Getting him into the house the first time had been hard. Getting Vishous off the ground, and off of his own body? Now that was almost impossible. He was far too tired for this, but for Vishous' sake, he pushed himself through anyway, and despite the strain on his own body, got Vishous off the pavement and into bed. He stood in the door way, chest heaving as he tried to breathe more normally. This wouldn't have tired him out on a normal basis, not even close, but alcohol, exhaustion, and unbelievable emotional strain had put him in this state. He leaned against the door frame, staring at the bed, at Vishous, feeling helpless, anxious, unhappy...any list of negative emotion. "He wouldn't even let me leave." Butch thought, his expression sullen, thankful that Vishous wasn't awake to see it. "Even after he told me to. What an ass." He didn't even have the energy to make the insult sound serious. Now, thanks to Vishous' sudden collapse on top of him outside, he was bruised and sore, which was appropriate, considering that's how he felt inside, too. What was with this sudden focus on feelings, he wondered? Why was he all of a sudden so emotional? Pathetic. He swallowed the bile of disgust that rose in his throat, disappointed in himself for such a reaction. He was a Warrior for Chris sakes. That meant he was supposed to have a little more control. But then again, nothing here lately had been going as it was meant to.
Against his better judgment, the Bostonian vampire headed towards the bed and just stood there. He was beautiful, that was no exaggeration. Butch closed his hazel eyes and inhaled slowly, holding in the breath before releasing it on a slow sigh. He wanted to leave. He wanted to turn tail and just get the hell outta dodge. Go back to ZeroSum and drink until he couldn't see straight, til he couldn't even remember why he was mad. But he couldn't. Butch sat on the bed, his heart thudding against its bony cage. If only V knew what his presence did to him, if only he could see. Butch's eyelashes lowered, and he brushed his hand against V's. Vishous could see the future...but he couldn't see what was in the present. He couldn't see how Butch needed him. He supposed that wasn't fair. It wasn't exactly something he announced to the world. It wasn't something he showed. Vishous was the light to his dark, the yin to his yang, his opposite and the thing that kept him balanced. Even with Marissa and Jane in the picture, there had never been such clarity as there was with Vishous. V probably wouldn't like it that he was staying in his room right now. But he couldn't bear to leave him. He moved to lie down, needing that stability within his grasp.
His mind was blank, his body numb. He was wrapped in a blanket of complete and utter darkness, no sound reached his ears, no motion stirred his sleep. He couldn't recall the last time he had slept so...peacefully. He rolled over, feeling something beside him, something solid and warm. Curling into the warmth, he let out a soft sigh, every muscle in his body going slack with relief. Something about that moment was just so perfect, undeniably so. Vishous didn't want to let go, instead, strong arms wrapped around that solid mass, moving in closer. His body had been cold, chilled to the touch from the exhaustion, the lack of having fed, the shoulder injury, just cold. He was warming though, relaxing further as that warmth spread through him. He buried his head against that warmth, hanging on, afraid that if he moved away, that warmth would leave him. Another sigh slipped past parted lips, fingers twitching before settling against something soft. He was lost again, lost in an enveloping darkness that brought nothing but peace.
He watched him as he rolled over, pushing into him that way. At first, he tensed up, not used to that kind of contact from anyone except Marissa. But she felt different than this did. Marissa had been soft and light, small in comparison to his form beside her. But Vishous... He took up space there in Butch's arms. There was substance, weight. Something about this felt better than Marissa did. Butch was comfortable. It wasn't really even the bed that was so comfortable either, but the vampire nestled against his chest. His arms instinctively went around Vishous and held him tight. He never dreamed that quite literally "cuddling" with another guy could make him feel so good. Suddenly, he felt wanted, he felt like he belonged somewhere. It had been hard for him to find such a place, being a human in a world of vampires just prior to his change, and he'd always been out of place, at least to a degree. But not here, not with V. Butch sighed, one of his hands coming to lightly brush V's black hair, letting out a heavy, happy sigh. The warmth that was created between them was comforting, and the brunette vampire settled into Vishous' hold, lying just above him on the bed, curled around his larger body. He drifted in and out of consciousness for a good while, opening his eyes only one more time to glance down. A smile appeared on his face, and it stayed there even as he finally fell asleep.
