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@rxverstyx
oh shit
penrosexsteps:
Thereâs no open offer â and Arthur isnât one to beg. Until he gets desperate, heâll remain in limbo. Just barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes, he lets his glare flicker to the corner of the room, mouth twitching. Breath leaves him in a soft snort of derision.
âAm I grounded?â
â-- Iâm not your father.â
Styx vaguely recalls Arthur, bloodied and bruised yet so self-assured, telling him how much he reminds him of the guy. Something about empty threats. Something. That conversation was a long time ago - and though his memory is great, things like that tend to slip through the cracks.
The fact still remains, though, that Styx very much resembles Arthurâs father.
âIâll do worse than ground you.â
âSurely youâre smart enough to figure that one out.â
Heâs being stubborn about this, he knows, but he canât help it. What else is there to do? Not like Styx has given him anything to look forward to. No escape, no compromise, no nothing.Â
Styx will consider a compromise if Arthur asks, but only if Arthur asks. A compromise, Styx feels, would hardly be of any tangible benefit to him. At this point he doesnât even care about getting information from Arthur. He just keeps him around for the fun of it.
Kind of like a pet.
â-- drop the attitude.â
penrosexsteps:
âIâm saying fuck off, not fuck me.â
And here comes the long-running fantasy of breaking his jaw.
âIâm not a circus animal.â
â------ of course youâre not. Unlike you, circus animals display a capacity to learn.â
He doesnât know why he still bothers with Arthur. He should get rid of him - bury him alive in a pool of cement or something.
âTell me, Arthur-- are you stupid, are you a masochist, or are you just woefully forgetful?â
âWhy not?â
âCompared to you Iâm a fucking bucket of sunshine.â
âOh, youâre just begging to be sodomized again, arenât you?â
âActually, Iâm trying to stay out of trouble.â
âThat isnât an option for you, Iâm afraid.â
{ new icon! courtesy of penrosexsteps uvu <3 }
Really.
Eh.
âIâm here for Mr. Cohen. You have him, I want him back. Iâm willing to negotiate.â
He heard this manâs people nearby and he was caught in the moment of it all. Listening to who to cut down if necessary.Â
âPeacefully,â he added.Â
Was Arthur one of his? Now that was interesting. Last he checked, Arthur was one of Neelâs employees. Obviously, there was a lot of information he was missing. A gap that heâd overlooked, somehow. Heâd have to remedy that later.
For now, though, he had more pressing matters to attend to.
Namely, this guy.
âCome inside, then. This is something best discussed behind closed doors,â he responded, gesturing vaguely. âWe donât want anyone else overhearing, do we?â
Already, he was opening the door for his new... âfriendâ.
rxverstyx penrosexsteps
Adam walked into the light.Â
Heavy outside the warehouse. This was where that man was holding Arthur Cohen, assumed to no good end. He hadnât taken his time out of pleasure for the hunt, the tracking signal was weak. Was weak. Had strengthened. Obviously he was going to be expected company. He had planned for that.Â
His followers were nearby. Some of them, victims of this man.Â
He sighed and held up his hand, face still covered.Â
âI believe you were expecting me.â
What the fuck.Â
Adamâs sudden appearance nearly made Styx drop his cigarette. He slowly pulled it out of his mouth, silver wisps of smoke passing through his lips as he regarded him with a slight tilt of his head.
âNo, I donât believe I was.â
Whoever this was, he had plenty of employees on site. If anything were to happen, this stranger would do well to expect one Hell of a fight. He was cautious, if not more than slightly curious. Silence overtook him. He paused, contemplative. Then:
âState your business.â
Heâs too close too fast, so swiftly situated within Arthurâs space that he gives an abrupt inhalation, lurching futilely backwards â and anger twists his gut so suddenly it almost makes him nauseous. Heâs never taken kindly to anyone getting up in his face, that much has been true since childhood.
Judging by the way his jaw pales and molars press, a shadow passing over his eyes, itâs especially true now.Â
ââBecause I hate you,â Arthur bites out, a slow snarl curling around the word, and with teeth bared, shoves hard against Styxâs chest.
 "Now donât fucking touch me.â
Given Arthurâs track record with piss-poor temper control, Styx has come to expect this sort of reaction from him. Verbal defiance, physical retaliation - itâs all there. Itâs normal behavior for Arthur, and yet Styx still finds it within himself to be offended by it. Typical or not, Arthurâs behavior is still rude. The lack of respect was endearing up until this point. Now Styx is just sick of it.
