#domhoratiomd

[constantinepayne]

Mistletoe + Horatio

It happened to be the same day Constantine and Evangeline came to the Wolfe cottage that Horatio and Jaeger did the same. With the home decorated in all its festive glory, it was inevitable that Horatio would make his best attempt to get the only woman in the household underneath the mistletoe. Accidentally so, she fell into the trap.

Constantine was on the front porch, just about to come back inside after speaking to and intoxicating Viggo, taking in his fair share of alcohol, too. Just as he opened the door, Eva's face greeted him. The youthful features weren't colored by their usual bubbly demeanor, already hinting at what was to be and the alter that was meeting him eye-to-eye.

"I've got 99 problems and a bitch is all of them."

"Not me?"

"You're my bitch. It's different," Seraph replied before leading the psychiatrist forward by the elbow.

"What did you do this time?"

"Hey, guess what?" the other asked before letting go of him, just enough to show both middle fingers to the fellow brunet. "Analyze that, dickwad."

"Wow, I can't believe I haven't missed you. Shocking."

As many times as he had seen and interacted with Eva's alter, it still was something unusual to watch the beautiful woman act entirely opposite to her own personality with a forced lower voice to pair it with. While she was happy-go-lucky, Seraph was usually in a moody state, and when he wasn't, he had a pension for being at the root of problems no matter how honest his intentions were. Case in point, when the two of them rounded the corner, they saw Horatio several feet away on his knees with his wrists tied together with his own belt and eyes closed as if waiting for something. A muffled laugh from Constantine was heard with his hand rubbing at his eyes, finding it too hilarious to see properly.

"How did this happen...?"

"Use your imagination. You're the kinky one; it shouldn't be this hard. But hey, look, dude, he won't take a fucking hint, okay? I shoved him against a wall last time, but that didn't help because I think he's into spanking. He got a boner when I tied him up, and oh, Hell no... am I even going near that. So, that's where you're coming in."

Constantine's blue eyes looked into the viridian pair with a heavy sense of amusement. "Is this your idea of a Christmas present?"

"If you're going to screw him, screw him. I didn't see anything. Just get it done because it's either you or I chop his dick off. I'm out of options."

Eyebrows raised, sweeping his eyes back to the sight of the awaiting Brit. "Okay, but you're recording it."

Unlocking his phone, he handed it over to the instigator, before walking towards the familiar face. Hearing the footsteps, Horatio spoke.

"Oy, sweetheart. 'bout ready to see what all this tongue can get into, eh?"

Partially, it might have been the gin, but he imagined even without it, Con would still be biting his tongue to hold back a laugh that would ruin this whole iconic masterpiece. After a moment, he settled on an agreeing hum, knowing as soon as he spoke, it would all be over. With the edge of his finger, he raised the other's chin up, guided his mouth open with his thumb, and leaned down to seal their lips together. With all of Horatio's bravado, it was Constantine's tongue that took on the dominating role, flicking over the roof of the man's mouth until an unintentional brush of their cheeks was felt with the slight stubble scratching over the dom's face.

Immediately, Horatio pulled back, eyes open and wide, scrambling up to his feet at the sight of the smug smile. "THE FUCK IS THIS?! GODDAMNIT, YA LOUSY FUCKING JIZZFACE!" His temper only increased when he tugged at his binding, clearly wanting to slug him in the face.

"I've had better, so call it even?"

"JESUS SUFFERING CHRIST! PISS OVER YA BLOODY DEAD BODY AFTER 'M DONE WITH YA!" he hollered with a dangerous kick aimed at the taller man's stomach that was just barely avoided, enough to get by with a mild press.

"And the fetishes just keep building, don't they?"

By now, the face of the Brit was a ruddy color, not from any sort of embarrassment, but from a high enough pressure of anger that could have blown his head right off. To keep it on his shoulders, he used it. Charging right at the other with a type of battle cry, he plowed into Constantine's chest head-first, slamming him into a wall. The fight would wind up undetermined as Viggo, Idris, and Jaeger came in to soothe the building hurricane that spawned from the humble mistletoe.

[iraxwolfe]

Boozy Call || Ira/Jam

Ira: [The phone doesn't need to ring twice; it's picked up by the end of the first tone, expecting the commanded call. Before either party on the other end can begin, the grandfather's voice snaps through the speaker.] What were you thinking with that debacle of a trip you took my grandchild on?