His eyes fluttered, opening slowly as he shifted against something...no, that something was a someone. He's eyes snapped open, a sharp gasp pulling air into his lungs as his heart began to race. What the hell? He mentally cursed, moving to pull himself upright, he winced, his shoulder throbbing. Deciding it was best to stay as he was, he silently assessed the situation while kicking himself in the ass repeatedly. How the hell had he and Butch ended up in his bed, him curled around the other male? Shifting his legs, he cursed again, turned out, he wasn't the only one awake. He was fully aroused, achingly hard and he had no idea why. With a groan, he forced himself to roll away from Butch, landing on his back in a disarray. Wanting to scream, Vishous gave up, tugging the sheet up around his waist, bringing his leg up in attempt to hide the massive erection straining against his leathers, as he threw an arm across his eyes. Vishous blinked behind his arm, why the hell was he still dressed? Well, partially dressed. Last night came rushing back to him, the events blurring together in a blinding speed. He had chased Butch out, tripped and landed on the cop before passing out. Shit. What the fuck was Butch gonna say? I did not just think that. He mentally scolded, almost ashamed of himself. Well, this couldn't have gotten more awkward.
Butch was an incredibly heavy sleeper, and once he was out, he was out. He only twitched once when Vishous sat straight up, but his eyes opened when the other male started thrashing around. He grunted at him and rolled onto his side, curling up in a ball under the blanket, seeming to snuggle against the pillow. He closed his eyes again and sighed, laying there in silence while Vishous fought with himself. "You gonna keep that shit up or are you gonna lay back down." came Butch's male voice from beneath the covers. "Cause floppin' around like a fish out of water is really irritating this early in the morning." He opened one hazel eye, bright in the dim light of the bedroom. "It's morning wood. If you've never seen it before, you've got problems, my man." He still didn't make any moves to sit up, instead rolling onto his back, peering up at Vishous with particularly bright eyes this evening, inquisitive, and in some part of his dark optics, highly amused. He flicked his gaze down at Vishous' little...problem, and he cocked an eyebrow. "Not fair." he muttered, looking up at the ceiling and then back at Vishous, looking him in the eye this time, an impish smile coming across his face. "Problem? You're being all tense again."
Vishous groaned, "You fucker," He moved to roll onto his side so that his back was to Butch, cursing as he realized that just was not going to happen. Settling on his back once more, he closed his eyes, "You're an ass, you know this, true?" Vishous extended a leg under the blankets, fighting every instinct he had not to roll over and do something they may both regret. Even injured, he couldn't help but want to roll over and do extremely unspeakable things to Butch. How the hell was the cop so...casual about what was going on? He was laying in bed with a half naked male, a half naked male who just so happened to be sprouting a massive hard on for said cop. "Tense...tense because this is what you fucking do to me," He muttered, unable to stop the words as they came out, "You drive my ass crazy, in every fuckin' sense of the word," His eyes closed, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Well if he didn't sound like a fucking sap.
"My being an ass is not news, nor is it even interesting to say anymore at this point." he informed the black haired male, flashing him a fanged smile. "Don't you blame me for your problems, man. I cannot possibly be the reason for every tent you've ever popped in your pants." When Vishous informed him that he really got him in a sexual fashion, Butch's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Oh rea-he-he-heally." he said, drawing out the syllables, propping himself up on his elbow, giving him a look that held an intense simmer for a split second. It was gone in an instant. "And are you gonna lay there and let the blood drain out of your brain, or are you gonna do something about it?" His tone was neutral. He was taking his time, lengthening the interaction, simply interested to see where this went. Call it a science experiment, he thought. Hypothesis: Vishous was going to lose his marbles in a relatively small time-frame. Procedure: Keep pushing until he reacted, good, bad, or indifferent. Game on, Vishous. Game on.
Without thinking about his actions, Vishous reached out with his good arm and knotted his fingers in the cops' hair, pulling his head to the side so that their eyes met, "Keep it up Butch, keep it up," He snapped before pulling himself up a bit and slanting his mouth over Butch's. The kiss was slightly gentle at first, but quickly became rough, needy, almost desperate. He had decided that it was best to just shut off his brain and let his body do the talking. Soon, he had himself straddling the cops waist, erection pressed against his thigh. He moved his mouth back, just a few small centimeters, "You never did know when you stop," He smirked, the tips of his lengthening fangs showing before placing his mouth over the cops once more, his good arm pushed into the mattress as he held himself up right against Butch.
The conclusion to his experiment was a pleasing one. Butch practically purred when Vishous kissed him that way, the soft, gentle approach suddenly turning to the intense, needy gesture he knew Vishous was so good at. His rough pull on his brown hair sent chills down his spine and prickled his arms with goose flesh. He sat propped up on his own elbows while V straddled his hips, keeping him pinned to the bed. He didn't struggle, he didn't fight. He accepted Vishous' advances this time without hitch, and when Vishous' words reached his ears, his eyes closed, and he tipped his head up, practically begging for more of those searing kisses. "Mmm..." he growled against V's mouth. No, V was right. He didn't know when to stop. He had never been good at that, but that was the Irish Catholic in him. There was no stopping point for a guy like him. Vishous' rock hard length was grinding into his thigh, met with Butch's own erection, which had popped up the minute V's lips met his. At the sight of his fangs, he let out a little groan, leaning back against the headboard. This time was gonna milk it a little longer, push forward a little more. He was never going to get fully comfortable with V's affections if he didn't start taking baby steps. Butch looked up at Butch once the kiss broke, and his lips parted, his breath rushing out all at once as he whispered the other males name.
