rpf. any and all thoughts, headcanons, and feelings are a result of my ridiculous imagination and are not a reflection of the real life people they're about.
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prompts
thots: jolly | noah | folio | nicholas | matt | justin | ricky | ryan | vinny
Summary: Jolly loves getting his pup as many gifts as possible. He wanted a different kind of present for Folio's birthday this year: a new collar and a new experience.
Pairing: Nick Folio x Jolly Karlsson
Warning(s): 18+ Explicit Sexual Content, Anal sex, Breath play, Choking, Pup used as a pet name, Dom/Sub relationship, Unprotected sex
Word Count: 2.6k
Author's Note: This is a fic that was a year in the making. I was supposed to write this last year for Folio's birthday but I didn't feel comfortable posting it at the time. Fast forward to this year and though I'm two days late, I'm in a place where I'm way more comfortable writing and posting smut these days. I hope ya'll enjoy this, and thank you as always to the bestie ( jestersnotebook ) for encouraging me and offering edits as I write!
banner: me || divider by: saradika-graphics & saveyourscissors
Jolly spent more time then he cared to admit mulling over what he wanted to get Folio for his birthday. He loved getting gifts for all of his boys, but there was something about getting gifts for Folio, for his pup, that felt different to him. Nicholas accused him of spoiling Folio, and Jolly found he couldn't exactly deny it. Ever since he'd gotten Folio his everyday collar, Jolly had been toying with the idea of getting him ones for play. It had been Folioâs idea to wear it at all times, though theyâd agreed that onstage was the only time Folio could take it off. Jolly had made a joke about not wanting Folio to hit himself in the face with the lock while he was playing and Folio had taken him seriously.
It gave Jolly so much pleasure to see the simple chain around Folioâs neck, the lock sitting at the base of his throat. He loved the way Folio still fidgeted with it when he was anxious, still loved hooking his finger under it and watching the way Folioâs brain immediately slipped into subspace the moment Jolly gave it a firm tug.
He'd debated a leather collar, but had settled on something closer to what Folio already had. In Jolly's mind, the best way to ease Folio into wearing his collar during other activities was to give him something close to what he was already used to. He'd found the perfect collar, ordered it and waited ( mostly ) patiently for it to arrive. It had come in just in time for Jolly to wrap it and set it aside. It had been a chore trying to hide the simple box from Folio. Sometimes the drummer was irritatingly observant.
When they had a moment of quiet, after Nicholas and Noah had given Folio their gifts, Jolly reached for his present. Folioâs eyebrow arched and Jolly couldnât help the smirk that spread across his face.
âYou waited until everyone left to give this to me,â Folio said, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
âI did.â
âIâm assuming thereâs a reason for that.â
âThere is.â
There was a moment of silence before it became obvious to Folio that Jolly wasnât going to elaborate until he opened his present. He rolled his eyes, chuckling softly as he pulled off the wrapping paper. He paused for a moment, taking in the simple black box before he opened it.
Inside the box was a simple leather collar with a slip chain in the front. There was an o-ring on it, perfect for the leash that lay in the box next to it. Folio's breath caught in his throat, his fingers running along the leather before hooking under the slip chain. "Now I see why you wanted to wait to give it to me."
Jolly smiled, hand lifting to run his fingers through his hair. "Mmm. I don't have the patience to deal with Nicholas's teasing." His tone was light, an attempt to keep Folio at ease.
Folio paused, gaze shifting from the collar to the occupied space next to it. His eyes widened, gaze snapping to Jolly. "IsâŠis that a leash?"
Jollyâs grin turned almost wicked and he noted the answering shiver that ran along Folioâs spine. âIt is. I had a plan for tonight pup. Your birthday is a special day. But only if youâre comfortable with it.â
He waited while Folio shifted on the couch, chewing his lower lip in thought. Folio nodded, his fingers still tracing the collar in the box.
âWhatâs the plan?â
Jolly leaned forward, his fingers lightly touching the collar. "This is called a slip chain. The leash is attached to the o-ring on the chain."
"That makes sense."
"It's a sort of choke collar. For breath play. I wanted to get you a present, but I also wanted to offer you an experience."
Jolly watched as Folio's breath hitched, head tilting to the side, all curious puppy. He waited patiently while Folio turned the idea over in his head, not one to rush into a moment like this.
"Breath play. That's likeâŠchoking me a little while we're having sex?"
A soft chuckle left Jolly and he nodded. "Yes. It is. This is one of the safer ways to do it." He paused, a hand lifting to brush Folio's hair out of his face. "But I won't do it if you're not comfortable with it, and it doesn't have to be right now."
"Can it be now?"
A wicked grin spread across Jolly's lips and he nodded, his hand moving to tilt Folio's chin to make him meet Jolly's gaze. "It can be, pup. Are you sure you want it to be now?"
Folio nodded as best as he could given how Jolly was holding his chin. "Yeah. I'm sure. I told you, I'm willing to try anything at least once to see if I like it."
Jolly nodded, picking up the collar. He held it, looking at it for a moment before gesturing for Folio to come closer. He took out the key to Folio's lock, taking his day collar off and replacing it with the slip collar. He hooked his finger in the o-ring, giving it a tug to make sure the chain worked. Folio's breath hitched and a small smirk twitched Jolly's features. "Good? Not too tight when I'm not pulling on it?"
Folio nodded, tongue darting across his lips. "Yes, Sir. It's perfect."
"Good boy."
Folio's hips wiggled, as if he were wagging a tail he didn't have. It wasn't the first time Jolly found himself wondering what Folio would do if he had a proper tail and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last. He shook his head, rattling the thoughts loose before standing up. "Go get undressed pup. I want you on your back by the time I get ready."
Folio scrambled to his feet, managing to only trip once and Jolly shook his head with a soft, fond laugh. He ran his fingers through his hair, grabbing the leash before heading to get a bottle of water from the fridge. He took his time, humming absently as he headed towards the bedroom.
Jolly was always grateful for how obedient Folio was. For someone who had such minimal exposure to kink, he took to each new experience with excitement and enthusiasm. It filled Jolly with a warmth he didn't quite have the words for.
As he entered the bedroom, he took a moment to admire the sight in front of him. Folio was naked on the bed, propped up on his elbows. His clothes were piled up on the floor next to the bed and a soft laugh left Jolly at the sight.
"I'm gonna have to get you to fold your clothes before we play next time."
Folio sat up a little straighter, eyes widening slightly. "What like,âŠtasks to do before we have sex?"
"Exactly, but we can talk about that another time."
Folio opened his mouth to speak but immediately shut it as Jolly crossed the room to the bed. He shifted his weight just slightly, gazing up at Jolly as he leaned over the bed.
"I believe I said I wanted you on your back, pup."
"IâŠI know. I just wanted to tell you where the lube is."
"I know where it is, pup."
There was a beat of silence before Folio exhaled, shrugging a shoulder. "That was the only excuse I had."
"You're very lucky you're cute. Nicky."
Folio grinned, head tilting to the side as Jolly got undressed. Jolly took his time, folding his clothes neatly and placing them on the chair tucked under his desk, trying not to laugh as Folio started squirming impatiently.
"Relax, pup. If I'd known you were this eager to try breath play, I would've gotten this sooner."
