(Feitan has died one. Actually, Squalo happened to see him right after that, in his terrible mood and flu-like symptoms, hissing over the fact he died in a battle that he had no stakes on, no opinions, nothing. Seething, watching that bonfire and telling Squalo he bows to no one other than Chrollo Lucifer.
The game has definitely changed since then, because he's got his foot on the man's throat, pressing against his Adam's apple ever so slightly and allowing his giggle to echo in the air.)
You not understand. Nen is part of me, make stronger, but sword? Sword the way it is.
(And Fei descends, sitting on top of hips and once more putting his gentle hands around Squalo's throat.)
[ Oh, so that's why he had been so boring back then. Well. Good thing they got a chance to meet in a better environment, huh? ]
[ Squalo swallows, contemplating whether it's worth tipping his hand right now to prevent quite possibly dying a second time. He's had his throat torn out by a man he considered his best friend in Hell, but crushing would be something new. Even so, there's no fear in his expression. Only daring, and... fascination? ]
[ It doesn't change when he feels the fingers on his neck, even if he does raise his hands to hold onto the smaller man's wrists, not pulling yet, just as a warning. ]
There's no way anyone can move like that without magic. So no. Not the way it is.
(Fei doesn't fight the desire to roll his eyes, the tiredness of his expression rather present when his fingers just tap against the muscles. It's a warning, too.)
[ So, y'know, Talent And Hard Work TM. He's not lying, either. While he does have "something else", too, it does nothing about his speed. Rain Flames are about disrupting an opponent rather than strengthening oneself. ]
So you're really pissing me off.
[ He says it with a grin, though. Not mad enough to break up over it, apparently. ]
(If Squalo doesn't think Talent And Hard Work TM doesn't come with the Feitan pack, he's really wrong. Nen doesn't teach you sword-fighting, doesn't teach you strategy, doesn't hold the sword for you on a battlefield.
Even training in Nen is both mentally and physically exhausting. So now, who's pissed off? Both of them. His eyebrows' arch are aggravated, and he locks his gaze with the other's.)
[ He's definitely looking down on anything he deems supernatural. Which is why he practically never uses his ability in fights. At least as long as they're sword fights. Maybe he will learn better eventually. ]
I'm gonna find a way to beat you. [ Earnestly, with that telltale manic fire burning in his eyes again. ] I can't turn away. It's driving me nuts. I wanna rip your claws out one by one, open your ribcage and curl up on the inside.
[ That... sure sounds like a confession. Of what, though? Who knows. But it's, uh, certainly something. ]
(Is Feitan rubbing off on Squalo? All this talk about explicit, delectable torture. It lures the corners of his lips to curve into a smile, and Feitan bites his lower lip to keep it from getting too large.
Sap.
The hand that clenches around the neck finds its way down the other's chest, the aforementioned claws delicately making their presence known, as to remind Squalo that if Feitan so wished, he most definitely could do the same. Digits only stop their journey when they reach the man's belt, pulling it up as to encourage him to thrust up.)
[ Just a little bit. But he's been talking about cutting people into ribbons and stabbing their eyeballs since before he came to Hell, so maybe he already had some predisposition to it. ]
[ Feitan could, and he would probably actually fit there. Alas. Squalo gradually relaxes his hold, allowing the other to move his hands as he pleases, and pushes the fallen chair away with his foot. ]
Not what I was going for, but I'll take it.
[ And you have the galls to get offended about people being into you torturing them, Fei? For real. ]
[ He goes with the pull, biting his lip a little in anticipation for something damn nice, but he's having a hard time focusing. He feels achey and sick, and the blood rush makes his head throb worse. He grumbles and gently tries to squirm out from under Feitan. ]
Yeah, think the other Squalo's still dead [ yes he's talking about his dick ], so I'm gonna head to bed.
(Lame. It's just death Squalo. You should be over it already. Fei simply rolls his eyes, coming to his feet and offering his hand to help the other up.
While Squalo is gonna go to bed, Feitan is probably gonna "read" some, do a line or two, and go get lost in the city. Probably make his boner someone else's problem in that torture chair. He's Not Happy TM. So, magnificent as always, the boy walks to where his dress is to exchange the shirt for something more... Feitan.)
[ Hey, fuck you, you're not the one who died! Also honestly he would be, but this is like, his sixth death in Hell and apparently the powers that be are trying to gently suggest that they're getting sick of bringing him back. Maybe. ]
[ The hand is hilariously snubbed while Squalo rolls over and gets to his fours before pushing himself up. Help is unacceptable to him in most forms. ]
'S fine. I got it.
