(Absolutely a scratcher, and Feitan will take no responsibility for any injuries that might happen against this bathroom wall - they'll probably leave in a worse state than they were when they first arrived. He doesn't bother with aura to cushion the impact, even when he hears the clicking and crashing of a tile against the floor. To get Feitan like this is rarer than Squalo can imagine, so there really isn't any doubts lurking in his mind - only the desire to be with this absurdly tall psychopath, to his own confusion. Well, he can dwell on that later. For now, he's too busy squeezing the man between his legs, heel pressing on the small of Squalo's back as encouragement while he feels the touch against his stomach.
Don't leave him wanting it. Feitan himself is not one to ask with words, but his entire body is melting under Squalo's touch, from the moan that leaves his lips between starved, angry kissing all the way to how his hips chase the hand that politely awaits for his approval. His brain works overtime to find a way to piece a sentence together, but he's not very coherent at the moment, if he is ever. Feitan'll let his actions do the talking.)
[ Well, looks like he won the prize indeed. And the prize is ass. ]
[ There's no need for talking, not really. That tightening grip is as much of an encouragement as Squalo needs, and he proceeds to roughly shove the fabric out of the way. He won't bother to roll those pants too far down, maybe to mid-thigh or whatever seems to be the perfect balance between accessible and comfortable. Likewise, the dress will be hoisted up in the front, but the rest can hang freely as long as it's not getting in the way. ]
[ Squalo presses closer, so he can wrap his hand around both their dicks and start grinding shamelessly to get them started. Like everything else they've been up to, it's violent and borderline painful. There's probably blood making its way there too. Gross. ]
[ On the bright side, considering they're in the seedy bathroom of a torture sex dungeon (who said romance is dead), there's probably some kind of lube dispenser within reach, so things will get smoother in a moment. ]
[ He breaks the angry kissing to breathe, then leans back in, kissing down the side of Feitan's neck, pushing that bandanna down as he goes. And then he sinks his teeth in, a little revenge for the scratches, though he'd probably do it anyway because he just enjoys it, and there's nothing like a little pain to go with the pleasure. ]
(Feitan does wear too much fabric, considering that his entire body is covered at all times. The dress is long, the bandana only leaves his eyes and nose at best, and it's the first time that he wishes he was wearing something a tad less tricky to deal with, like the white shirt and slacks he had on when they first met and did not immediately hit it off at all.
Huh. Good that opinions can change, even if they seldom do.
Feitan doesn't bother helping with the whole undressing part when it seems like Squalo has already figured it out when the thought mildly occurs to him - he was busy, moaning against the man's mouth and focusing all his will not to grind hips against the other's, at least not yet. With Squalo's hand working on both of them, there's no way Feitan is stopping him to remove his shirt, but he can at least pull it till it falls to his bent forearms to give him access to Squalo's back. His control finally is disregarded and shattered and he does his best to move with the other, his thighs squeezing whenever the pleasure hits a higher note.
Now it's where the claws come off, because the friction of their cocks, painful and just too goddamn delightful, paired with the pointy teeth puncturing pale skin has him skinning Squalo instead, merciless and unforgiving as they slide down the man's back.
It's been a while since he's done this, and who would have thought Feitan was this vocal? It's surprising him, too.)
[ To be fair, Squalo's pretty overdressed for Hell most of the time too. Except he favors leather, so it's still somewhat thematically appropriate. Luckily he didn't bother with the coat today, which makes things easier... or worse. Maybe it would have protected him from those claws. Oh well. ]
[ Good thing that opinions can change, indeed. And all it took was goring a third party a little bit. The perfect teambuilding exercise. ]
[ The sting of the claws is dulled by adrenaline, desire, and the all-encompassing stench of blood on them both, but it does still hurt. Squalo growls and bites more harshly, breaking skin this time. The little fucker wants to play rough? Well, so be it. ]
[ He keeps up with the fondling until they're both nice and hard (though he's definitely more concerned about himself), then moves his hand away to get more of that probably not demonic and totally safe to use lube, making sure to still move his hips to maintain some stimulation in the meantime. And then he's going for the back door. Slick fingers trace up Feitan's thigh, over his ass, and poke around for the entrance, sinking in at the same time as sharky teeth sink into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Well, he asked for this. ]
(Squalo can go to town with marking Feitan, considering that a. he doesn't give a fuck about it being apparent, and b. his bandana is going to cover the shark bite entirely either way. He knows the other has drawn blood and so has he, by the warmness dripping and gliding across his neck into his collarbone. He isn't even sure whose blood it is anymore, his blood, Squalo's blood, that demon's blood... All he's seeing is red, both in lust and in violence. What a fucked up couple. No wonder they've met in Hell!
The bite, alongside the fact that there's a finger entering him, made Feitan gasp louder than he could ever imagine he would. It's fine that Squalo is more focused on himself because so is Feitan, with the way that he tries to fuck himself on the single finger that has been provided to him. He can keep himself from falling with his legs and a single arm, so the claws retract and his hand takes the responsibility of stroking them as Squalo has.
