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@dubiousdeviant
Higschool diva Daken wants some fun, choosing a rather difficult target to win over this time, Lester or Benjamin or whatever his name is... Based on @/SamanthaAmes (on X, formerly known as Twitter) -Flirty x (Angrily) Flustered- reference
"Dance with me, Handsome," Bullseye crooned and shot at Daken.
Not one to disappoint, Daken showed him his moves. He didn't just dive out of the way, he rolled into a somersault that ended in an alert crouch, poised to move again. Though, he doubted Lester would give him much warning again. "I've been trying to. You won't give me the chance," he shot back. Lester has his gun, and Daken had his tongue. They were evenly matched. "Nice to know you still think I'm handsome, though."
Bullseye cackles and shot Daken in the ear to be annoying. Then his pinky finger for accuracy. Then several gut shots to show that he meant business.
He reloaded, giggling, and deigned to respond. He was running high, having trashed his olds meds and just shoved some others in his face, because he was sick and tired of feeling bad and low, running away from everything. "Give ya the chance to get your ass kicked!"
To Daken’s heightened senses, he must stink of meds and hormones, mood disorder on full swing and everything out of place.
He'd tried to dodge the first shot, but Bullseye was nothing if not accurate, predicting where his target would be rather than where he was. By the time the gut shots came, Daken had surrendered to the inevitable, smirking through the pain. "I won't judge you for handicapping your opponent.
Only...I will. Lester~. Come take care of me like a real man," he taunted. "Besides, we both know you want to touch me." That was comical coming out of a man who was pouring blood and gore onto the ground at his feet.
"Ya were always a lousy fight and a lousy lay, princess, just lying back and wanting me to do the work. C'mon, you get ya hands dirty." Bullseye laughed, knowing better even in his manic state not to let the mutant force close quarters if he could help it. "Gonna bleed ya!"
He shifted to a more comfortable, aka unusual weapon, a trusty deck of cards. He started slicing Daken up with them, dancing around him, laughing and taunting.
"Whatchu gonna do?" he crooned. "Ain't no love lost here to beg for! Just you and me and a helluva lot of blood." He grinned at the mess Daken left, his heart thrumming, his breath racing, and he's flying high. Finally.
God, how long was it since he last let go?
"Oh, Lester..." He fixed his face into a mocking pout. "I didn't want to hurt you." Humans were so fragile after all. That pout stretched into his usual smirk, tight-lipped to prevent himself from laughing.
Since Lester wanted him to fight, Daken had one real option: to get closer. Cuts striped his skin, slowly painting him red, but he still focused on that one goal. There was no ducking and dodging, just tanking what he knew wouldn't kill him, until he could finally reach out and eject his claws, returning the favor. One slice to that perfect face that turned the tables.
Dark Reign: Young Avengers #5
Paul Cornell/Mark Brooks
"Dance with me, Handsome," Bullseye crooned and shot at Daken.
Not one to disappoint, Daken showed him his moves. He didn't just dive out of the way, he rolled into a somersault that ended in an alert crouch, poised to move again. Though, he doubted Lester would give him much warning again. "I've been trying to. You won't give me the chance," he shot back. Lester has his gun, and Daken had his tongue. They were evenly matched. "Nice to know you still think I'm handsome, though."
Bullseye cackles and shot Daken in the ear to be annoying. Then his pinky finger for accuracy. Then several gut shots to show that he meant business.
He reloaded, giggling, and deigned to respond. He was running high, having trashed his olds meds and just shoved some others in his face, because he was sick and tired of feeling bad and low, running away from everything. "Give ya the chance to get your ass kicked!"
To Daken’s heightened senses, he must stink of meds and hormones, mood disorder on full swing and everything out of place.
He'd tried to dodge the first shot, but Bullseye was nothing if not accurate, predicting where his target would be rather than where he was. By the time the gut shots came, Daken had surrendered to the inevitable, smirking through the pain. "I won't judge you for handicapping your opponent.
Only...I will. Lester~. Come take care of me like a real man," he taunted. "Besides, we both know you want to touch me." That was comical coming out of a man who was pouring blood and gore onto the ground at his feet.
