[vincentnilsson-blog]

jgger:

jagger loves nothing more than being indulged, particularly when he’s being a pest. vincent has always always played into jagger’s needling which makes it even more fun to poke and prod. it’s probably a key factor in why he finds himself enjoying the other’s company above everyone else (not that he’d admit to as much aloud). even if vincent wasn’t humoring him, he’s certain it would be with a level of fondness which means he actually doesn’t mind jagger…well, being jagger. he couldn’t turn it off if he wanted to. “let me get this straight,” he purrs, cockiness invading his tone (maybe he couldn’t turn that off either), “you’re getting hard – right now – just by being in my flat like it’s some kind of pavlovian response? that’s weird v. hot, but weird.” he takes a dramatic pause – like everything he does isn’t dramatic. “i can do weird.” jagger tacks on a wink for good measure.

his thumb absently swipes across vicent’s knuckles as they proceed down hallways and around corners. “what if i don’t want to be a good boy?” he asks with a cloying tone. “will you be bad with me?” he’s sure to flutter his eyelashes in vincent’s direction so that the full effect of his words and appearance can be appreciated to their fullest. contrary to his proposition, however, jagger doesn’t have any intention of seducing vincent. not without explicit consent, anyways. if all v wants is a shower and maybe a cuddle, that’s all he’s gonna get. 

he observes the tightened squeeze to his hand and returns it automatically. why wouldn’t he? it’s not like a constriction of his fingers is a sign they’re going steady or anything! “see, i wanna say that without me, you’d have to get yourself off but pretty face like yours? not really likely, is it?” his brow creases in a frown like it’s some tragedy that vincent would be able to find another lay without much effort. “tonight, though, you’d be drunkenly wandering the streets without me so i guess i can take the role of savior in that regard. he loosens but doesn’t completely drop vincent’s hand when they get to the luxurious en suite bathroom. “have at whatever you need. what’s mine is yours and all that, baby.” and selfishly, jagger likes when vincent smells like him or wears his clothes. he’s a man with simple needs, really.

Vincent has never experienced such a strange mixture of annoyance and affection like what Jagger evokes in him. He has to pause for a moment and wonder how he could possibly be so terribly fond of someone who talks like this. “I’m not literally getting hard, Jagger, shut up. I’m just -- no, I’m done talking about this. Because I’m sure you’re going to take it as an invitation and it’s not.” It’s his own fault for allowing the conversation to take this turn in the first place; there’s a growing temptation to backpedal on his promise to keep things clean, but his stubbornness is enough for him to hold onto his resolve. Not only that, but he can imagine it being a very, very bad idea to sleep with Jagger now. And for once in his chaotic and self-indulgent life, Vincent is determined not to do something he knows is going to hurt him later. 

He shakes his head, smiling at the question and the rather sweet expression despite himself. God, he hates this. “You can be good for me for just one night.” That came out a lot more suggestive than he had intended, but he decides to just roll with it now. “And I’ll be extra good for you another time. How’s that sound?” Like something he would have done either way, honestly, and he’s sure Jagger realizes that. But it doesn’t matter. “I should start making you work harder, anyway.” As if he has the willpower for that. Everything that Vincent is saying falls apart under the slightest bit of scrutiny from someone who knows him at all, and he hopes that Jagger has the decency to refrain from calling him out right now. 

Vincent nearly giggles at being called pretty - he doesn’t, luckily - and it takes him a moment to process the entirety of the whole statement. “Not likely at all,” he agrees, after a long pause. He knows it’s true, but he hasn’t gone out of his way to test that theory, or take advantage of it, as of late. Jagger, it seemed, was more than enough for him - a thought that was entirely embarrassing considering how clearly not mutual that feeling was. “I haven’t had trouble in that area in a good, like... decade; don’t worry about me. But yes, tonight... Tonight, I’m very grateful for you.” He leans down to press an innocent little kiss to the top of Jagger’s head, as if to punctuate his gratitude, before pulling away and (very reluctantly) letting go of his hand. “What’s yours is mine? I hope you mean that.” He laughs, moving straight into undressing himself. The full extent of his exhaustion is starting to hit him, and he cannot get clean and warm and cozy fast enough. With minimal struggle, he manages to get his shirt off, leaving it in a messy heap on the floor. “I’m going to have to keep that in mind.” 

[vincentnilsson-blog]

jgger:

he feels back to himself, back to his old casually flirtatious track, but he’s trying to figure out why that doesn’t make him feel relieved. instead, there’s an agitated twitch to his movements, as though he’s fighting against allowing himself something he can’t quite name. all he knows is it’s something he apparently wants with vincent. bad. he can’t read any of that same feeling in his companion though, especially not when he’d been the one to break things off. it’s odd for jagger but he doesn’t feel in control tonight. not anymore.

still, his body runs on autopilot and the smirk only grows upon his lips. “oh yeah? by all means, do tell me all the ways in which you’re resisting me, presently. i would never say no to a good ego stroking.” he says it like it’s something filthy, eyes glittering even in the relatively dim lighting of his loft. peeling himself away from vincent is still a struggle but he manages. he’d have proudly walked away, hips swinging teasingly as he leads vincent the familiar path to his luxurious bedroom with its glittering master bath. but then vincent wobbles.

jagger’s hand reflexively reaches out first to vincent’s shoulder, steadying him gently. but then it skirts down his arm until their fingers are tangling together, palms clasped tight. his gaze flicks up to vincent’s, waiting for protests or more apologies. receiving nothing, though, he gives the other’s hand the gentlest tug. “you’re helpless, you know,” jagger hums, the fondness already teasing its way back into his voice. “gonna need me to stand behind you in the shower so that you don’t fall out?” he quirks his head to the side, smiling as he guides vincent past the seemingly endless rooms full of wondrously pretty things jajgger’s collected over time. ( he keeps it to himself that he thinks the prettiest thing is what he’s holding in his hand. )

This is... okay, Vincent thinks. He’s still here and Jagger’s still talking to him and smiling and touching him and it seems like everything is just fine, despite the strange feeling of dread heavy in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t know why it’s there, or why he feels he’s done something wrong, but his lowered ability for self-control (that was hardly there to begin with) is forcing him to put in a great amount of effort to keep that in. He feels the tiniest bit triumphant in the fact that he’s still welcome here after likely ruining Jagger’s night, but part of him feels the urge to turn and leave anyway.

Vincent should just roll his eyes and ignore Jagger at this point, but he continues. “Well, when you think about it, I’ve never really been here and not gotten laid. It’s like... association or conditioning or whatever you call it. My mind is going places I don’t want it to. But... I’m going to be a good boy, and so are you.” He smiles a bit at that; he feels like he might just have the upper hand here. He supposes there’s some power in putting a stop to things, in saying ‘no’ - he just doesn’t do it very often. 

