poison for blood

[poisonforblood]

f u r y

[nissimn]

poisonforblood:

Jaylin had tried not to follow Nissim’s gaze, but it was hard not to. Knowing he’d been in the middle of something and nothing that something was right there made it hard not to look. He, of course, immediately regretted it, as all it did was fuel his fury, especially after all those fucking insults Nissim had thrown him, disguised as general frustration. Pity?! He didn’t want fucking pity.

Jaylin knew the boy in Nissim’s bed. That wasn’t uncommon, considering the both of them were well-informed and they practically knew (or knew of, at the very least) everyone in the ‘network’ that spanned almost every gay guy in London. And then some.

“Him?” Jaylin asked. He’d honestly tried to keep his voice low enough so if wouldn’t travel, but he wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d managed, considering his anger was getting the better of him. Easily.

He saw Nissim’s intension before his hand had moved to the door, which gave him enough time to react, especially considering he didn’t need to think about his reaction in the first place. It just happened, while Jaylin was blinded by anger, a little less able to reason with every passing second.

“You fucking asshole!” he sneered. It wasn’t the words that conveyed how furious he felt, but the tone they’d been spoken in said a lot. And then there was the fact that Jaylin was shoving the door open again, bursting into Nissim’s apartment because he wouldn’t have it any other way and then plain out raising his fist to get back at Nissim for being a downright fucking cunt of a boyfriend.

God-fucking-damnit. The look in Jaylin’s eyes was more enraged than he had seen in a very long time, which was very fucking inconvenient considering he had just been about to give the boy on his bed–whose name he didn’t even fucking remember–the fucking whacking of his life. He had planned out every single one of his smacks. He’d mapped them out on the boy’s body and he knew exactly what he had wanted the marks to look like, even if Nissim was well aware that he was going to need to hold back a bit. The boy was supposed to never fucking forget about what Nissim had done to him, because that permanent mark Nissim would leave on the kid’s brain was worth way more than the held-back smacks he’d make with that fucking cane. But God-fucking-damnit. Now that fucking cane wasn’t even in his hand anymore because he was using both his hands to hurriedly grab a hold of both Jaylin’s wrists so he couldn’t do what he was obviously planning to do. Nissim should have seen it coming. He had, but he had fucking hoped the door would stop Jaylin from actually being able to continue with it. “I told you to get the fuck out!” Nissim hissed. His teeth were gritted and he could feel himself getting angrier and angrier with every wave of strength Jaylin was attempting to use against him. “Just because your life is fucking pathetic doesn’t mean that mine has to be. You selfish, little cunt!” Nissim had no fucking reservations when it came down to this and so he used all of his strength to move Jaylin’s arms behind his own back, in position so fucking uncomfortable he wouldn’t have the fucking chance to break away from it. No, Nissim was making sure to make it fucking hurt, because he had no time to be reasonable right now. He has no time to use his words, because these would make Jaylin only angrier and Jaylin never left when he was angry. Jaylin exploded instead, which was exactly what was happening to him right now. “Nissim? Uhm…” Nissim’s eyes shot over towards the bed. The boy on it had started to look nervous and although his cock didn’t look any less hard than it had before, Nissim knew that his state of mind was drastically changing. He was still aroused, but he didn’t have that same look in his eyes anymore. He wasn’t desperate to be touched any longer and he didn’t feel the thrill of Nissim’s threat anymore either. Instead, his look read confusion. Fucking great. “I can come back another time?” Nissim groaned out loud, his anger exploding. He had waited a fucking week for this and now Jaylin had ruined every single chance Nissim had had at making this fucking perfect. He’d changed the scenario. Nissim–even if he would still fuck this kid–would no longer be that thing the boy would remember for the rest of his life. Instead, that would be Jaylin and his pathetic fucking anger, ruining his entire fucking week while he had explicitly told him not to fucking come. “I should have fucking gagged you when I had the fucking chance!” Nissim spat, obviously angry with this entire situation. Jesus hell, this could have been so good. Instead, it was fucking nothing. Not anymore, at least. He turned both Jaylin and himself around so that they were facing the bed. “You’re going to fucking regret this,” Nissim hissed again. Then he let go of him and raised his foot to kick Jaylin in the back. It wasn’t hard, but the force that he used was enough to have him stumble forward. “Untie him.” he ordered. If Jaylin wanted to stay, then he was going to make up for every last fucking bit of Nissim’s wasted time.

[poisonforblood]

Jaylin was beginning to struggle more and more once Nissim's hands clasped around both his wrists. He'd been desperate to get that smack in. He'd been desperate to watch Nissim stagger back with the impact and rethink everything he'd just been telling Jaylin. But of course Nissim had been too fast and of course he had to be too strong, even now Jaylin was seething with anger. He could barely still see straight as his vision was tunnelled and all he could really focus on was whatever was right in front of him. All the rest had gone dark and blurry. The entire world seemed to have disappeared out of his awareness and all that mattered was this very moment, because he had to find a way to get rid of the sensation that he was being pulled apart from the inside.

His eyes fell on the bed once Nissim turned them around. Jaylin was struggling more than he should, as he could feel the effets of his struggle on the muscles in his arms, which were being stretched further than was strictly comfortable. But he wasn't going to stop. He wasn't going to fall quiet.

It was when he was suddenly kicked forwards that his mind seemed to catch up with everything that's just happened. Nissim was going to do as Jaylin had wanted, but why wasn't it satisfying? Why was this whole thing nothing but frustration on top of more frustration?

