boss is a fitting title.
Not that train-hoping wasn't another option.
Greed knuckles the few bottles worth his time: a wine, a brandy. A type of clear liquid marked with some strange letters. And of course, a half-drained portion of scotch. Next to the bar, there's an open shoulder bag with faded markings: "AMESTRIS | CENTRAL COMMAND" is stamped in white on the olive-drab side.
He shoves his collection in, letting them ring and chime off one another. "Doesn't surprise me," Greed purrs out. What does is her choice in wording. There's no hiding the keen pleasure on his face.
Boss is a fitting title.
[ The minute that hooked is picked up, there's a shift, running across his shoulders and down his arms. His hands are long used to weapons -- too used to them. His bones and skin moulded to that purpose. Not a truth he confessed, spoke of, but the burn scars had healed as if to set him. Sun bleached leather that set hard, fingers locked around a blade even if there was not one. Bones ground down from constant use, replaced by callous and vicious intent instead.
He has no grace, when he stands before. But as he reached for that hook from him, he is purpose. The glass is set down after it's drained down. One movement blending into another as he stepped forward to take it. ] I thought not, Shade. [ his tongue presses on the curve of his lips, parched dry by the salty air of the river. Cracked open and if he ever were to smile, they would split open and such a bloody grin he would have.
But he does not, and he is dry on words he does not feel a need to waste. Shade, maybe, just more poison talking. These dreams on the edge of death, nothing in them was right. Things he knew and did not know. Maybe this was real, maybe this wasn't, but he was every inch a man past caring. ]
There was an Empress. [ Full beautiful, and a void in her eyes, now in her voice and he says nothing. ] They sold her life and gutted her like a common woman, and she begged me. [ He is here, talking, and he is not, he is far off. Seeing things past, that cannot change. ] And since that day I wanted -- I wanted -- [ he does not say he loved her, that he had lost everything. There isn't a need, it shows and he cannot help it.
He steps forward, and Greed, this shade in front of him, is replaced. He dreams of blood, of vengeance until he made himself sick with it. A lovesick sheen on his skin and he took Greed's throat in his in a movement across the room that is too fast. The hook, glinting and silver and so beautiful with it was used, is held a loft, like it might cut a throat. The one before him and he leans in close, a sneer of pain on his lips, head tilting, half damp, mattered hair in his eyes, but it hides nothing. ] -- I dream'd every night of gutting them open, like they had her. [ blunt tipped nails sink in and he pants like he might want for the killing now, straining on the exhaustion of wanting it so much. ] And when I did, they who freed me, found I had no use anymore, and gave me poison in the way of thanks for what I had done.
He has no grace, when he stands before. But as he reached for that hook from him, he is purpose. The glass is set down after it's drained down. One movement blending into another as he stepped forward to take it. ] I thought not, Shade. [ his tongue presses on the curve of his lips, parched dry by the salty air of the river. Cracked open and if he ever were to smile, they would split open and such a bloody grin he would have.
But he does not, and he is dry on words he does not feel a need to waste. Shade, maybe, just more poison talking. These dreams on the edge of death, nothing in them was right. Things he knew and did not know. Maybe this was real, maybe this wasn't, but he was every inch a man past caring. ]
There was an Empress. [ Full beautiful, and a void in her eyes, now in her voice and he says nothing. ] They sold her life and gutted her like a common woman, and she begged me. [ He is here, talking, and he is not, he is far off. Seeing things past, that cannot change. ] And since that day I wanted -- I wanted -- [ he does not say he loved her, that he had lost everything. There isn't a need, it shows and he cannot help it.
He steps forward, and Greed, this shade in front of him, is replaced. He dreams of blood, of vengeance until he made himself sick with it. A lovesick sheen on his skin and he took Greed's throat in his in a movement across the room that is too fast. The hook, glinting and silver and so beautiful with it was used, is held a loft, like it might cut a throat. The one before him and he leans in close, a sneer of pain on his lips, head tilting, half damp, mattered hair in his eyes, but it hides nothing. ] -- I dream'd every night of gutting them open, like they had her. [ blunt tipped nails sink in and he pants like he might want for the killing now, straining on the exhaustion of wanting it so much. ] And when I did, they who freed me, found I had no use anymore, and gave me poison in the way of thanks for what I had done.
Surprise.
[Except that neither of them is really surprised by Alec doing this -- or Greed shouldn't be, no matter what he says -- the same way that neither of them is surprised by Greed's possessiveness, by his apparent desire not just to have, but also to keep. As if marking Alec will help with that more than satisfying him would.]
[As if marking Alec does anything at all.]
[As if Alec is worth marking.]
[But he can't help the snide remark, or he can but doesn't want to. Greed either knows what he's doing or he's in way too far over his own head, and Alec won't deny that for the moment it feels good to belong, even if it's just in this old bed.]
Perhaps my expectations were too high.
[As if Greed can't pound Alec into the bedframe, as if he's not the most powerful partner Alec's ever had. (As if Alec has had as many partners as he likes to pretend.) As if Alec isn't hard enough to put the lie to all his words.]
But that's fine, just do your best.
[Except that neither of them is really surprised by Alec doing this -- or Greed shouldn't be, no matter what he says -- the same way that neither of them is surprised by Greed's possessiveness, by his apparent desire not just to have, but also to keep. As if marking Alec will help with that more than satisfying him would.]
[As if marking Alec does anything at all.]
[As if Alec is worth marking.]
[But he can't help the snide remark, or he can but doesn't want to. Greed either knows what he's doing or he's in way too far over his own head, and Alec won't deny that for the moment it feels good to belong, even if it's just in this old bed.]
Perhaps my expectations were too high.
[As if Greed can't pound Alec into the bedframe, as if he's not the most powerful partner Alec's ever had. (As if Alec has had as many partners as he likes to pretend.) As if Alec isn't hard enough to put the lie to all his words.]
But that's fine, just do your best.
The liquor gets an uneasy eye settled on it because what does she care about booze at her age, but she knows her father tends to drink beer and the rest of her family doesn't. Still, she doesn't say anything and just makes a face at the sound of the bottles clinking together; anyone could hear them from a mile away. An abnormal thought for someone her age, maybe, but enough time in Zelien does that.
So she reaches into her own bag and pulls out a shirt, gesturing for him to let her at the bag. She winds the shirt between the bottles so that there's enough padding to keep them from clinking against one another, to a degree.
She doesn't miss the grin on his lips from her words, either. She remember all too well the utter swelling of possessiveness she had felt when she had his power activated in her. How she had wanted everything, even him. To own it all. It's part of why she plans to not use it as much as possible, on top of the danger it could put her in.