The feel of Butch underneath him had his mind reeling. Any and all thoughts of stopping soon had vanished, that aching need was back with a vengeance. The cop making sounds beneath him was his undoing. When the kiss broke, Vishous had to take a moment to collect himself, then his lips touched Butch's once more, this time softly, before moving down his jaw, tilting his head back, laying kisses down his neck. A low moan escaped him as the sent of Butch flooded his senses, though just underneath the smell of Butch was something faint, but dark. Trailing his mouth back up his neck and to his lips, Vishous captured them once more, this time the kiss was slow, sensual and when he caught Butch's bottom lip with a fang, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head at the taste. He moaned, he actually moaned, a soft sound of pleasure as he pulled back, eyes half mast as he watched the cop, waiting for his reaction. They still sat, Vishous straddling Butch's hips, his good arm now pressed up against the headboard, his other hand laying on the cop's chest, not putting too much pressure on his shoulder. Fuck, speaking of his shoulder, if he didn't feed soon, the shit was never gonna heal.
Butch had never seen this side of him before. This Vishous was sensual and attentive, and the man's whole body ached for him. Vishous was usually so dark and overbearing, such a mystery to everyone, and this so wasn't like him...but Butch couldn't resist just drinking it in, just absorbing the affection and the suddenly natural feeling of being wanted. He only sighed, unable to speak, unable to do anything but lie there beneath him as he kissed him over and over again. Marissa had never kissed him like that. Sure, there had been love there, but this was deeper than that, deeper than human love, deeper than any affection anyone had ever felt for him, and vice versa. Butch tipped his head up and their gazes locked for a half of a second. Something in him caught fire looking into those diamond eyes, and he smiled. Vishous' moans and growls set his senses aflame. That male was such a sexual creature, Butch thought. He had always known that. Despite his weird BDSM love, he was carnal and intense, and Butch fed on it. Speaking of feeding, he thought, eyes trailing to the bandages on Vishous' shoulder. With a half grin, he tipped his head to the side, exposing the muscular curve of his throat. He was curious to see if it felt as good to V as feeding from Vishous had felt to him.
Vishous tracked the cops' every movement with bright eyes, unable to stop himself. With his good arm, he ran his hand up the left side of Butch's neck, long fingers gripping the nape, tilting his head just a little bit more. So, that cop wanted to draw this out, tease him, he would return the favor. He leaned down and licked a clean line up his neck, grinning like a fool. Never before had Vishous felt the need to be slow, sensual. Though, that need for control was there, and in the situation, he was in control, sort of. Laying a kiss to Butch's now hammering pulse, he opened his mouth and bite down. He let out a groan as his fangs puncture flesh, the sweet tang of Butch filling his mouth, sliding down his throat in a hot rush. The erection that was caught behind the fly of his leathers strained, aching, twitching, begging for release. The grip Vishous had on Butch's neck tightened as his mouth worked, taking long, hard pulls from Butch's vein. With a growl, Vishous pulled back, watching the blood trickle before he ran his tongue over the holes. A smile spread across his face, a real smile, one that reached his eyes, as he leaned in to kiss Butch once more.
The temptation game had been a rousing success, it seemed. Butch's eyes fluttered closed when V's mouth met his neck, his hamming pulse drumming against the bigger males lips. His groin was tight and swollen, his jeans making the pressure that much greater. When the ivory needles of his friend's fangs sank into the column of his waiting throat, Butch thought he would come off the bed. Pleasure rushed from the bite sight down his shoulders, shooting out the tip of his fingers, and down his legs where it left a tingling ricochet along the surface of his skin. "Holy shit, Vishous..." he breathed, urging him onward, one hand at V's waist, one on the back of his neck, encouraging this strange, erotic display. When he finally finished drinking from his vein, Butch all but collapsed from his position on his elbows, looking up at Vishous with a dazed look in his eyes, one hand against the back of Vishous' head still. He nudged him down, their lips meeting for an extended moment, producing a sensation that made Butch's toes curl. "Don't stop okay... This feels good." he whispered against the other males ear, his fangs grazing the soft earlobe.
