Of Blood and Bodies [1/1]
Title: Of Blood and Bodies
Author: Aqua Zephyrus
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Moonlight/Foyet
Rating: FRT
Summary: George said he'd be back soon enough. Five hours later, he still wasn't home, and Moonlight was getting the biggest boner in the history of... well, his existence.
Warning: Blood, violence, strong language
A/N: Lack of internet, a bit of anger at some things a few days ago, and an extremely antsy muse led to this. Set in the #fugitiveverse with George Foyet still alive and married to Aaron Hotchner's dark doppelganger, Moonlight. Timeline is after March 29-April 4: in which Foyet was kidnapped, and Moonlight literally tore Quantico apart looking for him. The city is slowly being rebuilt, and the strip it's in right now is just a piece of the city... and it's not a nice piece, either...
Moonlight Foyet snorted to himself, wandering the west streets of Quantico, Virginia and stretched, knowing full and well his husband certainly wasn't at their home in the alleyway, aptly dubbed The Lair by the darkness himself. George had told him he'd probably be out all day running some "errands" and pulling some "jobs" off when he was still in bed this morning, and Moon had basically grunted in response as his lover kissed him and rolled out of bed. Couple hours later, the darkness was out and about at long last, and he knew George should have finished his "errands" by the time he was up- given it had been five hours ago.
He didn't have a clue where the hell the serial killer was, but he had a semi-good idea of where to start looking, and that was in the southwest-most corner of the west side. Bars, a gym, some shady-ass back-alley assholes who liked to light up and get into random street fights in the midst of their high. And yes- if he ran into any of those said "assholes" and they didn't know where the hell George was... well. They wouldn't be around to talk about how they faced the darkness and lived to tell the tale. Moonlight had a habit of not letting people live when they met him.
The only exception was George Foyet- his husband... and Aaron Hotchner.
His other half. The fuckhead that still wandered around the Earth, having died-- twice now. Once for about five minutes, once for about ten fuckin' years.
He couldn't hear anyone in the bar, and the gym... well...
Jesus christ, was that blood?
Moonlight wrinkled his nose and found himself walking towards the gym then, seeing the body of one man laying in the street with about a good fifteen stab wounds. Guy didn't have a chance. Another body next to him. Eight wounds. The evil killer chuckled, shaking his head and walking inside. George had either been here... or was here.
Inside he went, and-- there were about another five bodies laying around in the front area alone, the place practically a bloodbath along the walls, the floor, everywhere. The desk up front, some of the weights going farther back. The more blood Moonlight saw, the tighter the bulge in his pants got. He knew George did all of this. And to think he'd found seven bodies in about four minutes- he must've been on a high or in a fit of rage... or just in the mood for a spree killing. Moonlight didn't know. All he could tell was that ol' Georgie had been in a mood of some sort. And god... god, the man loved it when his husband was relentless.
The further he walked in, the fewer bodies that were there. But they got larger. Stronger. Couple football kids from college. Maybe a heavyweight lifter here and there... Moonlight saw four more bloodied bodies before one man stumbled out of the workout room to his left, about a good three stab wounds in him- and the knife still in his body. In his torso. A low moan, grabbing Moonlight's shoulder and whispering, fading fast. "...don't... go in there..."
And with that, he slumped at Moonlight's feet. Breathing shallowing out and finally stopping altogether.
"Holy fuckin' dicks," Moonlight mumbled, walking into the room where the murdered soul had just wandered out, pointedly not heeding his attempts to not let the man inside. "Georgie?"
Nothing yet. Although in the far back corner of the room, Moonlight could have sworn he heard something. Someone- beating someone else. Or something else. He walked back a little more, louder. "George? Babe?!"
There was a grunt, and it sounded like those fists were getting louder. Moonlight had a feeling. A dark feeling as he walked in and saw him. And it wasn't wicked thoughts that wanted him to kill- no. It wasn't him fucked. Thrown against the wall or down on the floor by a dangerously unstable George Foyet right then as he saw his husband, his lover- the only light of his life beating the unholy shit out of the bag in front of him with nothing but athletic tape on his hands. And even then, Moonlight didn't think it was registering that someone else had walked in.