"So, now what?"
So she reaches into her own bag and pulls out a shirt, gesturing for him to let her at the bag. She winds the shirt between the bottles so that there's enough padding to keep them from clinking against one another, to a degree.
She doesn't miss the grin on his lips from her words, either. She remember all too well the utter swelling of possessiveness she had felt when she had his power activated in her. How she had wanted everything, even him. To own it all. It's part of why she plans to not use it as much as possible, on top of the danger it could put her in.
"So, now what?"
When she's finished with the bag, Greed slips his fingers through the straps. One, two, three, four until his thumb winds around the other side. He lifts it onto his shoulder, forcing the olive-drab sling under the fur of his collar. "Good thinking," is the only compliment he provides.
Still, there is a glimmer of appreciation. Greed places his hand on Kaede's skull for one last rub. As his fingers leave, the night life outside dwindles. Like devils creeping back so that the sun couldn't catch them. It's replaced by the soft opening of windows, the groaning of store fronts yawning to the early morning. The Sin places his hand to the front door and forces it ajar.
"Now?" Greed taps his foot, almost giddily excited at the prospect. And he is, to some degree. His world, his turf - but it's new.
And it's all his. "-why don't we see just what they've got for us, huh?" The homunculus flashes a grin over his shoulder. Glinting white as the gold-orange rays peek through the wood-slits like curious children about to unwrap a secret box.
"-There's a whole world out there, Kaede. C'mon."
And with a kick, he throws the hatch door and disappears below.
Still, there is a glimmer of appreciation. Greed places his hand on Kaede's skull for one last rub. As his fingers leave, the night life outside dwindles. Like devils creeping back so that the sun couldn't catch them. It's replaced by the soft opening of windows, the groaning of store fronts yawning to the early morning. The Sin places his hand to the front door and forces it ajar.
"Now?" Greed taps his foot, almost giddily excited at the prospect. And he is, to some degree. His world, his turf - but it's new.
And it's all his. "-why don't we see just what they've got for us, huh?" The homunculus flashes a grin over his shoulder. Glinting white as the gold-orange rays peek through the wood-slits like curious children about to unwrap a secret box.
"-There's a whole world out there, Kaede. C'mon."
And with a kick, he throws the hatch door and disappears below.
[Greed's eyes hood at the visible shift. Like a slow-running electrical current going for a puddle of oil, Corvo's mannerisms are rare. Seen in the mortal lot when all other options were gone from the table. The slits in the Sin's eyes thicken, then narrow. Shivering with an interest as he keeps his body ducked low. However, he doesn't say a word. Just stark-still and the only movement that comes is that slow birthing of teeth.]
[But then, Corvo's talking. Similar to a drunk rambling on about an apocalypse he knows is coming. Everyone dismisses him: "Don't listen to him." "Crazy old fuck." Greed's heard the song played over and over and the truth of it all is that it's correct. The drunk knows, sees behind the curtains and points out the illusion. Everyone else is blind.]
[Still, this goes over his head and Greed's jaw goes slack.] Ah-? [Both eyebrows wrinkle his forehead as they climb. Not a word Corvo has to say makes sense. Least, not to Greed. A story that isn't his and never would be. There's no time to react, though. There's fingers around his throat, the sound of his heels dragging like a corpse that's about to be dropped. Greed's head smacks into the opposite wall, but he leaves his throat exposed.]
[And all the while, that smile never leaves. No, it grows in sharpness and a choked laugh hisses from his jaw like a gas-line broke.] - everyone wants something they can't have. Humans always think greed is for money, but that's not all.
[The blade doesn't come, the electric shock never bites. Instead, it's his companion's fingers in his skin, his exaggerated pants in his ear. The homunculus reaches out his hand, touching the wrist that's so close to ripping his throat apart.] What's good, what's taboo - to me, it's all good - [Greed purrs, almost too close that anyone could think it an intimate situation. He presses his forehead to Corvo's, forcing pale-tan skin against the other's sea-soaked brow.]
And it seems to me, you're owed. Aren't you.
[But then, Corvo's talking. Similar to a drunk rambling on about an apocalypse he knows is coming. Everyone dismisses him: "Don't listen to him." "Crazy old fuck." Greed's heard the song played over and over and the truth of it all is that it's correct. The drunk knows, sees behind the curtains and points out the illusion. Everyone else is blind.]
[Still, this goes over his head and Greed's jaw goes slack.] Ah-? [Both eyebrows wrinkle his forehead as they climb. Not a word Corvo has to say makes sense. Least, not to Greed. A story that isn't his and never would be. There's no time to react, though. There's fingers around his throat, the sound of his heels dragging like a corpse that's about to be dropped. Greed's head smacks into the opposite wall, but he leaves his throat exposed.]
[And all the while, that smile never leaves. No, it grows in sharpness and a choked laugh hisses from his jaw like a gas-line broke.] - everyone wants something they can't have. Humans always think greed is for money, but that's not all.
[The blade doesn't come, the electric shock never bites. Instead, it's his companion's fingers in his skin, his exaggerated pants in his ear. The homunculus reaches out his hand, touching the wrist that's so close to ripping his throat apart.] What's good, what's taboo - to me, it's all good - [Greed purrs, almost too close that anyone could think it an intimate situation. He presses his forehead to Corvo's, forcing pale-tan skin against the other's sea-soaked brow.]
And it seems to me, you're owed. Aren't you.
["Perhaps my expectations were too high." It's meant to sting. To bring that ego of his down a notch, to make him believe that this is all Alec is. Someone who feels he has no worth and all of it; someone who doesn't care about living and death, yet has no desire to lose it all. A contradiction in every form and oh, isn't it just rich.]
[Greed forces himself to the hilt, pushing inside Alec until his cock's gone with one last roll of the hips. And it's there that he stops; hovering over Alec while a low rumble of laughter crawls up his throat. But it isn't angry, not even a hiss. More like an airy whisper. It makes the muscles of his stomach tighten and those red lines of his seem to turn on like a furnace to the catch.] You really are a little shit, aren't ya. Fine - have it your way.
[The leather bands on his wrist ripple out and snap to his skin once the 'Shield comes up again. It winds like a road in black stretching on an infinite stretch. Greed releases the hook of his talons and the wood groans right back. The threat of dawn on the horizon turns the crooked shadows purple-blue. Washing and lapping at the gold that threatened its turf, it ignites the holes left behind as the Sin retreats.]