"Dance with me, Handsome," Bullseye crooned and shot at Daken.
Not one to disappoint, Daken showed him his moves. He didn't just dive out of the way, he rolled into a somersault that ended in an alert crouch, poised to move again. Though, he doubted Lester would give him much warning again. "I've been trying to. You won't give me the chance," he shot back. Lester has his gun, and Daken had his tongue. They were evenly matched. "Nice to know you still think I'm handsome, though."
Dex caught the shift of emotion but it didn't really mean anything to him, whether or not Daken regretted anything wasn't his purview.
"Tch, you talk as if you have any right to know," he countered. He'd been sent up front because Lester had gotten stuck and tried to do something that had made sense in his head at the moment, but the running orders weren't that cozy with the ex. It was a bit funny given why he was there. It wasn't like Lester made sense as a norm.
Though in hindsight not answering would probably tell Daken that there were more than just him. A sense of low-grade bitterness filled him. It was always a problem when people figured this out. But it was hard to hide Lester running away when he threw a tantrum. Those emotional highs and lows were a problem.
"Anyhow, no point standing around in an unsecured location all day long." He adjusted himself, noted as Lester had the ladder, and with a jump and pull up he heaved himself to it and climbed it to the roof.
"Come or go, I'm not sticking around here, waiting to get noticed," he told Daken. He'd either get to follow and stand there.
Naturally, Daken felt like he had every right to know, but that was left unsaid. There wasn't one personality in that idiot brain of Lester's that would agree with him anyway. Maybe they were right, or maybe Lester had just taken too many blows to the head to realize he was Daken's until that final blow to the head. Even then--
A deep breath brought those obsessive thoughts to a halt. Besides, he was about to be left in an alley. "Rain check. If he doesn't already know, tell Lester I only want him." A night on the edge of his bed with a bowl of takeout and his latest novel would keep him better company than not-Lester. He was going to wait to leave, though. That was still Lester's body, and he liked to watch him move.
"Un-fucking-believable," he drawled with that Bronx brogue at the audacity of Daken, debating the viability to even try to explain their inner workings. He was barely comfortable with it but he'd done as much before.
"I know what he does and vice versa. But bits are... compartmentalized away. Like his dumbass inability to keep from thinking with his dick around you." He gave Daken a once over. Thinking of his desire for Daken as Lester's made it even easier to ignore. He'd always ignored his desire for others. No space for it.
"As is, I know the playbook around you. What surprised me is why he pushed me to front and went AWOL rather than dealing with you like we deal with most problems instead. Get kinetic." Daken was a problem. He should be dead. It should be Bullseye that picked up the slack. "Guess he didn't want to give you the satisfaction."
Lester was the big feelings guy, but there was always some bleed-over. Dex felt it like a sour taste when he looked at Daken. The mutant made a mess of things. He didn't like messes.
It was amusing to hear him criticize Lester for his attraction to Daken, when Dex had been more than willing to sacrifice himself to Daken's lust. It seemed their shared body reacted to him no matter who was controlling it.
That amusement didn't last, though. Memories of their violence made brought back more than nostalgia. He'd been serious about wanting his husband back. The pain, the regret, contorted his expression briefly.
"How many of you are in there?" It was better to change the subject from what was in his own mind to what was in Lester's.
Dex didn't move and allowed the touch with only another cocked brow. He didn't flinch, but neither did he lean into the touch.
He waited patiently for some commentary.
Daken grabbed his chin, not hard, just firmly. "I want my husband back." It was more than just an insistence that he have Lester back from the corner of his mind he was hiding in, it was a statement of his intentions. It wasn't about the sex, not unless he could have it with Lester. It was Lester he wanted to feel what he used to make him feel, not Dex.
Dex looked down his nose at Daken, jaw tensing at the entitlement. "Boo hoo," he said blandly at the demand, but made no movement to remove himself from Daken's grip. "You did this to yourself."
Dex had little pity in him. He'd called Daken asshole number one and he was equally determined as Lester not to go running after him. Upside was that he actually could do it.