[ That sure is a lot of noises for somebody who normally sounds like his voice has atrophied from disuse. And every one of them feeds right into Squalo's ego (and some other parts). He's delighted. This is vicious and primal and overwhelming, and he lets himself get lost in it, fully intending to give his all. ]
[ Looks like somebody's eager. Squalo won't test Feitan's patience too much; that finger isn't staying single for long, and Squalo will proceed with the absolute minimum amount of preparation required to avoid an actual injury before he's withdrawing and hoisting the smaller man higher up the wall for better access. ]
[ He does notice a tattoo -- some creepy crawlie, spider maybe -- on the other's thigh, peeking from under ruffled up layers of fabric as he pushes that leg a bit more upward, but he doesn't think too much of it, and he's certainly not going to ask about it, at least not now. He's marked up a lot more than this, so it doesn't seem strange to him at all, aside from maybe noting that it's one cheeky place to have ink. Never judge a book by its cover, indeed. ]
[ He's in position, and he traces back up with bloodied lips to give Feitan a violent kiss on the mouth as he presses in, this time (finally) with his dick. He's considerate enough not to push too fast, but he does continue pretty steadily until he's buried as much as it'll go. Luckily for the tiny sadist, in a Hell filled with monster dongs, Squalo happens to be a very normal sized guy, so it shouldn't be too bad even for someone of his stature. ]
[ There's a moment of stillness and possibly staring gayly at each other's eyes; Squalo breaks the kiss to gasp for breath, revelling in the tightness and heat and the utter batshit insanity of their endeavour, and then he finally moves, starting off with a rather sudden thrust, pausing, then repeating. ]
(In the back of his mind, he realizes that he doesn't tend to have sex because it's not something that satisfies him entirely, but this? This is just as fulfilling as it can get, and Feitan is more than impressed at just how immersed he is as his hips sink to meet the fingers. Squalo is just like him, a fucking psychopath, and to find a connection like they happened to accidentally stumble across is a rare feat on its own. They're celebrating it.
He doesn't intend to hold back in the slightest.
Good thing that, JUST LIKE FEITAN, Squalo is not gigantic, because Feitan's small body COULD NOT HANDLE a foot-long cock. He has to concentrate, to relax not to make the insertion stiffer than it should be, so he'll breathe before focusing on the kiss, returning it with the same heat and violence that Squalo is providing him.
And finally, he's completely in. Feitan's head tilts back and his eyebrows nearly meet, and he takes just a moment to revel in the sensation before he makes a point of meeting Squalo's hips with each thrust.)
[ Wow IT'S LIKE THEY'RE MADE FOR EACH OTHER. Both spiritually and physically. And we thought it couldn't get gayer. ]
[ Squalo admires that quite unusual expression on Feitan's face. Maybe even marvels at it a little. Such a perfect creature he's got in his arms, lithe and deadly and totally into him. That really does more wonders for him than the cider. ]
[ He builds pace, gradually moving faster, but still making a point to go nice and deep each time, pulling Feitan's bottom closer and away from the wall for a better angle. It sure is a good thing that dress stayed on, or his poor upper back would be violently scraping against the tiles without protection at this point. ]
[ Squalo is letting himself break restraint too, finally, gasps and groans that are a bit more hoarse than usual but still too damn loud, as he always is. Soon enough it's muffled by Feitan's neck though. At first Squalo just buries his face in it (how romantic), and of course ends up rubbing blood all over it, thanks to both their earlier activities and his recent deeper bites. Speaking of which, it's about time for another one, because fucking alone is nowhere near enough violence to be a pressure valve for how crazy he's goint. There goes his nose, tickling under Feitan's jaw after a trail of kisses, and sharky teeth sink in right under his ear, though still making note not to actually puncture anything vital. ]
(The noises Squalo makes are music to his ears, sounds he so seldom hears, and from Squalo, they sound just as sweet and alluring as the screams of the damned. Look at that.
Squalo's hair is so pretty, long and silver, stained with red and it just fits so nicely in Feitan's grip as he pulls, trying to get Squalo to go even louder with all his being. He'll even clench as much as he can around the cock, a hand reaching for Squalo's ass and pulling it towards him, wordlessly begging for more as Feitan gets lost in the feeling of being filled up.
It's been too long for Feitan, he might not be able to delay his climax too much, not when he wraps his hands around his AVERAGE SIZED cock to stroke in the same pace and fashion as the cock inside him. The other hand is supporting his weight, claws sinking into the muscle of Squalo's shoulder as he uses it to help him move. It will sting like a motherfucker later, but it's a good little revenge for the bites and the blood Feitan's shed.
The new one makes him gasp, moaning higher pitched than normal, more in pair with his giggle than with any other sound he makes. He'll pull on the hair again, as to force Squalo to look at him, witness him for a second before he'll attack lips in starved fashion.)