And he isn’t going to continue doing it. It’s not in his nature. Vincent doesn’t expect Jagger to be paying close enough attention to the very slight tilt in the room he’s experiencing - it’s not much, really - but it makes him go a little soft when he seems to notice, and reaches out to keep him safely upright. He melts a little bit more, still, when that hand ends up clasped in his own. A low, shivery sigh is the first giveaway of Vincent’s inner turmoil; he doesn’t have it in him to stop it, just as he doesn’t have it in him to stop squeezing Jagger’s hand tighter like he’s going to float away. “Mm, maybe.” He doesn’t need any more help, but Vincent wouldn’t be Vincent if he didn’t play up his vulnerability some. A sly little smile makes it’s way onto his lips, but he quickly forces it away. “Thank you, babe. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Probably have some peace of mind, he thinks, allowing himself to be led without a sliver of resistance. 

[vincentnilsson-blog]

jgger:

If merely the touch of Vincent’s hand to his cheek had warmed his skin, the second kiss they share is setting Jagger on fire from the inside out. It’s a burning that he welcomes and he chases after its searing warmth, especially as a gentle thumb traces the line of his cheekbone. Jagger wants to keep kissing and tries to nudge closer even as Vincent once again parts their lips to allow Jagger to breathe his own air. He may very well have gone in for another if he hadn’t heard the whispery praise tumbling out on Vincent’s exhale like an afterthought. It makes Jagger’s lips quirk up into a smile though it doesn’t fall anywhere near his ordinary smug smirk. It’s softer, sweeter, even. He doesn’t recognize it.

“Yeah?” Jagger purrs, but out of contentment and not teasing. There’s a creak in his voice that tinges it with unmistakable affection he’s certain Vincent can hear. “Am I?” His own eyes finally flicker open and a hand falls down delicately onto Vincent’s knee. It starts up a path towards his upper thigh but then back down again. A touch without direction isn’t like him but neither is the pure string of kisses and the veil of fondness comfortably settled over them both. He very nearly asks Vincent to say it again, just so he could experience the little flip of his heart and the easy warmth it spreads through his chest cavity, reaching places inside of Jagger that had always felt cold.

But then Vincent’s apologizing and Jagger feels a bit silly for having gotten swept away in what was clearly a mistake if the other has found reason to be sorry over it. He gives Vincent’s kneecap a little squeeze and can’t resist one more fluttery soft touch of their noses before he’s retreating, hands coming to fold behind his head as he reclines. “No worries,” comes Jagger’s breezy answer, his voice slipping back into its usual charming lilt, “I know I’m irresistible and, besides, it’s not like you’ve ever had to ask before. I don’t mind spontaneity.” As if that was the reason for the retraction.

“C’mon,” Jagger further shatters the moment by raising the volume on his voice, ensuring it’s no longer low and gentle, “we should get you into something warmer and then tuck you into bed, yeah? You could grab a shower first if you need it.” Jagger could probably use a shower of his own if for no other reason than to clear his mind as he washed the traces of his abandoned hookup off of his skin. “Y’ready?”

Something changes in the room, like someone had hit some kind of a switch and turned the lights off between them. Vincent knows it’s his fault for backpedaling and apologizing - he had just wanted to make sure he hadn’t overstepped, he wasn’t really sorry, not at all - but the shift in mood is just about the most disappointing, heartbreaking feeling, and it’s quite the dramatic fall from the sweet blissfulness of the moment immediately before. God, he’s so fucking frustrated... But it’s better this way, he tries to tell himself. Feeling too much doesn’t end well for him, usually.  

Vincent genuinely feels like crying when Jagger opens his mouth to speak again, but he’s luckily able to hold it back despite his inebriation. He loves that slightly obnoxious attitude of Jagger’s; it’s a rather big part of his personality, so it would be rather difficult thing for Vincent if he didn’t care for it, but part of him knows that it signifies some sort of wall being put back up when the sweetness goes away. “Irresistible,” he repeats back to him with a laugh. “Uh huh. If only you realized how much resisting I’m actually doing.” He crosses his arms over his chest, choosing to stare at the wall opposite of them rather than look at Jagger.

“That sounds nice,” he answers honestly, briefly looking back at Jagger with a soft smile. It sounds like he gets to stay the night without putting out, at least. That’s something. He stands, and there’s only the slightest wobble present when he does. It seems the moment sobered him up a little. “A shower wouldn’t be bad, either.” He wonders at what point (or points) he spilled a drink on himself over the course of the night, because he smells a bit like he uses vodka as cologne. A shower wouldn’t be bad at all. 

[vincentnilsson-blog]

ambitchixus:

“Perhaps I have, you don’t seem to mind that though.” Not when his tone sounded just ever so amused and there was the hint of a grin forming on his lips, Vincent had to of had him on his mind to some degree, he thinks. Santiago had indeed too, how could he forget that night with Vincent, with Jagger; limbs tangled up among the three of them, lips locking, bodies arching all hot and heavy. It was ecstasy, pure and utter release to inhibitions, something that he wasn’t quite sure he’d found with others between the sheets.  “You can’t tell me I haven’t crossed your mind since then, I could hardly believe such a thing.” Licking his lips, he wants to tease the other, tantalize him, push all the right buttons in all the best right places. Santiago lets his thumb slowly circle the skin at Vincent’s jaw line, his eyes never breaking away from the other males face. “Then avoid them with me, hm?” There were a world of problems at his doorstep, yet he didn’t want to open the door for them, not just yet, not while Vincent was there to avoid them with him; all wide eyed and vulnerable, there was that kitten all over again, the one he’d seen in the club when he’d startled him. It’s an enticing look that causes him to shift in his spot ever so slightly. The smile that follows that expression is just as alluring in all honesty, like honey might spill from Vincent’s lips at any moment. Santiago never liked sweets, but if Vincent tasted as sweet as he looked right about now he could make an exception.  “That’s a shame, you should be told often those kind of things querido.” And Santaigo did mean that, he’s one for compliments sure, it’s just who he is, even so he never gives credit where it isn’t due. Vincent’s teasing him back though, leaving Santiago to roll his head and let a soft sigh of amusement escape his lips before he looks back– catching the other looking back at his lips, “I just think you’d be better suited elsewhere…” Santiago doesn’t admit that he wouldn’t like it, the tone he gives off his a bit suggestive if anything, husky even as he draws closer, there’s not much left between them; his breath hitches. Vincent playing dumb is cute in it’s own way, mostly because he gets the idea that he’s anything but that, he knows what he’s doing, just as much as Santiago does in this moment. “I’m thinking of me,” Voice deep, but quiet as he finishes closing the gap between their lips, lips that he presses deeply into, his other hand slinking it’s way to Vincent’s waist, fingers curling at the fabric of his shirt as he pulls him closer, pressing their bodies together. It was such a warm sensation, wet lips melting into one another, the tip of his tongue brushes Vincent’s lips before he pulls away, although not very far. “was that clear enough for you Tigre.” He breaths out, it’s not a question– still his eyes look back in perhaps slight admiration and want. 

“Maybe I don’t mind so much,” Vincent replies with a shrug, that little trace of amusement still evident in the perpetual smile on his lips. “Maybe I want you to think of me more. Maybe I want you to leave here with so many thoughts of me that it drives you crazy until you see me again.” He says this all in the most casual tone, maintaining eye contact; one would never guess the suggestive nature of his words if they weren’t listening carefully. All things considered, he knows he’s young and cute and he knows he can get a rise out of Sans if he plays his cards right. And he knows how to do that, too.