Jaylin gritted his teeth the moment he was standing up straight again. He wanted to turn around and attack Nissim a second time, but preferably this boy would have fucked off, so Jaylin didn't have to keep thinking about him. That was the only reason he managed to listen. It was a momentary, relative calm that made Jaylin step to the bed and do as Nissim had told him.

Nissim knew how to tie someone up. His knots were always impossible to get free from, but it would take little more than a few tugs for Nissim to undo them afterwards. It was only of the most frustrating things when in the moment, but right now Jaylin was grateful for it, as he was pretty sure he wouldn't have had the patience otherwise.

He barely had eyes for the boy. No matter that he was naked and aroused. Jaylin didn't care. He was a fucking nuisance that had to go so that Jaylin could do what he'd wanted to do all night now. All week, in fact.

[poisonforblood]

n u m b

[nissimn]

poisonforblood:

To any onlooker Nissim would see unaffected. Many in Ciara’s stead would’ve given up, admitted defeat and retrated. Even more would’ve succumbed to utter frustration at the knowledge that none of their words were as sharp as they’d hoped for them to be, but Ciara was different to most people, because Ciara could see. It was in the slight delay of his expression and then it was confirmed in the way that he smirked. It was vile, but amused. Of course he was amused. It was rare for any two people to meet and have this understanding between each other. She’d only encountered it a few times before. With Locklann. With Joel. That’s how she’d known, but she’d been too young to understand its implications. She’d been too unaware of the meaning behind all those new words that he’d taught her. It was only since Joel that she’d really began to understand. She understood now, standing before Nissim, knowing the both of them were living in two seperate worlds at once. It was a luxury to know this side of he universe, but a heartache too, because once you’d seen it–the horrors–you’d forever be lured back by the addiction of them and never would she be able to go back to seeing the world in any other light.

He was thinking and she was trying to follow every one of his thoughts. It was impossibe to know all of them, but she could make quite a good guess on what they might be. Of course he was thinking abot Locklann–when wasn’t he–and he was probably imagining it. She was too, only her response to it was utterly different, because she didn’t revel in the imagined look of torment on Locklann’s features, whereas Nissim made no secret of his love for it. She could see it, in that sparkle in his eyes. He was thinking of hurting her best friend beyond repair and yet she was expected to stand before him and stay strong, while she was already neck deep in grief, as it was.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Ciara replied. Her eyes narrowed. She had to look up at him, which made her less intimidating than she wished she could be, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because height wouldn’t have made a difference. Not with Nissim. Not with most of their kind. It wasn’t about size, or physical appearance. Sure, it could help, like a charm, but anything could be sold as a precious metal by those who knew how to turn oxygen into poison. And plastic into gold.

Ciara held his gaze, because that was something she knew how to do, despite the way her insides felt like they were being torn apart by memories and–worse–by the countless ‘what if’s that haunted her whenever she got lost in these feelings.

“But you still mind…” Ciara said. “You mind that he got to do it to Locklann. And you didn’t. You weren’t even there to see it. See him by the side of that hospital bed. He had this look on his face… I’ve never seen it since.”

The thrill of the conversation had caused his heart to start racing. It was like a rush of adrenaline, pleasant and yet so very dangerous, because this particular feeling was making Nissim want to say a lot of things he knew he shouldn’t say. No, these things should only ever be implied, like some sort of joke that nobody would even still think about in a couple of years–when these jokes had become reality. However, he didn’t even quite know whether these things should be implied when it came down to people like Ciara, unless he’d be able to mask it by his own need to bring her down into the ground.

But Nissim knew very well that she was currently trying to do the very same thing to Nissim. Nissim had targeted her and he had played on her emotions. He had made her angry and then he had shamed her for getting angry in the first place. Still, though, she had not given up or stepped down. If anything, Nissim could still see her mind working to find something she could use against Nissim; something that would have him suffer like she was doing herself right now.

She seemed to know what it was, too, which was very impressive considering Locklann hadn’t even figured most of it out himself. Probably out of fear, Nissim thought, or because of all the ways Nissim had used to turn his boy into a dependent little mess that would be nowhere without him and even less with him. Locklann would never see anything that Nissim didn’t want him to see, because even if Locklann had seen it, Nissim would make him forget.

But he couldn’t make Ciara forget what she had seen, because she had saved it somewhere Nissim couldn’t get to. Ciara didn’t need Nissim like Locklann did, which was exactly why she would always understand Nissim a little bit better than Locklann would. Locklann would happily blind himself to the truth if it meant that he would please his Daddy and Ciara would never be blind to the truth, because she had someone to protect.

Even if the methods she was using to achieve that goal weren’t particularly helpful.

“Is that a challenge, Ciara?” Nissim asked her honestly. He was having trouble keeping his expression blank, which he only just managed. She would see it, Nissim knew, even though he really hoped that she wouldn’t. He took a few steps away from her as if that would make him able to look her over a little bit better. He no longer felt the amusement he had felt before. Instead, he felt offended. “You think I wouldn’t be able to do better than Ardan? Was he anything more than an unfortunate idiot who–with your help–made a fucking fatal mistake?” His words were not controlled and he knew that, but it didn’t matter for now. Even letting go would get him to the desired result. It always did. “Do you really think you’d like to see me try?”

Nissim knew that the words Ciara had used were only spoken in order to get to him, but Nissim wasn’t ashamed of having let them. Of course not, because Nissim could simply use these words against her later, which he had just now threatened he would do. Which he–like Ciara had probably known from the very beginning–Nissim had been planning from the very first fucking day he had met Locklann.

