(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.)
[ Well, maybe he'll like the fact that there's a bunch of swords around. Not quite a collection, that remained in Lucifer's domain, but Squalo has certainly bought a few new ones while here. Look, you never know when one might break and you will need a replacement, even if he does have favorites. ]
[ Either way, he's not really looking to impress. As far as he's concerned, he's already done it with something much more substantial. Like torture. And his dick. Anyway, he sheds the bathrobe that definitely has some pink stains on the inside now, climbs into some black slacks and then goes digging through his drawers. ]
[ He emerges with bandages, the sort that look like giant band-aids, disinfectant probably of alcoholic sort and also some gauze, all of which he sets down on the coffee table and then wordlessly sits next to it. ]
[ Yeah, he expects Feitan to patch him up. Mostly because it's really damn difficult to reach one's own back like this. ]
(Feitan is not Machi. He doesn't come equipped with Nen needles that can patch up anything, from simple wounds to severed arms in a second like the pink-haired woman he grew up with. His knowledge of medicine is rather limited, and it's not like these things are in abundance in Meteor City.
Well. There's a first time for everything, it cannot be that hard, the basics are simple enough from what he's read in books. Feitan pours the disinfectant onto a cloth before he presses a wordless kiss to the shoulder as a warning, and finally, he presses it with little pressure against one of the open wounds.
It's Feitan, the sadistic giggle is present and alive! Oh, boy, this delicious man is a gift that just keeps on giving. He gets another kiss on his neck, just because Feitan is too goddamn happy. It must be stinging like a motherfucker.)
[ Hey, it still counts. Get that shit clean and close it, that's good enough. ]
[ The kiss probably needed its own warning, because Squalo's prepared for the pain, but not this. He sort of perks up a little in surprise, which leaves him wide open for what follows. It burns, and he actually yells out before gritting his teeth and forcing his voice down into a low growl. ]
[ More food for Feitan's sadistic disposition! Which, again, Squalo doesn't seem to mind one bit, aside from being generally pissy because he's in pain. ]
[ He exhales through his nose as he gets more accustomed to the stinging - in that particular spot, at least - and laughs breathlessly. ]
You're enjoying this, aren't you.
[ Somehow, it almost sounds like he is, too? Why are they like this. ]
(It's the peculiar intimacy that they're sharing that instigates the switch in language, although it still comes out slightly hesitant as if it's way too foreign to be speaking it.
He's not angry and yet, Feitan wants to speak in a way that's comprehensible and concise, to be properly understood even if Feitan himself might not grasp everything he's told. Who would've thought that Squalo has been given so many privileges so fast? Feitan himself is baffled, but at the same time? He's finding it incredibly rewarding.
He's moving to another wound, where his fingers nearly entered Squalo's shoulder in merciless fashion to keep him in position while he was getting fucked against that wall, and oof. That's probably one of the worst yet, and he can't help but to snigger.)
[ Oh. That's interesting. He's heard this language once before, when Feitan was high on torture. It sounds so much smoother. Must be his native tongue. Why didn't he speak it all the time? Maybe he'd ask eventually. For now, he's going with the flow; the Varia was full of weird little quirks so he's used to just accepting those unless it suits him to be a nitpicking jerk. ]
[ Squalo laughs again, a little higher-pitched and hyena-like. ]
Sick fuck.
[ Pot, meet kettle. And considering his tone, he might as well be calling the other "sweet pea" or whatever. Clearly, this is bonding. ]
[ He follows Feitan's gaze to his shoulder -- he can actually see this one after all. Oof indeed. With one swift motion, he retrieves a pocket knife (where did that even come from?) and sticks it between his teeth to bite down on, then nods once. Go ahead. ]
(The words don't come out with the intent to hurt. It's a simple observation, a rather visible fact and Feitan shakes his head in his good mood. With the time Squalo takes with his preparation, Feitan himself is applying more disinfectant to the cloth and when everything seems to be ready, the short man applies it to the wounds.