Vishous let out a growl as Butch told him not to stop. Something inside of him snapped, broke, shattered and exploded. He could feel the cops blood spread throughout his body, warming him. He scooted back, using his good arm to reach between their bodies, open palm pressed against Butch. He hissed softly at the feel of his friend under his hand, holy shit. The Cop fucking wants me. His brain started to spin, doing cartwheels in it's bony confinement. MINE. His mind screamed once more. Ignoring the warning, his hand rubbed, applying pressure as his lips curved into a smirk. He pushed Butch's shirt up, laying kisses to his hip bones, hand still rubbing, "My cop," He whispered, dragging his fangs over the skin.
His hands were so warm... Butch's eyelashes lowered, and he felt his breath get a little bit more ragged as arousal blinded his vision. He sensed a little bit of surprise in Vishous, and honestly, Butch kind of understood why. It wasn't like either of them had expected to end up here. This was a fallacy that Butch had only briefly entertained in his most dark and well hidden daydreams. He'd never thought he'd even think about it again, let alone allow it to happen. He was sure that Vishous was stunned that this was going down, and though he seemed to have recovered from the shock, Butch still thought it was...well, it was cute. Not that he'd ever use that word aloud, and especially not to V's face. The embarrassment would kill them both. The words "my cop" rang in his head and titillated his senses. Possession. His. His hazel eyes fell closed, and his hands bunched in V's black hair as his lips met the curvature of his hips. "Yeah... All yours." he whispered.
His heart was racing as Butch's words reached his ears, all MINE. He thought was a spine tingling awareness. So many thoughts ran through his mind as he realized the situation was quickly spiraling out of control. He was hurt, though Butch's blood was running through his body, warming him. He couldn't live off of Butch, as he was another male. Sadly, in order to heal all the way, he would need the blood of a female...which meant a trip to the penthouse. He blinked, jerking back from Butch as that thought planted itself in his mind. FUCK. His mind screamed as he sat back on his legs, blinking rapidly. Shower, he needed a nice, cold fucking shower. Now. Slowly, he started to move off the bed, shaking. Part of him wanted to lay there, wrapped around Butch. Another part of him wanted Butch's pants off, his hard length in his mouth. He gasped, he have never wanted to please another person so much. He had wanted to please Jane for her sake and his, but not the way he wanted to please Butch. With a groan, he pulled himself off the bed, back to Butch. Waiting.
Butch was suddenly cold when Vishous got off of him. His body screamed that he wanted him to stay, that he never wanted him to leave, to never be without that touch that set him on fire. He looked blankly up at the diamond-eyed male and his smile was strained. "Nah... I get it." he said quietly. "You'll need to get it out of a girl to get better, true?" He hadn't heard him say anything, but for whatever reason, it had just occurred to him that that shoulder would never heal if he didn't feed from the opposite sex. Sometimes, he really fucking hated that he was a vampire, that vampires had these stringent rules. H rose to his feet, momentarily stumbling on unsure legs that felt like Jello after the bizarre attention he had just received. "You go do what you gotta do, alright? I got a few errands to run. Might as well get em' over with early. Sun just set, I think." He got off the bed and paused, glancing over his shoulder at Vishous, with a small grin on his face. "Try to not get your ass knocked around, yeah? Stay safe this time. Can't always babysit you." the Bostonian said in jest, heading out of the room to dress. He wandered the streets in Caldwell for awhile before he paused before a somewhat old looking Catholic church. Butch was raised Catholic, and while he did not consider himself a religious man, there was someone inside that might be able to shed some light. He hadn't paid a visit to his friend in awhile. Hell, no one besides the two of them even knew they interacted.
The church was empty when he entered. His boots echoed heavily in the open sanctuary, and he headed through the velvet curtains to the back part of the church. He took a seat in the confessional, and waited. Before long, the sound of footfalls alerted him, and Butch relaxed. Good... He was here. The Confessional box opened, and Butch stared ahead, not bothering to look through the screen at the male on the other side. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." There was a chuckle from the other side of the screen, and Butch smirked. "Is that so, Dhestroyer? Tell me please that it was interesting. I've heard enough "impure thought" secrets for one day. Teenage boys masturbating to pictures on the Internet, wasting all that good seed, you know, the usual." Butch snorted and leaned back against the chair's back. "Sadly, no. Get ready for more impure thoughts." Ehnvy was a sort of "spare" Brother. He did not associate with them much, but provided back up when they needed the help. The Scribe Virgin was not a topic he liked, and she wasn't too fond of him, either. He was Catholic, and subscribed to an authority other than "The Almighty Liar" as he called her. She'd had kids. Virgin indeed. His blond hair was kept short, bangs falling into his eyes, which were behind a pair of rimless glasses. The irises themselves were green, which made his name appropriate. Big, like all the other Brothers, Ehnvy was poised to strike if he needed to, but being a (mostly) devout Catholic, he preferred not to fight if it could be avoided.