[poisonforblood]

She saw it all. She saw his amusement dissipate and then watched the hint of frustration that he was trying so hard to hide. She was pretty sure she would have missed it if she hadn't explicitly been looking out for it. She'd kept her eyes focused, her mind monetarily nearly blank as she hadn't wanted any of her thoughts to divert her attention in those precious few seconds she'd created between them. She had to see it all, because it was important. This was something she'd wanted to do for a long time now, but she'd never known how. She hadn't expected the opportunity to rise today, at a time where she was half out of her mind and not in the best of states, but she had to take it. And she had, because now she knew.

For a brief moment she pulled her gaze away, despite how his response finally came now he'd made up his mind. He wouldn't hide? Interesting. Terrifying.

This was the end of the road, Ciara knew, which meant she'd lost two battles in one go. But at least she'd uncovered that vital piece of information that she'd always expected to be there, but had never known for a fact. Well, now she did. Nissim wanted to kill her best friend.

Her eyes felt too hot when she glared back at him and she could feel her muscles tense beneath her skin, despite how she'd been trying not to. It was going to hurt later on and it wasn't going to help her make the right decisions now.

"No," she replied. She was looking at him. The both of them had lost their usual calm. They'd broken through each other's natural defences, because they were alike. "Thanks for your confession," she said darkly, while she continued to look straight at him, trying not to let her imagination run wild like it was so prone to do.

[poisonforblood]

f u r y

[poisonforblood]

nissimn

Nissim was set on making very clear that he really wasn’t happy with Jaylin’s presence at the moment. He had been working on this all week and he wasn’t about to let it be ruined by Jaylin, who had probably gotten a disappointing fuck and now wanted Nissim to make it better for him. That wasn’t going to fucking happen tonight, because Nissim–like he had fucking told Jaylin–had better things to do.

However, it was very apparent that Jaylin wasn’t easily going to take no for an answer this time around and that getting rid of him was going to take a whole lot longer than he was going to like. Therefore, he let the cane hang down in complete frustration. He had no fucking time for this. “Fucking listen,” Nissim said, coming in a little bit more closely towards him. “I need you to fucking go and sort out your own shit, because I’m not doing it for you tonight. Find someone else to pity you, because it’s not going to fucking happen from me tonight.”

He took a few steps back again to look at the boy on his bed. A smirk started to cover Nissim’s face again because of how still the boy was still lying. He probably couldn’t fucking move even though he had tried and now he was just facing Nissim with eyes that told him to please get the fuck back to him as soon as possible so he’d–hopefully–get some release after all of these torturous days. It almost made Nissim utterly willing to grant him that release at all, but he’d see about that.

First he needed to get rid of the boy in his doorway, who looked like he was mere seconds away from attempted murder. “Bye, Jaylin,” he simply said, after which he attempted to simply throw the door right into his face. That was a way to do it, after all.

Jaylin had tried not to follow Nissim's gaze, but it was hard not to. Knowing he'd been in the middle of something and nothing that something was right there made it hard not to look. He, of course, immediately regretted it, as all it did was fuel his fury, especially after all those fucking insults Nissim had thrown him, disguised as general frustration. Pity?! He didn't want fucking pity.

Jaylin knew the boy in Nissim's bed. That wasn't uncommon, considering the both of them were well-informed and they practically knew (or knew of, at the very least) everyone in the 'network' that spanned almost every gay guy in London. And then some.

"Him?" Jaylin asked. He'd honestly tried to keep his voice low enough so if wouldn't travel, but he wasn't entirely sure whether he'd managed, considering his anger was getting the better of him. Easily.

He saw Nissim's intension before his hand had moved to the door, which gave him enough time to react, especially considering he didn't need to think about his reaction in the first place. It just happened, while Jaylin was blinded by anger, a little less able to reason with every passing second.

"You fucking asshole!" he sneered. It wasn't the words that conveyed how furious he felt, but the tone they'd been spoken in said a lot. And then there was the fact that Jaylin was shoving the door open again, bursting into Nissim's apartment because he wouldn't have it any other way and then plain out raising his fist to get back at Nissim for being a downright fucking cunt of a boyfriend.

[poisonforblood]

f u r y

[poisonforblood]

nissimn

There was something particularly fun about these boys that played hard to get, especially because their only reason for doing so had been Nissim in the first place. He’d always make them, by coming on too strong and by making them doubt whether coming along with Nissim was really a good idea. He wanted them to doubt it all the way through the evening. He wanted them to never be sure and then he wanted them desperate enough to say yes, regardless of how their mind tried to keep telling them that they shouldn’t.

He had been chasing this boy down all week. He had seen the doubt in his eyes grow with every single evening. He had went wherever he had went, as though it’d help him feeling ‘special’. Nissim had said he had wanted him from the very first moment he had seen him. He had told him that he wanted him tied up underneath him with his cock rock hard and swollen. Nissim had told him he wanted him to have no choice but to obey each and every single one of his wishes and that he wanted him to beg for more and less at once. Like the good boy Nissim could see he was.

It was way too much and Nissim knew that, but Nissim also knew that it was going to be the exact reason this boy would eventually end up in his bed.

On the very first night, the boy’s friend had been shaking his head as if to tell him not to go through with this. That was fair enough, Nissim thought, because Nissim had had his friend and that friend of his had gotten his heart shattered into pieces when Nissim had told him he’d been one of the most disappointing fucks he had ever had in his life. Might not have been entirely true, but Nissim had liked to see his face break and he was enjoying the warning in his eyes right now too. Nissim had made his impact again. That much was clear.

Nonetheless, the boy had not been loyal to his friend. Every single day, it was becoming a little bit harder for him to keep saying no. Especially because Nissim had caused him to leave with a full-blown erection every single evening with no chance for release. Nissim hadn’t let any other men come near him and he had told himself that he wasn’t going to do that until he had had the boy himself. As if Nissim had put a curse on him that would only be lifted when he’d let Nissim do to him whatever he wanted.