[ His efforts will be rewarded. Squalo likes his hair touched and pulled, even if he usually doesn't let people do so. The dick squeezing is pretty great too, and all in all, hopefully Feitan's eardrums can take it, because Squalo's getting loud, and doing his best to fuck as hard as he can. ]
[ He's holding the other's weight pretty firmly, so he's free to help himself in the meantime. And of course that also means the claws sinking into him weren't strictly necessary, but right now the pain just resonates with lust and pushes him that much closer to the edge. Sure is a good thing that NEITHER of them need to smash FOR HOURS to get off. ]
[ He half-growls, half-moans, but allows the other to pull his head back by the hair. His face is pretty much smeared with blood all over at this point, looking just like a goddamn demon, ice-gray eyes standing out in the sea of red that also now stains his teeth and his white hair pretty extensively. ]
[ And so, there's another long moment of them just staring adoringly at each other. Maybe their foreheads meet in a mockery of romance, too. And then they're kissing again, rough and hungry. Squalo's thrusts are getting a little jagged, nails and mechanical fingers digging more harshly into pale flesh. He's determined to hold out until the other's finished, but his uncanny ability to cause pain to him in all the right ways might put a damper in that plan. ]
(It's very intense, and for someone who can't quite remember when was the last time he has fucked, there's not much one can expect from him other than the fact that he's just so damn close so soon.
The moment they get a tad more, well, normal, Feitan's claws retreat to nails, and he even takes that bloodied hand to smear some more on Squalo's cheeks when the small eyes set on the other's. It's a bloodbath, and Feitan hadn't realized how much he needed to find an equal amidst the chaos, to have him tear his skin and to hit him just where he likes it inside. Too damn thrilling, and Feitan can't hold himself any longer.
While they kiss, Feitan's loudest moan yet escapes into the other's mouth when he cums and he needs to break it to breathe. Dizziness, and it's his turn to find refuge on the other's neck, holding close while he rides his orgasm.
[ Squalo may remember his, but that was still months ago, and probably not quite as overwhelming as this. An ode to bloodthirst, that's what this is. ]
[ He makes a noise -- something like a breathless laugh -- as the other paints his face with blood even more. The smirk he has on looks almost fond as their eyes meet. ]
[ He shivers as that moan reverbates through his mouth, drawing another one from him in return. As the other pulls away, he'll move his cleaner hand up to rest it at the back of the other's head to push his face more firmly into Squalo's neck, holding him close as he fucks him into the wall through the waves of climax. Squalo had been close enough already, and now that there's muscles tensing around him and the man in his arms looking and sounding like a complete mess, he follows soon after Feitan, making sure he's as deep as it goes when he comes, just as an extra flavor in laying claim. ]
[ Their rhythm finally grinds to a halt. Squalo's mouth is somewhere near the other's shoulder, but rather than bite again, he just pants, doing his best to stay on steady legs. Damn, that was intense. ] ]
[ They stay still for a little while. Then he tugs on Feitan's hair a little to get him out of his hidey place and face him, and gives him a deep, slow kiss on the mouth. Then he pulls back, admires the other, and finally pulls out. ]
[ A moment later, without any warning, he's letting go of him. ]
[ So Feitan has three options here, 1) lower his legs and land gracefully on his feet like the apex predator he's meant to be, 2) fall on his ass, or 3) continue hanging off Squalo like an oversized rucksack and make it his problem to peel off all those limbs wrapped around him. His call. ]
(Last time Feitan did an ode to something, the Phantom Troupe massacred the entire mob, their goons, and every single police officer they could find. It had been a bloodbath when the damage was assessed. This feels as true as that, full of emotion even if they can barely comprehend it yet.
He can feel the warmness inside him, and the fact that Squalo has quit the thrusting tells him that he's done, too. A rare show of care emerges from Feitan as he caresses the man's shoulder, presses a kiss to the sweating skin of his neck before his digits disappear into white strands and his lips are taken. It's... Sweet? Nearly breaks Feitan, considering the fury they've just shared.
Not that he isn't kissing back before he can fully process it, a groan accompanying his lips when the man is no longer sharing of his body. Like the fucking majestic being he is, Feitan is falling on his feet, thank you very much. He fixes his pants back in place, but he's not putting a jizz stained dress again for the time being.
... And he doesn't really know what to say, or do? Watch his skin grow red and the frown return to his face as if it has never left it.)
[ That sounds like fun. They should do something like that sometime. ]
[ It's sort of funny, how it turns almost sweet at the end there. Must be why Squalo ends it so abruptly, unsure how to handle such a turn. Squalo plucks a paper towel piece from the dispenser to clean himself up a bit before pulling his pants back up, then walks over to the faucet to wash the lube remains off his hand, glancing back at Feitan. He doesn't seem to care about cleaning up the blood he's covered in, though. ]
[ Well this is awkward. Ish. Now what, indeed. ]
We could go back to finish that guy off. [ He suggests, though judging from his tone he's kind of lost interest in that by now. ] Or get something to drink? Or find a clean place to shower.
[ Because even if the demonic bathroom does come with showers equipped in this establishment, he kind of really doesn't want to remove his shoes here. ]
(Are they seriously going to walk of shame out of the bathroom
Although, there's really no shame. He did what he wanted to, he's satisfied, he's happy. Feitan just washes his hands as well, just for the sake of some cleanliness before Feitan gestures towards the door with his head. Lead the way, tall man.)