“You’ve crossed my mind from time to time, yeah,” he admits quietly, an understatement that he knows is obvious. It would be a lot easier to focus and maintain control of this conversation if Sans would keep his hands off of him, but he isn’t exactly about to tell him to. “You were fuckin’ good, I’ll give you that.” That had been... a lot. It was his first experience of the sort, with two very capable lovers, and it hasn’t been something he can easily keep off his mind. 

While Santiago has always been kind to him, Vincent is still taken aback by the utter sweetness of his compliment. It could easily be a way to get into his pants, the way things are going, but it doesn’t seem like it is. And then there’s the kiss - oh fuck, how is he meant to think of something clever to say now? His eyes flutter shut, breath catching in his throat. The kiss doesn’t warm him, like a big fluffy blanket being draped over him, like Jagger’s kisses do now. This kiss sets him on fire.

His eyes remain closed as Santiago pulls away, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s concentrating hard on processing his thoughts and feelings. And he kind of is, but he mostly just wants to get his hands on the older man, and that’s the thing at the forefront of his mind. He gives it a few long moments, not bothering to answer Sans, before grabbing a hold of the collar of his shirt and yanking him down for another kiss. This one is more heated, more sudden, there’s more tongue and more teeth and he can’t help the pleased, desperate little sound that makes it’s way out of his mouth. 

[vincentnilsson-blog]

jgger:

“May as well?” Jagger feigns like he’s affronted. He does a convincing job looking like Vincent’s blasé turn of phrase has mortally wounded him, anyways. “I’m not going to settle for some lazy handjob just because you felt you may as well do it yourself. My cock doesn’t need your charity, baby!” His act is crumbling to make way for the chuckle threatening to bubble free and he shakes his head resolutely. “You have too much faith in me, V. You underestimate the effect your pretty face has on my body as a whole and I’m going to be the one suffering for it. Suffering in the hell of my arousal with nothing to look forward to but a halfhearted pity wank.” With the playful tone of his voice and the less than suggestive positioning they’ve taken on the couch, Jagger doubts he even has that to look forward to. Oh well.

His eyes are rolling dramatically (does Jagger do anything not dramatically? Stay tuned to find out) but there’s a crooked smile tugging up his lips, pocking his cheek with a dimple that betrays his true sentiments. “You’re so fucking full of it. What use would getting to this fucking place of mine do you if I wasn’t home to let you in, hm? Will future lock-outs include this celibacy pledge of yours? Because, if so, I can’t say I’m keen on making it a routine. I know I just said the opposite but I would like to get some action while I’ve still got a functional libido, cheers.” Despite talking about sex (and pretty much exclusively sex) there’s something creeping into Jagger’s intonation, lilting his accented words in a manner that isn’t so much suggestive as it is just lighthearted. Just banter without intention. He isn’t certain what to make of that. 

Exactly as he isn’t certain what to make of the kiss. Vincent had moved into his space before Jagger could even register the change in position, pressed their lips together before he’d processed the lean. The touch to his cheek tingles with inexplicable warmth despite Jagger’s distinct lack of clothing. He can’t help the way his breath hitches in his throat, only leaving parted lips in a confused little exhale once Vincent’s pulling away. “Oh,” is about all he can muster in reply, for once, something having left him speechless. At some point Jagger’s eyes had fluttered closed and he has to sleepily coax his lids to open so that he can connect his gaze pointedly onto Vincent’s visage. 

Some part of him desperately wants to shift the mood, to swing over his leg to straddle Vincent’s lap so that their kisses make sense again. Sexual foreplay is Jagger’s specialty. This is… decidedly not. But instead, Jagger’s capturing Vincent’s wrist with a loop of his fingers, drawing him back slowly into his space with only another shaky inhale to use to fortify his actions. He guides the other’s hand back towards his cheek, nudging his face into Vincent’s palm while his eyes close once more. He supposes it isn’t bad; it’s just different, this heavy blanket of expectation suddenly pressing down upon his shoulders. He could say something to shatter the moment just as easily as a sexual advance would but he can’t find the words. He can barely find his next breath. 

Stopstopstop, his mind repeats in a mantra but instead of listening, he blindly leans forward for another kiss. Jagger’s movements are slow and his hands retain their contact with Vincent’s wrist, keeping his touch in place as though using it for stability. Perhaps he is. It isn’t until their noses softly brush that Jagger even knows he’s in the right vicinity to seek out Vincent’s lips once more.

Nothing has ever come out of Jagger’s mouth that has shocked Vincent as much as his silence does. Now there’s one way to shut him up, he thinks, the softest little smile on his lips. A kiss, but not just any kiss. A kiss without an end goal; a kiss for the sake of a kiss. He can tell that Jagger doesn’t know what to do with that, at least for a moment, but he plays along well, and Vincent feels like his heart is full to bursting when he grabs him by the wrist and guides his hand right back to his face. His eyes are closed, so Vincent takes the opportunity to shamelessly admire without fear of judgement, his own eyes sparkling with a fondness that he knows he isn’t hiding very well. 

He hardly realizes that Jagger is going for another kiss, the action is so slow and gentle. He lets him, gladly, though there’s just a tiny fragment of his mind that’s filling up more and more with dread with each fluttery heartbeat that he feels. Jagger isn’t the person to be doing this with; for fuck’s sake, he had been with someone else when Vincent got there this very same night. Vincent knows how he is, knows how completely he’ll give himself to someone without a second thought if he isn’t careful, and as much as this moment is telling him differently, Jagger can’t possibly be on that same wavelength. If he’s with other people... then Vincent is just another one of those people, he’s nothing special. There’s nothing wrong with Jagger seeing him as just another hookup - they’ve established nothing beyond that, and he isn’t disrespectful to Vincent about it. But if that’s the case, and Vincent is so sure that it is, he can’t fall for him the way he knows he’s about to.

But no one ever said he was smart. He lets the kiss linger for a moment longer than the last one, lightly stroking his thumb along Jagger’s cheekbone, before he pulls back yet again, just barely enough to open his eyes and look at the other man. He’s got that same fond look, he can feel it, but he can’t even be bothered to care anymore. It’s so nice to just be able to look at him without trying to get his clothes off, god, he’s just... “So fucking gorgeous.” It comes out in a whisper, but it comes out nonetheless; Vincent’s impaired brain only notices it a few seconds later. Jesus fucking Christ. He’s sure he’s red in the face, but he refrains from back-tracking; he might as well fucking own it now. 

That ‘celibacy pledge’ Jagger joked about? Vincent wants to double-down on that now. Getting into bed at the moment would be his undoing, for sure, despite the fact that he’s never felt as attracted to him as he is in this moment. “Sorry if I--” He trails off. What is he even apologizing for? “Just... sorry.” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to shake the spell that’s come over him away, yet he still doesn’t sit back and away from Jagger.

[vincentnilsson-blog]

jgger:

santiago.