[ He shrugs a bit with a grin, as if saying You know what, that's fair, but doesn't risk losing his bite at the moment. ]
[ And that sure turns out to be a good thing. The deep wounds fucking burn, and as he has no particular reason to hold back right now, he lets himself let out a growl that turns into a guttural scream, partly muffled by the object in his mouth, his hands instinctively clenching at the edge of the table. ]
(He most definitely is, Feitan is even crying laughing. What an amazing source of amusement all around, Feitan finds. The cloth leaves and his small hand goes to remove the knife from Squalo's mouth, leaving it on the table if the other allows him to.
He deserves kisses, that's the real deal. Feitan moves some of the hair from his neck, pressing his lips against the skin and promptly pulling away to grab the gauze and bandages.)
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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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[ Either way, he's not really looking to impress. As far as he's concerned, he's already done it with something much more substantial. Like torture. And his dick. Anyway, he sheds the bathrobe that definitely has some pink stains on the inside now, climbs into some black slacks and then goes digging through his drawers. ]
[ He emerges with bandages, the sort that look like giant band-aids, disinfectant probably of alcoholic sort and also some gauze, all of which he sets down on the coffee table and then wordlessly sits next to it. ]
[ Yeah, he expects Feitan to patch him up. Mostly because it's really damn difficult to reach one's own back like this. ]
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Well. There's a first time for everything, it cannot be that hard, the basics are simple enough from what he's read in books. Feitan pours the disinfectant onto a cloth before he presses a wordless kiss to the shoulder as a warning, and finally, he presses it with little pressure against one of the open wounds.
It's Feitan, the sadistic giggle is present and alive! Oh, boy, this
deliciousman is a gift that just keeps on giving. He gets another kiss on his neck, just because Feitan is too goddamn happy. It must be stinging like a motherfucker.)no subject
[ The kiss probably needed its own warning, because Squalo's prepared for the pain, but not this. He sort of perks up a little in surprise, which leaves him wide open for what follows. It burns, and he actually yells out before gritting his teeth and forcing his voice down into a low growl. ]
[ More food for Feitan's sadistic disposition! Which, again, Squalo doesn't seem to mind one bit, aside from being generally pissy because he's in pain. ]
[ He exhales through his nose as he gets more accustomed to the stinging - in that particular spot, at least - and laughs breathlessly. ]
You're enjoying this, aren't you.
[ Somehow, it almost sounds like he is, too? Why are they like this. ]
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(It's the peculiar intimacy that they're sharing that instigates the switch in language, although it still comes out slightly hesitant as if it's way too foreign to be speaking it.
He's not angry and yet, Feitan wants to speak in a way that's comprehensible and concise, to be properly understood even if Feitan himself might not grasp everything he's told. Who would've thought that Squalo has been given so many privileges so fast? Feitan himself is baffled, but at the same time? He's finding it incredibly rewarding.
He's moving to another wound, where his fingers nearly entered Squalo's shoulder in merciless fashion to keep him in position while he was getting fucked against that wall, and oof. That's probably one of the worst yet, and he can't help but to snigger.)
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[ Squalo laughs again, a little higher-pitched and hyena-like. ]
Sick fuck.
[ Pot, meet kettle. And considering his tone, he might as well be calling the other "sweet pea" or whatever. Clearly, this is bonding. ]
[ He follows Feitan's gaze to his shoulder -- he can actually see this one after all. Oof indeed. With one swift motion, he retrieves a pocket knife (where did that even come from?) and sticks it between his teeth to bite down on, then nods once. Go ahead. ]
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(The words don't come out with the intent to hurt. It's a simple observation, a rather visible fact and Feitan shakes his head in his good mood. With the time Squalo takes with his preparation, Feitan himself is applying more disinfectant to the cloth and when everything seems to be ready, the short man applies it to the wounds.
Delighted. He's goddamn thrilled.)
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[ And that sure turns out to be a good thing. The deep wounds fucking burn, and as he has no particular reason to hold back right now, he lets himself let out a growl that turns into a guttural scream, partly muffled by the object in his mouth, his hands instinctively clenching at the edge of the table. ]
[ Isn't he just the most entertaining? ]
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He deserves kisses, that's the real deal. Feitan moves some of the hair from his neck, pressing his lips against the skin and promptly pulling away to grab the gauze and bandages.)
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wrap