"What now, EX-husband? I thought you wanted me for my body. " He was being mouthy, but it was in a dry fashion. He wasn't one for much verbal conflict, but it didn't mean that he took rudeness lying down. He was still him.
How much of this exchange would Lester retain, or did his personalities keep their memories as their own? With no way to know, Daken simply rolled his eyes and released the stupidly handsome face Dex was wearing. "Confirmation you and Lester share a brain." They were both clueless idiots.
Dex didn't move and allowed the touch with only another cocked brow. He didn't flinch, but neither did he lean into the touch.
He waited patiently for some commentary.
Daken grabbed his chin, not hard, just firmly. "I want my husband back." It was more than just an insistence that he have Lester back from the corner of his mind he was hiding in, it was a statement of his intentions. It wasn't about the sex, not unless he could have it with Lester. It was Lester he wanted to feel what he used to make him feel, not Dex.
A slow blink as his initial response. It wasn't surprising that Daken had clocked him, he should have expected it. Still, it wasn't very usual for him to introduce himself.
"If you feel the need to make a distinction its Dex." He didn't consider the notion of being mind-controlled in the least. Habit had him finish his introduction. "Benjamin Poindexter." He avoided adding his rank now, a little victory of assimilation he assumed.
Had Daken a good memory and had read his files properly, even the redacted ones, that name would have popped up as his enlistment name. Not his born one. Specialist Poindexter was a certified killer, but one who'd survived in a regimented environment where some social skills were necessary.
"At your service," he added with wry irony.
Despite recognizing the name, he knew Lester would never identify himself as Benjamin, not to Daken at least. It only took him a minute to figure out what was happening. "You're a different personality," he stated with a tinge of disappointment. "Lester ran away from me." As interesting as this new development was, that fact still remained. Daken stepped back to create enough room to cross his arms over his chest. He was getting Roston vibes, though, disappointingly, with less of an obsession with Daken.
He'd had this argument with Adam and another long pointed conversation with Maki about it. He didn't like the term personality, but it was what people saw. His fit into DID diagnosis was tenuous but it was accurate enough. He still didn't like it.
"If you want to call it that," was his noncommittal response. "I wouldn't call it ran away when you push him to it time after time. So -- you got me. Someone's gotta finish what we start."
"Is that a problem?" He cocked a brow, fully expecting the answer to be yes. Daken was the kind of person who didn't like things outside of his control. And Dex didn't have Lester's hang-ups that lead him to rebound back with his ex-husband out of some masochist self-denial of the obvious. But Dex's function was to fix.
Considering his options, he raised a hand, intent on touching the mercenary's cheek. Could Dex stomach him touching him?
A slow blink as his initial response. It wasn't surprising that Daken had clocked him, he should have expected it. Still, it wasn't very usual for him to introduce himself.
"If you feel the need to make a distinction its Dex." He didn't consider the notion of being mind-controlled in the least. Habit had him finish his introduction. "Benjamin Poindexter." He avoided adding his rank now, a little victory of assimilation he assumed.
Had Daken a good memory and had read his files properly, even the redacted ones, that name would have popped up as his enlistment name. Not his born one. Specialist Poindexter was a certified killer, but one who'd survived in a regimented environment where some social skills were necessary.
"At your service," he added with wry irony.
Despite recognizing the name, he knew Lester would never identify himself as Benjamin, not to Daken at least. It only took him a minute to figure out what was happening. "You're a different personality," he stated with a tinge of disappointment. "Lester ran away from me." As interesting as this new development was, that fact still remained. Daken stepped back to create enough room to cross his arms over his chest. He was getting Roston vibes, though, disappointingly, with less of an obsession with Daken.
He bristled, insulted, but also wary. He didn't know what was worse, trying and failing to touch him or not trying at all. The mockery of Daken's little striptease soured him further, despite that , of course, he looked good.
The indecision and the feelings pushed at him and he felt himself... slipping.
His body language changed, lost that lost and self-comforting trait, but also the bristling anger. His face slipped more neutral, and his scent mellowed out from the agitated emotions.