Folio forced himself to stay still, though his hands drummed absently on the bed. "Sorry. I justâŠ" he paused, a frown twitching his features.
"What is it?"
"You haven't told me the rules."
A look of approval settled across Jolly's features and Folio sat up a little straighter, his praise kink rearing it's head again.
"Good boy, Nicky." Jolly leaned forward, hovering over Folio so their faces were only inches apart. "There's one rule. The other is establishing a safe gesture." He paused, waiting for Folio to nod. "The rule: You do not get to touch yourself. You will cum, but only when I allow it."
"Yes, Sir."
"If you need to stop and you can't speak, you're going to tap my arm three times in a row. Understood?"
Folio nodded. "Yes, Sir."
"Good boy."
Jolly finally closed the distance between them, pressing a kiss to Folio's lips. A soft groan left Folio as his back arched, trying to press as close to Jolly as he possibly could. Jolly smiled into the kiss, earning a soft pleased noise from Folio. No matter how many times they slept together, it always caught Jolly momentarily off guard just how vocal Folio was. Every kiss and touch brought out the most beautiful noises, each one their own seal of approval that Jolly knew Folio as well as he thought he did.
As he leaned back, Jolly hooked the leash onto the o-ring, earning a full body shiver from Folio. A soft, fond laugh left him as he hooked a finger under Folio's chin. "You're so eager, and I haven't even touched you yet."
Folio opened his mouth to speak, but all he could manage was a soft, keening noise as Jolly pinched one of his nipples. Jolly chuckled, his hand moving lower as he leaned forward to take Folio's nipple between his teeth.
Folio's back arched and a low moan left him, his hands fisting the sheets. A soft hum of approval left Jolly as he kissed lower, nipping idly at Folio's sides as he went. He pressed a kiss to Folio's inner thigh, before sitting up. He waited until Folio met his gaze before he wrapped his hand around the drummer's cock and started stroking it infuriatingly slowly.
"Are you ready, pup?"
Folio nodded and Jolly arched his eyebrow. "Y-Yes, Sir."
"Take a few deep breaths."
Folio obeyed and Jolly gave the leash a firm pull. The slip chain did its job, pulling tight and cutting off Folio's airway.
Panic flickered in Folio's eyes and Jolly murmured soft reassurances, reminding Folio that he could tap out at any point and Jolly would honor that request with zero hesitation. There was a fine line between fear and arousal, and Jolly intended to have Folio walking that line like a tightrope, but only if he wanted it.
Folio's breathing evened out as much as it could given how the collar restricted his airway, and Jolly gave him a few moments before releasing his grip on the leash. Folio inhaled sharply, a strangled moan leaving him as Jolly began stroking him a little faster.
"Breathe, pup. Deep breaths." Jolly waited for Folio to catch his breath before removing his hand with a twist of his wrist that had Folio's back arching off the bed. Jolly chuckled softly, shifting his weight forward to reach into the drawer of the beside table. He grabbed the lube and a condom before leaning back, one hand gently massaging Folio's thigh.
"Good boy. You did so well for your first time." A soft, pleased noise left Folio as he watched Jolly through his lashes. Jolly's expression softened, his head tilting to the side as he slicked his fingers. He teased Folio's entrance, smiling to himself as Folio's hips bucked in response. He slid a finger inside, working Folio open before adding another, quietly encouraging Folio to fuck himself on Jolly's fingers. Folio obeyed beautifully, finding a rhythm that sent him stumbling towards the edge, stopping before Jolly had to say the words himself.
"You are full of surprises today, pup," Jolly mused, earning a pleased noise from Folio that immediately shifted into a whine of protest as Jolly removed his fingers. He arched an eyebrow, and Folio fell silent and went still. "You behaved so well, and it's your birthday. It would be mean of me to deny you on your birthday wouldn't it?"
"Y-yes, Sir."
"I'm going to let you cum, but I'm going to make you work for it. How does that sound? Do you want to cum for me, Nicky?"
Folio squirmed, nodding so hard it almost made Jolly laugh. "Please, Sir. Can I cum for you?"
Jolly nodded, giving Folio's leg a squeeze. "Of course. It's your birthday after all." He shifted his weight so he was kneeling between Folio's legs, pausing for a moment before lifting one leg over his shoulder. "Are you ready pup?" Folio nodded and Jolly shifted his weight forward, thrusting into Folio.
Usually, Jolly liked dragging things out. It was always amusing to him how much Folio squirmed and whined when he set a slow pace. More often than not, he would slow down just to hear how many different noises he could draw out of the drummer. This time, Jolly wasn't going to tease Folio. This was about the experience, testing to see if this was something they could try more often.
Jolly set a steady pace, one hand resting on Folio's leg, the other holding the leash. He thrust hard, watching Folio closely, gauging just how close the younger man was to falling over the edge.
"S-sir, I'm so âŠ"
"Hang on just a moment longer, pup. Can you do that for me?" A whimper left Folio and Jolly gave his leg a light squeeze. "You can do it. I promise, it won't be for long."
Folio took a shaking breath before he nodded. Jolly smiled, pressing a soft kiss to Folio's inner thigh. "Good boy. You can do it. Just a little longer."
He shifted his weight slightly, giving the leash a little tug. Folio's back arched, a low moan leaving him as Jolly thrust forward, hitting Folio's prostate with expert precision. He waited for the perfect moment, watching carefully as Folio stumbled closer to the edge. Jolly tugged the leash lightly, and Folio instinctively took a deep breath before Jolly pulled the leash and the slip chain pulled tight.
Again, panic registered in Folio's eyes, but it gave way to arousal much faster this time. His back arched hips, moving in tandem with Jolly. A strangled moan left him, eyes widening slightly as his gaze shifted to Jolly.
Jolly held the leash tight for a few moments longer, watching as Folio's cock twitched with each thrust. He hoped he could time this as well as he wanted, as he loosened his grip on the leash and air rushed back into Folio's lungs.
Folio came hard, back arching, breath coming in sharp gasps. Jolly came not long after him, riding out his orgasm before eventually finding stillness. His hand reached out, running along Folio's chest as he pulled out, a fond smile settling its way onto his features.
"You did so good for me, Nicky. Can you take slow breaths for me?"
They settled into a comfortable silence as they took breaths together. Folio shifted his weight, sitting up a little to press a kiss to Jolly's lips.
"How're you feeling?"
Folio's hand lifted, fingers running through his hair. "Exhausted butâŠkinda floaty."
Jolly chuckled softly, reaching to cup Folio's cheek in one hand. "That's understandable for your first time."
"ButâŠnot the last time right?"
Jolly's eyebrow arched and Folio squirmed slightly. "No. Not the last time pup."
"Fuck yeah."
Jolly leaned forward, pressing another kiss to Folio's lips. "Happy birthday, Nicky."
Content warnings: Underage drinking (Noah and Nick are nineteen in one scene), one single reference to pregnancy, wine, intoxication, dirty talk, references to masturbation, oral sex/blowjob, public(? Semi-public?) sex, outdoor sex, exhibitionism (though no one finds them, Noahâs super into the concept), Will spits in Noahâs mouth once, some divine madness in a sexy way, finger sucking, anal fingering and anal sex (trans woman receiving), unprotected sex, cum eating, praise kink (kind of), weird power dynamics.