This place doesn’t have the same feeling as their old headquarters and it places Santiago in a frame of mind where he isn’t sure how to feel about that; good, bad or numb to the whole thing. It’s probably a bit of everything but he’s not complaining, for a change. His eyes scan around briefly as if taking it all in some more. “Mhm sí, bigger means more room for expansion.” The last part is more of him just voicing thoughts out loud. He’s thankful to not be doing this alone, though he doesn’t voice that, at the end of the day he can’t afford to seem weak, not even around his two companions. Probably and especially not around them, given the fact that would be more embarrassing to be honest. He’d never hear the end of it from Jagger; whom he’s watching contently stroll to the center, for a moment he can’t help but quirk his lips rather amusedly at the mention of ’Collins estate’.  Hell maybe it’s the younger man as a whole that’s got his attention and amusement. Of course he’d make his way to the center of something, it’s as annoying as it is CHARMING, meanwhile Vincent just seems more disinterested than anything else before glaring towards Jagger. That earns a snort from Santiago as he looks back to the latter, he doesn’t know what monotony means, nor does he ask but he gets enough of the point to think their on the same page, what a concept. “Good! that’s what I wanted to hear,” He claps, rather pleased so far, he’d almost expected the dislike for the place to be stronger, so to hear nothing really that would hold him back was welcomed. A chuckle this time escapes him when Jagger starts to make gestures and emphasize about himself being a ’sexy receptionist’. The fishnets part is what makes it less funny and for a second Santiago swears it’s warmer in the building, this is only made more true when Vincent adds to it, leaving Santiago to lick at his lips and place a hand on his hip. “I’m sure the receptionist could be arranged, along with you know– the desk they might need.” Vincent may of had the decency to not say that out loud but Santiago sure as hell didn’t. He takes a few steps for a moment, idly walking, the place sort of echos his heavy steps, mental note, sound proofing and good flooring. Looking towards Vincent he cants his head to the side, his arms now fold across his chest. He’s been called boss before but only now does it have more meaning, it sits HEAVY on him, it’s a realization that, joking right now aside is very much real. “I’ll let you decorate the whole place if you want tigre, I’ve got enough to do, I trust you.” As much as he would love to help it’s really all too true, that isn’t to say he wouldn’t want to be completly out of the loop, or lacking a part in it. It’s just that he trusts the others sense enough to leave to to him. Santiago nods towards Jagger, chuckle escaping him again before he can even say anything. “and maybe you could help too chico lindo, s'long as you don’t forget that desk.” As if he wouldn’t actually let the other help, of course he would, doesn’t mean he still didn’t like messing with him though.

Jagger thinks he could get used to having this much of a say in The Kings. Under their previous leadership, although he had no delusions of grandeur regarding his position as a drug dealer (Jagger, without inflated self importance? Practically unheard of, he knows), it still felt the only one with any modicum of power was the head honcho himself. Jagger had signed up for the familial kinship of a gang, not the power struggle of a dictatorship. He’s not going to get bitter about it – seems disrespectful to do to the dead – but he’s definitely happier with Santiago in charge. Which is saying something, given the often turbulent back-and-forth nature of their relationship. If pressed about it aloud, Jagger would probably sooner die than admit to his approval out loud but the fact he’s even here in the first place, scouting out headquarters with only Vincent (poor, poor Vincent) along to mediate, says a lot.

He’s giving a slinky sashay of his hips as he continues his fanciful strut around the entrance of the drafty building. Jagger knows how to put on a show when it comes to his body, even if he’s being deliberately over the top. “You can hire me for more than the night, kitten,” he purrs, spinning on a heel to face Vincent once more so he can give him a wink. The petname stems a little from the affectionate moniker he’s overheard Sans call V, but also somewhat derived from the incredibly tactile side of Vincent that Jagger’s had the pleasure of witnessing first hand. As a fan of being called anything but his name, Jagger is also a fan of giving out nicknames freely.

“And I think we can arrange the little outfit to your liking.” Jagger preens at the look he’s being given, practically seeing the gears turning over in Vincent’s head. He knows he’s desirable and he knows he can fairly easily conjure inappropriate thoughts in others but watching it happen will never be anything short of a compliment. And, god, does Jagger love to be flattered. Even Santiago seems to be falling into the fantasy Jagger’s spinning with his words, the thoughtful expression on the older man’s features having just enough lewd undertones for Jagger’s grin to grow. “It’s going to have to be a very sturdy desk,” he chimes in with the thing they’re all probably thinking at this point. “A lot of very hard work is going to be done at that desk.” He pauses. “Or on it.”

With a coy flutter of his eyelashes and a low chuckle he’s moving away from his hypothetical workplace, stalking around the place as though testing out his new territory. “Maybe,” he scoffs, rubbing the finger of a gloved hand up against a wall and pulling it back to test for dust. “Maybe you’ll let me help decorate. Have you been to my penthouse, sweetheart?” He has. “It would be a crime not to let me have some say!” A few long-legged strides has Jagger back at Vincent’s side (he’s really made his way around which, he supposes, is in his nature) and he twines his arms around his middle from behind, going on half tiptoe to hook his chin on Vincent’s shoulder. “V will let me help him, won’t you? I can be very, very handy to have around.” He nuzzles the other’s neck though the little noise of contentment is for both Sans and Vincent’s benefit.

Vincent almost can’t believe that Santiago is playing along with the fantasy - but then, he can. It elicits an awkward chuckle out of him, his gaze flickering back and forth between the two other men. It isn’t particularly shocking that someone else would be fantasizing about Jagger, of course, but he’s reminded of the fact that this specific someone had every right to do so - just as much as Vincent did, anyway. And that was strange for him; it wasn’t that he had any real objections to sharing, it was just that he simply didn’t do it, and wasn’t used to it. 

He rather enjoys the approval, and the use of that stupid nickname that he swears he hates, by Sans, and he all but beams, that little lingering feeling of awkwardness temporarily subsided. “I’ll be sure to impress you.” He likes the idea of being useful, and he’s already re-scanning the area, now with a real interest, and a mindset of imagining what to do with it. He’s rather proud of himself for successfully putting the whole desk-sex scenario out of his mind for a whole thirty seconds to do so, even with Santiago actively participating in the thought provocation. 

The brief professionalism is short-lived, though, because Jagger doesn’t seem to want to keep his hands to himself for an entire outing. Vincent instinctively leans into him, his hands sliding into place over Jagger’s. “You can be very distracting to have around,” he corrects, and he knows that that would prove particularly true in any situation where he was attempting to be productive (something that was a struggle for him, anyway). He can’t help but glance back over at Sans, only briefly; he wonders if he feels at all weird about the display of affection. 

“But you’re obviously more than welcome. No need to get pouty, babe.” He reaches up behind him and tousles Jagger’s hair, a gesture of fondness that he doubts will be appreciated. He actually quite likes the poutiness, though, despite the fact that Jagger quite clearly knows that he’s being cute and is doing it on purpose. He shifts his attention back to Santiago, a genuine question on his mind. “You know, I’m flattered that you care enough about my opinion to drag me along, really. Any particular reason for that?”

