(Untitled)

[simplyteasing]

WHO: Tyki Mikk | simplyteasing and Grell Sutcliffe | hesakillerqueen 
WHERE: Noah Mansion!
WHEN: 3am
WARNINGS: Blood and torture.
SUMMARY: Grell turned fabuu and killed some people. Tyki does not like his house to be dirty. Antics ensue.
FORMAT: Para.

Comments

[simplyteasing]

Ah, anger. Tyki relished the change of tone in the Grell's voice, in the not-so-subtle shift in his body language, his eyes naturally drawn to the tightening of tendons in his neck, the widening of his eyes, the panic he tried so hard to hide behind a mask of disgust and rage. As he heard the chainsaw come free, he rejected the world again, taking immense Pleasure at the sound and feel of his knee cracking against the redhead's face. The only thing missing from the moment was blood; though, of course, there would be time for that. There was always time for it.

"You do wear crimson so well, though." he explained using that same purring tone, that same dulcet voice hanging between a threat of violence and sex. He hadn't figured out whether or not outright terror would bother Grell more than outright violence would, so he settled on a mixture of the two, immediately lashing out with a booted foot aimed at the hand Grell was using to hold onto his weapon, hoping to separate tool from master. He followed with yet another invasion of privacy, stepping through whatever Grell would throw at him next, his smile widening, his eyes glinting in the moonlight, irises full of reflected disaster.

"Maybe I should tear out your hair, if you value your face so much." He laughed, low, dangerous, his hand reaching out to try and grab those red, red tresses. "I hear it's rather painful."

[hesakillerqueen]

"My favorite color. It befits Beauty-" Grell gritted his teeth at the boot on his fingers, twisting his wrist and attempting to put the handle of the chainsaw as a barrier between his delicate hands and Tyki's foot. "But not the Beast. A passionate color should only suit those with passion." If nothing else, he couldn't be separated from his scythe - without it, Grell was helpless, and he knew that. However, his grip couldn't last much longer, and his hand already ached.

"You're not playing fairly with me, Tyki." Grell chided, frustrated despite himself. "Tch! Only the criminal make the games unwinnable."

All of a sudden he heard the last statement, and his vanity screamed at the idea. But there was too much to get out of the way and he felt the pinch of grabbed hair with what wasn't quite a wince, and wasn't quite a snarl in his throat. His free hand came up to attempt a grab on Tyki's hand, because in his mind, being grabbed must mean tangibility, and maybe, just maybe, he could land blows that way.

"You just can't keep your hands off of me, can you?" His tone was less teasing than straight aggressive. "I thought you were a gentleman."

[simplyteasing]

"Every gentleman is merely a wolf in waiting," he growled, his grip an iron vice around the handful of Grell's hair he had in his hand, his foot coming to rest on the man's sternum while he pulled. He wouldn't break him -- not yet, not nearly this early into his fun -- but he would pull into it hurt, until vertebra strained and popped and made Grell scream. Tyki lived for the screaming.

"And you aren't dead yet, are you?" he chided, leaning in, leg bending to allow him to get closer to Grell. "That's the mark of a gentleman if I ever saw one. I could've killed you right when you were trying to open the window from the outside, and I didn't. I gave you the chance to explain yourself."

He hated duplicitousness. Hated it. Liars were some of the worst kind of people, and here was Grell, one of the very few that Tyki felt he could feel kinship to, and their entire relationship was based on a lie. His grip tightened even more as his free hand came up to caress Grell's face again, the gentle stroke of his thumb against the redhead's cheek meant to be a rather ironic contrast to the pain he had to have been in.

[hesakillerqueen]

It did hurt; Grell had seriously underestimated Tyki and now he was paying for it. It was painfully obvious that whatever he was, Tyki Mikk was something far more powerful than a Shinigami. He felt the foot on his sternum and in a brief moment of his mind slipping away from the pain and into its own musings, he wondered if this was how Sebastian would've taken care of him, had their fight continued any further than it had and if he hadn't have been transported here before the battle could reach its crescendo. Predictably, his vertebrae straining brought him back into the present - the pain was too intense not to - and he settled for biting his lip, sharp teeth biting through easily. He managed to keep a steady and resentful (a defiant) stare throughout.

"The mark of a predator." His words were strained, but remained relatively disobedient. "You gave me the opportunity to trap myself with you. You're far from a gentleman, Tyki Mikk-" He managed a strained smile, a sly one, and leaned as much as the foot on his chest would allow upwards towards Tyki. "-You're far from man - something even further unto God than I. What are you?"

His neck cracked loudly and he finally screamed - a high fey noise - and he let go of his scythe to grab at the hand in his hair, baring his teeth in a pained snarl. His lip was bleeding freely now, down his chin - he hadn't realized how badly he'd bitten himself, more concerned with what Tyki was doing to him. At the stroke across his cheek he opened his eyes again and gave an insolent glare, but couldn't do much more vocally than whimper.