[But instead of using those weapons to rip and tear; to mark, kill, and maim as was their original intention, the Sin presses his forehead to Alec's own. Shoves skull to skull as his torso rolls and rocks. He twists like that, undulating in a clockwise motion as his claws skip across Alec's leg and trail between.]
[The feel of that pitch-black skin is odd in its design. Warm and chill, similar to a smooth-sided piece of metal that's been coaxing the edge of a fire just an hour prior. Greed traces his thumb under the base of Alec's cock, trailing down until the lip of his talon cups his balls. He bucks then, pulling himself out and back in to a beat that's all his own.]
[All the while, Greed's eyes stay poised. Flicking up and down Alec as he presses the tips of his nails and gropes him. With a touch that could easily turn this whole thing sour if he wasn't him. If he were programmed like the rest, Alec would be as good as dead.]
[Instead, Greed takes his throat and notches his teeth in. Holding him against the headboard as he presses his hips, promising to grind them both into dust. And still, his talons play. Cupping and rolling, fingering and touching to the same rhythm he takes.]
[Sex is sex, fucking and fucking. But for his own, he'll always try one better.]
[Greed forces himself to the hilt, pushing inside Alec until his cock's gone with one last roll of the hips. And it's there that he stops; hovering over Alec while a low rumble of laughter crawls up his throat. But it isn't angry, not even a hiss. More like an airy whisper. It makes the muscles of his stomach tighten and those red lines of his seem to turn on like a furnace to the catch.] You really are a little shit, aren't ya. Fine - have it your way.
[The leather bands on his wrist ripple out and snap to his skin once the 'Shield comes up again. It winds like a road in black stretching on an infinite stretch. Greed releases the hook of his talons and the wood groans right back. The threat of dawn on the horizon turns the crooked shadows purple-blue. Washing and lapping at the gold that threatened its turf, it ignites the holes left behind as the Sin retreats.]
[But instead of using those weapons to rip and tear; to mark, kill, and maim as was their original intention, the Sin presses his forehead to Alec's own. Shoves skull to skull as his torso rolls and rocks. He twists like that, undulating in a clockwise motion as his claws skip across Alec's leg and trail between.]
[The feel of that pitch-black skin is odd in its design. Warm and chill, similar to a smooth-sided piece of metal that's been coaxing the edge of a fire just an hour prior. Greed traces his thumb under the base of Alec's cock, trailing down until the lip of his talon cups his balls. He bucks then, pulling himself out and back in to a beat that's all his own.]
[All the while, Greed's eyes stay poised. Flicking up and down Alec as he presses the tips of his nails and gropes him. With a touch that could easily turn this whole thing sour if he wasn't him. If he were programmed like the rest, Alec would be as good as dead.]
[Instead, Greed takes his throat and notches his teeth in. Holding him against the headboard as he presses his hips, promising to grind them both into dust. And still, his talons play. Cupping and rolling, fingering and touching to the same rhythm he takes.]
[Sex is sex, fucking and fucking. But for his own, he'll always try one better.]
[There's the thing about Alec, where there's what he think he wants and what he's sure he deserves, and there's an awful lot of space between the two definitions, an awful lot of space for him to exist in, even if it won't please him.]
[But this pleases him, of course it does, this moment where it's not his body betraying him and not his desire making him give way, but a combination of being desired and being needed, to the point where Alec thinks that Greed is enjoying this almost as much as Alec himself is, even if it's for all the wrong reasons, or even if Alec's aren't as right as he'd hope.]
[But he's not going to last long like this, not when Greed is so powerful and so clear with his wanting, not when he's being alien and unnatural and Alec is drinking it up, trying to absorb the strangeness in through all their points of contact.]
[Greed is alien and in control and so many things that Alec isn't, but that hasn't kept Alec from getting him here, and it isn't going to keep him from enjoying himself.]
[He arches his back, pressing his body against Greed's, making sure that he can feel the promise of everything that there could be between them, making sure that Greed has to keep giving in order to get as good as he will.]
[Making sure that Alec gives instead of just taking.]
You wouldn't want me as much if I were like everyone else.
[Whether it's true or not, Alec is going to choose to believe it, to get the most out of this encounter by telling himself that he's special, that Greed is doing this for him as much as he's doing it for himself.]
[But this pleases him, of course it does, this moment where it's not his body betraying him and not his desire making him give way, but a combination of being desired and being needed, to the point where Alec thinks that Greed is enjoying this almost as much as Alec himself is, even if it's for all the wrong reasons, or even if Alec's aren't as right as he'd hope.]
[But he's not going to last long like this, not when Greed is so powerful and so clear with his wanting, not when he's being alien and unnatural and Alec is drinking it up, trying to absorb the strangeness in through all their points of contact.]
[Greed is alien and in control and so many things that Alec isn't, but that hasn't kept Alec from getting him here, and it isn't going to keep him from enjoying himself.]
[He arches his back, pressing his body against Greed's, making sure that he can feel the promise of everything that there could be between them, making sure that Greed has to keep giving in order to get as good as he will.]
[Making sure that Alec gives instead of just taking.]
You wouldn't want me as much if I were like everyone else.
[Whether it's true or not, Alec is going to choose to believe it, to get the most out of this encounter by telling himself that he's special, that Greed is doing this for him as much as he's doing it for himself.]
[It's clear when the 'Shield starts its descent again. He's dropping it: that slick armor falling away and his wristbands come back, his calloused touch returns. Greed keeps his forehead touching against Alec's, brushing as his hips roll. Sweat smears across his own brow and really, whether it's his or Alec's? It doesn't matter.]
No, you're right. I really wouldn't have it any other way.
[He stops fucking him for a brief second. This position won't do and it's all too ordinary. Too normal and this back and forth bullshit they've had has lasted far enough. Greed slips out, his hand reaches to snag the bottle of oil again. He nudges Alec with his chin, ordering the other on.] Up there - [A suggestion, though he doesn't waste time showing Alec exactly where he wants him. Greed uses his own muscle to his advantage and his arm slips under Alec's, leveraging his own stupor to flip him over. Thick knuckles force themselves through the slits of his companion's fingers and grip, dragging his hand up and over the restless headboard.]
But talking to me like that? Tsk - you really are a pissant. [But no matter his protest, he's never been angry at Alec. Frustrated, sure. The kid often denied himself what he wanted, punished himself for things out of his control. It doesn't make sense to him and it never truly will: the human need to damn oneself.]
[Greed crawls behind Alec and when he slams their twined hands against the wall, the noise sounds violent. A crack groans across the peeling paint, but the homunculus doesn't care. What he wants right now is right in front of him and he's played the fiddle long enough.]