Summary: While gathered to worship her patron, Noah stumbles upon the very god she has devoted herself to. Somehow, impossibly, he decides that he wants to ruin her.
Word count: Approx. 5,900 words
Authorâs note: Trans woman!Noah and Dionysus!Will, y'all. Anyone have this on your bingo card? If you know a ton about Greek mythology and are fervent about historical accuracy, you might want to skip this. Maenads are a complicated concept from what I understand, but maenads in this fic are simply a special type of female worshipper of Dionysus. They do bloody things on his behalf and hold a special connection, and it's all with full, enthusiastic consent on their part. I also got my information from Wikipedia because the last thing I wanted was to rabbit hole instead of write this silly little thing. It should have been edited a few more times instead of posted, but I'm impatient. It'll see some edits before I crosspost to AO3, at least. Title from "Heaven is Here" by Florence + the Machine, and the divider is by @/saradika-graphics.
Noah refers to her body with the terms âbreasts,â âclitâ but also terms like âheadâ and âglans,â and âentrance.â Take care of yourself and skip this if you're uncertain!
Even before Noah had started her transition, Dionysus had spoken to her.
Dionysus certainly had male followers; he welcomed those of all genders into the revelry, the ecstasy, the cacophony. Maenads, though â those beloved worshippers were women, wrapped in femininity for reasons she was too mortal to question, and her dreams had started long before sheâd begun to question her gender consciously.
In the dreams, she was always a tall, gangly woman with long, flowing hair. Noah decided when she turned thirteen that she would no longer cut her locks and would allow them to grow to the impressive, draping length she saw in what she knew were visions of her future. The dancing she dreamt of started as a slow, swaying sort of movement; as she grew older, the dance intensified, and so did the urge to act it out.
Noah could not dance. That was abundantly clear from a young age â she had no rhythm, couldnât move her hips, would rock her shoulders but not move much else. She could shimmy with the best of them, but dancing was beyond her.
And then she turned nineteen and drank wine for the first time. It was something cheap that her friend Nick had sweet-talked his way into (an oddly rebellious gesture for such a well-mannered, mellow person), but the taste had still sparked something in Noah. She had drained half the bottle on her own, passing it back and forth with Nick, and then stood and danced.Â
Their dorm room was small, but there was just enough room for Noahâs movements. Nick told her afterwards that she had looked like she knew what she was doing. Sheâd looked graceful, even, and he was still amazed that even a god could spark such a drastic shift in demeanor. She had danced until her feet ached, a pleasant buzz filling her skull, and then sheâd collapsed onto Nickâs bed (and Nick) in a fit of giggles.
As Noah came into herself and her womanhood, she also explored her spirituality. Most people had a patron god, but sheâd never announced which deity she was faithful to. It wasnât uncommon to hold that knowledge as something private and treasured, so no one asked, and maybe that was why Noah had hesitated. Given how sheâd grown up, the idea of a higher power who still turned a blind eye to her suffering made her nose curl.
But, eventually, she realized that Dionysus simply wasnât the type to meddle. He asked for worship and offered ecstasy, but he didnât interfere in the lives of his followers. Perhaps if sheâd been a woman who could conceive, he would have offered a blessing longer than a dance or a festival, but he left her well enough alone as it was.
Noah realized that she was fine with that. Sheâd rather leave her fate in her own hands; she wanted agency over her life, and sheâd tired of others making decisions on her behalf. Even if her journey would be more difficult for navigating alone, at least she knew sheâd chosen the path she took.
It wasnât uncommon for Noah to attend gatherings. While she normally hated being around people, worship was different; Dionysus clamored for bodies, for sweat, for movement, for exclamation and intoxication. She would spend her week grinding out music between shifts at some dreadful office job, and then sheâd take Saturday to partake and Sunday to recover.
It was the first time Noah was attending such an event dressed to her calling. Maenads were separate from the average female follower, but theyâd long since ceased demands of formal assignment. Now, people were trusted to be genuine when they claimed divine visions and calls to motion and blood: being a raving one was an honor that came wrapped in just enough violence to deter false professions.
Nick helped her dress but declined attending himself. He apologized a couple of times, voice soft and expression sheepish, but explained that his own patron wasnât the biggest fan of Dionysus. It was a fair enough argument that Noah had simply kissed his cheek and hushed any further attempts at apology.
The orchard was wrapped in twilight, lights twined through the trees and draped between poles staked into the ground. Music played from speakers Noah couldnât locate, and wine flowed freely and excessively. She had only had one glass, but it was enough to set her buzzing; she knew that, once she started her dance, it wouldnât take her long to sink.
Noah adjusted the fawn skin draped over her shoulders and wished sheâd worn something a bit more modest. It wasnât the most scandalous outfit â she wasnât confident enough for that â but the crop top and shorts felt far too scanty. Maybe part of it was the fact that her legs seemed to go on for ages and created the illusion that sheâd donned scraps for shorts.
Someone bumped into her, and Noah gasped, staggered forward. Another person wrapped in the faint fragrance of flowers caught her, and she laughed an apology, self-deprecating and embarrassed. Her eyes took a moment to focus as the stranger reached up to straighten the ivy wreath placed on her head, and the features she finally registered were unfamiliar but still sparked a flame in her gut.
âNo need to apologize,â he assured her, voice loud and confident. The way his fingers lingered at her hair should have made Noahâs skin crawl, but she leaned into it. Even that brief moment of contact had her lips parting and cheeks flushing like sheâd taken a deep, long drink of wine.
It dawned on Noah only after the man had pulled her into the mass of dancing, writhing bodies that she knew who he was. The problem was fathoming why heâd chosen her of all people. There were other maenads here, women draped in snakes and already dropped into ecstatic incoherency. Dionysus seemed to only have eyes for her, hands on her sides to guide her movements in a rhythm more sensual than most of her dances.
They end up plastered together, Noahâs back to his chest, and it only felt a bit silly for the height difference. Noah would have thought a god would want to be the tallest partner in a dance, but Will seemed content for her to grind back on him and his lips to brush against her neck, sparking shivers and shudders.
By the time Noah and Dionysus had slipped from the crowd, most people had joined in the dance. The air was filled with magic, and it seemed that energy was flowing through the god. His skin was almost golden, radiant and warm; his eyes swam with golden swirls, and his touch felt like electric as a hand on the small of Noahâs back guided her toward the wine.
âWhy me?â Noah blurted between sips of sweetness that lingered on her tongue and encouraged her to press even closer to Dionysus. They swayed together absently, following the beat of the music that seemed to grow faint despite no greater distance.
Dionysus raised his eyebrows and smirked around the lip of his glass. âWhy you?â he echoed, like he was waiting for her to hear the punchline in her own words. When Noah just frowned at him, he laughed and shrugged. âYou caught my attention, Noah.â Hearing her name leave his lips made her head go dizzy, and she leaned further into him to steady herself.
It was hard to fathom how sheâd managed that. âIâm no one special,â Noah huffed, though it occurred to her that perhaps that was the point. Maybe Dionysus wanted someone mundane and unremarkable to dance with.