"So you actually...let him try, did you?" Ehnvy asked quietly, once Butch had told him the story. "Look, I know you don't support gays or whatever the fuck, but I need your help."
"Dhestroyer, I never once said that I did not support gays. I think people are born with these urges, gay straight, bisexual, whatever it is, and I don't believe that the Almighty makes mistakes."
"Ehnvy, I'm not gay." Butch protested. The blond smirked. "I never said that either."
"Scribe Virgin doesn't take well to gays, ya know. Something about how male on male contact can't keep the race going, or some shit like that. And she supposedly created us without those...urges." Ehnvy rolled his eyes, and ran a tongue over his fangs, adjusting the collar of his priest's habit. "I said GOD doesn't make mistakes, Dhestroyer. The Virgin is full of such miscalculations."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Vishous cursed as he reached for the glass on the end table. What had just gone down between him and Butch had been way more heated than the incident the night before. He had come so close to stripping the cop and doing at least one of the things that was haunting him. With another curse, he started for the kitchen, anger causing his blood to boil. He threw the glass, not paying attention as it hit the wall and shattered. He ran his hands over his face, pushing the hair back from his with groan. Not bothering to clean up the mess, he went straight for the shower.
He paced the bedroom, knowing that he needed to call a female, he needed to feed so that he could heal and get back to work. He was now at the penthouse, after the explosion in the pit he couldn't stay there and he knew damned well that if he went walking the streets again, he may just wake up dead. Dropping himself onto the edge of his bed, he rubbed his hands against his thighs, this was ridiculous, no one had ever affected him in this way and at the moment, he wasn't sure he liked it, at all. He did not want to sink fangs into some female, he wanted Butch. His Butch, his cop. And when said cop had left him earlier, he knew, deep down that Butch was not happy with this either.
Taking out his phone, he flipped it open and cursed. His fingers flew across the keys quickly and then he hit send. The message going straight to Butch. I can't do this. I can't do this Butch, not right now. Not knowing what's happening between us. Fuck. Part of him silently prayed the text went unnoticed, and yet, part of him wanted Butch beside him. Maybe...maybe if Butch was there...there would be no need for a quick fuck. Maybe, maybe just once, he could feed and that would be it. God fucking Damn it, he sounded like such a fucking sap.
They had left the confessional box and were out back of the Cathedral, Ehnvy standing still in his priest's uniform, a cigarette in hand. It wasn't very pious, but he did what he could. He inhaled the toke off of the tobacco filled stick, and exhaled on a sigh, watching Butch pace the back end of the church's yard. He looked like a tiger in a zoo, his big form distressed and so clearly unhappy that it kind of hurt Ehnvy to watch. His emerald eyes floated to the other male and he shook his head slowly, inhaling again before stubbing out the cigarette with the toe of his dress shoe. "You can't just pretend this isn't happening, you know. Dhestroyer, love is not like a bout of the common cold. It doesn't just go away if you ignore the symptoms." Butch halted mid-step, whirled around and stomped his way up to Ehnvy, pinning the equally big male against the wall of the Church. "Don't you... Don't you call it that!" he gasped. "Don't you use that word!" Ehnvy's startlingly green eyes locked on his friend and his smile was gentle. "Why? From what you've told me, that's sure what it sounds like. And if I'm right, Vishous has always felt that way about you. He's always loved you, under the surface." Butch ground his teeth until his jaw ached. "But Jane... And Marissa... What was...what was that?" Ehnvy loosened Butch's grasp with a big, gloved hand, and dusted off his habit, the dust having settled on the black cotton. He fixed his gold crucifix and chuckled. "Where is it written that a body can only love one other?" he asked, sounding amused. "Have you never read a romance novel?" Butch narrowed his eyes. "No. Have you?"
"...That isn't important." There was a pause. "Look, Dhestroyer. I'm celibate because the Church said I have to be. That doesn't mean that a male can't dream. Some of the females in those books are positively drool-worthy."
"Okay, so let's, just for a minute, forget that you're fucking weird. What do I DO, Ehnvy?" The blond shrugged his wide shoulders. "How about cutting the drama and just seeing where it goes? He's your best friend. Proverbs 18:24 - A man that hath friends must show himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."
"Don't do that..."
"I'm only saying. Accept that you are now more than friends. Just...accept it. And move on." Butch officially had nothing to say at that point and stood there, aghast, when his phone went off with the text message. He pulled it out of the pocket of his Sox jacket, and his eyes narrowed slightly when he read Vishous' message. "Gotta go." he muttered. Ehnvy gave him a knowing smile. "Good luck, Warrior." Butch turned to go, and pulled out his phone again, sending a responding message:
"You have to. You have to get better, and I can't give you what you need to heal up. But hang in there. I'm coming."