A beating he could take - torture wasn't something he was used to.

[simplyteasing]

Aaaaaaah, blood. Glorious, dark, sanguine sweet, sweet, blood. He could smell it on Grell's lips, could taste it in his own mouth, the sour-sweetness of copper resting just there, so close but so, so far removed from the edge of his tongue. Yet again, his gentle touch turned into a slap as he reared back and tried to smack Grell, palm open, in the hope that more of Grell's blood would fall out and stain the floor instead of some stranger's. It felt more personal that way.

"Oh, I'm many things, Grell." he whispered, grinning from ear to ear as the line of crosses tattooed across his forehead came into view, almost as if some unseen brand were burning them into his flesh. "But Godlike is not one of them. Far from it, in actuality."

Joyd cooed and cawed in the back of his mind, tendrils of anger and hatred, of need and Pleasure threading through his veins, exciting him, making every moment tense and breathless. He licked his lips almost hungrily at Grell's high, tortured scream, his eyes taking in all of the sight of it, devouring the image of the man arching away from his tight grasp, slender white neck bared and beautifully oval eyes shut tight for that moment, that plateau of pain he had caused him to reach.

"Do you know the story of Noah?" he asked, idly rubbing some of Grell's fine hair between his index finger and thumb. "And not the one put out by the church, but how it all happened afterward?"

Oh, it felt good. It felt so, so good. As the chainsaw fell out of Grell's hands with a loud, jarring clatter, Tyki took a moment to kick the thing away, his grip easing up for a moment that left Grell's soft hair slack in his hands. Hopefully, the Noah had distracted Grell with his question -- he had learned, before, that pain was almost never enough to keep curiosity at bay -- long enough to allow him to yank him forward by the hair, with Tyki taking his position behind Grell as the chainsaw skidded away.

[hesakillerqueen]

"Noah?" Grell repeated, watching very, very carefully how Tyki handled his hair. Without even really thinking about it, began to suck on his lip in an almost innocent manner - the coppery taste in his mouth was comforting if nothing else, and with his hair slack in Tyki's hands, he could focus on the pain in his mouth instead. "I never played with human religion, Tyki Mikk. You really do lose interest when you know for certain what's at the end."

The slap caught him by total surprise, and where had his glasses gone? They'd been knocked off by the force of the abuse, and though his vision wasn't horrifically bad, the sharp outline of the home, Tyki, the curious way his blood had made oval spatters on the floor, they'd all become slightly fuzzy outlines. He leveled a stare at Tyki just in time to see the crosses, more of a impetuous glare than anything, but didn't say a word.

He'd been in the middle of forming another sentence, of reaching desperately after his kicked chainsaw, when Tyki suddenly yanked him, and his mouth clicked lockjaw closed for a moment. He yelped; more pain, more blood, when had he bitten his tongue so badly? Grell was dripping freely down his chin and onto the floor now, down his neck and staining his already bloodstained clothes. It wasn't much of a loss there.

"Do you enjoy beating women, Tyki?" Grell was past terror by now, just drenched in dread and resignation. And his own blood. There wasn't a point to licking his lips anymore - his entire mouth was coated in the taste of bitter-sour copper. "Is there a point to this, or is it for sport? I do hate being the killjoy, but I don't break. If you weren't insistent on marring my beautiful face, I may even have enjoyed it."

It was basically taunting the devil, but at this point, Grell wasn't sure if he even cared.

sob I AM SORRY I EDIT SO MUCh.

[simplyteasing]

"My, you do like to talk, don't you?" He settled on sitting atop Grell's waist, straddling him from behind as he continued to abuse him. "I don't find sport in doing what I do -- you'll all die anyway, in the end, so it makes very little difference to me whether it's by my hand or not." His tone was matter-of-fact, blase. He could've been talking about the weather. "The Pleasure comes from the doing, from the art of it." he chuckled. "I'm sure you can understand, no?"

The way the Grell was speaking -- and, that, in and of itself spoke volumes of his character -- meant that Tyki hadn't caused enough pain, that he hadn't hurt him much. The blood and the screams were commonplace, something that any sadomasochist would go through when in this position; Tyki realized then, quite abruptly, that it would take more than just a small amount of creativity to make the man truly hurt. He leaned in close, pulling back on that long, vermilion hair while making sure to breathe hot into Grell's ear, his voice coming out not much higher than a whisper. "Women are, I find, weak-willed by nature," he explained, his free hand running over the muscles cordoned in Grell's taut neck, up the side of his face and his now-bruising cheek. "It's why I rather prefer to torture men," here, he leaned into Grell, lips barely brushing against the curve of his ear, his hand coming to rest on his temple. "They have more to lose."