âYou are,â Will disagreed, leaning in and lifting onto his toes to speak against the shell of her ear. âI know how you worship, late at night and alone in bed. I hear the praises fall from your lips. Did you think it wouldnât draw my interest?â His voice was a hum that seemed to come from inside her skull rather than his lips, and the dissonance made her eyelashes flutter.
Noah dared to reach a hand up, twine a finger through Dionysusâs ringlet curls. They were a remarkable bubblegum pink and felt like silk against her skin, and she wondered what itâd be like to grab it by the handful and pull.
Not that Noah needed to think in such a direction while tucked into Dionysusâs side. He certainly already knew her thoughts, and he had clearly been privy to the way she practiced outside of these group rituals, but it wouldnât help her focus.
As it was, her face was flush and her heart felt settled somewhere in her throat, making it hard to catch her breath. âDo I call you Dionysus?â Noah murmured, not certain why she was asking. It felt like someone else was speaking for her, and she swore the branches of the trees were swelling with ripened fruit despite them having been barren of anything but leaves prior.
The god laughed and tilted his head to peer up at Noah. âNo. Call me Will. As much as I enjoy being the god who comes, sometimes being a man who comes is enough for a night,â he snickered, and it was such a juvenile amusement that it jarred Noah for a moment.
Noah blinked at Dionysus â no, at Will â and found her words after a brief pause. âDo you expect me to forget that youâre a god?â she asked, disbelief audible in her voice. How could she ever neglect to acknowledge the magnitude of the figure now tilting her head, hand on her cheek to guide her into a kiss?
It was a kiss that sparked even the nerves down in her toes. By the time Will pulled back, Noah was panting, and her gaze felt heavy and lazy in a way that matched Willâs grin. âOf course not. And you can still worship me, if you want. As long as I can ravage you before the nightâs over.â He said it all so casually, so easily, as if this was nothing more than a hookup.
The contrast was stark between Willâs flippancy and Noahâs urge to hit her knees despite the fact they were surrounded by people (someone bumped into Will as they stumbled to pour themself more wine, seemingly oblivious to who he was). Let them witness how devoted she was.
Will clicked his tongue and gave a small shake of his head. âAt least wander into the orchard with me,â he encouraged, taking her hand and twining their fingers together. âPeaches are your favorite, arenât they? Iâll pluck you the ripest I can summon, and then Iâll let you settle at my feet to worship.â He kissed her knuckles, grinning against the skin. âIf youâll let me, Noah, Iâll ruin you.â
It felt so natural to follow Will â sheâd done it most of her life, chasing fragments and dreams and glimpses given in moments of revelry and movement. Now she even had a hand in hers, a physical tether for Noahâs faith to orient itself around, and a grinning face to attach her belief and devotion to.
Gods, wasnât Will beautiful. As they danced in and out of shadows, steps taking on a rhythm that echoed the music still trailing faintly after them, Noah found herself staring. He was captivating, the large plugs in his ears catching light that wasnât there and the ink on his skin appearing to move and dance in the split second before she blinked.
Noah was given a peach. The gift was presented with a flourish and a devilish little grin curling the corners of Willâs lips, an expression to match how his gaze sharpened as she brought the fruit to her mouth. It was full in her hands, swollen and ripe; the skin was soft, faintly fuzzy, and it was firm to squeeze in her hand.
As Noah bit down and it gave beneath her teeth, she felt juice spill down her chin. Her face heated and she attempted to turn away, tried to duck behind her hair and conceal the mess she was making, but Will was suddenly close, fingers on her cheek to keep her still. She tried to focus on how sweet the peach was as she chewed and swallowed, but all she could really register was the faint brush of silken skin along her cheekbone.
âSorry,â she rasped, as if the mess was wasteful. In reality, she felt foolish and overwhelmingly mortal for it, and she reached her free hand to wipe at it. Before she could attempt to tidy herself (or, more likely, merely smear the juices into her skin further), Willâs free hand caught her wrist, the digits wrapping easily and bringing stillness without any force behind the digits.
Will shook his head, slivered that distance between them even further, and licked his lips. âLet me help,â he said softly. It likely wasnât meant as an order, but she certainly took it as one â after all, who was she to ignore the words of her patron? He leaned up and in, tongue dragging up her throat, tracing the shape of her chin; it barely brushed her bottom lip and then was gone, the motion repeated to lap up more of the sticky liquid.
By the fourth drag of his tongue, Noah was shuddering and shaking, gaze blurring a bit with the effort of remaining still and obedient. Finally, that little hint of wet heat against her bottom lip prompted words to spill from where sheâd held them captive behind her teeth. âMay I kiss you, Dionysus?â she exhaled, lashes fluttering.
There was no correction for the name Noah uttered, and she herself was too captivated by how Will gazed into her eyes and the way everything around them grew faint and distant to offer an apology. âYouâre still a mess, Noah,â he started, âbut I suppose you will be until the revelryâs over. Kiss me.â
Noah couldnât recall another divine message that had been easier to follow. She moved with blind faith and hunger, leaning down to kiss Will with reverence-tempered hunger. The peach fell from her fingers, dropped into the grass, and was immediately forgotten as Will met her need with desire of his own.
Their lips danced the same way Noah would when wrapped in wine-tinged divine madness, urgent and fast and with enough force to it all to bruise. Willâs hands found her bare hips and kneaded, pulled her flush against him, and Noahâs arms remained at her sides for only moments before she grasped his face. The way his cheeks swelled against her palms with a grin felt like fate, a predetermination sheâd never thought to anticipate.
It felt like a gift to finally settle on her knees. Noah was eased down by Willâs soft words, and he adjusted the wreath on her head a second time as she peered up at him. âMy beautiful maenad,â he murmured with a heated sort of affection. He looked a bit like a snake sizing up his prey despite the warmth; she almost expected him to unhinge his jaw and swallow her whole.
âMy beloved god,â Noah replied in a soft murmur, undoing his pants and pulling his cock free with hands that trembled and shook. The grass tickled her bare knees as she settled, and it was difficult to ignore the warmth settling in her own groin, but she found it hard to mind either sensation as she stroked Willâs cock.
Will was nothing spectacular in terms of length or girth, but there was something for the warmth of his cock, how it leaked for her, the way it tasted on her tongue. She lapped and suckled the tip for a moment, eyes still locked on Will for an inability to look away; she wanted to watch Will unravel within the heat of her mouth, and she needed him to see how desperately she wanted this.
Sucking Willâs cock was a novel form of worship that Noah sank into with mirth. She gazed up at him as she bobbed her head, slowly and leisurely as each gradual sinking of his cock down her throat earned a throaty moan from Will. His fingers gathered her hair, pulled it back in a fistful behind her head without dislodging her wreath, and she moved a bit faster as his hips began to twitch forward faintly.
Noah kept her hands in her own lap, clasped together tightly to keep them from wandering; her own pleasure wasnât the purpose of this act, and she dared not distract herself. It all felt like sinking into the haze of wine-induced intoxication â different for her, as a follower of Dionysus, than the average person. She could feel prickles of sensation sparking gooseflesh on her bare thighs and arms, and she swore there was a faint thrum audible in the air.
âAh,â Will gasped, grip tightening on Noahâs hair. âDo you want your reward?â He didnât allow Noah to pull off to answer; when she attempted to, he used his fistful of her hair to pull her back down. She went willingly, tears prickling in her eyes as she attempted to nod around the cock that throbbed on her tongue. âGood girl,â he crooned.