He then took off at a run to the Penthouse. He wasn't gonna let his Warrior do this alone. He slid to a stop outside the house and without another thought, went in there after Vishous. When he found him, he came to stand beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You gotta, V. I need you to get better. But I'll be here the whole time."
Even if it meant he had to fuck that girl.
Vishous jumped as Butch entered the Penthouse. Eyes wide, unfocused, Vishous looked at his best friend. Didn't matter the situation, it never had, Butch had never once not been there for him. That made this situation all the more fucked up. He blinked a few times, lips moving as he tried to form words before a very soft, "Thanks Cop," came out. He looked up then, meeting the cop's eyes, "You know, I've never done this because I enjoy it," His voice was quiet but the tone was sharp, "Never have and I never will. Hell, lately, even this hasn't done it for me," He looked down, wondering how Butch was going to react. Hell, if he was lucky, the cop wouldn't realize he was stalling. He did not want to call a female so that he could feed. Nope, not at all.
Butch ground his teeth until his jaw ached. He knew that Vishous was putting this off for as long as possible, but honestly, Butch wanted him to get better, so he was going to have to force it. V was going to buck that, but he didn't care. This was not the time to stall. Butch dropped carelessly onto the bed next to Vishous and put his fingers to his lips, letting out a whistle. One of the assistants from the grounds poked her head in, and Butch pointed a finger at Vishous, who they all noticed was looking just a bit pale. She seemed to understand, and bit down on her lower lip, approaching slowly, acting a bit mousy. Butch wanted to snap at her to hurry this up, but he kept his mouth shut, instead just sitting idly by as she came near Vishous, tilting her head, exposing the delicate curve of her throat. Butch narrowed his eyes slightly, but still, said nothing. God, this was going to kill him. But it was necessary. It would be even worse if a quick fuck became necessary. He wasn't going to stay for that part.
As the girl approached, Vishous let out as hiss as his stomach chose that moment to tighten, cramp. He looked down, then back up, hands in his lap shaking. He could feel Butch next to him and knew in that instant how this was going to go. Reaching out, he pulled the female down onto the floor in front of him, white eyes almost glowing, "Floor," He snapped, pulling her arm across his lap before he leaned down. His eyes locked on the vein in her wrists, his body rippling with waves of need. He growled in frustration before he gripped her forearm, elongated fangs sinking into her wrist.
He pulled back a few minutes later and shot up off the bed. Vishous growled again, moving towards the bathroom. He turned to Butch before he disappeared, "Get her out of here," His voice was rough, scratchy as he snapped. With that said, he walked into the bathroom, heavy door slamming behind him.
Butch felt a pang of pity for the poor female. She was heavily distraught, shaking, and now suddenly very pale. He tended to forget that not everyone could handle Vishous just because he could. He sighed, and looked down, helping the small, blond girl up off the floor. "I'll take care of it." he said softly. She nodded, her whole body nearly convulsing with fear. She was used to feeding Brothers, but everyone around here tended to fear feeding Vishous. He wasn't like the others... Butch closed his eyes and took a deep breath, helping her out of the room and then closing and locking the door behind her. He stood in a rocky silence for a few minutes and rested his head against the door, trying to regulate his thoughts. Just what was he going to do now? He knew that stressed Vishous out, that was apparent to anyone, but what he didn't know, was how to deal with it. Was he supposed to leave? Was he supposed to go in there? His stomach clenched. No... He wasn't going to leave him now. Not when he felt like he was needed. Butch took a deep breath and pivoted, turning away from the locked bedroom door and heading towards the bathroom. He leaned against the door-frame and then rapped on the door with his knuckles. "She's gone, V. You gonna let me in there, or am I gonna have to break the door down?" He didn't want to go that far with it, but a plank of wood, no matter how heavy, was not going to stop Butch from getting to his best friend should the need arise. "I wanna help you, you know. But you gotta tell me how. Or even let me try." Here we go again, the Warrior thought. Acting like a sap.
Vishous pulled the door open with a frown, glaring at Butch, "Don't you think if I knew how, I'd let you," He closed his bright eyes and took a deep breath, "All of this emotional shit is really starting to get to me," He opened his eyes and watched Butch, carefully calculating. He pushed himself away from the door frame and walked into the small kitchen area, going straight for the Goose. After pouring himself a glass, he turned to face Butch once more, "What the fuck are we doing?" He asked, tone a bit more harsh than he had intended, but this was it. He was done trying to hide it, hide from it. It was time to face the fucking music and pray they could both dance.