'Odd,' he thought, scenting the shift before noting the visual changes. Any sudden shift was inherently alarming, even more so than Lester's blatant displays of mental illness. Then again, Daken suspected this was a product of his mental illness. A complete shutdown? He'd never seen him look so...sturdy during one, though.
Daken didn't look nearly as suspicious as he felt, craning his head back in challenge. "Go on. Touch me."
He cocked his head slight, calm now, and eyed Daken with nearly unemotional awareness. "Is there a point to this game of chicken?"
Dex straightened himself, looked at the alley, and there was a slight twist in his lips. "Anyhow, this is not a secure place." His accent was more Bronx but more clipped, the cadence more military. His eyes colder.
When he looked at Daken it was more like a stranger, sure, there was a low grade lust, he had eyes after all, but nothing that implied that he very much already knew Daken carnally. He remembered, if only in a factual manner, there was no emotion tied to it.
It was the accent that heightened his suspicions to the point of questioning it. Something was terribly off. "Who are you?" He'd been around more than one mutant capable of controlling others, yes, but he still suspected Lester was behind his own transformation. He just needed more information.
He bristled, insulted, but also wary. He didn't know what was worse, trying and failing to touch him or not trying at all. The mockery of Daken's little striptease soured him further, despite that , of course, he looked good.
The indecision and the feelings pushed at him and he felt himself... slipping.
His body language changed, lost that lost and self-comforting trait, but also the bristling anger. His face slipped more neutral, and his scent mellowed out from the agitated emotions.
'Odd,' he thought, scenting the shift before noting the visual changes. Any sudden shift was inherently alarming, even more so than Lester's blatant displays of mental illness. Then again, Daken suspected this was a product of his mental illness. A complete shutdown? He'd never seen him look so...sturdy during one, though.
Daken didn't look nearly as suspicious as he felt, craning his head back in challenge. "Go on. Touch me."
Was Daken attractive? 100%.
Was his deliberate teasing affecting Lester's libido? Also 100%.
Was the drumming anxiety and that DAMN song any less present? A resounding no.
While Lester was by no means a social creature, he'd learned enough to know a few things. It was a bad idea to get involved with Daken. But his ire no longer burned as hotly around the man, and he was... lonely. It all spelled awful rebound, old flame and all that.
A part of him believed that fucking might prove that it was no longer... whatever it had been. That they could scratch that itch and have it over with. That he'd be different this time around.
"A't. We doing it here or a bed somewhere?" It was crass and blunt. Unromantic.
As much as he appreciated how uncomplicated his ex-husband was making it all, Daken couldn't help but to address a complicating factor. "Darling," he started, the old pet name gliding off his tongue like he'd never stopped using it. "You do realize you're going to have to let me touch you, don't you?" Sex without touching could be fun, but Daken doubted Lester was thinking about that. If he couldn't stomach Daken touching him, they would have to work up to the sex, possibly over days.
He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'of fucking course I'm not an idiot' only to mentally flinch away from the thought of being touched. He surprised himself with the visceral force of the sentiment and his open mouth clicked shut.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
The drumming song in his head felt louder and more mocking.
He felt cornered. Caught by his own damn issues. Rage was too far away to provide courage and carelessness.
He stood there uselessly, trapped in indecision.
Just as he'd thought. Daken tucked his lips between his teeth before he released them with a pop. "Can you even touch me?" At first, he opened his arms invitingly, but, after he decided Lester might need a little incentive, he pulled his top up just beneath his pecs.
Was Daken attractive? 100%.
Was his deliberate teasing affecting Lester's libido? Also 100%.
Was the drumming anxiety and that DAMN song any less present? A resounding no.
While Lester was by no means a social creature, he'd learned enough to know a few things. It was a bad idea to get involved with Daken. But his ire no longer burned as hotly around the man, and he was... lonely. It all spelled awful rebound, old flame and all that.
A part of him believed that fucking might prove that it was no longer... whatever it had been. That they could scratch that itch and have it over with. That he'd be different this time around.