Madness began to sink into Willâs movements then. He used her throat with far less care than heâd handled her with up until that moment, but he still traced the seam of her lips with a touch so light that it made her dizzy. He offered little warning for the gift that spilled, merely grunted and then pulled her head down to ensure he came down her throat in firm, insistent pulses.
When Noah was released, tears wet her cheeks and spit had joined the remnants of juice slicking her chin. She blinked and swayed, sitting back on her heels as she took rasping, shaking breaths. It barely registered that Willâs free hand clutched hers, provided a pressure and grip that kept her from floating.
By the time Noah regained awareness, Willâs cock was still flush and erect. She opened her mouth to inquire, wondering if perhaps she hadnât managed to satisfy the god, but then Willâs voice danced through her skull. âI told you that I would ruin you, Noah. I havenât done that yet.âÂ
The idea of any further pleasure almost overwhelmed her. Noah nodded, though, stood and brushed the grass from her knees. She kissed Will at his behest, the hand on her throat squeezing in a wordless prompting to part her lips; he licked into her mouth, perhaps chasing the taste of his own godly seed, and then he pulled back to offer a cheshire grin that further stilted the rhythm of her heart.
âIâll take you on your back, so I can see your beautiful face,â Will told her, and his teeth seemed to flash impossibly bright in the bare scraps of moonlight. In fact, everything stood out in stark detail, even as far from the lights as they were; it allowed her to catch the way his gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second and the twitch of his hand at his side.
Noah felt overwhelmingly bashful at the thought of being perceived in a moment so vulnerable, but she couldnât fathom denying her god this wish. She would relinquish this and any further request without hesitation, would scoop out her insides and offer them in certainty-steady hands if that was what Will desired.
For now, it seemed that Will would be satisfied with her laying in the grass, shorts and underwear pulled off and tucked against her side for ease of retrieval. He settled between her slim thighs and raked his gaze over her body; after a pause, her chest was bared as well, crop top shoved up to her collarbone to expose her breasts. She had such small swells of flesh that she didnât typically bother wearing a bra, and the bare air against them caused her nipples to pebble.
As Will looked her over, his fingers trailed along with the heat of his attention. He seemed particularly taken with the divots of her hips and that seam where they met her legs, but perhaps that fascination was inspired by how she twitched and leaked at each soft brush of fingertips.
The attention was already enough that Noah felt set to spill over. Her eyes scrunched shut and she took a breath to settle the urge to writhe, fingers scratching at the ground. She fisted blades of grass, pulled some free, caught dirt beneath her nails. âI hope,â she started, voice unbearably small for the immensity of the god above her, âIâm enough for you.â
It felt borderline blasphemous to even aspire for such a feat. Will had undoubtedly laid countless mortals and nymphs and gods alike bare before him; heâd certainly taken beings far more beautiful and remarkable than Noah. But it was also a sincere sentiment. Foolish as it was, she desired to sate that peculiar and inexplicable hunger she could feel emanate from Willâs mostly-clothed figure.
Will did not seem inclined toward rushing the experience, despite the fact Noah was exposed in such a public space. She found it more euphoric than anxiety-inducing to consider that anyone could stumble upon her pleasing her patron in such an embodied manner, and she spread her legs further at the thought, head tipping back to bare her throat. She wished there was more to expose, greater vulnerability to present.
At least his touches found greater firmness. Willâs palms pressed flush against her stomach, slid up her torso until he cradled her small breasts in hand; he gave small, gentle kneads as he leaned over her. âLook at me.â When she acquiesced, unwavering in her obedience, he gave a crooked little smile as his face hovered above hers. âOpen your mouth.â Again, the words left his lips and she acted without conscious thought.
Noah was uncertain what to expect, but Will spitting in her mouth caught her off guard in a manner she hadnât anticipated. She blinked as heat swelled in her face and tinted her cheeks, but she swallowed when prompted and then parted her lips again as if an inspection would render any sort of meaningful verdict. Maybe she was hoping for another gift of the same nature, unpredictable but gratifying; the blessing had stirred her gut, twisted her lust into something thick and desperate.
She knew better than to rush Will, though. Time itself seemed to slip, and Noah caught sight of stars behind Willâs head that appeared to shift and spin in the darkness of space. Her gaze snapped back to Will as one hand released her breast to snake fingertips down her stomach.Â
âYouâre such an obedient girl, Noah,â Will sighed, voice lilted and honey sweet. His touch was warm enough to melt any lingering tension in her spine as it finally found her clit, half-hard in that manner she found so gender affirming but dripping from desperation and desire. He seemed to know exactly how to touch Noah too, grazing along the length of her but focusing in on the head of her clit. He rubbed at the glans, slid the pads of his fingers over where she was wet and leaking, and murmured the entire time.
Will was certainly offering something coherent and logical. Despite the full sentences he undoubtedly uttered, words all orderly and comprehensible, Noah only caught snippets that did not result in anything she could parse. Did she need to understand what he was saying, though? Just the rumble of his words in her ears was enough for her to sink, eyes hooded as she shuddered out breaths and stared up at Willâs warm, glowing face.
How nice it felt to drift downwards into the haze and bliss of ecstasy. It was the type of sensation that Noah chased, and she typically only achieved it after several glasses of wine and dance so intense and fervent that her ankles creaked in protest and the echoes of exertion thrummed through her muscles the next day.
Now it was Will pulling her into the depths of something close to madness, albeit not as permanent. Occasionally she indulged in thoughts of what it would be like to lose herself entirely, to submerge and never resurface, but then she would think of Nick and realize she had something to cling to with sanity and coherency. As Nick flickered through her mind for a split second, she realized even that was not enough to anchor her in the moment.
As Will plucked notes of pleasure from her body that vibrated in her gut like the composition of a well-rehearsed melody, Noah relinquished her entire self to it. She arched up beneath his touch and breathed pleas for more, uncertain of what she craved but trusting Will to bless her with it regardless. How could she not trust a god who seemed to have settled just beneath her skin in a manner that suggested he fit perfectly? How could she not trust a god whom she had seemingly been crafted and shaped for?
Will pressed his fingers to Noahâs lips, and she granted him entry without thought. Her tongue curled around the digits and she indulged in mindless, sloppy drooling â only partially to better slick Willâs digits. As he pulled them back and her desperate, trembling gasps spilled into the air once more, one hand kept teasing at her clit and the other moved to press a single digit against her entrance.
There was a mere moment of teasing, and then Willâs finger sank inside her. Noah whimpered at how her body simply welcomed him in; she frequently filled herself but still found surprise in how little pain there was. It was merely a gentle, warming stretch, an easy press to the knuckle.Â
It brought back recollections in brief flickers of her working herself open late at night, gasping for Dionysus as she brought herself to the brink, over and over, in search of his divine presence. She always used her fingers, never a toy, preferring the warmth of the long digits and a human touch curling and pressing. Nothing she had ever managed on her own, tangled in her own sheets or with a cheek pressed to her pillow, felt quite like this.