[ He doesn't got it. He staggers and has to catch himself on the table. What a sad display. ]
[ While he feels a suspicious amount of Unhappy about being ditched while Feitan goes out to, no doubt, have fun without him, he's a bit too sick to actually try and stop him. He'll be heading for bed and passing out, dead to the world for the rest of the day probably. ]
[ Torture boy better be there when he wakes up, though.]
(After that pathetic round of God knows what the fuck that was, Squalo is off to bed, and Feitan is off to cut some lines against ivory, and out the door he is.
Goddamnit.
Better give him a good reason to be there when Squalo wakes up. Just saying. He's not going to be happy.)
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no subject
The game has definitely changed since then, because he's got his foot on the man's throat, pressing against his Adam's apple ever so slightly and allowing his giggle to echo in the air.)
You not understand. Nen is part of me, make stronger, but sword? Sword the way it is.
(And Fei descends, sitting on top of hips and once more putting his gentle hands around Squalo's throat.)
You sore loser.
no subject
[ Squalo swallows, contemplating whether it's worth tipping his hand right now to prevent quite possibly dying a second time. He's had his throat torn out by a man he considered his best friend in Hell, but crushing would be something new. Even so, there's no fear in his expression. Only daring, and... fascination? ]
[ It doesn't change when he feels the fingers on his neck, even if he does raise his hands to hold onto the smaller man's wrists, not pulling yet, just as a warning. ]
There's no way anyone can move like that without magic. So no. Not the way it is.
no subject
(Fei doesn't fight the desire to roll his eyes, the tiredness of his expression rather present when his fingers just tap against the muscles. It's a warning, too.)
You almost as fast as me. Why?
no subject
'Cause I like being the best at what I do.
[ So, y'know, Talent And Hard Work TM. He's not lying, either. While he does have "something else", too, it does nothing about his speed. Rain Flames are about disrupting an opponent rather than strengthening oneself. ]
So you're really pissing me off.
[ He says it with a grin, though. Not mad enough to break up over it, apparently. ]
no subject
Even training in Nen is both mentally and physically exhausting. So now, who's pissed off? Both of them. His eyebrows' arch are aggravated, and he locks his gaze with the other's.)
What you do about it?
cw: ???
I'm gonna find a way to beat you. [ Earnestly, with that telltale manic fire burning in his eyes again. ] I can't turn away. It's driving me nuts. I wanna rip your claws out one by one, open your ribcage and curl up on the inside.
[ That... sure sounds like a confession. Of what, though? Who knows. But it's, uh, certainly something. ]
no subject
Sap.
The hand that clenches around the neck finds its way down the other's chest, the aforementioned claws delicately making their presence known, as to remind Squalo that if Feitan so wished, he most definitely could do the same. Digits only stop their journey when they reach the man's belt, pulling it up as to encourage him to thrust up.)
Romantic. Can't wait.
no subject
[ Feitan could, and he would probably actually fit there. Alas. Squalo gradually relaxes his hold, allowing the other to move his hands as he pleases, and pushes the fallen chair away with his foot. ]
Not what I was going for, but I'll take it.
[ And you have the galls to get offended about people being into you torturing them, Fei? For real. ]
[ He goes with the pull, biting his lip a little in anticipation for something damn nice, but he's having a hard time focusing. He feels achey and sick, and the blood rush makes his head throb worse. He grumbles and gently tries to squirm out from under Feitan. ]
Yeah, think the other Squalo's still dead [ yes he's talking about his dick ], so I'm gonna head to bed.
no subject
While Squalo is gonna go to bed, Feitan is probably gonna "read" some, do a line or two, and go get lost in the city. Probably make his boner someone else's problem in that torture chair. He's Not Happy TM. So, magnificent as always, the boy walks to where his dress is to exchange the shirt for something more... Feitan.)
no subject
[ The hand is hilariously snubbed while Squalo rolls over and gets to his fours before pushing himself up. Help is unacceptable to him in most forms. ]
'S fine. I got it.
[ He doesn't got it. He staggers and has to catch himself on the table. What a sad display. ]
[ While he feels a suspicious amount of Unhappy about being ditched while Feitan goes out to, no doubt, have fun without him, he's a bit too sick to actually try and stop him. He'll be heading for bed and passing out, dead to the world for the rest of the day probably. ]
[ Torture boy better be there when he wakes up, though.]
wrap
Goddamnit.
Better give him a good reason to be there when Squalo wakes up. Just saying. He's not going to be happy.)