[vincentnilsson-blog]

ambitchixus:

Santiago hums softly in response before speaking, that was the case and if Vincent wanted him to voice it then why not oblige some. “I’d miss your company tigre, very much so.” He’d taken an interest the moment the other stepped foot near him for the first time. It wasn’t unlike him to fancy younger men, nor was it unlike him to try and seduce the rookies that he occasionally thought he could shack up with. It’s a wonder he didn’t press the subject sooner to be honest, but given everything that happened it makes more sense he supposes. Santiago could be a bit opportunistic after all and this is nothing if not opportunity knocking at his doorstep. Vincent amused him and not in some childish way or a mocking sort, but in the kind of way that really peeked his interest, for whatever reason. He thinks the reason is probably mostly sexual, especially after their night with Jagger but… there’s more to it than that. It’s not often he finds himself actively wanting to look out for anyone he’s slept with, at least not for long. It seems Vincent has managed to get under the wire somewhat, in that sense; Santiago has yet to know if he likes that or not. Vincent is flirting with him now though and the man can’t help but lick his lips idly. “Oh not at all, I recall how good of a distraction you can be.” He tilts his head in an upwards motion to emphasize this, lazy grin on his lips as the corner of them tug more on one side. He leans away from the wall now, stalking forward; this was easier than thinking– whatever this was going on now. Easier than feeling stressed about the things he needed to do. “and I could really use that right about now.” He purrs, his thoughts still swirling around in his head. Fuck there’s still so much he has to do, still so much he should be doing right this very moment. But here Vincent is offering his company and Santiago being Santiago wants to take it, like an apple in the garden of Eden. He takes the hint when the other tries to veer away from the subject, part of him is grateful, he doesn’t do well with sappy moments either, sort of kills the whole intimidation factor he prefers; it’s just sometimes, like now when his head is so heavy he can’t help but get sentimental. He can recall a time when that wasn’t the case, back when he was in Spain and a sentimental Santiago didn’t exist. It’s there now though, as real inside him as the American Dream he’s forged for himself…although he doesn’t think this life is what most people have in mind when they think that. He eyes Vincent as he picks at his nails, he doesn’t think too much into it, although he probably should. There’s not much in the way between them as he simply watches for a moment before speaking again. “See I think you’re more than pretty, I think…” He pauses briefly as a hand moves to Vincent’s chin, it’s a light touch, one that doesn’t move away or pull back. “captivating suits you better.” It took him a moment to recall the word he was looking for but he does it, the pleased look on his features says as much. “I’m sure we can find something else for you to do, before resorting to that.” Like me, he wants to say, those two words linger on the tip of his tongue. The thought of Vincent being an escort sort of bothers him, he doesn’t have a right to be bothered he’s aware and yet it does all the same. “You could put those skills to use elsewhere in the meantime, if you wanted to.” Santiago acts as if it’s casual when he says it, but the look he gives the other is too predatory to even come close to that.

Vincent is pretty fucking certain he’s being hit on - not that he’s surprised, given the circumstances. But it feels significant; the one time they’d been together, it had been with Jagger, and it wouldn’t have happened at all without him. He isn’t sure how he feels about anything happening now without him, either. It feels... strange, like something he wants to do but shouldn’t be doing. He has to remind himself that it doesn’t matter; he hasn’t asked, but he’s fairly certain that Jagger and Santiago are still sleeping together without him, and he knows good and damn well that Jagger is sleeping with other people in general. He hasn’t been, but that’s his own damn fault, and he has an opportunity to remedy that now, it seems. He just has to ignore how strange and complicated the situation is in his mind.

“Sounds like you’ve been thinking about it some,” Vincent replies with slight amusement in his tone, the subtlest grin on his lips. He had been too, on occasion, he hated to admit. And to think, he hadn’t been one hundred percent down for it at first. “Yeah, I’m good for that. Avoiding problems, that’s what I do,” he laughs. Every fucking decision he makes in his adult life is some sort of distraction from a problem of his, after all. Pleasure, of all kinds, was the best sort of diversion. 

Then Santiago is touching him, just the slightest of touches, but it’s enough to signal a switch, a crossing of the line between I’m just flirting because that’s how I am and I really mean it. It startles him slightly, and he looks up at the other man, eyes a little wide and vulnerable and lips parted in surprise. The compliment registers after a moment, and he smiles, sweet and genuine. “I haven’t heard that one before,” he says, and it’s the truth. Captivating is a far more powerful and thoughtful compliment than sexy or cute. 

“What, you don’t like that?” he teases. His eyes keep flickering down to Santi’s lips, as a soft chuckle escapes his own. “I’ve been doing that, don’t worry. Unless,” he plays dumb, cocking his head to the side. “You’re thinking someone in particular.” He’s playing games now, hoping to coax the other man into making a move if that’s what he wants to do. Vincent doesn’t make the first move, as a rule. 

“Say what you mean, Santiago. I’m listening.”

[vincentnilsson-blog]

jgger:

As much as Jagger enjoys being right, he’ll admit Vincent has a point. Their relationship tends to consist of a lot of the physical and he likes that, a lot, actually. Some part of that filtered into his expectations when he answered the door but hey, Jagger’s good at being spontaneous. He’s arguing the point more for the sake of arguing. And because it keeps them from talking about some underlying soft reason as to why he’d immediately opened the door when he heard Vincent in distress. “As it stands, I’ve let you in with or without knowing if you were going to put out. that counts for something, doesn’t it?” The ice cubes he drops into both glasses of water clink against its edge before cracking as it settles into the drink. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he offers dismissively as he turns back around towards his guest, hands full. “Worst comes to worst I can just tug one off with your pretty face as live wank bank material. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” He flutters his eyelashes in playful suggestion but there’s no aim behind it. Vincent’s not in the mood and Jagger, contrary to popular opinion, actually believes in boundaries.

Jagger was about to take a seat on the couch when he takes note that Vincent and all his noodly limbs are quite literally hogging all of his couch. Or, at least, enough of it to earn him a pout from Jagger. The water is set on the end table so that both of Jagger’s hands are free to lift up the offending long legs, sliding onto the temporarily freed cushion and then setting Vincent’s legs back down across his own lap. It’ll do, anyways, though he’s a little surprised by the chill he felt at even that brief contact. Vincent wasn’t kidding when he said he walked. “I like when you think ‘quite fucking hard’ about getting to me; it makes me feel important.” His inflated sense of self-importance could have done the trick too but he likes others stroking his ego more than he likes to stroke it himself. The same can be said about other things. “Of course it could have been better,” Jagger makes a tsking sound, head shaking. “I could have been there.” His hands brush up and down Vincent’s legs and he’s absolutely not hoping to warm up the other – that would be ridiculous. “But you’re here now and even though you can’t take care of me, I can take care of you.” Again with the fucking softness – pull yourself together, Collins.