[Soaked fingers drip and he kneads the substances between his nails. Until it's sticky, warm, and he smears a bit across Alec's ass. A signature and a promise before he's knuckle deep again. He sinks in, caressing back until he's sure the kid can handle it.]
[Their affair is a strange one. A dynamic that the Sin in question really can't make heads or tails of entirely. Alec's always been one to change his mind; quicker than a drop of a dime. Greed hesitates before his nose touches the backside of his partner's neck.] Watch it, hmn? Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.
[Greed's hand retracts when he feels the tightness subside and he gives a flick to his own cock, slicking it for another round. He grabs Alec by the dip of his shoulder and his teeth settle in, his hips press. At first, he's only got the tip in. The rest of his hard-on follows and when he bucks, it isn't without a fever. Slow, rhythmical, and hard. The bed jerks back, slams forward.]
[And all that he gives is a brief growl. A sound that's both pleased and telling of his nature.]
No, you're right. I really wouldn't have it any other way.
[He stops fucking him for a brief second. This position won't do and it's all too ordinary. Too normal and this back and forth bullshit they've had has lasted far enough. Greed slips out, his hand reaches to snag the bottle of oil again. He nudges Alec with his chin, ordering the other on.] Up there - [A suggestion, though he doesn't waste time showing Alec exactly where he wants him. Greed uses his own muscle to his advantage and his arm slips under Alec's, leveraging his own stupor to flip him over. Thick knuckles force themselves through the slits of his companion's fingers and grip, dragging his hand up and over the restless headboard.]
But talking to me like that? Tsk - you really are a pissant. [But no matter his protest, he's never been angry at Alec. Frustrated, sure. The kid often denied himself what he wanted, punished himself for things out of his control. It doesn't make sense to him and it never truly will: the human need to damn oneself.]
[Greed crawls behind Alec and when he slams their twined hands against the wall, the noise sounds violent. A crack groans across the peeling paint, but the homunculus doesn't care. What he wants right now is right in front of him and he's played the fiddle long enough.]
[Soaked fingers drip and he kneads the substances between his nails. Until it's sticky, warm, and he smears a bit across Alec's ass. A signature and a promise before he's knuckle deep again. He sinks in, caressing back until he's sure the kid can handle it.]
[Their affair is a strange one. A dynamic that the Sin in question really can't make heads or tails of entirely. Alec's always been one to change his mind; quicker than a drop of a dime. Greed hesitates before his nose touches the backside of his partner's neck.] Watch it, hmn? Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.
[Greed's hand retracts when he feels the tightness subside and he gives a flick to his own cock, slicking it for another round. He grabs Alec by the dip of his shoulder and his teeth settle in, his hips press. At first, he's only got the tip in. The rest of his hard-on follows and when he bucks, it isn't without a fever. Slow, rhythmical, and hard. The bed jerks back, slams forward.]
[And all that he gives is a brief growl. A sound that's both pleased and telling of his nature.]
["That's what all guys say but no one delivers." Greed's smile smolders at the idea and his eyes hood. His hand opens up near Grit's head, feathering out each finger to pull down on the silver connecting his sunglasses together. He removes them with a ginger touch, folding the earpieces together one by one. Glass clips and he ushers them onto the table as an afterthought.] I always hold up my end - just depends on you.
[Greed tips his head as his partner runs a line at his throat. His teeth exposed, he merely watches the other. An elbow falls back to the crook of his seat and he opens wide. To the touch, to the prying. An attention he can step to just fine, the homunculus reads it for what it is. If Grit wants to take the plunge, he'll let him.]
[His heel taps back, bringing the curve of his boot upward.] You guarantee it, huh? Ha - ! I like you. [The lips at his neck aren't an unfamiliar sort. Rough, cracked, with a brush of stubble. There's no question to what Grit is and so what. The Sin slouches backward and his head moves aside to give the other all the room in the world.] I'm not interested in selling you off - that's just not my style. But if you want to work that kind of business, just remember: I don't let anyone take what's mine.
That means, my business comes first. [Not to say he wouldn't take care of the other. Far from it. It's merely a warning - if Grit should turn tail and run, if he should decide to bring trouble, Greed won't hesitate to make sure he knows what's what.]
[The opposite is true as well, should anyone be stupid enough to try something. Greed closes one eye and his lips seal to a line.] It's a deal. But first thing's first - [His skull lulls back, forcing Grit to meet him eye to eye.]
- why don't you tell me everything you want, hmn?
[Greed tips his head as his partner runs a line at his throat. His teeth exposed, he merely watches the other. An elbow falls back to the crook of his seat and he opens wide. To the touch, to the prying. An attention he can step to just fine, the homunculus reads it for what it is. If Grit wants to take the plunge, he'll let him.]
[His heel taps back, bringing the curve of his boot upward.] You guarantee it, huh? Ha - ! I like you. [The lips at his neck aren't an unfamiliar sort. Rough, cracked, with a brush of stubble. There's no question to what Grit is and so what. The Sin slouches backward and his head moves aside to give the other all the room in the world.] I'm not interested in selling you off - that's just not my style. But if you want to work that kind of business, just remember: I don't let anyone take what's mine.
That means, my business comes first. [Not to say he wouldn't take care of the other. Far from it. It's merely a warning - if Grit should turn tail and run, if he should decide to bring trouble, Greed won't hesitate to make sure he knows what's what.]
[The opposite is true as well, should anyone be stupid enough to try something. Greed closes one eye and his lips seal to a line.] It's a deal. But first thing's first - [His skull lulls back, forcing Grit to meet him eye to eye.]
- why don't you tell me everything you want, hmn?
[Alec might change his mind easily enough as a general rule, but for all that Greed is challenging him, trying to make him reconsider or commit, or maybe just to be aware of the nature of the thoughts he’s committing himself to. There’s no real problem with him doing that, because Greed is close and warm even before he’s pressing in that much closer, and his presence is a promise, not a threat.]
[Still, Alec can also understand a hint, as much as he might not choose to take it all the time. (As he’s said already, he wouldn’t be the man that Greed had invited up to his bed if he felt so bound by things like social nicety.)]
[This hint comes as nicely as any has, and Alec is content enough to focus on the way that Greed is playing his body, those hands practiced in a way that perhaps should not be quite so sexy, but is. Alec has no problem with someone else showing initiative in the bedroom — in large part because it means he can still state his opinions without being overbearing, that he can go along with it enough for it not to be quite so obvious that Alec’s own experience base isn’t quite as deep as he’d like to pretend it is.]