Not even anotherâs touch had felt so blissful. Noah recalled the few times she had fallen into bed with Nick, surreptitious affairs they ignored in an attempt to obscure reality from themselves, and marveled at how his fingers and cock had felt so overwhelming in the moment, only to pale in comparison to the sensations flooding her body now.
Noah moved with the thrusts of Willâs fingers, meeting them with leisurely rocks of her hips; she dared not touch him, left her arms at her side despite the urge to cradle his face and stroke his hair with hands adoring and reverential. And as Will added a second finger, a third, he leaned down to press a slow, wet kiss to her lips and murmured, âTouch yourself for me, beautiful maenad.â
How could she not obey? Noahâs hand drifted to her clit and began to offer herself the same manner of touches Will had gifted her before, albeit a bit firmer and more insistent as she followed her pleasure down a winding, shadowed path. Her eyes had drifted shut to relish in the feeling of Will filling her so wholly and sweetly, but they opened now as Will withdrew those very fingers.
She didnât register any complaints or begging from her own lips, but it seemed something had spilled from them for the way Will grinned and shushed her. âIâll give you what you need,â he promised her, repeating the words as she felt the tip of his cock bump against her entrance. He teased her for what felt like an eternity, as if he spent hours merely circling and circling and circling, and then he began to slowly, sweetly sink inside.
It felt inconsequential that they were amidst the trees of an orchard or that there was a teeming, bustling crowd of revelers a few dozen yards away. Noahâs back bowed and she wailed her pleasure, a trembling sort of sound drawn out until it broke for the overwhelming sensation of Willâs hips meeting her flesh.
As Will began to move, Noahâs eyes slid shut once more. It felt too overwhelming to stare up at the god, expression fond as he offered a dimpled, lazy-lidded grin â he seemed far more composed than her, clearly experiencing pleasure but nowhere near the point of unraveling. Noah felt as if she had been haphazardly stitched up and left adorned in loose threads. All Will would need to do would be tug at one, and her insides would spill out.
The visions that danced across Noahâs eyelids felt familiar. When she would dance, Dionysus would often fill her thoughts with images and sensations, smells and phantom tastes on her tongue, and she found that being in his presence only amplified the richness. She saw vines wrapping around her ankles, up her calves, up her thighs â enveloping her like an embrace before blossoming and blooming. It turned her into something beautiful and more alive than she could have ever achieved on her own, and it set her nerves alight in a way that induced a steady tremble in her limbs.
One of Willâs hands settled on Noahâs throat, an expanse of inked skin she eagerly bared to him. There was no pressure behind it, despite what Noah might have typically craved or encouraged, but it was more than enough. She wondered how intently her pulse thrummed beneath his fingers and if he could feel her throat work with each gasp and whimper of his name. Will found its way from her lips more often than not, but occasionally his godly name escaped, and she found both induced a throb in her clit.
Willâs other hand clutched at Noahâs hip and pulled her down to meet his thrusts. She realized, belatedly, that sheâd gone limp beneath him, far too overwhelmed with pleasure to offer the sort of movements that her lust would have typically prompted. Part of her prayed that Will wasnât disappointed in her for it, for the fallibility of her mortal self, and Willâs grin grew in a way that told her heâd heard the pleas.
âYouâre far from disappointing,â Will purred down at her, fingers digging into the softness at her hip. She wondered if it would be uncouth and too forward to request he leave her bruises to recall the evening by, and a moment later she felt his grip tighten enough to earn a soft wail. The ache of it promised a visible reminder, and she knew that such a guarantee would unspool any last remnant of restraint.
Noah wasnât certain which moment was the one she came undone. By the time she realized, her pleasure had twisted into something edging on discomfort, and her fingers were slick with her own release as they mindlessly continued to touch, to rub. Will had given her a command, and she wouldnât cease until he acknowledged the end of her task, even as her hips twitched in protest and her face scrunched.
The moment of relief was found in Willâs hand moving from her throat to her wrist. He pulled Noahâs hand to his mouth and sucked her fingers between his lips, tongue laving over the skin as he groaned low and melodic. His hips stuttered, each thrust ever more forceful and growing increasingly staggered, and then he growled something so brutal and harsh that Noah gasped at the mere sound of it.
As Will came inside her, Noah wondered how she was meant to ever relinquish the god back to his duties. She longed to covet him and keep him close, and the kiss he offered her as he slid his cock free only lodged that selfish and wholly unwise desire deeper inside her chest. She allowed herself the sin of touch now, and she cupped his full cheeks in her hands, pulled him down for a second kiss she had no right to lay claim to.
Will indulged her regardless. In fact, he lay next to her on the fawn skin sheâd not registered beneath her back, and they curled up together as one kiss bled into another. His mouth grew familiar and ever the more intoxicating for it, and she whispered his name in those moments of hushed breaths. âWill,â she murmured, a countless utterance of it, as if she could keep him in proximity through name alone.
Eventually, as the celebration in the distance carried into more erratic revelry and lifted itself into more maddened forms in the small hours of the morning, Will did withdraw. He sat up and smiled down at her something fond and a touch distant. âYou were perfect,â he assured her before doubts could bloom among her thoughts.
He stroked Noahâs hair back from her face in a gesture almost studious in its attentiveness, and Will only stood once he had righted her clothes and granted her a modesty she felt no attachment to. Surely anyone who could find her in such a state would understand the awe and amazement of such an experience, and theyâd feel envy rather than contempt or disgust.
âI donât think Iâm finished with you, Noah,â Will announced, even as he fixed his own attire. She realized now how mundane his appearance was as a whole, and she considered that he had been tangled amongst the crowd when sheâd stumbled upon him. Maybe his presence had graced the space on previous evenings, and she had simply been unaware of how close she was to divinity.
She knew sheâd seek him out now, any time wine or festivity blessed a space. Noah sat up and offered a shaking, flushed smile. âI hope not.â Her voice was small, and she wondered how inconsequential her existence was in the face of Willâs godhood. She marveled at the fact heâd deemed her worthy of this encounter, and she couldnât fathom that he would desire further interaction.
Willâs figure grew faint as he took one step backwards, then another. Each stride tugged at Noahâs gut, as if some invisible string had twined around her and bound her to Will. She had assumed some sort of connection prior, but now she knew sheâd been blessed with something far more meaningful and intimate than most worshippers could ever begin to dream of.
âThank you,â Noah blurted upon realizing she had yet to express her gratitude. All that echoed in return was a laugh, faint and lilted, and then Will stepped into shadows and was lost. She sat for a while and stared at the space, perhaps hoping heâd return; after it became clear that he had departed for places or perhaps people more dignified and important than her, she stood and went about brushing the grass and leaves from her clothing.
When Noah returned to the party, she found the music and laughter rang hollow in the face of what she had experienced. She exchanged curt nods and brief touches to elbows as she swam through the crowd, but she quickly found her way to the beat-up thing she called her car and then made a commute she couldnât recall back to her dorm.
As she sank into her sheets, Nick sleeping soundly across the room, Noah touched her own lips and wondered when sheâd get to taste Dionysus again.
Tag list: @ami-gami, @dodgersnotebook, @desperatetype, @ladyveronikawrites, @malice-ov-mercy
If you're a new writer and you're asking yourself "is this too personal, is this too much, will people think this is weird" that feeling is the exact location of your actual voice. The stuff that makes you want to close the laptop is the stuff nobody else could write. The safe version is always worse. Always. I have never once read something and thought "this would have been better if it was a little less honest." go further. It's always go further.