Vincent doesn’t know why it surprises him anymore to hear Jagger talk the way he does, but he always manages to say something that throws him off whenever they’re together. “If it comes to that, I may as well do it myself. I know it’s hard... difficult,” he corrects himself before the other man can even think to tease him about his word choice, “but you’re more than capable of appreciating my pretty face without getting your dick out. I believe in you.” It’s so sick, Vincent thinks, how desirable Jagger seems to him even when he’s being a vulgar jackass. He’s such a sucker for him. 

He smiles to himself, eyes remaining shut, as Jagger simply moves his legs and plops them back down on his lap instead of asking him to move. There’s something... nice about that, intimate even, and even through his drunkenness, Vincent mentally curses himself for letting such a little thing make him all fluttery. “It wasn’t you I was worried about getting to, it was this fucking place of yours,” he lies, eyes slowly cracking open to look at him. “I’m more comfortable here than in my own apartment. I should start locking myself out more often.” That part isn’t a lie, but he leaves out how it has only a little to do with how big and lavish it is, and more to do with who’s in it. 

He goes quiet for a little while after that, that last statement by Jagger having hit him with a fresh wave of that stupid fluttering in his gut. He... does take care of him, in his own roundabout ways, whenever Vincent is in need, and that’s why he deliberately sought him out tonight. His intoxicated mind can’t seem to let that train of thought go, and he sits in silence and ponders it for a good, long moment, letting the feeling of Jagger’s hands on his legs lull him into a languid calm. After the moment passes, after he’s given it enough thought, Vincent slides his legs off of Jagger’s lap and sits up properly, scooting over until he’s pressed against Jagger’s side. Maybe if he was sober, he would stop himself there, but for once he’s grateful that he isn’t. He leans in and presses a soft, gentle kiss to Jagger’s lips, one hand sliding up to cup the other man’s cheek. It’s far from their first kiss, but it may as well be, with the way it’s void of the urgency and sexual tension that their kisses usually hold. So much so, in fact, that he’s nervous when he pulls away.

[vincentnilsson-blog]

jgger:

santiago & vincent.

It’s cold out, there’s a CHILL in the air and wind is briskly blowing at a steady pace that makes him wish he picked a different day ( any day honestly ) to go out and look at a potential NEW HIDEOUT. He’s always been a naturally warm person and the coat he’s wearing helps but this is even a bit much for him ( he makes a mental note that if they go with this place to get the heating fixed ). This needed to be done though, sooner rather than later at that, considering everything had been being planned at the warehouse since… Santiago doesn’t want to dwell on the past, he’s always been one to shovel it down deeper than a body six feet under; so why start now? Still he has to wonder what’s next, where does everything that’s happened lead them, where does he lead them? The world seems so heavy on his shoulders, it’s a good thing their built for the weight. “So,” He finally speaks, breaking any silence that had been accumulating in the empty building. “what do you think?” Eyes flicker to the TWO men before him, shoulders rolling as he lets out a long sigh, continuing. “It’s bigger than the last place, the location is less…” He has to think on the word for a moment but thankfully it comes to him. “central but that’s better for keeping things quiet. We don’t want a scene the cops show up too because we have people in and out.” He’d thought a lot about this, in an effort to keep his mind off, other things, focus on work and keep going; that would be his mantra.  “I’m thinking we set up some office shit on the first level, make this place look real profesional and go from there, we had what we had as a front last time and it worked but not well enough.” If it had worked better they might not be in this position. He’d have some of their accountants work up a business plan for a new front, he hasn’t decided on what yet, but anything is better than nothing. That’s if they even go with this building, he wants opinions and he hopes that Jagger and Vincent can give them to him…somehow he thinks at least Jagger won’t mind voicing his opinion. Santiago could almost snort in amusement at the very thought.   @vincentnilsson· @jgger·

Even though they’ve transitioned indoors, Jagger can still feel the bite of the autumnal wind nipping at his already pinked nose and cheeks. The tips of his ears even register the chill and always one for dramatics, Jagger considers voicing that they may have to be amputated. He keeps quiet though, for once, sobered by how very real and odd it felt to be looking at new locations for their hq. He understands the need – their previous location had been compromised in the worst possible way, costing a life and an important one at that. But there’s still something almost ghostly about the bare bones of the building they’re standing in now – free of furniture, decorations, and a design concept in general. 

He puffs out a breath with his thoughtful sigh, watching it condense into smoke as it left his lips before tipping his head up to glance back at Santiago, arms folded across his trim torso. “Bigger is better, innit?” he quips and then, as if warming up to the idea (perhaps literally), he takes a few confident steps towards the center of the entry way. “I think it’s decent – I mean, it’s no Collins estate but as far as putting on the ruse of corporate monotony, this place does its job. His arms uncross so he can make a vague hand gesture to map out Santi’s aforementioned decoy office.

“I’m sure you’ll need a sexy receptionist to complete the facade, yeah? A pretty, young thing to greet any unwelcome guests and make sure they never get to meet the head boss man. I’m thinking about yea high,” he holds his hand at his exact height so there’s little mistaking where he’s going with this, “probably brunet since blonds are so predictable. Looks as good in a suit as he would in fishnets. Would look even better not wearing anything at all. Y’know, the works.” By the time he finishes his little hypothetical, Jagger’s grinning, eyes fluttering from Santi to Vincent. “You’d hire me, wouldn’t you, V?” Then he nods with conviction. “I like it enough.” // ( @vincentnilsson )

Vincent is annoyed, more than anything, but he knows better than to show this. He doesn’t feel like he’s been around long enough to appreciate the scale of the hit they had taken, losing their leader and overall sense of security just like that. He hadn’t even had the chance to get comfortable before his life, and the small semblance of routine that he had, was uprooted again, and he would be more than content to just let the others take care of things and let him know when things were okay again. It isn’t the right way to be, and he’s well aware of that, but it’s the truth. He just wants to sleep through all of this, let someone wake him when it’s over, when things are normal.

And it doesn’t help matters that it’s fucking cold. He wants to actually murder Santiago for dragging him around the city in this weather. He shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping over the place with a slight disinterest. “It’s, you know... a place.” He shrugs. It sucks, because he hates his own apartment with a passion, and the HQ had become something of a second home for him. He doesn’t know if this place feels like that, or ever really could, but there’s little that can be done about that. 

He fixes a glare on Jagger for the first half of his little tangent, before rolling his eyes and letting out a long sigh when he realizes he’s referring to himself. He shouldn’t be surprised. “Mm, not for the HQ. Maybe for myself for a night,” he jokes, but then his thoughts get a little ahead of him. “And only if you wear a cute little outfit. And a pair of those thick-rim glasses.” And get a nice sturdy desk, he thinks, but has the decency not to say. Wow, so apparently that’s a thing for him. He clears his throat, looking back at Santiago. “Up to you, boss. I'll gladly help dress it up. Spending money is a talent of mine.”