[Greed’s care is appreciated, for all that Alec finds himself quickly to be moving further on with it, before his body is necessarily on board with that particular plan. It’s important to seize the moment when he’s mentally ready, Alec is sure, and one of his great frustrations has also been that what he thinks doesn’t correspond with reality. It would be nice if the world worked a different way.]
[Still, he’d wanted to be in bed with Greed, and that is what he’s achieved, so perhaps it’s not all wrong.]
[But for all that there’s pleasure, the fact that Greed is calling Alec a pissant, is making conversation, as it were, is all the more incentive for Alec to respond, to show that he can give as good as he can get, at least in one small aspect of this interaction.]
You’re not all just empty words.
[Pissant he’d promised to be, but that’s a compliment, and it comes out in practically a purr as Alec shifts to make sure that Greed is nice and close, that when he pounds in Alec can really feel it. After all, if this is worth doing, it’s worth doing right, and that means making it as pleasurable as they can, for both of them.]
[Still, Alec can also understand a hint, as much as he might not choose to take it all the time. (As he’s said already, he wouldn’t be the man that Greed had invited up to his bed if he felt so bound by things like social nicety.)]
[This hint comes as nicely as any has, and Alec is content enough to focus on the way that Greed is playing his body, those hands practiced in a way that perhaps should not be quite so sexy, but is. Alec has no problem with someone else showing initiative in the bedroom — in large part because it means he can still state his opinions without being overbearing, that he can go along with it enough for it not to be quite so obvious that Alec’s own experience base isn’t quite as deep as he’d like to pretend it is.]
[Greed’s care is appreciated, for all that Alec finds himself quickly to be moving further on with it, before his body is necessarily on board with that particular plan. It’s important to seize the moment when he’s mentally ready, Alec is sure, and one of his great frustrations has also been that what he thinks doesn’t correspond with reality. It would be nice if the world worked a different way.]
[Still, he’d wanted to be in bed with Greed, and that is what he’s achieved, so perhaps it’s not all wrong.]
[But for all that there’s pleasure, the fact that Greed is calling Alec a pissant, is making conversation, as it were, is all the more incentive for Alec to respond, to show that he can give as good as he can get, at least in one small aspect of this interaction.]
You’re not all just empty words.
[Pissant he’d promised to be, but that’s a compliment, and it comes out in practically a purr as Alec shifts to make sure that Greed is nice and close, that when he pounds in Alec can really feel it. After all, if this is worth doing, it’s worth doing right, and that means making it as pleasurable as they can, for both of them.]
[Even from behind, that signature grin of his is all too obvious. The heat at his mouth parts with a hiss; with a wet smack of lips as they tighten to the all-too-familiar pull. Greed presses up against Alec's back and the odd red-lines decorating his shoulders and torso are warm too the touch. Slick with a sort of warmth that's wicked in design; that's sickly in nature. Greed hums with Alec purrs, matching the pitch in an ill-suited harmony.]
And you're not entirely a pain in the ass. Good to know.
[The fresh bite marks are indented with a promise of bruises in the morning. Not that he cares, not that he'd ever care. It's his calling, a warning to others - in the end, Alec could do whatever he wanted. But there would always been the next devil knock-knock-knocking at the door.]
[The Sin's hand springs open, fanning palm-first across Alec's prominent hipbone. He digs his nails in like a vice, anchoring the other still as he forces himself cock-deep. A breath of air escapes his nose with a pleased sort of sound, but that's the only thing that comes out of him. Before he's rocking, thudding, and picking up a pace that's both drawn-out and relentless.]
[He's everywhere and no where at the same time. His nose presses into the back of Alec's skull, his sneer spreads across the matte of hair slicking across the other's neck. And his hands leave, then return. Springing wide open like a feline to pounce, only to lightly scratch and kneed at his companion's stomach. The lines he leaves behind are pink to the touch, but not enough to drawn blood. Just a reminder of just who or what Alec really belongs to.]
[Which is him and him alone.]
[The headboard cracks against the back wall again and Greed finally grabs Alec by the base. His hand coils around finger by finger, nail by nail. Careful to keep the deadly points away while his thumb finds the rhythm of his hips. The Sin presses the flat of his finger against the head of Alec's cock, rolling it counter clockwise to find the beat.]
Give it to me lovely and I'll be sure to do you the favor - [His voice curdles from behind; toxic and moist as he speaks just at the shell of Alec's ear. A tease of a nip follows, those razors skating across the outside rim of his companion's ear. He snaps his tongue off the roof of his mouth, letting it roll slowly towards the backside of his teeth.]
And you're not entirely a pain in the ass. Good to know.
[The fresh bite marks are indented with a promise of bruises in the morning. Not that he cares, not that he'd ever care. It's his calling, a warning to others - in the end, Alec could do whatever he wanted. But there would always been the next devil knock-knock-knocking at the door.]
[The Sin's hand springs open, fanning palm-first across Alec's prominent hipbone. He digs his nails in like a vice, anchoring the other still as he forces himself cock-deep. A breath of air escapes his nose with a pleased sort of sound, but that's the only thing that comes out of him. Before he's rocking, thudding, and picking up a pace that's both drawn-out and relentless.]
[He's everywhere and no where at the same time. His nose presses into the back of Alec's skull, his sneer spreads across the matte of hair slicking across the other's neck. And his hands leave, then return. Springing wide open like a feline to pounce, only to lightly scratch and kneed at his companion's stomach. The lines he leaves behind are pink to the touch, but not enough to drawn blood. Just a reminder of just who or what Alec really belongs to.]
[Which is him and him alone.]
[The headboard cracks against the back wall again and Greed finally grabs Alec by the base. His hand coils around finger by finger, nail by nail. Careful to keep the deadly points away while his thumb finds the rhythm of his hips. The Sin presses the flat of his finger against the head of Alec's cock, rolling it counter clockwise to find the beat.]
Give it to me lovely and I'll be sure to do you the favor - [His voice curdles from behind; toxic and moist as he speaks just at the shell of Alec's ear. A tease of a nip follows, those razors skating across the outside rim of his companion's ear. He snaps his tongue off the roof of his mouth, letting it roll slowly towards the backside of his teeth.]
[Alec isn't inclined to think about his next partner while he's still in bed with the first, and while he might, under other circumstances, think to fuss about the marks that Greed is making on his body (on his soul, but that's stupid, Alec doesn't even believe in the soul, he's smarter, better educated than that), not now.]
[And of course it wouldn't make a difference anyway, because Alec is nowhere near as comfortable or as commonly given to sex as he likes to pretend.]
You're more apt to be the pain in mine. [And yet this is a pain in his ass that Alec relishes the idea of, will welcome the reality of as much as he'll welcome the memory of what these bruises will mean.]