And that was just about to happen right now.

He was tied up to Nissim’s bed, facing the ceiling with a rock hard cock Nissim wasn’t going to touch any time soon, if at all. God, he was going to have a lot of fucking fun torturing him and he was going to have a lot of fucking fun discarding him when he was done with him.

“No, no, no,” Nissim groaned. His eyes fell on the door and he could feel himself getting frustrated. He was just about ready to fucking go for it and now some fucking lunatic–a lunatic he knew way too fucking well–was slamming his fists against the door like he had every fucking right to do it.

He walked towards the door and yanked it open in an instant. He was holding a cane in his hand that he instantly felt like fucking using, but he contained himself. “I fucking texted you not to come here tonight, did you not fucking get it?” Nissim snapped in utter frustration. “The fuck do you want?”

That text was precisely the reason Jaylin had known Nissim would be home. Of course he'd understood the underlying message, but it hadn't bothered him all too much. It was late, Nissim had had more than enough time. In fact, Jaylin had assumed he'd have already kicked the boy out by now, considering that was a habit of his. He didn't usually let them linger. Even if he had done, Jaylin's arrival should be cue enough to put an end to that. Of course, those thoughts changed the moment Jaylin laid eyes on the cane in Nissim's hand.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jaylin cursed, and he had no reservations about keeping the anger out of his voice. He didn't care who would hear it. He didn't care that there was probably a fucking slut waiting in Nissim's bed. After the misfortunes that had been torturing him all week. He'd had some really poor luck. And he'd lost the capacity to care what anyone might think. That included Nissim.

Jaylin's eyes shot back up to meet Nissim's, which seemed to only fuel his anger, because of the way Nissim was looking back, as if Jaylin didn't have the right to have come here and burst in, as if he should have known better that disturb Nissim's precious fucking time.

"Why aren't you done yet?" Jaylin asked, his voice snappy and judgemental. It wasn't that he was unaware of the threat of that cane in Nissim's hand, but he figured that if Nissim would be stupid enough to use it, Jaylin was going to make him fucking regret it.

[poisonforblood]

f u r y

His fists knocked against the wood of Nissim’s door with as much force as he could muster, without literally ramming it so hard that it’d break his skin. Not that he cared particularly much about any of it, but he was pretty sure that the pain would make his situation only worse. The pain in the side of his face certainly did and not because it hurt a lot, but because that fucking asshole shouldn’t have had the nerve to hit him in the first place. Not with his disappointing dick pressed between Jaylin’s legs and his eyes that never quite focused on Jaylin at all, almost like Jaylin wasn’t there in the room and could’ve been literally any other guy. That was the kind of thing Jaylin hated, because he wasn’t just any other guy and they better fucking appreciate that.

But no, this asshole thought it’d been fine to think of nothing but his own dick. It wasn’t even that he’d been particularly small. He’d probably been a little bigger than average, if Jaylin would’ve had to guess. But size really wasn’t the only thing that could be disappinting about a cock. If Jaylin hadn’t already known that before tonight, he would’ve known it now.

The guy hadn’t known how to thrust. He certainly hadn’t known how to read Jaylin’s moans, as whenever he’d hit right one time he wouldn’t have made any effort to keep going. He was pleasuring himself with Jaylin’s body and that would’ve been fine if he’d been fucking aware of the fact that he was doing in. Instead, he’d kept asking--in a degrading, belittling voice--whether Jaylin was enjoying it, you dirty whore.

And all of this would’ve still been alright, if it wasn’t for the fact that Jaylin had suffered a terrible week to begin with.

He rammed his fists against the door once more. His teeth were gritted together, his shoulders were tense, and he was pretty sure his hair gave away that hands had just been tugging on it, because he hadn’t gone through the trouble of glancing in the mirror before rushing out.

“Open the god damn door, you fucking asshole! I know you’re home!”

[poisonforblood]

n u m b

[poisonforblood]

nissimn

It would have been a lie to say that the thought had never crossed his mind. No, this certainly wasn’t the first time this shit ‘plan’ had come to his attention, because of course he had been thinking about it continuously over the past couple of years. Being with Locklann did these things to him, because Nissim now knew he would never stop trying to come up with the worst possible things to do to Locklann. Killing him–which Nissim had dreamed about doing a couple hundred times too many–wasn’t the worst he could do to him, however. No, killing him would just be another one of his fantasies fulfilled, but it wouldn’t satisfy his need to inflict the worst possible pain upon him, because whatever Nissim was currently capable of causing would–perhaps in a couple years–no longer be enough.

He already knew it wouldn’t, because stuff like that was never fucking enough. Nissim would grow bored of it in a few years, when he would have fulfilled every single one of his fantasies. He couldn’t imagine running out of inspiration right now, but he knew that it would happen. That was only logical. Only a matter of time.

He looked at Ciara and he could feel his chest tightening slightly for a few seconds, before he shook it off and lowered his eyebrows into a vile smirk.

She knew.

She could probably 'see’ every single one of his thoughts and even though he had thought it would anger him, it thrilled him more than he was able to explain. It was like she understood it, somehow, because she knew what Nissim was like better than anyone else he had ever met before. She knew.

Of course Nissim would want to do what Ardan had done. Of course he would like to see Locklann suffer for exactly that reason. Of course he would fucking love to ruin his miserable little life like that and–of course–Nissim would never fucking do it. Nissim was too important to rid himself of his life like that and Locklann was not important enough to give it up for. Never. No matter how fucking beautifully he would wear that misery. No matter how Nissim knew that his death would eventually be the reason Locklann would finally rid himself of his own life. He would never do it, because Locklann wasn’t worth that. Not really.