@ambitchixus

[vincentnilsson-blog]

ambitchixus:

“Who’s to say I wouldn’t still miss your company though.” Santiago states, it’s pretty matter of fact, as if he knows the answer already, as if he would miss Vincent’s company– perhaps. He’s casual enough about it, with the wry little grin on his lips, like he’s amused both at Vincent’s own joke and now himself.  Never having a real job was something he could relate to himself, he thinks in his younger years he might of fucked up just as much and ended up stoned at some interview, that is had he ever actually tried to get one. It’s all as comical as it is sad, so he feels for Vincent in a way, even if he doesn’t voice as much, still he wants to offer something in the way or words. “and you think I have? I grew up on the streets of Spain amigo and look at me now, no real job under my belt.” The only thing under his belt so to speak was a gun instead. He doesn’t get into details about his past, it’s something not even their late boss was all that privy too, beyond the need to know stuff anyway.  Yet he’s being candid for the briefest of moments. “Yet here I am, I like to think it amounts to something, even if it wouldn’t make my parents proud.” He snorts, chuckling slightly at the very thought, as if he made them proud anyway. “I think you’re cut out for something, maybe not…the…what’s the word…” He muses, mundane had been what he was looking for, but he isn’t able to work that word out so instead he goes simple and replies with; “eh, boring,” Santiago gives a small wave of his hand in defeat, continuing. “but you’ll figure it out.” There’s a small pause, he looks away, in thought somewhat, contemplating before looking back towards Vincent. “besides I’m glad to have you here, for now.”

“Well, is that the case? Just fuckin’ say it, then.” Vincent had never been under the impression that Santiago had taken any particular interest in him, but the revelation that he may have doesn’t surprise him much. He suspects certain events may have piqued his interest. There’s a momentary pause, where he decides whether or not to play that up at all. In the end, a resounding ‘why not’ is what he comes up with. “I make a fine distraction, if that’s what you need. But I don’t need to tell you that, yeah?” He grins, already getting a head start on that distraction. “Just say the word.”

The conversation is quickly taking a rather sappy turn, and Vincent isn’t really here for it. He doesn’t want an inspirational lecture from the man, doesn’t want to talk about Santi’s parents or, god forbid, his own, and he sure as shit doesn’t want to talk about his future anymore. He had helped the conversation along at first, but the anxiety that’s creeping up on him now tells him to shut up about it. “Thanks, I guess. I’m too fucking old to have to be told that, but really, thanks.” He pauses just long enough to let out a deep sigh, staring down at his hands as he picks at his nails, a habit he’s developed when he’s feeling nervous or uncomfortable (one that, obviously, only crops up when he’s sober). “Hell, I can always be an escort. I’ve got those skills down already. And I’m pretty enough for it, in my humble opinion.” He hates the fact that this isn’t the first time this has crossed his mind.

[vincentnilsson-blog]

jgger:

though he might fancy himself some kind of god, jagger still has very human needs – physical needs – but even with those needs currently being very hard to ignore, he’s giving an indifferent shrug. “if just finishing was all i wanted, i wouldn’t have answered the door in the first place. contrary to popular belief, i have priorities above and beyond getting my dick wet.” there’s an implication that vincent is now that priority and it sounds a little soft for his liking so he’s following it up with a low chuckle, amusement painting over his features. “poor baby had to walk – the horror! c’mon in then.”

he’s taking a step backwards and once vincent’s inside, his arm loops around his middle to guide him into the main sitting room (and yes, his penthouse had enough sitting rooms to constitute one being declared as the ‘main’ one). “i feel like i should take this as a compliment. you forgot your keys, you forgot to dress for the weather and yet you remember how to get to my place. ‘m flattered, love.” ‘just hanging out’ isn’t necessarily jagger’s strongest suit. he flirts with anything with a pulse and with his masterful persuasion techniques it tends to lead to something more often than it doesn’t. but he’s not going to take advantage of the situation and vincent reeks of alcohol so he’ll give it a go. “did you have a good night? despite the lapse in memory? here, take a seat, i’ll grab you some water.” his arm only leaves vincent’s form as he draws away to make good on his word.

Vincent doesn’t believe for a second that Jagger isn’t frustrated, and it makes him wish that he was in a state to take care of him properly. He does look rather fuckable. “Not true. If you thought I was going to put out, you’d let me in. Because you’d rather get off with me than whoever the fuck else you’ve got in your room at any given moment.” He feels like the fact that Jagger had kicked someone out for him was either proof of that, or proof that he cared about Vincent to a substantial extent. Either way, he is more than happy to kindly point it out. “Sorry, if that’s the case. I hate to disappoint.” He thinks he could manage a blowie or something, wants to offer to help him out, because that’s just the kind of guy he is, but a major part of him wants to see how long this will last without any physical gratification on the table. That’s what this thing between them has mostly consisted of, and he doesn’t mind that so much, but he’s curious if there’s anything more significant behind it all.

“Oh, fuck off,” he replies; an angry set of words without any real vitriol behind them. “I just wasn’t thinking about those things. I was thinking quite fucking hard about how to get here. There’s a difference.” He doesn’t mention that he has quite a few acquaintances between his apartment and here that would have been closer places to seek refuge. It isn’t relevant, he thinks. He shrugs at the question, all but collapsing onto a plush sofa. He immediately misses Jagger’s arm around him; he’s positively chilled to the bone, still, and he’s in a bit of a mood, and he kind of just wants him to come back. “Could’ve been better.” He toes his shoes off, and proceeds to get comfortable, kicking his legs up on the couch and resting his head against the backrest, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out an unnecessarily dramatic sigh. 

[vincentnilsson-blog]

jgger:

there are teeth on his neck and expanses of skin beneath the roaming touch of his hands in the dim candlelit ambiance of his sex dungeon extravagant bedroom. there’s little on his mind as desire flows freely through his veins and he coaxes pleasured sounds out of his partner for the night. his hair is in disarray from being tugged and pulled out of his carefully coif, bits falling across his glistening forehead and into his eyes. they’ve been at it a while and that’s how jagger prefers it, rough but slow. good things come to those who wait, after all.

he smiles at his own internal cleverness and is about to whisper a sordid suggestion into the ear of his bedmate but there’s an urgent pounding from elsewhere in the lofty apartment. it’s actually a miracle jagger even hears it over the pants and moans of the bodacious blonde but he fancies himself an observant sort. there’s an initial wave of annoyance – he has an intercom system for a reason, fuck’s sake – but after sliding a hand over the woman’s mouth (no one ever said jagger was terribly nice in the bedroom), he’s able to decipher vincent’s voice among the frantic knocking.

for anyone else, he’d have pretended not to be home; he’d have continued to enjoy the company of his plaything without guilt. but it’s vincent and he sounds for all intents and purposes like a damsel in distress. it may be a hero complex fitting of his exceptionally large ego or maybe there’s something more genuine under the surface but, either way, he’s separating himself from the tangle of limbs and inviting her to dress and leave. he tosses on a pair of silky black boxers and nothing else before following her to the door.

he opens it with a knowing smile on his lips but a flash of concern apparent in his eyes if you looked closely enough. this was an emergency after all. as ms. legs leaves, heels in hand, she gives vincent a side glance and jagger can register the frustration on her features. he’ll have to send her a gift basket. then, smile growing playful, he turns his full attention onto vincent. “you know, i don’t think wanting my cock badly constitutes an emergency.” jagger gives the other a slow once over, knowing vincent is probably doing the same and taking note of all the obvious signs of sex apparent on his figure. “you look fucked – and not in a fun way.”