[ He... hadn't really intended for them to do that together. But it's fine, he supposes, if still a little weird. You torture a rando and fuck in the bathroom and suddenly you're the best of friends. Not that he minds. He's still super excited to have found somebody that seems to share his bloodlust, he's just not very used to... whatever this is becoming. ]
[ It's never a walk of shame if you strut in triumph, which Squalo will demonstrate as he swans out of the bathroom like he owns the entire place, shirt in hand, bleeding scratches all over his back and shoulder as if he'd fought a wild beast in there. If there are any weird looks, they're majestically ignored. ]
[ As it turns out, the alley with the torture bar is practically next to the castle, so it doesn't take long for them to reach it and the communal showers. Probably in awkward silence. It must be quite the sight. ]
[ Squalo grabs one of those hotel-esque bathrobes on his way in, because he's not changing back into dirty clothes after getting cleaned, and starts stripping. ]
(Like, where else would Feitan go looking like this? There's cum up his ass, for fuck's sake. Of course he's showering, and whether Squalo comes with him or not it's up to him and this is exactly how you deal with having a stupid crush at whatever age you're at.
Feitan is not quite as flashy as Squalo is, he's just quietly walking as he normally would, hands in the pockets of his slacks and his dress hanging from his shoulder. Much to the contrast of the rush in the other bathroom, it's with grace that he'll remove the rest of his clothes, leaving the petite boots on a corner and even folding his slacks. Removing clothes in a hurry is for fucking, this is a MAJESTIC BEING we're talking about... And he's definitely eyeing the damage on the man's back.
[ Squalo's not particularly careful with his clothes; he may have lost his bathroom and kitchen, but at least Mammon had kept the level of his accommodations intact otherwise. Which means he's got a huge place with a well-stacked closet. ]
[ He takes everything off except his prosthetic -- if Feitan hadn't paid attention before, it's definitely in plain view now -- and steps into one of the open stalls. ]
[ In a moment, there's the sound of running water. ]
[ Another moment. ]
MOTHERFUCKER!!
[ Okay, so as his head cleared up a bit on his way back, he did realize that his back was kind of stinging. It didn't feel too bad, though. Now, however, it feels like he's pouring hot water on naked muscle (which, to be fair, in a few spots he probably is). ]
[ He swears extensively -- Feitan might recognize it as a different language as well, even if Hell is probably doing its magic -- and pulls his hair over his shoulder to the front, craning his neck in an attempt to see the damage. ]
(He had paid attention, he just didn't deem it important to mention. Maybe afterward he might ask about it. Right now doesn't quite seem like a good moment for a story, if there's any. He'll pull his hair into a ponytail, only to keep it out of the way as he tends to his wounds under hot water when he finally steps in.
Listen. He's been around Uvogin since he can't remember. It's not loudness that will scare off Feitan, but instead, it makes him just holler in laughed, as per usual the sound of what a gremlin might make, and it gets worse and worse the more Squalo swears. Sadism doesn't discriminate, even when you might be really into the person suffering right next to you, after all!
Feitan manages to wipe off his tears, coming closer to inspect the cuts, and well, bits in which he really just gripped at. He's not going to quite say a thing, he'll just tiptoe to get some rebel strands off the way.)
... Is bad.
(But gently, he'll allow the back of his hand to remove excess blood from the wounds, still tiptoeing to be able to reach the shoulder parts without looking even more ridiculous as he is. Feel fucking honored, Squalo. You got to see several parts of Feitan that he wouldn't normally show, this included.)
[ Just like Squalo with the spider tattoo, apparently. ]
[ He hears the goddamn gremlin laugh, and he probably still thinks it's cute because he's fucked up like that, even if he's a little mad at the moment. He can't really fault Feitan, though, because he knows he's injured him almost as badly, and because he knows he would react the same way if they had swapped places. So he's not holding it against him. ]
Tell me something I don't know, you little shit.
[ He's sort of half-hissing in pain, half-laughing. At the very least the namecalling doesn't sound hostile, just annoyed in a friendly way. ]
[ He tenses and growls as the other touches him, but takes it without verbalizing a complaint, maybe recognizing that rare moment of care for what it is. After the initial sting, the water does seem to help, somewhat. It's coming off of him very red so far, but most of it might just be that demon's blood. He's got it all over. ]
(Oh, Squalo can be annoyed as much as he wants. Feitan wouldn't blame him, considering the fact that he'll have to scrape the skin from under his nails. The name-calling only gets him sniggering again, and his lips find somewhere wound-free to press a kiss. It's the most of an apology as Squalo is going to get, after all.
Talking is overrated.
The water is too washing off some of Feitan's redness, revealing the paleness of his skin under the layer. He's tending to the wounds, making sure they're well cleaned before he steps back a little.)
[ Honestly? It's more of an apology than he's used to getting, so he'll take it. Expect nothing in return, though. ]
I should have some upstairs.
[ In his place. That you've just been invited to if you want to patch him up. He's not in a rush to get out of the shower, though, first making sure to rinse the blood out of his hair, and from other places. ]
You can borrow some clean clothes if you want.
[ Okay, expect a little something in return, maybe. Human bites tended to get infected and all, that can't be more fun than what he's going through. Then again, he was quickly becoming more demon than human... ]
(But he's not rejecting it, not really. He's not going to walk around shirtless, as hot as he is, so he'll take the offer up when they're upstairs.