Series: Fall Into Oblivion
Entry number: Six
Content warning(s): Violence, knives, intrusive thoughts, descriptions of physical pain. MDNI.
Word count: 2,805
Summary: Folio and Will go to pick up dinner, and Will's shitty luck strikes again.
Author's note: This chapter hasn't been heavily edited. It's fought me so much that I finished it, gave it one and a half proofread passes, and now I'm sending it out into the universe. I need to be free. Content warnings is a short list this time, but I think I still got everything. I'm worried the tone of this doesn't match the tone of the rest of the series, but I'll try to smooth it out before it ends up on AO3. We get lore, though!! Plot!! Who could have seen this coming? I hope y'all enjoy, especially after the wait. Divider is by @/saradika-graphics.
Folio was the least intimidating of Noahâs friends by a long shot. Nick had some odd, unspoken grudge against Will (he hadnât even done anything yet, other than his deal that Nick couldnât have possibly known about), and Jolly was friendly enough but occasionally looked at Will like he had a diagnosis for whatever was wrong with him. And, despite knowing there was plenty wrong with himself, Will didnât want words for it.
Because Folio was the most approachable and the least likely to see something in Will that he shouldnât have been aware of, Will was more than willing to pick up dinner with him. Will and Folio both put away food like no oneâs business, and adding even the more reasonable amounts that the other three ate meant that it was too much for one person to carry. So Will had easily and readily agreed to tag along; they chatted back and forth as they walked to the restaurant, Will amused by how much Folio had opened up in the past couple of weeks.
It was never that simple for Will, though. The universe wouldnât let him enjoy a big, tasty feast of Chinese takeout with a hot guy and his friends, even if heâd have to steal said hot guyâs soul later. Will could ignore the demonâs disdain well enough, could push through the shadows that writhed and twisted and tugged at his gaze in a way that somehow conveyed impatience, but he couldnât ignore the two guys who stepped in front of him and Folio with knives already drawn.
Of course Will knew them too. He knew them for reasons that told him that he was getting his ass kicked. He wouldnât have minded it if heâd been alone â hell, he would have enjoyed it, whether he had worn his own blood alone or some of theirs as well â but there was a big, glaring issue now. Folio was there, and Will couldnât imagine someone like Folio fighting off a pissed dude with a knife.
âWoah,â Folio started, staggering to a halt and reaching out an arm to hold in front of Will, forcing him to stop and earning a bewildered look. âHey, guys, we donât want any trouble.â He sounded oddly confident, no scared tremor to his words, and thatâs even more confusing. He also sounded like every action hero in every crime thriller ever, which made Will snort.
One of the people had a nasty scar tracing the curve of their cheekbone â a scar that Will may or may not have had a (literal) hand in, to put it mildly. âSpeak for yourself, heart throb. Ramos hereâs always looking for trouble.â They pointed their knife at Will, bared their teeth in a sneer. âIsnât that right?â Which, well, it was, but that wasnât exactly helpful. And, for once, Will wasnât up for a bloody brawl on some back street in the city. The smell of cat piss wasnât enough to put him in the mood this time, though the glint of the personâs blade almost did.
Will knew this personâs name. He knew he did. He reached for his own knife, flicked it open and pointedly stepped around Folioâs extended arm without a glance at him. âCecil!â Will shouted, and that did earn a flinch from Folio. âYour nameâs Cecil! Thatâs right, youâre the person with the old man name.â
It didnât seem like Cecil was impressed by the fact that Will had held onto their name. âYeah, the old man name,â they drawled, âand the ugly ass scar. You gave my friend here a scar too â do you remember Derrick?â At the blank gaze Will threw their companion, Cecil snorted. âNo, of course not. Well, Derrick remembers you, but weâre here for business.â Which meant Will could potentially get out without being gutted, but heâd probably acquire a new scar or two in the process.
Though that would require cooperation, and Will was never that well-behaved.Â
âHey, Folio, you wanna go the long way?â Will asked calmly, companionably, even as he found himself salivating at the thought of drawing blood. He could see it now, adding another scar to Cecilâs handsome face to even it out, digging his blade into Derrickâs thigh until he screeched. He could almost feel the sensation of muscle giving beneath his swing.
Folio said something, and Will thought he sounded a bit more uncertain now, and then suddenly he couldnât think at all. Every single bulb in the neon sign across the street popped at once, and Willâs sight went with them. The black that settled over his vision was speckled with flashes of light like the dance of sunlight on a blade, and it came with a burning in his eyes that made him grind his teeth against a howl.
A loud snapping sound, something ringing and hollow, and then Willâs skin was on fire. He had flames buried beneath his flesh, eating through his muscle, consuming tissue until they were licking at his bones. His lungs seized; he hit his knees and lurched forward onto his hands, knife lost somewhere. He gagged and heaved violently as he shuddered through the agony.
Sight came back in pieces, slivers, and Will glanced up to see Folio standing between him and the two guys with knives. Great. Now Folio was gonna get his ass kicked. Except Folio had something in his hands that he definitely hadnât been carrying before, and Will struggled to place what it was.Â
Was that a fucking metal pipe?
As Will watched, though, the smeared and blurred shapes of the scene moved and morphed. Cecil stepped closer, and the shape in Folioâs hand shifted from something thick and over half a foot long, into a shape more resembling a baseball bat. The movement threatened to make him ill, and he fell forward, forehead thumping against the sidewalk as he groaned.
The sound of something whistling through the air, stark against his eardrums, and a thunk. It wasnât a hollow ring, and it didnât pop at the end like an object had gone flying â it was a solid, wet sound, accompanied by a grunt and the dull noise of a body hitting the sidewalk. A cigarette-hoarse voice swore, and Folio offered words that were vaguely shaped like an offer to walk away.
Not that anyone Will knew would give up a chance to kick his ass. He glanced up, body shuddering as heat sharp enough to warp steel twined its way up his spine, and saw two blurred, flickering Folios hoist their bats again. A body lay at both of the figuresâ feet, stretched long and deformed, and Will couldnât place who brandished their knife opposite Folio.
Willâs words got all tangled in his throat, choked him, and he collapsed face-first again. He heard whispers like nails dragging over his eardrums, and he could only place half of them. They all registered out of order, though, and seemed to refuse to form a coherent sentence. Forget. Soul. Coward. Love. It was the gut-writhing voice of the demon, but what the fuck was it trying to say?
It would have been more than fitting for how bullshit Willâs life was if the demon had decided to end their arrangement then and there, Will writhing on the damp concrete like some pathetic worm to be squished beneath a stern heel, but the agony passed. As he came to, he glanced up, and he realized there were now two unmoving bodies on the ground â in front of one single Folio, static and solid.Â
If not for the fact there was nowhere he could have gotten it from, Will would have sworn Folio had an actual baseball bat. He sat up on his heels and hacked, coughed and spit; as he wiped the sweat from his eyes, he realized the shape was a bit too haphazard to have been manufactured. âWhere did you get that?â he asked, far more intrigued by this weapon than he was concerned about the unconscious (or dead, who knew) people in front of them.