[jaegerstrom]

Rage & Loathing || Jam / Auryn || Dec 7th 2am

Jaeger: [Sex and alcohol did not work. They did nothing to lessen his grief, certainly not even after multiple rounds with one Constantine Payne last night. Conscience would dictate that the middle son of the German diplomat and politician should feel remorse for his behavior the night prior, knowing fully well the amount of aggression and force behind the acts would leave marks and injuries; however, the loss of a dear one proves far too great a weight for any other sensibilities to have a place at the moment. The five stages of grief, a psychology model that is well-respected and has held good amount of validity for many, is making its round in the mood of Jaeger Strom once more. Damp cloth wipes over the newly rinsed glass, ice blue eyes seeing but unseeing at the same time. The motion is mechanical, as with every task today. Drinks are poured, mixed, and handed over, one after the other, just as new bottles are opened, its content used for his latest masterpieces, vibrant and incomparable in the finished products while their maker share none of the enthusiasm. It has been over twenty-four hours since the news had been delivered by Horatio Black. In the midst of shock and the temporary numbness that followed, logical thoughts and reaction have taken a backseat yet with time, the implications slowly sink in, causing a rage that has long been buried to stir, bubbling beneath the seemingly calm exterior of the tall dark-haired man. They have to the news to Horatio Black, the man with whom he shared an arrangement of convenience and friendship, all for what? All because Jaeger Strom does not have the "right" mark of a Dominant. A damn tattoo has deprived him of so much, of being notified in time so that he can at least tell his family that he is going to fly back for the send-off and now, not even a final goodbye. Jaws clench at the unfairness of it all. Human nature has always been the problem, and the System makes every worse. If the System hadn't existed, his parents' so-called submissives would never had taken their bitterness and anger onto Ritter and himself, if that had not happened, Ritter would not have been in a coma and if Ritter had never been injured, he would have been--] GOD FUCKING DAMMIT! [The bottle lays in shattered pieces on the floor behind the bar counter. An accidental slip from hands that have loosened while their owner was lost in thoughts. Crouching down, the shards are picked up slowly, dropping into the trash bin next to him. Hand finds itself around one of the larger pieces while eyes see a momentary reflection. The grip tightens, feeling the edges slowly pressing into the flesh. There is something oddly familiar about this, a memory from a decade ago, when his assignment arrived and the awful world as he knew it simply got worse. It is almost poetic in that the opportunity has presented itself once more. Eyes flicker to the mark that he abhors, one that the authority deemed it so important to retattooed upon scarred skin. Lips twitches up in a sardonic smile. Damn this mark. Damn the system. Damn the humanity. Jaeger Strom is going to make a point and the rest of the world can damn well go to Hell.]

[jaegerstrom]

Gravest Words || Jam || Dec 5th PM

Jaeger: [Brothers or friends, the relationship shared by Jaeger Strom and Horatio Black is one that would seem odd to most. Insults and curse words filled their exchange, but underneath the seemingly hostile dialogue are friendship and understanding that are unspoken but yet accepted by both. In spite of the sharing of residence, however, the two maintain separate lives where conventional conversations are generally bypassed. Therefore, it is with an unsettling sense of unease and curiosity that the taller of the two feels when the man with whom he shared the friendship arrangement asked for an atypical 'talk'.] Yo, fucktard! Sup?

[gabrielxmorningstar]

OUTBACK BARBIE, YOUR SHIT SQUEEZER ISN'T ANSWERING. Fucked in front of my little bit, you aussie bastard. Knew we lot sent you shits to that hell hole for a reason.

Barbie?  I think you sent to the wrong mailbox.

[constantinepayne]

Oy, jizzface! You fuck that shit out of outback barbie at the cockwrangler's? Shoving your face till you're taking a lick out of your own asshole if you did.

[The delete button is pressed without a change in expression, flipping to the next message as if scrolling through an array of spam.]

[emorylight]

Bleeding hell. Don't need your fucking slobbering over on me. Get that goddamn shit juice on me from all that. Think you're some boffin, yeah? Just some bitch that likes to be ploughed into like the first sign of snow. Leave all that yellow piss burn behind too.

My, someone certainly got defensive rather quickly.  What is the matter, Mr. Black?  Did it hit home?

[emorylight]

Jesus fucking Christ... Fucking cockscrew, you are! Didn't want you, bleeding fairy. Too busy trying to fit two cocks in the same balloon knot, yeah?

Oh, a nickname, how so imaginative of you, Mr. Black.  I must have made quite an impression on you to warrant such emotions.  Enlighten me, Mr. Black.  How long did it take you to come up with that?