(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 Look, the awkward silence has been replaced by banter.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.)
[ Squalo glares a little, but allows the other to take the knife. It has fang indents all over and honestly looks kind of crumpled. Those shark teeth are no joke. ]
[ He tilts his head just slightly. Animalistic show of trust, letting the other see more of his neck. It's a little weird, sort of like mixed signals, but he finds himself rather enjoying it. What was going on? ]
Your masterpiece.
[ He jokes, turning a bit to get his arm into a better position. Shoulder injuries were always a bit tricky to wrap up, but hopefully he wouldn't have to wear it for too long. Maybe one of those snake oil peddlers downtown actually had a legit healing potion. ]
[ There were probably some sinners with those kinds of magic powers, but he'd rather not ask for any help if he can. ]
(It's not like Feitan knows any healers, really. All he can do is his best, patch up the man before him the best he can by himself. At least now is less painful and much quicker, just put the gauze where it should go and seal it with the bandages. In a minute or so, Squalo's back and shoulders are done.)
I'm not holding back if we do it again.
(Although, really, he'll be more psychologically prepared if that's the case.)
(He had to focus a lot! There was a lot happening between not falling on his ass, jerking off, meeting Squalo's thrusts and his own pleasure. Of course he held back a little.
Feitan was already done, and he expected that this was it when it came to the whole patching up, so he perks up in surprise, eyebrows frowning even more in his confusion.)
(He just wasn't expecting it, that's all. It's a little strange, but sure, he'll put his hair into a ponytail again so it doesn't get caught in the process, revealing the pale skin once again.)
(It does, but it won't get any reaction from Feitan aside from common sense that he's hurting like a motherfucker. He refuses, and instead, he's the one smiling.
(He hisses a little at the pat, because asshole? But it's fine... This time. Feitan's steps are delicate, and he opens the closet to perhaps find something that fits him. There's nothing.
Well, he'll find a black shirt and allow the robe to slide off his body and that's what he wears now. It reaches almost his knees.)
[ Hey, he might find some shorts that make decent pants for him, too. And there's certainly no shortage of shirts. Mostly trashy T-shirts with ~edgy~ prints and swearwords, but there's even a few button-ups. And lots of leather. ]
[ In the meantime, Squalo's kicking off on the couch and trying to order room service. It may be crap, but he has no kitchen now, so. He spots Feitan in his new shirt and gives him a wry smirk. ]
(The only thing from the laundry pile that Feitan retrieves is his bandana, securing it around his neck and making sure it covers his face as it usually does.
Also, the moment is over, so Feitan's back to not feeling like paying homage to his heritage.)
(vERY FAMOUS LAST WORDS. Feitan makes his point by nearly teleporting to the man's lap, one leg adjacent to each thigh before gentle-looking fingers wrap around the throat.
... And he kisses Squalo's lips. There are other ways to shut the other now that aren't just murder, who would've thought.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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[ He tilts his head just slightly. Animalistic show of trust, letting the other see more of his neck. It's a little weird, sort of like mixed signals, but he finds himself rather enjoying it. What was going on? ]
Your masterpiece.
[ He jokes, turning a bit to get his arm into a better position. Shoulder injuries were always a bit tricky to wrap up, but hopefully he wouldn't have to wear it for too long. Maybe one of those snake oil peddlers downtown actually had a legit healing potion. ]
[ There were probably some sinners with those kinds of magic powers, but he'd rather not ask for any help if he can. ]
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I'm not holding back if we do it again.
(Although, really, he'll be more psychologically prepared if that's the case.)
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[ He raises his eyebrows and laughs, more intrigued than disbelieving, and nods lightly at his shoulder. ]
This was you holding back?
[ Aaaaaaand he's motioning toward where Feitan's neck has been shredded by shark fangs, before reaching for the supplies. ]
Your turn.
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Feitan was already done, and he expected that this was it when it came to the whole patching up, so he perks up in surprise, eyebrows frowning even more in his confusion.)
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[ Squalo raises his eyebrows slightly at all the frowning. ]
Hey, bites are nasty. If you don't want bandages, at least let me wash it out.
[ Water wasn't medicine, Feitan! ]
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(He just wasn't expecting it, that's all. It's a little strange, but sure, he'll put his hair into a ponytail again so it doesn't get caught in the process, revealing the pale skin once again.)
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[ pours the medical liquid on his injuries right out of the bottle. ]
[ That's gotta burn. ]
[ Sweet revenge. ]
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Feitan noises take more than pain, you know?)
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it takes his DICK, doesn't it][ Squalo's grin twitches. This guy. He knows you have working vocal chords, you asshole. Way to cockblock his small joy. ]
Are you for fucking real?
[ But he does proceed to dry up the excess disinfectant with a soaked cloth, then slaps bandages on the deep bites to keep them protected. ]
[ And then pats them, because he's an asshole. ]
All done. The closet's over there.
[ He gestures vaguely in the appropriate direction. It's time to dress you up, tiny sadist. ]
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(He hisses a little at the pat, because asshole? But it's fine... This time. Feitan's steps are delicate, and he opens the closet to perhaps find something that fits him. There's nothing.
Well, he'll find a black shirt and allow the robe to slide off his body and that's what he wears now. It reaches almost his knees.)
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[ In the meantime, Squalo's kicking off on the couch and trying to order room service. It may be crap, but he has no kitchen now, so. He spots Feitan in his new shirt and gives him a wry smirk. ]
I can't believe you found a new dress.
[ It's a shirt. Yeah, that's the joke. ]
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(The only thing from the laundry pile that Feitan retrieves is his bandana, securing it around his neck and making sure it covers his face as it usually does.
Also, the moment is over, so Feitan's back to not feeling like paying homage to his heritage.)
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Make me.
[ FAMOUS LAST WORDS ]
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... And he kisses Squalo's lips. There are other ways to shut the other now that aren't just murder, who would've thought.)
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wrap