When it seems like the cuts and punctures have been thoroughly rinsed, Feitan'll leave to his own shower, cleaning himself and the bites to the best of his knowledge. Honestly, he isn't sure where the water ends and the blood begins with how red everything looks.
He lets his hair down again to wash, making sure to remove every single drop of dirty and finally, he's properly cleaned and smelling as good as he can. When he's stepped out, much like a cat, he'll shake his head to dry some of the water from his longish, black hair... But much more important to dry and take good care of is his Spider tattoo. He'll spend more than a handful of seconds making sure they haven't damaged it in anyway.)
Well excuse me, I'll just go rip out half my spine so I can be a midget goblin.
[ Huff. It's all in good spirit though. Look, the awkward silence has been replaced by banter. Almost reminds him of home. ]
[ He cleans himself thoroughly as well, grimacing and hissing every now and then as his wounds get disturbed. Once he's as clean as he can get, he'll finally get out as well. ]
[ Shaking's not gonna do it for him. Squalo's four feet of hair get their own towel. ]
[ The rest of himself he'll wrap into that bathrobe, wipe his feet on his discarded shirt and then climb into his shoes. While he's busy with that, he'll steal a few more glances of that tattoo ritual. Looks like that's important to Feitan... that, or he had it done with a sharpie, if he's that concerned about it washing off. ]
Looks fine from here. [ He assures, but again, doesn't ask. ] Come on.
[ And once they're both picked up their stuff, he'll lead them up to the guest chambers. Squalo's "chamber" turns out to be several connecting ones, extra posh, with an actual lock on the door and everything. Looks like somebody has made himself pretty damn comfortable in Hell. ]
(Even the bathrobes are too fucking big, he finds as it drags behind him with every step, with how it even covers his hands in their entirety. See, this is what he doesn't like about being without his dress. Back at that fucking tent, there was nothing that was his size. At least having his dress a. is edgy as fuck and b. fits him properly.
He's not putting his boots back on, so he'll just carry all his folded laundry and shoes with him until they arrive at Squalo's place. Setting things at a corner, Feitan doesn't particularly look impressed, he doesn't know what a place like that means, and even if he did, it's not luxury that's going to get him going.
That poor demon they roughed up was much more like it.)
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Don't leave him wanting it. Feitan himself is not one to ask with words, but his entire body is melting under Squalo's touch, from the moan that leaves his lips between starved, angry kissing all the way to how his hips chase the hand that politely awaits for his approval. His brain works overtime to find a way to piece a sentence together, but he's not very coherent at the moment, if he is ever. Feitan'll let his actions do the talking.)
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And the prize is ass.][ There's no need for talking, not really. That tightening grip is as much of an encouragement as Squalo needs, and he proceeds to roughly shove the fabric out of the way. He won't bother to roll those pants too far down, maybe to mid-thigh or whatever seems to be the perfect balance between accessible and comfortable. Likewise, the dress will be hoisted up in the front, but the rest can hang freely as long as it's not getting in the way. ]
[ Squalo presses closer, so he can wrap his hand around both their dicks and start grinding shamelessly to get them started. Like everything else they've been up to, it's violent and borderline painful. There's probably blood making its way there too. Gross. ]
[ On the bright side, considering they're in the seedy bathroom of a torture sex dungeon (who said romance is dead), there's probably some kind of lube dispenser within reach, so things will get smoother in a moment. ]
[ He breaks the angry kissing to breathe, then leans back in, kissing down the side of Feitan's neck, pushing that bandanna down as he goes. And then he sinks his teeth in, a little revenge for the scratches, though he'd probably do it anyway because he just enjoys it, and there's nothing like a little pain to go with the pleasure. ]
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Huh. Good that opinions can change, even if they seldom do.
Feitan doesn't bother helping with the whole undressing part when it seems like Squalo has already figured it out when the thought mildly occurs to him - he was busy, moaning against the man's mouth and focusing all his will not to grind hips against the other's, at least not yet. With Squalo's hand working on both of them, there's no way Feitan is stopping him to remove his shirt, but he can at least pull it till it falls to his bent forearms to give him access to Squalo's back. His control finally is disregarded and shattered and he does his best to move with the other, his thighs squeezing whenever the pleasure hits a higher note.
Now it's where the claws come off, because the friction of their cocks, painful and just too goddamn delightful, paired with the pointy teeth puncturing pale skin has him skinning Squalo instead, merciless and unforgiving as they slide down the man's back.
It's been a while since he's done this, and who would have thought Feitan was this vocal? It's surprising him, too.)
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[ Good thing that opinions can change, indeed. And all it took was goring a third party a little bit. The perfect teambuilding exercise. ]
[ The sting of the claws is dulled by adrenaline, desire, and the all-encompassing stench of blood on them both, but it does still hurt. Squalo growls and bites more harshly, breaking skin this time. The little fucker wants to play rough? Well, so be it. ]
[ He keeps up with the fondling until they're both nice and hard (though he's definitely more concerned about himself), then moves his hand away to get more of that probably not demonic and totally safe to use lube, making sure to still move his hips to maintain some stimulation in the meantime. And then he's going for the back door. Slick fingers trace up Feitan's thigh, over his ass, and poke around for the entrance, sinking in at the same time as sharky teeth sink into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Well, he asked for this. ]
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The bite, alongside the fact that there's a finger entering him, made Feitan gasp louder than he could ever imagine he would. It's fine that Squalo is more focused on himself because so is Feitan, with the way that he tries to fuck himself on the single finger that has been provided to him. He can keep himself from falling with his legs and a single arm, so the claws retract and his hand takes the responsibility of stroking them as Squalo has.
