(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.)
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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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[ --and then he gets a kiss instead of murder. Huh. ]
[ 404 error ]
[ He blinks twice, then smirks. That works. Look, he'll even shut up for a little bit. ]
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(Ah, the sweet taste of victory. He'll take it.)
wrap
[ ...he's not going to tell him to leave, either. Feitan's free to do as he wishes. ]