It takes Jagger awhile to get to the door, and if that isn’t bad enough, he sees some woman walking out before he even sees who he’s looking for. He’s about as drunk as they come, but it still doesn’t take him more than a second to realize what he’d interrupted, and he’s more irritated about it than he has a right to be. She gives him a look that he doesn’t like, and he sneers right back at her, flipping her off once her back is to him. He doesn’t have enough inhibitions at the moment to care if he’s being childish.

“I am way too tired for your cock, sorry,” Vincent grumbles. “Shoulda finished before you let her leave, I guess.” He’s being stupid, and he realizes that, but he’s in a whiny mood. “I locked myself out of my fucking apartment and I’m drunk and I don’t have any fucking money and it’s fucking cold as shit outside and I had to goddamn walk part of the way here and I...” He stops, taking a deep breath. “Can I please come in? I just need to crash or just... hang with you for a little. Just... hanging out, though, I’m not in the mood for anything else.”

[vincentnilsson-blog]

ambitchixus:

“Oh is that so? Well I suppose I could use it.” He replies back coolly, maybe if he does give his usual sly remarks he might feel better, he might feel anything other than whatever he’s feeling. But those feelings still linger in the air, still linger in him, he had to get his shit together, not only for his own sake. Especially not for his own sake, folks may say what they will about him, granted most of those things probably true– but he does care for this group, more than he’d ever admit to. Enough so that he wishes he’d been the one who died…. “I’m going to, I swear it.” He speaks once again, there’s a tinge of seriousness in his voice he hadn’t expected and an intensity in his expression as he looks back to the other. Santiago shakes his head at any rate, looking back to Vincent after, sly smile on his lips. “If you go back home who would offer me such good company?” It’s a question, one he doesn’t need the answer to either way– more teasing honestly than anything else.  “Things are going to be hectic for awhile, I’m going to have to clean up this mess, a real job might be less stressful, you think you’re still up for this life tigre?” Now that’s a question, one he raises a brow over and cocks his head to the side curiously about. Not that you really left this life, at least not alive; still he poses his words out in the open. He’ll clean all of this up by any means he thinks, he just might have to become more RUTHLESS again because of it, after all look where being who he’d become got him…

Vincent snorts at the question, rolling his eyes. “From what I gather, Jagger’s been pretty good company. You’ll be okay.” It’s a joke, of course, but he really doesn’t want to even think about going back home. Honestly, he doubts it’s even an option anymore.

He gives the next question a little bit of honest thought before he answers. He doesn’t know, honestly. He doesn’t know if this is the right place for him, if he can even make himself anything more than a burden at the moment. Eventually, he shrugs. “I’ve never even had a real job. I had an interview for one, once. I showed up stoned.” He chuckles at the memory, although it led to major consequences for him. He doesn’t need to think about that part of it. “It’s safe to say I’m not cut out for that. Maybe I’m not cut out for this bullshit either but we’ll see. I’m here for now.”

[vincentnilsson-blog]

It’s a great feat that Vincent remembers to lock his apartment on the way out; he thinks, sometimes, that his mind is going, like he’s so much older than he is. He tries not to think about that too much, tries not to let himself go down that road because it’s so much easier for him to ignore the ways in which he’s destroying himself and his future.

This great feat is made much less satisfying by the fact that he realizes only upon arriving back home, utterly wasted and exhausted and frozen to the bone from walking all the way home that his keys are on the damned counter. It’s... one in the morning? Two? He isn’t sure, and his phone is dead. Either way, it’s far too late to call on the landlord, so he’s locked out, homeless for the night. Perhaps he’s being a bit dramatic, but he’s too drunk to think of proper solutions to this problem, so he heads back out into the cold, and hails a cab.

As if his night isn’t going badly enough, he doesn’t have nearly enough cash to cover the entire ride, and ends up being dropped off a few blocks away. By the time he reaches Jagger’s apartment, he feels rather genuinely like he’s going to die (again, perhaps he’s a bit dramatic). But it’s okay; Jagger always has his way of improving Vincent’s mood; he always knows precisely what to do for him, it seems, and it’s exactly what Vincent needs right now.

He knocks on the door, lightly at first, and then proceeds to pound on it. “Jagger,” he calls out. “Let me in, it’s an emergency.” He sighs, resting his forehead against the door while he waits. God, he needs to stop going out drinking by himself.

@jgger

[ambitchixus-blog]

Santiago had plenty on his plate now and plenty more on his mind than he honestly knew what to do with. He’d have to discuss things with the others and yet he was simply trying to gather himself before doing so. Leaning against some wall in a secluded part of the warehouse proved useless to curb his anger or settle his fears and sadness. They’d lost their boss and he…he lost someone so dear to him that he’s sure he’d struggle with once the numbness and shock washed away. He wishes everything else he’d felt could be washed away just as easy, Santiago wants to fly off the handle, it’s easier that way; yet he knows the gang is slowly becoming a former shell of itself and he refuses to let it die along with their boss; refuses to honor their leader that way. ”Forgive me Vincent, I didn’t see you there amigo.” He finally speaks up, he’d been so involved in his thoughts for a moment that he almost feels bad for somewhat ignoring the other. His tone though was someplace between somber and impersonal and honestly even the term of endearment wasn’t the per usual one he’d quip up, the most obvious change in demeanor being the use of the others name before anything else. Still it wasn’t as if it was Vincent’s fault and after everything between them during the vacation he thinks he can muster up a better attitude. “Did you need something tigre, or just looking for my good company?” Santiago snorts, it lacks the amusement it might have normally, so much for mustering up anything better. @vincentnilsson​

[vincentnilsson-blog]

The boss is dead, and there is a tangible air of anxiety about the gang. Vincent thinks that maybe he is more prone to these feelings than the others, but he would find it hard to believe that the others don’t notice. The general feeling of fear, like they’re teetering, unbalanced, on the edge of something terrible; like no one knows what’s going to happen or what to do next. And Vincent, new and inexperienced and vulnerable, left hanging without any direction. 

“‘S’okay.” He’s quiet, in a way that isn’t typical for him. He can’t help but think that he’s being a nuisance, and it doesn’t help matters that he doesn’t really understand the nature of his relationship with Santiago. They aren’t close, not by any measure of the word; they didn’t have much in common at all other than, apparently, a fuck buddy. But he’s also seen Vincent orgasm, and he isn’t sure if that should make him more or less uncomfortable. He can’t help but chuckle quietly at that thought; it is a little strange, isn’t it? He shakes his head at the question. “No, of course not. I’m here to offer you my company. I’m feeling generous.” He pauses, the instinctive attempt at self-congratulatory humor hanging awkwardly between them. 

“You’re gonna get this shit together, right? I don’t want to have to go back home. Or get a real job.”

[midsommars-deactivated20201109]

[dreamgrl1998-deactivated2022072]

*hits the bong* ya know……i used to be a smart kid . i was so f ucking smart man. i can’t even read anymore dude