Nissim loved how he had suddenly become the center of the conversation. He loved how Ciara was struggling to contain herself and he loved how she knew every little thing about what Nissim wanted to do. He could feel the power of it coursing through him, because once again it had been proven obvious that Nissim was the most powerful person in the room again. He could do anything he wanted to Ciara’s best friend and Ciara would never be able to do a single thing about it.

“The perfect way,” he repeated after her, in the very same tone she had used to say it herself. It was as though he was confirming that he knew exactly what she was talking about, but that wasn’t all there was to it. No, there was more. “It’s almost a shame he didn’t do it on purpose. I suppose that’d have been the main difference between us.” He looked at her once more, penetrating her eyes with his own cold stare. It didn’t matter whether what he was going to say was correct at all, because that was not why the words were on his lips. He was merely trying to prove a point. “I would have done everything as planned and he–or the both of you, actually–would have done it out of stupidity.”

To any onlooker Nissim would see unaffected. Many in Ciara's stead would've given up, admitted defeat and retrated. Even more would've succumbed to utter frustration at the knowledge that none of their words were as sharp as they'd hoped for them to be, but Ciara was different to most people, because Ciara could see. It was in the slight delay of his expression and then it was confirmed in the way that he smirked. It was vile, but amused. Of course he was amused. It was rare for any two people to meet and have this understanding between each other. She'd only encountered it a few times before. With Locklann. With Joel. That's how she'd known, but she'd been too young to understand its implications. She'd been too unaware of the meaning behind all those new words that he'd taught her. It was only since Joel that she'd really began to understand. She understood now, standing before Nissim, knowing the both of them were living in two seperate worlds at once. It was a luxury to know this side of he universe, but a heartache too, because once you'd seen it--the horrors--you'd forever be lured back by the addiction of them and never would she be able to go back to seeing the world in any other light.

He was thinking and she was trying to follow every one of his thoughts. It was impossibe to know all of them, but she could make quite a good guess on what they might be. Of course he was thinking abot Locklann--when wasn't he--and he was probably imagining it. She was too, only her response to it was utterly different, because she didn't revel in the imagined look of torment on Locklann's features, whereas Nissim made no secret of his love for it. She could see it, in that sparkle in his eyes. He was thinking of hurting her best friend beyond repair and yet she was expected to stand before him and stay strong, while she was already neck deep in grief, as it was.

"You're going to have to do better than that," Ciara replied. Her eyes narrowed. She had to look up at him, which made her less intimidating than she wished she could be, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter, because height wouldn't have made a difference. Not with Nissim. Not with most of their kind. It wasn't about size, or physical appearance. Sure, it could help, like a charm, but anything could be sold as a precious metal by those who knew how to turn oxygen into poison. And plastic into gold.

Ciara held his gaze, because that was something she knew how to do, despite the way her insides felt like they were being torn apart by memories and--worse--by the countless 'what if's that haunted her whenever she got lost in these feelings.

"But you still mind..." Ciara said. "You mind that he got to do it to Locklann. And you didn't. You weren’t even there to see it. See him by the side of that hospital bed. He had this look on his face... I’ve never seen it since."

[poisonforblood]

v i t i a t e

[poisonforblood]

screamingunreasonably

Hux hadn’t expected any less of an explosion than this one–albeit a lesser version of the explosion that would have come, had Kylo had the strength. Hux was perfectly aware of the fact that Kylo didn’t understand these things and the extent of it had just been clarified. Hux wasn’t surprised by it, considering Kylo was apparently completely incapable of properly comprehending any of the relationships he had in his life. He’d made a mess out of all of them, but Hux wasn’t going to let him do that with this one.

Hux looked at him, his eyebrows slightly raised in amusement, but not so clearly that it could be read as him not taking Kylo seriously, because he was. There was sweat running down Kylo’s brow, wetting his hair and making it very clear that he was completely out of control. Hux also noted that his hand was trembling near the hilt of his lightsaber, threatening to grab it. But Hux knew he wouldn’t.

“I do and I am,” Hux spoke, before reaching up and undoing the clasps on Kylo’s cloak to let the heavy weight of it drop to the ground. “Considering you knew what the climate was going to be like here, you did an awful job at dressing for it.” He wasn’t quite diverting the attention away from the matter at hand, because Hux was rather certain that Kylo’s overheating wasn’t helping the situation much at all.

He looked into Kylo’s eyes again, his hands still on him to keep him steady. “Do you need me to spell it out to you, or do you understand what’s happening here?”

Kylo hadn’t wanted to prepare for anything. In fact, he'd wanted to do the exact opposite. He hadn't wanted to do anything differently to what he'd normally do, because that'd give away his bonds to a past he was desperate to deny he'd ever had. Besides, getting dressed into anything other than the clothing he'd spent days figuring out how to put on with his limited abilities was too much of a hassle to begin with. He'd hoped not to be followed around by Hux, so that it wouldn't have mattered how uncomfortable he would have become. There shouldn't have be anyone to witness it. And the discomfort would have been little more than a reminder of what he'd always felt in this place; what he ought to feel. It would have made sense, but now it was a nuisance that made him twice as humiliated to be standing in front of Hux after everything that had just transpired between them. His lips were still tingling and he was trying to figure out why, but it probably had something to do with how unfamiliar and unexpected the sensation was. One thing Kylo knew for sure and that was that he never wanted to have to feel it again.

