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.
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Dude looks like a laaaaaaaaady~! )
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?"
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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."
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"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.
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"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."
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At the moment, what Grell wanted probably even more than escaping Tyki Mikk was to feel his trachea crushing beneath his palm.
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Grell's blow hurt him, connecting with a solid thwack that left Tyki disoriented, his jaw snapping up, mouth clicking closed loudly and painfully. He rejected the rest of the world around them both out of sheer, animal reflex, creating a vacuum so sudden and potent that it wrenched air molecules from around both he and Grell, creating a miniature sonic-boom within the room that left both the doorway and parts of the hallway decimated.
"--Ah. Tch."
This, he decided, would be coming out of Grell's literal hide.
"I hadn't wanted to be cruel just yet."
And this would be Tyki solidifying his first and Choosing to reject everything inside of Grell so that he could grabbing the man's heart.
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"Let us part with a passionate kiss-" He wanted to repeat that line immortalised in his mind from his battle with Sebastian, one of the best nights of his life, wanted to say it again and immortalise this night too - but it almost felt like something was clenching his -
"Heart..." Grell had glanced down, seen it, and the sensation had more or less just sapped his strength. He kept his grip in Tyki's shirt and slumped against him uselessly, pressing his face into the crook of his neck and really enjoying the way he smelled like smoke.
"Don't be gentle, Master Mikk." He grinned ruthlessly, though the impending death he was certain was on his shoulders was worrying him, and he felt his pulse speed up. "Let Romeo steal away Juliet's sweetest last breath." He breathed hotly on the Noah's neck, playing up every little bit of being a shameless tease. If he was going to die, he was going to do it just like he lived.
By making the current object of his affections as painfully aware of them as possible.
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"Grell," he whispered low, leaning into the man, his neck arching just so at the play of heat against his skin. "You forget who the master of the house is." Tyki's fingers stretched and splayed, threading themselves around the thing carefully, softly caressing it as though he were handling a lover's breast. "And I've already said that you won't be dying tonight -- not if I have my way. It would be too quick an ending to our relationship."
Tyki cautiously prodded a finger at Grell's heart, hoping he wouldn't go into cardiac arrest just yet. There was so much more he could do to him with his life in his hands like this.
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"Oh do stop it," Grell chided in what was nearly a scold, pushing back and regretting it immediately, swaying on his feet but managing to steady himself. He could probably thank his Shinigami endurance for surviving this night so far, but not even that could protect his somewhat more fragile heart in this sort of position. He still managed a disapproving stare - though his weight was really all supported by his grip on Tyki's shirt. "I just can't stand people who can't make up their minds." He gave a weak prod over the area where Tyki's own heart should be, about a moment before Tyki prods his own and makes him grit his teeth, makes him feel like he's been stabbed. Once he catches his breath again, he continues his admittedly light scolding.
"Don't be a hypocrite, it's a loathsome trait. If you're going to abuse me, you can at least act the part, you terrible creature." Out of the romanticism and back into his huffiness. "Pretending to be a gentleman after tonight's antics?" He pursed his lips disapprovingly. "Not even my dear Sebas was that audacious. You're worse than a demon."
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He tilted his head, and looked down the bridge of his nose at Grell, fighting the urge to tear out his heart then and there. "I've been nothing but truthful with you, Grell. Nothing but."
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"I have never lied to you." He cocked his head, one hand resting comfortably on Tyki's forearm, giving the Noah an incredulous look. "It seems even a creature like you can believe an illusion. I never told you I was the Grell you saw; you simply accepted it as apparent truth!" His own grip tightened considerably, and the expression fell dead from his face, leaving deadpan blankness in its wake. "I never told you I was human. But the fact you couldn't recognize my true nature isn't a terrible surprise; I am a top-rate actress, after all."
What was prompting him to be so forward? Exhaustion, for one, and irritation/frustration/anger at Tyki, for two, and for third, he could really just drop to the floor and kill himself if he really wanted to. Despite death's easy nature, however, he still felt a healthy respect for it and chose to avoid it as long as possible. Still, he now had a modicum of control and it was bolstering him.
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"The fact that you had to hide t his facet of yourself from me is lie enough." Tyki nearly spat, eyes narrowing, all humor falling from his face. "If you can't be both, then stick to the most true and quit pretending. It's disgusting."
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