He sure did ask for this. He'll continue to.)
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[ Looks like somebody's eager. Squalo won't test Feitan's patience too much; that finger isn't staying single for long, and Squalo will proceed with the absolute minimum amount of preparation required to avoid an actual injury before he's withdrawing and hoisting the smaller man higher up the wall for better access. ]
[ He does notice a tattoo -- some creepy crawlie, spider maybe -- on the other's thigh, peeking from under ruffled up layers of fabric as he pushes that leg a bit more upward, but he doesn't think too much of it, and he's certainly not going to ask about it, at least not now. He's marked up a lot more than this, so it doesn't seem strange to him at all, aside from maybe noting that it's one cheeky place to have ink. Never judge a book by its cover, indeed. ]
[ He's in position, and he traces back up with bloodied lips to give Feitan a violent kiss on the mouth as he presses in, this time (finally) with his dick. He's considerate enough not to push too fast, but he does continue pretty steadily until he's buried as much as it'll go.
Luckily for the tiny sadist, in a Hell filled with monster dongs, Squalo happens to be a very normal sized guy, so it shouldn't be too bad even for someone of his stature.][ There's a moment of stillness
and possibly staring gayly at each other's eyes; Squalo breaks the kiss to gasp for breath, revelling in the tightness and heat and the utter batshit insanity of their endeavour, and then he finally moves, starting off with a rather sudden thrust, pausing, then repeating. ]no subject
He doesn't intend to hold back in the slightest.
Good thing that, JUST LIKE FEITAN, Squalo is not gigantic, because Feitan's small body COULD NOT HANDLE a foot-long cock. He has to concentrate, to relax not to make the insertion stiffer than it should be, so he'll breathe before focusing on the kiss, returning it with the same heat and violence that Squalo is providing him.
And finally, he's completely in. Feitan's head tilts back and his eyebrows nearly meet, and he takes just a moment to revel in the sensation before he makes a point of meeting Squalo's hips with each thrust.)
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And we thought it couldn't get gayer.][ Squalo admires that quite unusual expression on Feitan's face. Maybe even marvels at it a little. Such a perfect creature he's got in his arms, lithe and deadly and totally into him. That really does more wonders for him than the cider. ]
[ He builds pace, gradually moving faster, but still making a point to go nice and deep each time, pulling Feitan's bottom closer and away from the wall for a better angle. It sure is a good thing that dress stayed on, or his poor upper back would be violently scraping against the tiles without protection at this point. ]
[ Squalo is letting himself break restraint too, finally, gasps and groans that are a bit more hoarse than usual but still too damn loud, as he always is. Soon enough it's muffled by Feitan's neck though. At first Squalo just buries his face in it (how romantic), and of course ends up rubbing blood all over it, thanks to both their earlier activities and his recent deeper bites. Speaking of which, it's about time for another one, because fucking alone is nowhere near enough violence to be a pressure valve for how crazy he's goint. There goes his nose, tickling under Feitan's jaw after a trail of kisses, and sharky teeth sink in right under his ear, though still making note not to actually puncture anything vital. ]
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Squalo's hair is so pretty, long and silver, stained with red and it just fits so nicely in Feitan's grip as he pulls, trying to get Squalo to go even louder with all his being. He'll even clench as much as he can around the cock, a hand reaching for Squalo's ass and pulling it towards him, wordlessly begging for more as Feitan gets lost in the feeling of being filled up.
It's been too long for Feitan, he might not be able to delay his climax too much, not when he wraps his hands around his AVERAGE SIZED cock to stroke in the same pace and fashion as the cock inside him. The other hand is supporting his weight, claws sinking into the muscle of Squalo's shoulder as he uses it to help him move. It will sting like a motherfucker later, but it's a good little revenge for the bites and the blood Feitan's shed.
The new one makes him gasp, moaning higher pitched than normal, more in pair with his giggle than with any other sound he makes. He'll pull on the hair again, as to force Squalo to look at him, witness him for a second before he'll attack lips in starved fashion.)
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[ He's holding the other's weight pretty firmly, so he's free to help himself in the meantime. And of course that also means the claws sinking into him weren't strictly necessary, but right now the pain just resonates with lust and pushes him that much closer to the edge.