Fucking hell. George wasn't even holding anything back. It was swinging back and forth, and his serial killer was just- slamming into it. Beating it. Blow after blow, kicking out once in a while and snarling. Sweating. Bloodied. The sight made Moonligh want to drop his jeans right there in the middle of the fucking place and either be fucked senseless... or fuck George until he came back to his senses. He didn't know of another way to do that but call out his name. "Sweetheart!!"
One last punch, and George slowly turned to Moonlight with blood dripping from his lip and a low snarl of sorts.
"The fuck do you want?"
Moonlight didn't budge. "Well I was looking for you, motherfucker. Been here all day?"
George hissed. "Got a problem with that?"
"Why the hell are you here, asshole?"
The killer turned back to the bag. " 's it matter to you?"
The darkness growled. "Because I have a hard-on you need to fuckin' fix pronto."
George snorted and did a fast one-two on the bag and turned back to the man of his nightmares. A lowered growl, more subdued before taking the tape off his hands. "Said once before you have the world's best lover and fighter for a husband, right? World's best got himself fuckin' kidnapped a month ago... put up a fight... and still..." There was a look up at the darkness, eyes swirling with both the killing high and just seeing that boner. That tent in Moonlight's pants. "...still he got fuckin' kidnapped." Tossing the tape aside and advancing on the darkness with a glint in his eyes once more. "I ain't goin' through that again. And no one..." He reached out, grabbing and fondling Moonlight's package and getting close to him. cornering him to the wall. "No one is fuckin' stoppin' me from gettin' stronger, asshole. No. One."
Moonlight made a noise- almost like a growl as George grabbed him, and he found himself suddenly against the wall with a bloodied and sweaty serial killer. But it wasn't one of annoyance or warning; it was one of nearly pleading. Begging. "You are a cocksuckin' tease, you bastard..."
"Yeah?" George held him there before slamming a hard left cross into Moonlight's jaw and a snarl before leaning in and giving the man a hard kiss on the lips. Filled with fire, passion, love, adoration- everything he could into that one little kiss. Moonlight's hands slowly slid into his hair and gripped it, holding him close. Standing there in that bloodbath with the world's craziest boner going on.
When Moonlight broke the kiss, panting softly, he whispered, "You gonna throw me down and fuck me senseless in this gym?"
George only chuckled darkly, grabbing the man's hair as well. "You won't fuckin' move when I'm done with you, babe."
Author: Aqua Zephyrus
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Moonlight/Foyet
Rating: FRT
Summary: George said he'd be back soon enough. Five hours later, he still wasn't home, and Moonlight was getting the biggest boner in the history of... well, his existence.
Warning: Blood, violence, strong language
A/N: Lack of internet, a bit of anger at some things a few days ago, and an extremely antsy muse led to this. Set in the #fugitiveverse with George Foyet still alive and married to Aaron Hotchner's dark doppelganger, Moonlight. Timeline is after March 29-April 4: in which Foyet was kidnapped, and Moonlight literally tore Quantico apart looking for him. The city is slowly being rebuilt, and the strip it's in right now is just a piece of the city... and it's not a nice piece, either...
Moonlight Foyet snorted to himself, wandering the west streets of Quantico, Virginia and stretched, knowing full and well his husband certainly wasn't at their home in the alleyway, aptly dubbed The Lair by the darkness himself. George had told him he'd probably be out all day running some "errands" and pulling some "jobs" off when he was still in bed this morning, and Moon had basically grunted in response as his lover kissed him and rolled out of bed. Couple hours later, the darkness was out and about at long last, and he knew George should have finished his "errands" by the time he was up- given it had been five hours ago.
He didn't have a clue where the hell the serial killer was, but he had a semi-good idea of where to start looking, and that was in the southwest-most corner of the west side. Bars, a gym, some shady-ass back-alley assholes who liked to light up and get into random street fights in the midst of their high. And yes- if he ran into any of those said "assholes" and they didn't know where the hell George was... well. They wouldn't be around to talk about how they faced the darkness and lived to tell the tale. Moonlight had a habit of not letting people live when they met him.
The only exception was George Foyet- his husband... and Aaron Hotchner.
His other half. The fuckhead that still wandered around the Earth, having died-- twice now. Once for about five minutes, once for about ten fuckin' years.
He couldn't hear anyone in the bar, and the gym... well...
Jesus christ, was that blood?
Moonlight wrinkled his nose and found himself walking towards the gym then, seeing the body of one man laying in the street with about a good fifteen stab wounds. Guy didn't have a chance. Another body next to him. Eight wounds. The evil killer chuckled, shaking his head and walking inside. George had either been here... or was here.