His cloak fell to the floor and Kylo made no attempt at doing anything about it. He would've shoved Hux back--either physically or with the Force--if he'd had the strength to do so, but he didn't. He hadn't caught Hux's intentions before it'd been too late and so it was easier to do nothing, rather than embarrass himself further by making another haphazard attempt at saving his own dignity from further decline. It wasn't going to happen, because Hux was dragging him down with ease.

Kylo's eyes shot back up to meet Hux at that question. Do you understand what's happening here? The answer was simple, because Kylo couldn't remember the last time he'd felt quite as confused as he did now. It might've been in this very spot, all those years ago, contemplating what voice to listen to and what path to follow.

"You're trying to confuse me," Kylo replied, but the trembling of his voice gave away that it went much deeper than that. He wasn't just confused, he was petrified. "I know what you want. You want the throne. You want to get rid of me." Kylo's hand inched even closer to his lightsaber.

[rey-kryze]

ben ‘ puppy dog eyes ’ solo .

[kylorenupdated]

— I know what I have to do.

[poisonforblood]

v i t i a t e

[poisonforblood]

screamingunreasonably:

Hux didn’t have the necessary knowledge to know what Kylo was going to do the moment he moved away and, therefore, he held no expectation either. He simply watched and waited and did nothing even when Kylo pulled his hand back–and Hux let him–pulled back and then began to turn on his heels. He didn’t feel disappointed by it either, because he knew Kylo was too much of a mess to even know what he wanted at this moment. He was certainly too much of a mess to deliberately communicate something with his actions. If Hux was to read his actions simply, he would think Kylo wanted nothing to do with this, when in actual fact, he was utterly shocked and confused and needed space.

Hux’s lips were tingling and his heart was still racing and he was going to wait for Kylo to say something, or do something, but when Kylo’s knees gave in while he turned around, Hux reached out and grabbed for his arm to keep him upright. He was much lighter than he used to be, which he knew from when he’d dragged him out of the snow before the whole base had collapsed.

“Careful, Kylo,” Hux started as he attempted to steady Kylo on his feet by taking hold of his upper arms. Hux looked him over, Kylo’s face riddled with so many emotions it was hard to catch up with them and try to see what was a reaction to what. But he was a complete mess. Of course he was. Hux had practically overwhelmed him in a situation that was overwhelming enough, if not too overwhelming. “It’s okay,” he reassured, his grip firm to stop Kylo’s swaying. He looked into the boy’s eyes, trying to see what he was thinking precisely about what had just happened, but it was futile. “I confused you,” Hux then stated. “Which is fine, but know that I’m not playing tricks, Kylo.” His expression was genuine, regardless of how unfamiliar that felt on his features. He moved his hand up and cupped Kylo’s face again. “I like you.” It was the simplest way to put it, even though it wasn’t quite what it was and it certainly wasn’t the reason why he’d kissed Kylo, but it was certainly a good place to start.

It had been a long time since Kylo had felt calm. He couldn’t remember what it used to feel like and he didn’t expect he’d be feeling it again any time soon. It was something of the past, where brief moments of it had occured, whenever he thought he was on to something, would understand a little more about the universe soon. Of course, it had never happened, but the false prospect had sometimes been enough to soothe him for a day.

Now Kylo felt nothing like himself and he hadn’t for a while. It felt like he’d lived weeks without the Force, struggling through one day to the next, waiting for Hux to have had enough or someone in the First Order to find out about his lacking strength. All it would take was for someone with a good aim to stand up to him and Kylo would never walk away from the fight.

But none of that was on his mind now. No matter that it had been devastating and tormenting him for days now. Right at this moment all he could think was that he’d lost the very last thing he had been able to explain. At least he’d had Hux. Hux, who was probably planning his demise, but was the exact same man he had always been. Kylo had found consolation in that. But that had been taken away from him too...

Instead he was left with twisted insides and a pounding head. He was burning up beneath this sun and now Hux had caused a cascade of fireworks to set off inside the pit of his stomach. It was no wonder there was sweat running down his forehead, down his back... He could barely still breathe.

“No--” he started, because Hux was only confusing him further and making matters worse. What did he mean?! I like you. “No!” He wished he was as lethal as he felt, so that he could put an end to all of this. He wished he had the strength to grab for his lightsaber and ignite it, but instead his hand trembled near the hilt, but never made it all the way there. “You don’t get to do this to me!” But Hux already was.

[poisonforblood]

v i t i a t e

[poisonforblood]

screamingunreasonably:

​The grip Kylo held on Hux’s hand was tight. It was tighter than he’d held on Hux’s coat when Hux had stood by his bedside and tighter than it had been on the glass of strong liquor–one he’d desired badly–hours ago. It was tight and strong and desperate and begging for Hux to not let go; claiming that this grip was here to stay. Hux wondered whether he could pull away from it even if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to. He didn’t see why he’d ever want to let go of this boy’s hand, who’s tears were running down his cheeks so freely, followed by more and more as if Kylo had so much he’d kept in and was no unable to. And Hux just watched him, looking into the man’s wet eyes and seeing how not even now Kylo was trying to shield himself from Hux. It had happened over and over: Hux had attempted to create something, a moment of intimacy, a moment to communicate something to Kylo that he didn’t want to hear and every time Kylo had ended up shielding himself from it. But not this time. And it was that twinkle of hope that was making him stay here, looking into Hux’s eyes and not once attempting to pull away.