Sure is a good thing that NEITHER of them need to smash FOR HOURS to get off.][ He half-growls, half-moans, but allows the other to pull his head back by the hair. His face is pretty much smeared with blood all over at this point, looking just like a goddamn demon, ice-gray eyes standing out in the sea of red that also now stains his teeth and his white hair pretty extensively. ]
[ And so, there's another long moment of them just staring adoringly at each other. Maybe their foreheads meet in a mockery of romance, too. And then they're kissing again, rough and hungry. Squalo's thrusts are getting a little jagged, nails and mechanical fingers digging more harshly into pale flesh. He's determined to hold out until the other's finished, but his uncanny ability to cause pain to him in all the right ways might put a damper in that plan. ]
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The moment they get a tad more, well, normal, Feitan's claws retreat to nails, and he even takes that bloodied hand to smear some more on Squalo's cheeks when the small eyes set on the other's. It's a bloodbath, and Feitan hadn't realized how much he needed to find an equal amidst the chaos, to have him tear his skin and to hit him just where he likes it inside. Too damn thrilling, and Feitan can't hold himself any longer.
While they kiss, Feitan's loudest moan yet escapes into the other's mouth when he cums and he needs to break it to breathe. Dizziness, and it's his turn to find refuge on the other's neck, holding close while he rides his orgasm.
Holy shit.)
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[ He makes a noise -- something like a breathless laugh -- as the other paints his face with blood even more. The smirk he has on looks almost fond as their eyes meet. ]
[ He shivers as that moan reverbates through his mouth, drawing another one from him in return. As the other pulls away, he'll move his cleaner hand up to rest it at the back of the other's head to push his face more firmly into Squalo's neck, holding him close as he fucks him into the wall through the waves of climax. Squalo had been close enough already, and now that there's muscles tensing around him and the man in his arms looking and sounding like a complete mess, he follows soon after Feitan, making sure he's as deep as it goes when he comes, just as an extra flavor in laying claim. ]
[ Their rhythm finally grinds to a halt. Squalo's mouth is somewhere near the other's shoulder, but rather than bite again, he just pants, doing his best to stay on steady legs. Damn, that was intense. ] ]
[ They stay still for a little while. Then he tugs on Feitan's hair a little to get him out of his hidey place and face him, and gives him a deep, slow kiss on the mouth. Then he pulls back, admires the other, and finally pulls out. ]
[ A moment later, without any warning, he's letting go of him. ]
[ So Feitan has three options here, 1) lower his legs and land gracefully on his feet like the apex predator he's meant to be, 2) fall on his ass, or 3) continue hanging off Squalo like an oversized rucksack and make it his problem to peel off all those limbs wrapped around him. His call. ]
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He can feel the warmness inside him, and the fact that Squalo has quit the thrusting tells him that he's done, too. A rare show of care emerges from Feitan as he caresses the man's shoulder, presses a kiss to the sweating skin of his neck before his digits disappear into white strands and his lips are taken. It's... Sweet? Nearly breaks Feitan, considering the fury they've just shared.
Not that he isn't kissing back before he can fully process it, a groan accompanying his lips when the man is no longer sharing of his body. Like the fucking majestic being he is, Feitan is falling on his feet, thank you very much. He fixes his pants back in place, but he's not putting a jizz stained dress again for the time being.
... And he doesn't really know what to say, or do? Watch his skin grow red and the frown return to his face as if it has never left it.)
... Now what?
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[ It's sort of funny, how it turns almost sweet at the end there. Must be why Squalo ends it so abruptly, unsure how to handle such a turn. Squalo plucks a paper towel piece from the dispenser to clean himself up a bit before pulling his pants back up, then walks over to the faucet to wash the lube remains off his hand, glancing back at Feitan. He doesn't seem to care about cleaning up the blood he's covered in, though. ]
[ Well this is awkward. Ish. Now what, indeed. ]
We could go back to finish that guy off. [ He suggests, though judging from his tone he's kind of lost interest in that by now. ] Or get something to drink? Or find a clean place to shower.
[ Because even if the demonic bathroom does come with showers equipped in this establishment, he kind of really doesn't want to remove his shoes here. ]
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(Are they seriously going to walk of shame out of the bathroom
Although, there's really no shame. He did what he wanted to, he's satisfied, he's happy. Feitan just washes his hands as well, just for the sake of some cleanliness before Feitan gestures towards the door with his head. Lead the way, tall man.)
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[ He... hadn't really intended for them to do that together. But it's fine, he supposes, if still a little weird. You torture a rando and fuck in the bathroom and suddenly you're the best of friends. Not that he minds. He's still super excited to have found somebody that seems to share his bloodlust, he's just not very used to... whatever this is becoming. ]
[ It's never a walk of shame if you strut in triumph, which Squalo will demonstrate as he swans out of the bathroom like he owns the entire place, shirt in hand, bleeding scratches all over his back and shoulder as if he'd fought a wild beast in there. If there are any weird looks, they're majestically ignored. ]
[ As it turns out, the alley with the torture bar is practically next to the castle, so it doesn't take long for them to reach it and the communal showers. Probably in awkward silence. It must be quite the sight. ]
[ Squalo grabs one of those hotel-esque bathrobes on his way in, because he's not changing back into dirty clothes after getting cleaned, and starts stripping. ]
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Feitan is not quite as flashy as Squalo is, he's just quietly walking as he normally would, hands in the pockets of his slacks and his dress hanging from his shoulder. Much to the contrast of the rush in the other bathroom, it's with grace that he'll remove the rest of his clothes, leaving the petite boots on a corner and even folding his slacks. Removing clothes in a hurry is for fucking, this is a MAJESTIC BEING we're talking about... And he's definitely eyeing the damage on the man's back.