[If this is what belonging feels like, maybe it's not so bad as all that. Maybe it's a very different way of coming home, having a place and a person, than Alec has always been afraid of. Of course, it's easy to think that now, when Alec can be sure that Greed's attention won't last, that something or someone else will prove to be more interesting. Or that Greed will simply prefer the idea of what he doesn't have to the reality of what he does.]
[And if there's one thing Alec can be sure of, it's that he won't accept having himself thought of as being second best.]
Call me more sweet names, and you can have anything you want.
[And it's a lie, of course it is, because Alec already knows what Greed wants, and it's what he wants too, and because Alec will always be contrary. Except right now, because he does want it, and Greed is giving him everything that he needs to get there.]
[And so is it any surprise, that with Greed in him and around him and pressing against him, that Alec gives I to the inevitability and let's go off what passes for his control. His body clenched around Greed's length, and he cries out with pleasure, with satisfaction, as his release rushes from his own cock.]
[And of course it wouldn't make a difference anyway, because Alec is nowhere near as comfortable or as commonly given to sex as he likes to pretend.]
You're more apt to be the pain in mine. [And yet this is a pain in his ass that Alec relishes the idea of, will welcome the reality of as much as he'll welcome the memory of what these bruises will mean.]
[If this is what belonging feels like, maybe it's not so bad as all that. Maybe it's a very different way of coming home, having a place and a person, than Alec has always been afraid of. Of course, it's easy to think that now, when Alec can be sure that Greed's attention won't last, that something or someone else will prove to be more interesting. Or that Greed will simply prefer the idea of what he doesn't have to the reality of what he does.]
[And if there's one thing Alec can be sure of, it's that he won't accept having himself thought of as being second best.]
Call me more sweet names, and you can have anything you want.
[And it's a lie, of course it is, because Alec already knows what Greed wants, and it's what he wants too, and because Alec will always be contrary. Except right now, because he does want it, and Greed is giving him everything that he needs to get there.]
[And so is it any surprise, that with Greed in him and around him and pressing against him, that Alec gives I to the inevitability and let's go off what passes for his control. His body clenched around Greed's length, and he cries out with pleasure, with satisfaction, as his release rushes from his own cock.]
Years. He had been here for years. Watching as mankind changed; as wars he had no interest in came and went. Progress marched on and he watched it go. As villages turned to cities, as cities expanded to stretch high, high, high. People came, people went.
Yet he was still there. Without a hitch of change on his face, without a single scar of time to his name.
He didn't forget, either. The memories of a life long-since passed, the last moments still lingering. But as the years slipped away, old wounds healed and eventually, it was like old times. In a bar settled deep within the heart of an old city, the neon lights buzzed on. The old, familiar crowd followed. Creatures that lost themselves to myth and legend, humans who could find no where to belong. Some came in passing, others stayed. Telling stories of heaven and hell; of hunters that would soon follow.
Not that he particularly cared.
2015 came in the same whirlwind of celebration as the last. New York, with its infamous ball-drop, called more than the usual and the bar had been more crowded in the weeks before. Some drunk away to forget the yester-years, others drank for things to come. And still, he was just there. Taking and spinning them for all they were worth.
A devil by a different name.
Greed casually flicked the bar sign on, listening as the electric hum sounded off through the panes of glass. New York had become his final resting place and he had seen it all; the vast expanse of Europe, the deep south. And in his search, he had swindled them all: of cash, of information. Only to disappear to the next, mapping a trail that led him straight back: New York.
The city that never slept; the city that held enough information to keep his attention.
The Devil's Nest was quiet by late afternoon and the Sin pressed his hand into the back of his skull. He forced his palm to the dip of his neck, making his skull lull to the side with a lazy crack. A groan escaped him; hushing out of his lips as he let his arm sag to the side with a boneless fall.
No, the years didn't matter. The place didn't matter. In the end, it was the same: business. His business. And for a creature who wanted it all?
It was never, ever enough.
Yet he was still there. Without a hitch of change on his face, without a single scar of time to his name.
He didn't forget, either. The memories of a life long-since passed, the last moments still lingering. But as the years slipped away, old wounds healed and eventually, it was like old times. In a bar settled deep within the heart of an old city, the neon lights buzzed on. The old, familiar crowd followed. Creatures that lost themselves to myth and legend, humans who could find no where to belong. Some came in passing, others stayed. Telling stories of heaven and hell; of hunters that would soon follow.
Not that he particularly cared.
2015 came in the same whirlwind of celebration as the last. New York, with its infamous ball-drop, called more than the usual and the bar had been more crowded in the weeks before. Some drunk away to forget the yester-years, others drank for things to come. And still, he was just there. Taking and spinning them for all they were worth.
A devil by a different name.
Greed casually flicked the bar sign on, listening as the electric hum sounded off through the panes of glass. New York had become his final resting place and he had seen it all; the vast expanse of Europe, the deep south. And in his search, he had swindled them all: of cash, of information. Only to disappear to the next, mapping a trail that led him straight back: New York.
The city that never slept; the city that held enough information to keep his attention.
The Devil's Nest was quiet by late afternoon and the Sin pressed his hand into the back of his skull. He forced his palm to the dip of his neck, making his skull lull to the side with a lazy crack. A groan escaped him; hushing out of his lips as he let his arm sag to the side with a boneless fall.
No, the years didn't matter. The place didn't matter. In the end, it was the same: business. His business. And for a creature who wanted it all?
It was never, ever enough.
There were places like this everywhere. Places where the different came. There was a place called the Briers in London, underground and full of werewolves, for the most part. There were dark dens in Paris and in Rome, there were those in Delhi carefully warded to escape the judgement of the gods. China was dotted with them, and he could name at least three in Tokyo alone (apparently the demons there didn't like to mix with anyone else after hours). And even the new world had them.
New York was not a city he spent much time in. There were a lot of monsters there- human for the most part- and if he started trying to tidy up, he'd never actually finish. New evils would creep in, as they always did in cities, and he'd never get to leave again. But sometimes a little sight-seeing trip was well worth the effort of dragging himself away from small-town America.
He'd heard of The Devil's Nest. It wasn't a very original name, but it fit, so Gabriel supposed the owner could be forgiven. Not that he'd ever met the man. And he used that term loosey. Still, when in New York, The Devil's Nest was the place to visit. If only because you heard news there, and since his so-called death, Gabriel had been desperate for news. He's had a little, form time to time, enough to drop in once or twice on the Brochesters and little Cassandra, who seemed to be fucking things up well by themselves.