Hux stepped closer, his hand moving to the side of Kylo’s face, much like it had before and his stomach was a wild mess of nerves and excitement and disbelief and thrill. “I’m not,” Hux replied, his fingers stroking through the boy’s wet hair. He was sweating and crying and he looked like a vulnerable, broken mess, but all Hux could see was something beautiful. He saw all the gaps and how to fill them, he saw all the cracks and how to mend them. But first, before he could do any of that, there was something Kylo had to understand. Because almost more than anything else, Kylo was confused and because he was confused he was scared. He didn’t understand what was going on and out of fear he didn’t ask, or try to figure it out or try to acknowledge it. Hux supposed that without the Force to guide him like it had done all his life, it was difficult to feel anyone’s emotion.

His hand cupped Kylo’s tear-streamed face, holding him gently in place and stepped just that little bit closer so he could lean in, tilt his head just a little to the right, let his eyes fall shut and kiss him.

It was gentle. There was barely any pressure behind the kiss, because now wasn’t the time to overwhelm an already overwhelmed Kylo. Now was the time to explain something and take something Hux had accidentally been thinking about too many nights in a row. Kylo’s lips were so soft that Hux felt like he needed to be careful, just for now, just so he didn’t give him too much just yet. His heart was racing, pounding heavily in his chest and he felt slightly dizzy and slightly out of breath from it, which almost felt like floating combined with the fluttering in his stomach.

He slowly pulled back, but not far. The kiss had lasted a mere few seconds, just long enough for Kylo to take it seriously, to get a taste of what it was that Hux was offering him, but not long enough to be satisfied. Nowhere near long enough.

His eyes opened and he looked at Kylo, eyes red and cheeks wet. What would he be thinking?

Everything was dangerous. Kylo had always had that sense. It had been with him since he’d been really young. In fact, he couldn’t remember the time before it. Sometimes he wondered whether he’d ever felt safe at all, somewhere at the start of his life, when he hadn’t been aware yet of the vastness of the galaxy and the darkenss within it.

He’d learned to live with it. He’d began to take it for granted, almost. It had become something that fueled him. Fear was a powerful resource, especially when it couldn’t be exhausted completely. There was always more of it, especially when Kylo felt powerless. That’s why he had almost began to embrace it, no matter how terrible it always made him feel. It had become part of who he was and he had long ago realised that he could never get rid of it, no matter the hurt.

That's why he wasn't surprised by the fear now, because he'd gotten so used to feeling it flare up at any random moment. That's why he didn't heed the warning in time and got taken utterly by surprise when it turned out there had been a ground for that fear.

His lips remained unmoved, as did the rest of his body. He stood frozen in place, his eyes remaining wide open and his lips slightly parted, while Hux pushed his own against them in a... kiss. This was a kiss. Kylo had no idea why it was happening, but it was. He couldn't explain any of it and once Hux moved back his body had gone into a full blown breakout, as his heart was pounding all the faster and his skin felt trapped beneath too many layers of clothing, overheating to the point of torment.

He looked as Hux moved back, tried to read his express and couldn't. Then he clenched his jaw, pulled his hand back from Hux's grip and left, while his lips tingles, his breathing hitched, his cheeks flushed and his body nearly collapsed the moment he turned on his heels.

What... was this?

[jaycount]

Angry

[wulfhalls]

insp.

[pixielovepunch]

Kinktober 8 + 9 - Leather and Asphyxiation 

[poisonforblood]

v i t i a t e

[poisonforblood]

screamingunreasonably:

He’d once feared Kylo Ren more than he’d feared the Supreme Leader. That was a few years ago, when the leader of the Knights of Ren wasn’t someone he’d really seen up close yet, not all like in the past few years. He’d been spoken about by Snoke as one of the most powerful Force users he’d ever come across and the amount of bodies Ren left behind on every mission was evident of that. The reason Hux feared him more than the Supreme Leader was because he knew Kylo Ren was unpredictable and capable of lashing out and killing. Snoke had a reason to keep Hux around, but Kylo… he didn’t have to listen to Snoke. He was powerful enough not to.

Hux had been extremely wrong about that and he’d only ever realised that when he’d gotten closer to Kylo and realised how much of a mess he was. He wasn’t the dark, powerful Sith Lord everyone thought he was. He was a confused, torn child in training and from that point on the only thing Hux had feared was his unpredictability paired with his power. He was unstoppable if he wanted to be, but that was precisely why Hux didn’t want him dead. It was why he wanted him trained and controlled so Hux could make him unstoppable.

Wh-what?

Were Kylo’s eyes wet? Was it coincidence that his voice had just broken and his face was contorted into confusion–no, disbelief–and fear and then there was a twinkle in his eyes that Hux hadn’t seen in that boy’s eyes for… well, perhaps he’d never seen it. It was hope, just a twinkle of it, but unmistakably there. And it was towards him, towards Hux. Hux had planted the tiniest seed of hope among the mess of Kylo’s mind. He was lost and he knew it, but now Kylo was looking at him as if he’d suddenly found a way to make it to the other side, somehow. Hux’s stomach twisted and his breath was caught in the back of his throat somewhere and his lips were parted as he looked for the right words to say in response to what he saw: a completely helpless lost boy, begging for someone to take his hand and–

Hux stepped forwards and did just that, his hand wrapping around Kylo’s and for the first time they were skin to skin, deliberately. Hux’s fingers wrapped tightly around Kylo’s, his own skin warm, but Kylo’s even warmer. Kylo didn’t have an excuse to have dressed this warmly, considering he knew where they were going. “Yes,” Hux replied. He was still standing with quite some distance between them, but his hand was outstretched and holding onto Kylo’s tightly, making it clear that he wasn’t going to let go. His stomach twisted again and his heart was racing so quickly it made him feel like some kind of teenager. “I know I can.”