He's not apologizing.)
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[ Squalo's not particularly careful with his clothes; he may have lost his bathroom and kitchen, but at least Mammon had kept the level of his accommodations intact otherwise. Which means he's got a huge place with a well-stacked closet. ]
[ He takes everything off except his prosthetic -- if Feitan hadn't paid attention before, it's definitely in plain view now -- and steps into one of the open stalls. ]
[ In a moment, there's the sound of running water. ]
[ Another moment. ]
MOTHERFUCKER!!
[ Okay, so as his head cleared up a bit on his way back, he did realize that his back was kind of stinging. It didn't feel too bad, though. Now, however, it feels like he's pouring hot water on naked muscle (which, to be fair, in a few spots he probably is). ]
[ He swears extensively -- Feitan might recognize it as a different language as well, even if Hell is probably doing its magic -- and pulls his hair over his shoulder to the front, craning his neck in an attempt to see the damage. ]
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Listen. He's been around Uvogin since he can't remember. It's not loudness that will scare off Feitan, but instead, it makes him just holler in laughed, as per usual the sound of what a gremlin might make, and it gets worse and worse the more Squalo swears. Sadism doesn't discriminate, even when you might be really into the person suffering right next to you, after all!
Feitan manages to wipe off his tears, coming closer to inspect the cuts, and well, bits in which he really just gripped at. He's not going to quite say a thing, he'll just tiptoe to get some rebel strands off the way.)
... Is bad.
(But gently, he'll allow the back of his hand to remove excess blood from the wounds, still tiptoeing to be able to reach the shoulder parts without looking even more ridiculous as he is. Feel fucking honored, Squalo. You got to see several parts of Feitan that he wouldn't normally show, this included.)
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[ He hears the goddamn gremlin laugh, and he probably still thinks it's cute because he's fucked up like that, even if he's a little mad at the moment. He can't really fault Feitan, though, because he knows he's injured him almost as badly, and because he knows he would react the same way if they had swapped places. So he's not holding it against him. ]
Tell me something I don't know, you little shit.
[ He's sort of half-hissing in pain, half-laughing. At the very least the namecalling doesn't sound hostile, just annoyed in a friendly way. ]
[ He tenses and growls as the other touches him, but takes it without verbalizing a complaint, maybe recognizing that rare moment of care for what it is. After the initial sting, the water does seem to help, somewhat. It's coming off of him very red so far, but most of it might just be that demon's blood. He's got it all over. ]
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Talking is overrated.
The water is too washing off some of Feitan's redness, revealing the paleness of his skin under the layer. He's tending to the wounds, making sure they're well cleaned before he steps back a little.)
Probably need bandage.
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I should have some upstairs.
[ In his place. That you've just been invited to if you want to patch him up. He's not in a rush to get out of the shower, though, first making sure to rinse the blood out of his hair, and from other places. ]
You can borrow some clean clothes if you want.
[ Okay, expect a little something in return, maybe. Human bites tended to get infected and all, that can't be more fun than what he's going through. Then again, he was quickly becoming more demon than human... ]
a bitch can html she swears
(But he's not rejecting it, not really. He's not going to walk around shirtless,
as hot as he is, so he'll take the offer up when they're upstairs.When it seems like the cuts and punctures have been thoroughly rinsed, Feitan'll leave to his own shower, cleaning himself and the bites to the best of his knowledge. Honestly, he isn't sure where the water ends and the blood begins with how red everything looks.
He lets his hair down again to wash, making sure to remove every single drop of dirty and finally, he's properly cleaned and smelling as good as he can. When he's stepped out, much like a cat, he'll shake his head to dry some of the water from his longish, black hair... But much more important to dry and take good care of is his Spider tattoo. He'll spend more than a handful of seconds making sure they haven't damaged it in anyway.)
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[ Huff. It's all in good spirit though. Look, the awkward silence has been replaced by banter. Almost reminds him of home. ]
[ He cleans himself thoroughly as well, grimacing and hissing every now and then as his wounds get disturbed. Once he's as clean as he can get, he'll finally get out as well. ]
[ Shaking's not gonna do it for him. Squalo's four feet of hair get their own towel. ]
[ The rest of himself he'll wrap into that bathrobe, wipe his feet on his discarded shirt and then climb into his shoes. While he's busy with that, he'll steal a few more glances of that tattoo ritual. Looks like that's important to Feitan... that, or he had it done with a sharpie, if he's that concerned about it washing off. ]
Looks fine from here. [ He assures, but again, doesn't ask. ] Come on.
[ And once they're both picked up their stuff, he'll lead them up to the guest chambers. Squalo's "chamber" turns out to be several connecting ones, extra posh, with an actual lock on the door and everything. Looks like somebody has made himself pretty damn comfortable in Hell. ]
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He's not putting his boots back on, so he'll just carry all his folded laundry and shoes with him until they arrive at Squalo's place. Setting things at a corner, Feitan doesn't particularly look impressed, he doesn't know what a place like that means, and even if he did, it's not luxury that's going to get him going.
That poor demon they roughed up was much more like it.)
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