Butch internally flinched at the way Vishous spoke to him. Of course, physically, he stood firm, his eyes locked on his friend as he moved about the kitchen. Butch took a seat at the table and folded his hands on the wooden surface. He looked down at the table, afraid to say a word at this point, for fear of where it might lead. There was a tense silence for a long moment, and Butch finally looked up, his expression blank as a Noh mask. He had to admit that Vishous was right. They couldn't keep doing this; dancing around the true objective of their time spent together. The sad thing was, Butch had kind of hoped that he wouldn't be the one to have to spell this out to the other male. Vishous spoke sixteen different languages, surely he was capable of picking up subtle hints like that. Apparently not. The intense emotion was getting to the both of them, it was exhausting, playing this game. Well, no more games, Butch decided. It was time that they really came to terms with this. "I want to be with you." he said simply, his expression not changing at all. He sat there, his hazel eyes boring into V's eerie diamond colored ones. Butch was blunt; it was in his nature to be. So he was going to finally just come out with it. He said nothing else, and instead, just turned to look back down at the table, at his hands, which if one looked closely enough, were clenched tightly enough that the knuckles had whitened.
Vishous's breath caught in his throat, eyes slightly bugged as he took in Butch's statement. His pacing came to a halt, back to the cop as he clutched his glass, praying he didn't pull another smart move and break it. He had wanted to hear those words from his cop's mouth for so long, and now that he was hearing them, he wasn't entirely sure how to react. With a groan, he set his glass down on the counter with a clink and turned, walking out of the kitchen and going into the bathroom once more. He took a quick shower and stepped out, walking back into the kitchen ten minutes later, a black down slung low on his hips as he made a beeline for the goose. Yep, he was fucked. In every way, except the way he wanted it.
He had had a feeling he was going to react that way. His stomach knotted painfully as he left. He sat in silence until he heard the water running, and then rose, his whole body trembling with the force of the emotions coursing through him. He was breathless, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. He had to go. He had to get out of here...go SOMEWHERE. His fight or flight instincts were kicking in, and they were saying flight. He grabbed the scotch out of the counter, threw on his jacket and his Sox cap before going out the door with nothing else on hand. He was gone by the time Vishous returned. Heading down the street, walking rather than simply dissipating and reappearing, a cold wind tore through the still streets, chilling Butch to the bone. Maybe...maybe he'd go home. His hazel eyes closed. Maybe he was being irrational, hasty, or even a coward. But this impulse to run was overwhelming. He needed to be away from Vishous for now. How long, he didn't know. But the emotional stress and physical longing that he was experiencing due to V's presence was killing him. The word 'home' flickered in his mind, and he stopped altogether, drinking from the scotch for a moment. Home. Boston. He found himself suddenly hopeful. Yeah... He was going home. Maybe there he'd find some clarity. Or maybe even relief. He didn't look back as he picked up a run, dropping the scotch to the pavement with the crash of breaking glass.
Butch was gone and in all honesty, Vishous had no idea where he could have gone. After what he had just pulled, he wasn't surprised the cop had just up and left, he had shut him down pretty hard. Though, he was now mentally beating himself because of it. For so long he had wanted to hear Butch tell him that he too felt the way that Vishous did, not once did he think it would ever happen, thus his instant shut down, he had never thought about how he would react, what he would do. He was being selfish right now and he knew it, but part of him thought it was a good idea, let the cop keep his distance, no need to be subjected to the abuse that would more than likely accrue in the long run, save the cop some hurt. With a groan, Vishous cursed and brought the glass to his lips, taking a deep pull of the clear liquid. He could find the cop, but the question was, would he? Should he? Should he tell the Brothers that Butch had left? Downing the remaining contents of his glass, Vishous slammed it on the counter with yet another curse and walked into the bedroom. As he dropped himself down on the bed, a soft sigh escaped him, he had fucked himself, big time.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Life's Greatest Questions: Chapter Two
"Now why do you suppose he keeps twitchin' like that?" Rhage asked, setting his hands on his hips. Phury turned his bright eyes to the blond vampire next to him and shrugged, a very distilled smirk on his face. He pushed a hand through his long, di-colored hair and looked down at the bed, where Butch remained utterly passed out. "Well, my best guess... Dogs do that, when they're dreaming, and Butch isn't much smarter than your average pound pup, so I'm going to go with that."