What was happening? Kylo couldn't stop asking himself that question, because he wasn't getting any closer to an answer. He couldn't explain how his life had gone from the one he'd known for years to this. Too much had happened in too short a time. The girl, Snoke's death, the Force leaving, waking up from a coma that had stolen all his remaining strength and now he was here, looking upon a past he should never have gone back to. It was too much to get used to and so he felt alienated from his own life and terrified of what might follow this string of alterations. He didn't recognise what he had become. He didn't recognise half the thoughts that were in his own mind. Whatever he thought he'd finally figured out how all turned out not to be true and so he felt stuck in the middle of all of it, torn in too many different directions. That sort of pain... that familiar pain... was something he'd spent his entire life avoiding, but he could no longer deny it now it was all he knew.

Kylo's hand clutched hold of Hux's the moment there was contact between them and he had no intentions of letting go. In fact, he wasn't quite aware of wanting anything at all. His body was simply responding to the context with a flare of sheer desperation, quite like one would grab hold of an offered hand when hanging over the edge of a cliff. That's the kind of power Kylo had put in his grip, unaware himself that it wasn't a strength he'd possessed for days now.

His eyes were open, staring straight in Hux's direction, and he was trying to take it in, while his head was already too full to begin with and he barely stood a chance at all. What did he do? What was happening?

Kylo wondered how it was possible for his tears to feel hot against his cheeks as they ran down, but he supposed that's what happened when you'd tried to keep them in too long. He'd never been good at self control, but this was about the lowest he'd ever sank. He didn't even manage to tear away from Hux and hide his vulnerabilities, because there was no way he could let go. Not of Hux's hand and not of that look in his eyes.

I can fix you.

He'd been promised many things. He'd been promised he'd feel better some day. He'd been promised power. He'd been promised that one day he'd understand. He'd been promised knowledge, love, strength... All in return for loyalty. Loyalty he'd always gladly offered. But no one had ever promised loyalty to him.

"If you're joking--" he began, but his voice was such a mess that he was terrified of how much more he was going to reveal if he continued now. No, instead he should stay quiet, let the moment pass and hope that whatever would follow would make at least a little more sense, because this had to be the epitome of confusion. "You better not be..."

[poisonforblood]

v i t i a t e

[poisonforblood]

screamingunreasonably:

Hux stepped closer to Kylo and stopped beside him, half a meter between them. His coat was undone against the heat, revealing the thinner shirt underneath that stretched tightly across his chest. Hux shrugged in response, which was a much more casual response than he would have given, would he have been accompanied by anyone other than Kylo. “You were drawn here for a reason, I suppose,” Hux spoke, his voice light.

The two most important figures of the First Order had just taken leave and Hux couldn’t help feeling concerned about what would be occurring on his bridge. He knew he would be contacted if something required his attention, but still. To have left for nothing, that was unacceptable. So he had to make it into something, if Kylo wasn’t. Because Hux would be stupid to think this place was void of opportunity. If anything, it was some kind of isolating place in which something might happen. The least he could do was get to know Kylo better.

“You’re at a loss, aren’t you?” He stated it as a question, but in actual fact he knew it was the truth. “You came here out of sheer desperation in the hope that you would find something–anything–but you feel equally in the dark. You’re starting to think the Force has purposefully betrayed you, possibly that you’re not worthy anymore, but that’s just silly and I think you do know that.” Hux quickly glanced sideways, before chuckling. “You crossed the entire galaxy for answers that very likely don’t exist in the way you think they do.” Hux turned to Kylo entirely then, looking into his eyes, hoping Kylo was going to look back at him. “You’re right,” he spoke. “I do think I can fix you.”

Kylo didn't want to listen to Hux speaking another word, but simultaneously he felt nearly frozen in place, afraid to breathe too loudly out of fear of missing a single nuisance of Hux's voice. This whole thing was insane. It had been a terribe plan from the start. In fact, it hadn't been a plan at all. It had been a stupid whim that Kylo had latched on to, because it had been the only thing he could have done.

Now he was standing amidst gorgeous weather, sweat running down his brow from the too many clothes he was wearing, and his back curled in an agony he couldn't ignore. He may have held out longer than he thought he would, but he was out of breath now and nearly reaching the point of complete fatigue. If he wasn't careful he might collapse, which was the last thing he wanted Hux to witness. It was bad enough that he couldn't help his panting breaths and the way he was clutching his side.

General Hux wasn't the kind of man you willingly showed your weaknesses to, because the General was known to be resourceful and he would use anything he could to be succesful. Kylo was also aware that Hux had bigger plans and that one of them included the ellimination of the current Supreme Leader so that he could take to the throne himself. Well... all Hux would have to do now is pull his blaster and make it look like an accident.

As Hux spoke Kylo thought that was exactly where the conversation was going. You're starting to think that the Force has purposely betrayed you... (and it has, because it wants better for the First Order.) Kylo felt almost more surprised at the take Hux's words took than the one he'd imagined would follow with a loud bang and excrusiating pain.

Kylo's eyes immediately darted to Hux's and he noted how the look in them wasn't anything like Kylo had expected. It wasn't merciless or cold. It wasn't even apologetic. And when he next spoke Kylo felt even more confused than he had done five seconds ago.

"Wh-what?" His voice wasn't supposed to have skipped like that and he certainly wasn't supposed to be crying, but his vision was blurring all the same, while his insides started hurting for wholly different reasons. This wasn't physical injury, this was something much deeper. "Fix me?" He had wanted to sound snide and snappy. He'd wanted to sound taken aback and offended. Instead he sounding like a child who was trying to find his way home.

[mythoughtcrime-blog1]

I almost made it a whole month without drawing porn dammit…

Happy May the 4th be with you.