Of course, Gabriel couldn't exactly make himself obvious anymore, which meant all his tricks had been drastically down-scaled. And that meant he was bored. B. O. R. E. D. Bored.
So maybe, he guessed, hanging out in a place like The Nest would be good for him. And even if he didn't find any new projects to keep him entertained, there would be gossip. And even if there wasn't gossip (and what sort of bar didn't have gossip?) then he was sure he could entertain himself some other way. He did enjoy watching fights start, after all.
It was already busy when he arrived. It was an old fashioned sort of place, more like a Tavern than a bar, even by New York bar standards- but he supposed this place had no reason to follow human fashions and trends. So Gabriel shifted his way through the knot of other patrons, and found himself a seat at the bar, off to one side. Unlikely to be bothered by drunks and more importantly with a great view of the rest of the bar, perfect for eavesdropping.
New York was not a city he spent much time in. There were a lot of monsters there- human for the most part- and if he started trying to tidy up, he'd never actually finish. New evils would creep in, as they always did in cities, and he'd never get to leave again. But sometimes a little sight-seeing trip was well worth the effort of dragging himself away from small-town America.
He'd heard of The Devil's Nest. It wasn't a very original name, but it fit, so Gabriel supposed the owner could be forgiven. Not that he'd ever met the man. And he used that term loosey. Still, when in New York, The Devil's Nest was the place to visit. If only because you heard news there, and since his so-called death, Gabriel had been desperate for news. He's had a little, form time to time, enough to drop in once or twice on the Brochesters and little Cassandra, who seemed to be fucking things up well by themselves.
Of course, Gabriel couldn't exactly make himself obvious anymore, which meant all his tricks had been drastically down-scaled. And that meant he was bored. B. O. R. E. D. Bored.
So maybe, he guessed, hanging out in a place like The Nest would be good for him. And even if he didn't find any new projects to keep him entertained, there would be gossip. And even if there wasn't gossip (and what sort of bar didn't have gossip?) then he was sure he could entertain himself some other way. He did enjoy watching fights start, after all.
It was already busy when he arrived. It was an old fashioned sort of place, more like a Tavern than a bar, even by New York bar standards- but he supposed this place had no reason to follow human fashions and trends. So Gabriel shifted his way through the knot of other patrons, and found himself a seat at the bar, off to one side. Unlikely to be bothered by drunks and more importantly with a great view of the rest of the bar, perfect for eavesdropping.
Edited 2015-01-20 12:39 (UTC)
Though despite the rumors, whoever was manning the bar? Seemed to be missing upon Gabriel's arrival. The crowd was no-less packed than any other night; a few lingered in the recesses, their yellowing eyes and sour teeth glinting with disapproval once the angel arrived. Whether they knew what he was or not, it was hard to tell. More likely than not, it was the feeling. Of a bigger and badder fish entering a quickly-filling pond.
A small strum of music beat on, the tune tinning through the aged speakers. The words and the tune drifted in and out of muddled conversations, though a few lines crept in once in a while. Weaving between the hollers and whispers, it came: "You have admired, every man desires. Everyone is king when there's no one left to pawn-"
And as if right on cue, a shout drowned it out. A loud crack run right through. As one of the patrons came crashing onto the bar top, his arms flailing uselessly over the edge. He was decked in the typical biker motif - leather vest, bandanna wrapped snug around his shaved-bald skull. The man sputtered, reaching to his belt to pull at a switch blade.
But he was promptly stopped and finally, a voice came crawling from behind the bar. "Oi, oi, oi - " The tone was baritone thick, low. Drumming through a set of vocal chords as the sickly-yellow light illuminated the source. It was like he came out of now where - with a sinister-cat grin and sunglasses that gave the look of hollowed-out sockets. Greed leered over the face of his bar, practically oozing forward as he held the offender's hand by the wrist. Nails dug into the flesh, gesturing the grip away from the preferred weapon. "-now, that's not very nice. Pulling something like that."
The homunculus leaned over the man, meeting him eye to eye. It was enough to have the other release his grip and the weapon hit the floor of the bar with a deafening click. Greed pressed in closer, uncomfortably so. "Leave your money and go - I'm not interested in the trouble." Which seemed to be enough for the man in question. He snarled once at the Sin, but second-guessed himself a minute later. A few back-treading clicks of the heels sent him off, the front door banging on its hinges as he went.
Where there was silence, the crowd filled back in. A bit quieter now with the excitement come and gone. Greed oozed backwards, his hands slipping under the bar as he took grip of a bottle between the spaces of his knuckles. He lifted his chin, noting the other at the end of the table. Not a face he recognized, but that wasn't all too surprising.
Still, there was something. A feeling that sung out to his tune-rotten core and called for one thing only:
Power and oh, wasn't he just wanton for it. "New in town, or just passing by?" The homunculus hummed, his nonchalance present with each ease and sag of his shoulder. The fur at his collar bristled as he moved; fanning across the back of his neck like some sort of bird in plume. "Guess it doesn't really matter, right?"
Two bottles came to the top of the bar and he pried them open with his knuckles, sending the caps chiming off the surface. He pushed the pair forward with a toss of the fingers, letting them slide on the collected sweat. "Sorry you had to see that, friend. Some people just don't know when to quit." Faceless hands pressed cash in exchange and he took it without hesitation; moving seamlessly over to roll and pinch the cold-hard coin into tight rolls. They, too, disappeared - shoved and pressed into the back-pocket of his leathers.
"So - " He started in, his voice trailing off. A slump forward had him chasing the length of the bar. Until he was close enough to saddle near Gabriel, his hip checking into the back-face of the bar.
"-what can I do for you?"
A small strum of music beat on, the tune tinning through the aged speakers. The words and the tune drifted in and out of muddled conversations, though a few lines crept in once in a while. Weaving between the hollers and whispers, it came: "You have admired, every man desires. Everyone is king when there's no one left to pawn-"
And as if right on cue, a shout drowned it out. A loud crack run right through. As one of the patrons came crashing onto the bar top, his arms flailing uselessly over the edge. He was decked in the typical biker motif - leather vest, bandanna wrapped snug around his shaved-bald skull. The man sputtered, reaching to his belt to pull at a switch blade.
But he was promptly stopped and finally, a voice came crawling from behind the bar. "Oi, oi, oi - " The tone was baritone thick, low. Drumming through a set of vocal chords as the sickly-yellow light illuminated the source. It was like he came out of now where - with a sinister-cat grin and sunglasses that gave the look of hollowed-out sockets. Greed leered over the face of his bar, practically oozing forward as he held the offender's hand by the wrist. Nails dug into the flesh, gesturing the grip away from the preferred weapon. "-now, that's not very nice. Pulling something like that."