Heâs hardly knocked off balance by Arthurâs rough shove. His grip on Arthurâs shoulders only tightens, and his feet remain firmly planted on the floor beneath him. Apart from a small backward jolt, he seems largely unaffected, and immediately recovers by way of grabbing Arthur by the front of his shirt and pulling him very close.
âExcuse me?â
âI will fucking touch you whenever and however I want,â he snaps, quick to jab his fist into the direct center of Arthurâs gut. He watches him drop to the ground like a dead weight, immediately descending upon him like a hawk descending upon its prey. âNow hold still.â
 Eyes wide and red and glassy, diaphragm heaving without regard, he twists his face away. Turns his unfocused gaze towards the floor, swallowing a painfully pathetic noise. Arthur knows whatâs to happen if he fails to please Styx, but heâs not sure what infuriates â and terrifies him more: the fact that heâd be powerless to stop him or the fact that at this point, he can barely bring himself to try.Â
ââŠâMikhailov,â he bites out, but his voice is an unsteady tremor. He tries again.
âHis arms dealer. His nameâs Daniel Mikhailov. Operates in â Â the heart of the city.â
 Styx could choose to be cruel, here. Strike him, shove him, act violent towards him and give him the excuse that itâs not good enough, but he doesnât. He lets his hands drop away from Arthurâs face, crosses his arms and regards him with a tilt of his head.
âDaniel Mikhailov,â he repeats slowly, wolfish smirk settling on his lips. He slides a hand under Arthurâs chin, forcing him to turn his head to face him. This time, he doesnât lean in to kiss him. He only continues to smile at him, reaching up with his other hand to squeeze his arm.
âGood boy. Now, that wasnât so hard, was it?â
( penrosexstepsâ ) ( x )
âShh.â
Styx doesnât need to bite, manhandle, or push him around to get what he wants anymore. Sometimes, he only needs to dote on him with the gentlest of kisses to draw out a much-desired reaction. Amid Arthurâs protests, his panicked and desperate pleading, Styx reaches up to frame Arthurâs face with his hands, drawing away from him with one last soft press of his lips. He looks down on him with an expression of mock pity, stroking the rise of his cheekbone with his thumb.
â-- Tell me why I should stop.â
Untitled | via Tumblr on We Heart It - https://bnc.lt/l/5_GNlAU1-U
penrosexsteps:
rxverstyx said: lights styx on fire
[JUST GONNA STAND THERE AND WATCH ME BUR N]
âYouâre losing your touch.â
Though the intrusion upon his air makes his skin crawl, he stands his ground, chin tilting up in petty defiance. Getting on Styxâs side and staying there are the only chances Arthur has of getting out, but in all his stubbornness, he has no intention of cooperating. Suffering physical violence is much easier than all this psychological back and forth â and the faster he struggles and shouts and bleeds for his troubles, the faster he can be alone again.
âIf I wanted a little bit of pain, Styx, it certainly wouldnât be from you.â
âIâm your only option, Arthur, so it looks like youâre going to have to settle.â
With God as his witness, Styx is going to make Arthurâs life a living Hell. Information isnât important right now. He doesnât want his loyalty, his compliance, or whatever knowledge or skill he possesses. All he wants is his blood - splattered across his skin, pooling at his feet on the floor. The urge to pound him to a bloody pulp goes stronger, still. His fingers twitch, impatient to do harm. He reaches forward, hands tightly grasping Arthurâs shoulders. He pulls him in, so uncomfortably close that Arthur can probably feel his hot breath on his face.
âWhy are you making this so much harder for yourself than it has to be?â
{ quick heads up that iâm usually over on my other rp blog more often than this one. }
His mouth twists into a bitter little smile, lip stinging. Neither Styxâs expression nor tone bode well for him, and though Arthur often finds his place in logic and reason and rational thought, all he does is give a reckless, spiteful huff of a laugh, ready to taste iron. Â
âHold your tongue.â As if.Â
âYâknow, you kinda remind me of my father,â he says.
âI fucking hated that guy. He made empty threats even more than you.â
âArthur, you know as well as anyone else that my threats are not empty.â
He moves closer, just enough to invade Arthurâs space. Itâs hard not to just beat him into submission right here, right now. Really, heâd love nothing more than to knock a few teeth out of Arthurâs skull. Thereâs a time and place for everything, though. Theyâre not quite there yet.
âIf I didnât know any better, Iâd say you want me to hurt you.â