Folio blinked, then swung the object around in front of himself to stare at it for a moment. âUh,â he started, like he didnât know where heâd gotten it, but before hysterical laughter could spill from Will at the thought, Folioâs expression turned sheepish. âI, uh, made it.â Which was far from a helpful explanation, because how the fuck had Folio made it?
âRiiight,â Will replied, attempting to stumble to his feet. He staggered, teetered off to the right, slammed into the wall before he could hit the ground again â small mercies, he guessed. âDid you learn that at the shop?â The question didnât quite make sense, but Will couldnât even remember what joke heâd been attempting to make, thoughts sloshing around in his skull like theyâd been liquified for the heat that had burnt his throat and tongue.
It was clear that Folio had no idea what Will meant either. Fair enough. âNo, I just . . .â He trailed off, nose scrunching up as his face grew flushed. âI used magic,â he added in a small, hesitant voice, like it was some secret he wasnât allowed to share.
Will stared for a few seconds, wondering if he was hallucinating again. Heâd been having that problem more and more frequently as of late; this would have just been a peculiar thing to conjure up in some bizarre, psychotic haze induced by an impatient demon. âMagic. You have magic?â Will didnât mean to sound skeptical, but it sounded like bullshit. Demons, sure. Magic? That felt borderline incomprehensible.
Was it that unreasonable, though?
There was an awkward moment where they both just stood there, staring at each other, before Folio sighed; that odd vibration started up in the roots of Willâs teeth, and he winced a little at the intensity of it as the shape in Folioâs hand began to move and shift. It warped and shortened, Folio moving his hands to form it into a cube â when he was done, he sat it gently on the ground and off to the side like he was worried someone might have tripped over it.
âOh. Shit. Magic.â Unless Will had completely lost touch with reality, of course, but it felt more entertaining to chase this rabbit down the unexpected hole than question if it was all fabricated. âOkay. Cool. Does that make you a . . . wizard?â he attempted, face scrunching.
Folio snorted and shook his head. âIâm a witch. Wizards are different. Theyâre kind of nerds, honestly,â he added, absently, and then tilted his head at an angle that read as nothing but curious puppy. âYou really donât know anything about magic?â The skepticism in his clarification made Will frown, sparked a twinge of indignation.
It was hard to keep his voice from coming out too barbed, but Will managed a relatively flat, âWhy would I lie about that?â He didnât need to pretend to be an idiot, after all. That came naturally enough that no fibbing was required.
The question earned him a broad, vague gesture from Folio. âYou feel like you have magic sometimes. Kind of. Or you have this . . . odor of magic. Like when youâre standing next to someone who smoked a cigar. I thought maybe your magic was passive, or just really weak,â he explained.Â
Will stared for a few seconds as he turned over each concept on its own. âIâve got secondhand magic stink. Cool.â Where would itâ Fuck. âWell,â he started, fiddling with a curl and leaning a bit heavier against the wall. He squinted at Folioâs shoes, noticed the faint spattering of blood across them, wondered idly how bashed in Cecilâs head was. Or if the other guy . . . what was his name? If the other guy was still breathing.
âWell?â Folio echoed, still looking confused.Â
It was probably too late to backpedal now, huh? Will had already opened his mouth, had already started to unravel a secret that he wasnât certain was fully his to disclose, and now he had to offer some sort of story. He needed to weave a narrative to explain everything, but he dug frantically through his brain for some sort of bullshit to offer and came up empty-handed. âIâm kind of being . . . haunted? By a demon?â he offered in lieu of a lie.
Folio said, seemingly without thinking, âDemons donât haunt. They possess.â His head straightened on his neck, though the furrow in his brow remained. âDid you make a deal with a demon?â he guessed, scratching at his jaw.
Maybe lying would have been better. Will certainly couldnât disclose the entire truth. âYeah. It owns my soul. Iâm raw-dogging life right now, spiritually. Which kind of sucks ass. Hence the flailing around on the ground in agony thing. Speaking of, thanks for saving my ass. I didnât want to get stabbed today. Well, I wouldnât have minded it, I donât think, but I would have felt bad if youââ
Thankfully, Folio interrupted Willâs inane rambling. âYou donât have a soul? Youâre soulless?â he interjected, seemingly stuck on that point more than any other. Which was probably a fair sort of inquiry, really, given how unpleasant the entire experience was. Was it a common thing, in the circles Folio frequented? Or was Will an anomaly?
Will shrugged and managed to stand upright, no longer bracing against the wall â the world tilted alarmingly but then righted itself, and he took a deep breath as he waited to make sure that he wasnât about to hit the sidewalk again. For how his knees shook momentarily, he still managed to stay vertical, and he finally answered. âYeah, I am.â Maybe if he said it casually enough, it wouldnât be a big deal.
It was difficult to follow the emotions cycling through in Folioâs features. Will caught confusion, maybe some anxious apprehension, and then understanding seemed to catch and settle into place. âThat explains why Nick doesnât like you,â he said, nodding to himself.Â
Oh. So other people had noticed too. It wasnât exactly reassuring to have confirmation that it hadnât all been in Willâs head, not a fabricated product of guilty conscience but â apparently â a tangible consequence of the gaping hole where his soul had once been. âIs it some weird stigma against soulless people? Does he think Iâm a freak?â Will asked, not particularly bothered by the thought. He was a freak, even outside of the state of his spiritual well-being.
Folio opened his mouth to answer, paused, and then shut his mouth. He thought, nose scrunching, and then started to speak â only to be stopped by a notification on his phone. He fumbled to get the device out, squinted at the screen. âOh, shit, takeoutâs ready. I got a text from the restaurant reminding us to pick it up. We should probably . . .â A vague gesture.
Figuring out what the fuck Nickâs problem was fell far below Chinese food on Willâs list of priorities. He nodded and bounced on his feet, stealing one quick kick to Cecilâs skull on his way past â and pointedly ignoring the appalled glance from Folio. Folio was the one whoâd knocked them out, after all. He had no room to fuss and gawk at Willâs own display of violence, frivolous as it was. Or maybe he did.
âSo why does Nick hate me for being soulless? And how would he even know?â Will prompted, surprised he had held onto the inquiry for even a handful of minutes. Perhaps it was the temptation of an answer finally within reach, some sort of justification that wasnât that Nick had found him out.
Another moment of hesitation. âNickâs also a witch. Heâs a lot more . . . in tune with magic than I am. So he probably felt it. And I donât think thereâs any bias against soulless people? Thereâs just the question of how you ended up soulless.â At Willâs blank look, Folio added: âMost people lose their souls doing awful shit, Will.âÂ
Will processed that as they walked, catching a glimpse of the restaurant sign. Only half of the bulbs were lit, and he swore he could hear them sizzle even from a block away. âI mean, I got stabbed. But I got stabbed because Iâd done awful shit, I guess,â he admitted.
That earned a baffled look from Folio, another expression that Will had no context for. âAre you saying that the demon found you?â The clarification seemed like an odd point, perhaps because Will had never considered having been the one making contact. He hadnât even known demons existed, after all.
But Folio wouldnât have known that, so Will just held the door open with his shoulder and grinned. âWeirder people have found me, honestly. Demonâs not even top five.â He might have been exaggerating a bit. Maybe.
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