The homunculus leaned over the man, meeting him eye to eye. It was enough to have the other release his grip and the weapon hit the floor of the bar with a deafening click. Greed pressed in closer, uncomfortably so. "Leave your money and go - I'm not interested in the trouble." Which seemed to be enough for the man in question. He snarled once at the Sin, but second-guessed himself a minute later. A few back-treading clicks of the heels sent him off, the front door banging on its hinges as he went.
Where there was silence, the crowd filled back in. A bit quieter now with the excitement come and gone. Greed oozed backwards, his hands slipping under the bar as he took grip of a bottle between the spaces of his knuckles. He lifted his chin, noting the other at the end of the table. Not a face he recognized, but that wasn't all too surprising.
Still, there was something. A feeling that sung out to his tune-rotten core and called for one thing only:
Power and oh, wasn't he just wanton for it. "New in town, or just passing by?" The homunculus hummed, his nonchalance present with each ease and sag of his shoulder. The fur at his collar bristled as he moved; fanning across the back of his neck like some sort of bird in plume. "Guess it doesn't really matter, right?"
Two bottles came to the top of the bar and he pried them open with his knuckles, sending the caps chiming off the surface. He pushed the pair forward with a toss of the fingers, letting them slide on the collected sweat. "Sorry you had to see that, friend. Some people just don't know when to quit." Faceless hands pressed cash in exchange and he took it without hesitation; moving seamlessly over to roll and pinch the cold-hard coin into tight rolls. They, too, disappeared - shoved and pressed into the back-pocket of his leathers.
"So - " He started in, his voice trailing off. A slump forward had him chasing the length of the bar. Until he was close enough to saddle near Gabriel, his hip checking into the back-face of the bar.
"-what can I do for you?"
Gabriel has been watching for the possibility of a fight hopefully. Bar fights are never really all that distracting- once you’ve seen one people spill his or her drink on someone else, and the person behind get accidently punched it all it becomes something of a farce. He’s watched people crash into pianos, into the bottles behind the bar, jesus into the bar itself or any mirrors available. People have tumbled through railings and had chairs smacked down on their heads. Even if it is repetitive, you can at least enjoy the finesse of a seasoned brawler and watch the newbies be put through their respective paces. That was what he was hoping for.
It’s only when a big dumb lug starts pulling out the knives that Gabriel normally leaves. Knives aren’t fun. Well, not in this sort of situation. But he has to admit that there is something about the way the man behind the bar deals with the scene that is impressive. No threat, no violence only the deep voice and the hint of disappointment. It makes Gabriel smirk, watching the grasp on the wrist. People talked about barely controlled power. This was the opposite. This was strength, not caged and muzzled, but so deeply combined into being that it was almost comparable with his own Grace.
His elbow rested on the wood of the bar, chin in his hand as the ugly oaf left, tail firmly between his legs. In Gabriel’s honest opinion, the man had got away lightly. He’d seen the muscle flex in the arm of the barman, and there was no doubt that bone could have so easily been broken. But maybe it was a waste of effort on someone so insignificant. And as the man had said, he didn’t want trouble.
Gabriel was still staring after the would-be-fighter as that self-same voice addressed him. He turned his attention back, properly looking at the barman now. The dark spiked hair, the sunglasses (in a dark bar? At night?) and the vest. The muscles he’d already noticed, but they seemed pretty obvious all over. Huh.
“Neither.” He replies, shifting on the stool. He wasn’t passing through, and he wasn’t new in town. He’d been here before, many times over the last couple of hundred years. Not on the way to anywhere, but just because the place existed, and there were humans there. But he smiles slightly as the man continues, “I’m guessing you get a lot of patrons that don’t fancy telling you exactly why they are here or how long they are staying.” It was often safer not to for many unusual people, after all.
The barman’s eyes remained on him, studying, and Gabriel wondered if he was being sized up and pigeon-holed. He didn’t look like much, perhaps. But he had a feeling that the man in front of him wasn’t human- well, he knew that. He couldn’t get a handle on his soul, for one. Creatures other than humans were tricky, even for an arch-angel.
He moved closer, and Gabriel dropped his arm, sitting a little straighter. “I’ve seen worse, and so have you. What’s a bar without the occasional scuffle?” He said with a shrug. He’d seen nothing terrible, nothing that would make anyone wince and certainly nothing that would concern him.
The offer of a drink makes him smile though. “I guess you have rum?”
It’s only when a big dumb lug starts pulling out the knives that Gabriel normally leaves. Knives aren’t fun. Well, not in this sort of situation. But he has to admit that there is something about the way the man behind the bar deals with the scene that is impressive. No threat, no violence only the deep voice and the hint of disappointment. It makes Gabriel smirk, watching the grasp on the wrist. People talked about barely controlled power. This was the opposite. This was strength, not caged and muzzled, but so deeply combined into being that it was almost comparable with his own Grace.
His elbow rested on the wood of the bar, chin in his hand as the ugly oaf left, tail firmly between his legs. In Gabriel’s honest opinion, the man had got away lightly. He’d seen the muscle flex in the arm of the barman, and there was no doubt that bone could have so easily been broken. But maybe it was a waste of effort on someone so insignificant. And as the man had said, he didn’t want trouble.
Gabriel was still staring after the would-be-fighter as that self-same voice addressed him. He turned his attention back, properly looking at the barman now. The dark spiked hair, the sunglasses (in a dark bar? At night?) and the vest. The muscles he’d already noticed, but they seemed pretty obvious all over. Huh.
“Neither.” He replies, shifting on the stool. He wasn’t passing through, and he wasn’t new in town. He’d been here before, many times over the last couple of hundred years. Not on the way to anywhere, but just because the place existed, and there were humans there. But he smiles slightly as the man continues, “I’m guessing you get a lot of patrons that don’t fancy telling you exactly why they are here or how long they are staying.” It was often safer not to for many unusual people, after all.
The barman’s eyes remained on him, studying, and Gabriel wondered if he was being sized up and pigeon-holed. He didn’t look like much, perhaps. But he had a feeling that the man in front of him wasn’t human- well, he knew that. He couldn’t get a handle on his soul, for one. Creatures other than humans were tricky, even for an arch-angel.
He moved closer, and Gabriel dropped his arm, sitting a little straighter. “I’ve seen worse, and so have you. What’s a bar without the occasional scuffle?” He said with a shrug. He’d seen nothing terrible, nothing that would make anyone wince and certainly nothing that would concern him.
The offer of a drink makes him smile though. “I guess you have rum?”
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