At the word lose, Tyki slid his hand into Grell's temple, fingertips going intangible as they sunk into the flesh and came to rest right behind Grell's eyeball.

"--You can't see much of what I'm doing without your glasses, can you?"

BB IT'S COOL

[hesakillerqueen]

"I suppose I can." Grell just pressed his forehead against the floor, wondering if he was going to die tonight. It wasn't even a fearful thought, not really. All the poison and terror of death was really tapped when he found out that he'd just come back again, and again, and again. "I'm hardly a hypocrite. A corpse by itself is no fun."

He winced at the tugging - his scalp was so sore - and in any other situation, might have found this arrangement, the touches, the blood, might have found it erotic. Right now though, he just wanted it over. It wasn't fun.

"Do you torture often?" He didn't doubt it. He also didn't really anticipate an answer, and with the fingers being intangible, didn't feel them. "My vision is near perfect. They're for fashion, mostly." He remained blissfully oblivious to what was happening at the moment, voice full of resignation and exhaustion. The fire had more or less drained out of him tonight.

"This is like sex to you, isn't it?" It was Grell's turn to chuckle, mentally preparing himself for whatever "much of what I'm doing" must entail. He knew the feeling; not induced by torture, no, but by his special brand of carnage. "Such a gorgeous feeling, isn't it?"

Fyi: when he goes "through" someone with his intangibility it usually feels really weird to them.

[simplyteasing]

"We're nothing alike," he stated, suddenly stand-offish. He leaned back and pulled Grell's hair back hard enough to make the man have to look him in the eye, trying to force him to bend back for him.

He really did have beautiful eyes.

Hm.

It was rather off putting, Grell's calmness. Tyki knew as well as the next person that death wasn't permanent in this place -- which was even more off putting, come to think of it -- but, the man could have at least had the decency to be afraid of what was going to happen next. Sheesh. There wouldn't be much fun in just ending his life this way.

Change of plans, then.

"Near perfect, eh?" He made only the tips of his fingers tangible, and Choose to have his touch affect only the back of Grell's eye, his opposite hand coming to rest on the underside of the redhead's neck, holding him there. "We're different in that, as well. You enjoy watching others die."

At the word die, he caressed the back of Grell's eye with his fingertips, a feather-soft touch at best. If it wasn't excruciating pain, Tyki didn't know what would be.

"I merely watch them for their faces."

asklfljf /correcting that here

[hesakillerqueen]

Grell winced; he was more flexible than most, thanks to a lithe figure and his inhumanity, but all of this abuse was pushing it. Still, he managed, staring up at Tyki fully, watching his eyes closest of all. He would've said something, his lips pursing to form the words, when he felt it. Not just the horribly odd feeling in his head, which he'd attributed to head trauma of some sort, but something else.

The noise he made was something high-pitched that turned into screaming.

It was loud, and he went rigid with the pain, and still through all of his writhing and wailing and attempts to get loose and dismember this man, he really couldn't do anything but look at Tyki. And then, gradually, the screams turned into moans and then whimpers - but there were no tears. His eyes watered at best, but he just couldn't cry. Grell was done. He wasn't built for torture, he was built to kill and look pretty. And right now, he just really wanted to tear something apart.

Grell more or less went slack, signaling his surrender.

NOW THE FUN CAN START.

[simplyteasing]

When Tyki saw the lights begin to dim, his hand withdrew -- now intangible, of course -- to lay another harsh smack against the side of Grell's face. "Now, now," he almost-cooed, keeping his grip tight, to keep Greel bent back enough to make sure he saw his every inch of the Noah's face, his pleased, feline expression. "Can't have you leaving me just yet -- wouldn't be fair, you see."

He chuckled, then bent Grell back more than he really should have, trying to inflict just a bit more pain onto him. When he was done, very slowly, Tyki eased his free hand down the front Grell's face, languidly spider-walking his fingers down his skull, his forehead, the bridge of his nose and then to his -- soft, pouted, crimson -- lips, holding there for a moment to see what the man would do in his groggy state.

"--You know, I almost thought I could trust you."

There was a heaviness to his voice, a sort of...sadness, as if he regretted that Grell had betrayed his confidence in such a way. Outside of Monet and, perhaps, Knives, Tyki hadn't found many people he would honestly call "Friends" in the City. It was strange. He hadn't -- Tyki let out a dissatisfied sigh, shrugging to no one in particular. No time to dwell on that; whatever the twinge of emotion was, it passed as soon as it came. There was more important things to things do at the moment. Like trying to force his fingers into Grell's mouth and choke him from the inside out -- he hadn't done that one in awhile.

"Pity."

He tried to force open the man's lips with two fingers, at first, dragging the digits across his bloodied lips for a moment. He knew it would have drove the redhead wild, were he in his right mind. He seemed the type to enjoy being controlled when not in excruciating pain.