Inside he went, and-- there were about another five bodies laying around in the front area alone, the place practically a bloodbath along the walls, the floor, everywhere. The desk up front, some of the weights going farther back. The more blood Moonlight saw, the tighter the bulge in his pants got. He knew George did all of this. And to think he'd found seven bodies in about four minutes- he must've been on a high or in a fit of rage... or just in the mood for a spree killing. Moonlight didn't know. All he could tell was that ol' Georgie had been in a mood of some sort. And god... god, the man loved it when his husband was relentless.
The further he walked in, the fewer bodies that were there. But they got larger. Stronger. Couple football kids from college. Maybe a heavyweight lifter here and there... Moonlight saw four more bloodied bodies before one man stumbled out of the workout room to his left, about a good three stab wounds in him- and the knife still in his body. In his torso. A low moan, grabbing Moonlight's shoulder and whispering, fading fast. "...don't... go in there..."
And with that, he slumped at Moonlight's feet. Breathing shallowing out and finally stopping altogether.
"Holy fuckin' dicks," Moonlight mumbled, walking into the room where the murdered soul had just wandered out, pointedly not heeding his attempts to not let the man inside. "Georgie?"
Nothing yet. Although in the far back corner of the room, Moonlight could have sworn he heard something. Someone- beating someone else. Or something else. He walked back a little more, louder. "George? Babe?!"
There was a grunt, and it sounded like those fists were getting louder. Moonlight had a feeling. A dark feeling as he walked in and saw him. And it wasn't wicked thoughts that wanted him to kill- no. It wasn't him fucked. Thrown against the wall or down on the floor by a dangerously unstable George Foyet right then as he saw his husband, his lover- the only light of his life beating the unholy shit out of the bag in front of him with nothing but athletic tape on his hands. And even then, Moonlight didn't think it was registering that someone else had walked in.
Fucking hell. George wasn't even holding anything back. It was swinging back and forth, and his serial killer was just- slamming into it. Beating it. Blow after blow, kicking out once in a while and snarling. Sweating. Bloodied. The sight made Moonligh want to drop his jeans right there in the middle of the fucking place and either be fucked senseless... or fuck George until he came back to his senses. He didn't know of another way to do that but call out his name. "Sweetheart!!"
One last punch, and George slowly turned to Moonlight with blood dripping from his lip and a low snarl of sorts.
"The fuck do you want?"
Moonlight didn't budge. "Well I was looking for you, motherfucker. Been here all day?"
George hissed. "Got a problem with that?"
"Why the hell are you here, asshole?"
The killer turned back to the bag. " 's it matter to you?"
The darkness growled. "Because I have a hard-on you need to fuckin' fix pronto."
George snorted and did a fast one-two on the bag and turned back to the man of his nightmares. A lowered growl, more subdued before taking the tape off his hands. "Said once before you have the world's best lover and fighter for a husband, right? World's best got himself fuckin' kidnapped a month ago... put up a fight... and still..." There was a look up at the darkness, eyes swirling with both the killing high and just seeing that boner. That tent in Moonlight's pants. "...still he got fuckin' kidnapped." Tossing the tape aside and advancing on the darkness with a glint in his eyes once more. "I ain't goin' through that again. And no one..." He reached out, grabbing and fondling Moonlight's package and getting close to him. cornering him to the wall. "No one is fuckin' stoppin' me from gettin' stronger, asshole. No. One."
Moonlight made a noise- almost like a growl as George grabbed him, and he found himself suddenly against the wall with a bloodied and sweaty serial killer. But it wasn't one of annoyance or warning; it was one of nearly pleading. Begging. "You are a cocksuckin' tease, you bastard..."
"Yeah?" George held him there before slamming a hard left cross into Moonlight's jaw and a snarl before leaning in and giving the man a hard kiss on the lips. Filled with fire, passion, love, adoration- everything he could into that one little kiss. Moonlight's hands slowly slid into his hair and gripped it, holding him close. Standing there in that bloodbath with the world's craziest boner going on.
When Moonlight broke the kiss, panting softly, he whispered, "You gonna throw me down and fuck me senseless in this gym?"
George only chuckled darkly, grabbing the man's hair as well. "You won't fuckin' move when I'm done with you, babe."