"A't. We doing it here or a bed somewhere?" It was crass and blunt. Unromantic.
As much as he appreciated how uncomplicated his ex-husband was making it all, Daken couldn't help but to address a complicating factor. "Darling," he started, the old pet name gliding off his tongue like he'd never stopped using it. "You do realize you're going to have to let me touch you, don't you?" Sex without touching could be fun, but Daken doubted Lester was thinking about that. If he couldn't stomach Daken touching him, they would have to work up to the sex, possibly over days.
"That presupposes that I want to get together with you again. That's a mighty big one right there. Ain't that desperate." Or madly in love again. "There ain't no compromise I'd make to get involved like that again."
Suppose I didn't stay and ran away, wouldn't play. That devil what a potion he would brew~ his brain supplied the tune and he had to bite his cheek to keep from humming it.
But he had eyes and more than half a brain. He knew Daken was hot and fixated on him. More often that not that had him crumbling.
He'd follow around Build me up, tear me down Till I'd be so bewildered I wouldn't know what to do
"I toldya, fucking and fighting is one thing. But I ain't shaking up with ya."
Might as well give up the fight again I know darn well he'll convince me And that he's right again When he sings that siren song I just gotta tag along With that ole devil called Love
Damn it! It was stuck in his head now.
"Lester..." How to approach it delicately...Daken reached out, painted nails nearly touching the merc's cheek. There was a certain look in his eyes, though, that told him to withdraw. So he did. "You're open to sex, and we both know we can't have sex without feelings coming back." To his credit, Daken had controlled his tone to not sound like he was pointing out the obvious to someone who was stupid.
Lester wasn't stupid. He was opening a door he would be a fool to open if he believed what he said he did, though, and Daken believed it was because there was something in him that missed letting the mutant inside. In more ways than one.
Lester pulled back at the near touch, a flinch nearly. "Tch, the only thing you ever wanted was to fuck and fight. You never cared for my feelings. Boo fucking hoo." The mockery was a reflex, though he was mocking himself as much as all the shit they went through, because no ones feelings were really cared about. That ol' devil...
"Fucking Hell. What the fuck do you want then?" He was over it. And Billie sang in his head on repeat about fucking love. He needed a drink. Or two. Maybe some pills.
With his arms raised, it looked like Daken was going to embrace Lester, but what he did instead was clasp his hands behind his own head as he thought, making a show about definitely just thinking with his brows raised and lips pursed. He wasn't standing closer than necessary and teasing his ex with possible touches on purpose, nooo. That wasn't something he would do.
Eventually, he came to a conclusion, one that came at the tail end of a low hum. "I want to have sex." Even if Lester thought he wouldn't care about his feelings, Daken was still certain those feelings would come back if he could get his hands on him. If Lester was going to give him that opportunity, he was going to take it.
"That presupposes that I want to get together with you again. That's a mighty big one right there. Ain't that desperate." Or madly in love again. "There ain't no compromise I'd make to get involved like that again."
Suppose I didn't stay and ran away, wouldn't play. That devil what a potion he would brew~ his brain supplied the tune and he had to bite his cheek to keep from humming it.
But he had eyes and more than half a brain. He knew Daken was hot and fixated on him. More often that not that had him crumbling.
He'd follow around Build me up, tear me down Till I'd be so bewildered I wouldn't know what to do
"I toldya, fucking and fighting is one thing. But I ain't shaking up with ya."
Might as well give up the fight again I know darn well he'll convince me And that he's right again When he sings that siren song I just gotta tag along With that ole devil called Love
Damn it! It was stuck in his head now.
"Lester..." How to approach it delicately...Daken reached out, painted nails nearly touching the merc's cheek. There was a certain look in his eyes, though, that told him to withdraw. So he did. "You're open to sex, and we both know we can't have sex without feelings coming back." To his credit, Daken had controlled his tone to not sound like he was pointing out the obvious to someone who was stupid.
Lester wasn't stupid. He was opening a door he would be a fool to open if he believed what he said he did, though, and Daken believed it was because there was something in him that missed letting the mutant inside. In more ways than one.