:D

[hesakillerqueen]

Grell was out of it, mainly just there for the ride. His head jerked with the force of the blow but he really didn't make any noise other than a sharp exhale, eyes still locked on Tyki's, half-lidded. He craned to accommodate the extra pull backwards, and oddly enough, opened his mouth a bit for Tyki's fingers. Whether it was due to grogginess or some hidden malice towards Tyki putting his fingers in what was pretty much a bear trap, it was hard to tell. He couldn't bring himself to vocalize anything impetuous, not when Tyki could blind and maim him so easily. His pride was important, but his looks were even more important than that.

He gave a more or less pouty expression while complying, and if Tyki stuck his fingers into his mouth, would give a very teasing, warning brush of teeth against fingers, giving a half-lidded glare. His quiet way of saying - but not really saying - if it's in my mouth, I can bite it if I feel like it.

Unless they were intangible, that quirk that pissed Grell off to no end. Then he couldn't do anything but wait.

[simplyteasing]

At the mere hint of teeth, he tightened his grip on Grell's neck, fingers digging hard into the flesh. "You do it," Tyki warned, making sure that Grell saw the malice in his eyes by leaning even closer, "And I take them. One by one."

His smile would've made the Cheshire Cat himself proud.

Once that was done with, Tyki would try to ease his fingers down through Grell's mouth, slowly making more and more of his hand, wrist, and eventually, a good portion of his forearm intangible when any real flesh came just this close of triggering Grell's gag-reflex.

"--You never answered my question, by the way. I think now would be as good a time as any to be specific on what you know and don't."

[hesakillerqueen]

In response to the threat, Grell didn't snarl or glare so much as pout, but strained his jaw as far as it would open. He couldn't help it if Tyki's arm brushed his teeth anyway while he was in the process of choking him out, flexing his bruised fingers in discomfort.

"Know of what?" Grell huffed, having reverted to childish impetuousness. He had regained some semblance of himself, and now wouldn't be either combative or particularly helpful. He'd tried both, and it was obvious that neither placated Tyki Mikk. The feeling of intangible fingers down his throat made him feeling like gagging, but it was frustratingly not quite enough to do so and get it over with.

"You'll have to decide what to do with me soon, Tyki Mikk." He stared on boredly, blankly, plain irritation crossing his face. "I wouldn't wish to overstay my welcome, which is obviously nonexistent. I'm certainly not the Grell Sutcliffe you knew - I'm far better, far more coordinated and intelligent and anything other than that stupid and useless facade. I hope you didn't like him - I certainly didn't." He let out a 'tch', averting his eyes to the wonderfully interesting scar in the paneling, offhandedly licking his lips once - pure habit, really. "And I hope you don't think this torture is endearing you to me. I'm naturally attracted to cold and distant men, and both my dear William and devilish Sebastian did get a little rough at times, but it can only go so far before you're the only one having fun here."

Luckily for Grell, his moods were as flippant and indecisive as the wind - his way to cope with what would be traumatizing to a normal human was to be tortured one second and then bored with it another.

[simplyteasing]

He sighed. The teeth did not cut him, but they were a nuisance nonetheless -- almost as much of a nuisance as Grell was quickly becoming. Tsk. He began to slowly make parts of his arm tangible, starting at his fingers and then working his way back, solidifying the appendage bit by bit, inch by inch. It would have been rather discomforting, he knew -- almost as if one were choking on something growing within the esophagus. Poor Grell. Tyki let go of his hair to compensate for any thrashing that about about to happen, standing up a bit off of Grell's back so that he could try to settle a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tight.

"I'm not going to kill you," Tyki stated, tone still flat, nearly bored, his smile vanishing the more his arm became real. There was very little Pleasure in killing a man so easily, and Grell had made no secret of his ambivalence toward death at the moment. "You'd like that too much, I think. Or continue to act bored to spite me."

[hesakillerqueen]

"Don't tease me like th-" Grell began, taunting despite himself because right now, until his words suddenly choked off with gagging noises, though inwardly and somewhere deep within himself grateful for the release of his hair, no doubt mussed and in need of a wash anyway. He didn't thrash, however - instead, he attempted to take advantage of every inch Tyki had so graciously given him, in an effort to replicate what had once saved him before, in his moonlight battle with Sebastian. He cast off the feigned hesitance at injuring himself for an attack and lunged upwards. The actual chances of getting any closer to Tyki than Tyki wanted him to be were slim to nothing, but he was attempting to headbutt the Noah -- or at least connect the crown of his skull with the other man's jaw, daze him, get a good grasp while he was still tangible. He hadn't even considered the fact that Tyki had said he wouldn't kill him and what that entailed, whether he'd be cut loose or locked away, but that really didn't matter to him right now.

At the moment, what Grell wanted probably even more than escaping Tyki Mikk was to feel his trachea crushing beneath his palm.