LARS' APARTMENT
VORTAS 2, 2719 ❁ LATE LATE LATE
Peregrine was grinning down at them like he had amused them. He could not stop the laughter, could not stop the swimming in his dizzy head now that he had slammed it down against the floor. Good. Good, he did not want to think. That was the point of the drinking, the point of the hurting, the point of it all. Peregrine was such a lovely distraction, too, and so easily did they give in to what he wanted, to giving him the delicious pain that he desired. He had only planned on drinking until he blacked out, sure, but this was far more pleasant. Far more distracting than unpredictable dreams. No, dreams were no good, no good at all. He kept remembering them lately. He did not like remembering them.
"How hard you hit yer head there, darlin'?"
Darlin'. That was funny, it made him laugh more, made the redness of his face spread to his shoulders beneath his jacket. Yulis' jacket. No, his jacket now. He giggled again at the remembrance. Yulis was dead. Fucking finally, he was dead. No more nightly visits from that dirty fucking spoke, no more hopeful, curious questions. It really was so much easier to just kill someone when they tired you, he thought. He was not sure how he had ever managed before.
"Not hard enough," came his response, the passive sounding just as unconcerned about his hurting head as the human on top of him. Lars made himself bite at the inside of his bottom lip, made himself sit still when Peregrine told him not to move. Likely only meant that he wasn't supposed to move out from under them, but he took it seriously, his limbs and body falling slack beneath them. The human sat up, and started removing that warm knitted sweater of theirs. That would be a nice sweater to have, he thought, and he wondered - but no. No, Peregrine had use. Peregrine was pretty, and Peregrine did not seem put off by his desires. They only seemed encouraged by them. But maybe, if he asked nicely, they would let him wear it sometime.
Lars watched with obvious delight as they pulled off their sweater, and continued sitting up straight for a few moments longer. He was not sure if they were intentionally showing off, or just slow - he didn't care which it was, he couldn't keep his hands off. Slender hands slid over their thighs and up, and up, until he was smoothing his healing fingers over Peregrine's abdomen in open admiration. Their cool hand moved to touch his jaw, and Lars raised his chin a little, as if baring his neck, and then the hand went to twist in his hair. He was not given as much time to admire them as he would have liked, but he certainly could not protest when they were leaning back down to meet him - back down to his neck, back down to the bite marks and the imprint of a hand.
Beautiful, they said, and he was not sure if they meant him or the markings on his neck in particular, but he did not care in the slightest. He could imagine that the markings were beautiful; they were stark reminders of what was, and what had been, and of the wonderfully painful infliction of injury. Beautiful, yes. He breathed out a shaky sigh as a kiss was pressed to the broken skin, light eyes fluttering shut in anticipation.
And Peregrine bit down. Right in the same spot, those sharp teeth sinking into the incisions they'd made before, and it stung. Oh gods, it stung, and Lars did his best to keep his breaths slow and calm but it was hard. It was hard, and near impossible, and his breath hitched in a reminder that he could not control it, not when this handsome human was biting him, not when his hands were caressing the muscles of Peregrine's back and shoulders, not when his delicate fingers were pressing firm and exploring along the lines of the bones.
Hip bones, shoulder blades, collar bones, ribs. His hands only came to a pause against their chest as Peregrine lifted their bloody mouth away from his neck. It was somehow more painful then, when the little wounds were exposed again to the air, away from the warm pressure of Peregrine's mouth. He felt thin trails of something run down the side of his neck; he was not sure if it was blood or saliva, but his lips curved into a grin at the curiosity, and a breathy laugh escaped him. It was not a case of either/or, he thought. It was both.
He did not have much time to consider it further before they were biting down again, pressing down against him - Lars simply could not help the low groan that escaped him, but really, was there a point to quieting himself? He had thought so, but if Albigence was all the way across the hall, he wouldn't hear, would he? No. He could be drunk and loud if he wanted. He was already skipping out on work tonight, for the second night in a row, and he might as well make good use of his time, right?
One of his hands was brought up to the back of Peregrine's head, and his fingers twisted through the dark hair, tugging them up and away. Not because he did not appreciate those teeth - he was just too eager to sit still, too giddy not to move. Lars pushed himself up again at the same time as he pulled Peregrine away, so that their faces were kept close. This time, he didn't slam his head back down against the floor. While he shrugged off his jacket, fingers releasing Peregrine's hair for the moment, he pushed forward to capture their lovely bloody lips in a kiss. It was as needy as the low rumble in his throat - his jacket was tossed to the side, and then his hands were on Peregrine again, touching, feeling, pressing without any intention of being gentle.
Lars seemed a bit too restless to stay there for long, though, and he broke from the kiss to move back a bit, until he could pull his legs out from under the strange, pretty human. He was crawling back to them just as quick, onto their lap, slipping bruised arms around their neck and legs around their waist. The passive wasted no time in kissing them again, blood trailing slowly down his neck and onto his shoulder, fingers threading through dark hair.