"Oh shit, watch this." Rhage said with a snicker, leaning down over Butch, who was laying on his stomach, both arms underneath the pillow. Rhage stuck a finger in his own mouth, and then put it in Butch's ear. "You are such a child." Phury muttered at Rhage, who ignored him. Butch sat up with a snarl, aimed to punch Rhage in the face, but seeing who it was, lowered his hand and dropped back onto the bed, rubbing his now gross feeling ear. "What the hell do you assholes want." he muttered, stuffing his head under the pillow. God, he was so not ready to be up yet. He still couldn't shake the feeling he'd gotten from last night. That searing kiss still burned a hole in his mind, it had consumed his dreams that day, and left him still kind of dizzy now that he was awake. He couldn't shake that feeling, that memory of Vishous looking at him like that, like he was literally all that existed in this world. His skin prickled with goose flesh and he rubbed it away, peeking out from under the pillow at Rhage, who was now looking at him kind of strangely. "The hell's your problem?" Rhage wanted to know. Something was off about him today. "Nothin'. Now let me ask again. What. Do. You. Assholes. Want." Phury narrowed his eyes slightly, and Rhage just snorted. "Well, we were coming down here to see if you wanted to drag your lazy ass out of bed and come to ZeroSum with us. We've had some reports of some of those baby powder lovin' freaks of nature around those parts, as usual, and while we were down there, thought we'd at least get a drink. You in?" Butch sat up again, and threaded a hand through his brown hair. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there in a sec" Rhage and Phury dismissed themselves to the living room of the Pit while Butch showered, and slipped into a fresh pair of jeans, a black t-shirt and his Red Sox jacket before heading down the hallway. He turned his baseball cap around backwards and glanced down the hall at Vishous' bedroom door. For a moment, he felt a pang of longing, but kept walking, following the other two out the door.
He was dreaming and he knew it, he also knew that he did not want to be dreaming, but couldn't wake himself. He rolled onto his back, legs stretching out underneath black satin sheets, long fingers gripping the comforter as he struggled to breath. It felt as if someone had parked a truck on his chest, the pain, the lack of oxygen. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. His body trembling under the force of the dream. He hadn't felt anything like this aside from the night he was shot. The night he met Jane. His eyes snapped open, body bowing off the bed as he struggled to pull air deep into his lungs. Images flashed through his head, causing his eyes to rolled back, body going still. Then it happened, he felt something inside of him break, something rip away. A scream tore from his throat, filling the silence of his bedroom.
Vishous shot upright, eyes bouncing around the room, struggling to focus on one thing. "Fuck," He cursed under his breath as his breathing slowly composed itself. Now he could add one fucked up dream to the list of fucked up shit he was already dealing. As that crossed his mind, he fell back with a groan, how was he going to face Butch after last night?
A weird feeling came over him, and Butch stopped, on his way into ZeroSum. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder, at nothing in particular. His eyes lowered, and he only responded the second time Rhage called his name. "The hell is your problem, cop?"
Cop.
Butch's eyes darkened. The way he said that word made him feel a little sick, and the nickname rung in his head like a death-toll bell. That word reflected a memory from the night before, Vishous using that word while he kissed him like the world was ending. Those diamond eyes, that eerie, encompassing way he looked at him. His stomach dropped, and for a split second, he knew something was wrong. Butch was consumed with this all consuming urge to run back to the Pit and go see what was wrong with Vishous. He knew it was Vishous that was suffering, too. He had always had gut instincts regarding the man. Rhage headed back to the stationary Butch, while Phury stood by the door, watching with a bit of antsy curiosity. What the hell was wrong with the guy tonight? He was sure acting funny, and not the usual Butch kind of funny. It was a little bit more...neurotic. Distracted, maybe, that was the word he was looking for. Phury's yellow optics focused on the other two for a short moment and headed into the club. He'd let Butch work this out on his own. Rhage, however, was not being quite so courteous. "Where's your head at tonight, man?"
"...Nowhere. Don't worry about it." he grumbled, shoving Rhage's hand off of his shoulder and following Phury into ZeroSum.
Vishous had started pacing much as he had last night, mind going way to fast. This shit was just ridiculous, Jane was gone, Marisa had left Butch and now here he was, practically throwing himself at the other male. He had forced himself to crawl out of bed, but that was about it. He had made it into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of Goose and went right back into his bedroom, slamming the door with a thud. Then the pacing had begun. Groaning, Vishous ran a hand through his hair, brushing the black locks back from his eyes, something was nagging at him. Something telling him to call Butch, get him home so they could fix this, but he couldn't do it. It wasn't in his nature, though, within the last 24 hours he had done a lot that wasn't in his nature. Shaking his head, he set his glass down on the nightstand, beside the alarm clock. It was his night off, and he needed to find something to do because if he had to stay in the Pit with his thoughts, he was going to go absolutely postal.
Within minutes, Vishous was ready to leave. Dressed in his leathers, shit kickers, a black tee-shirt, jacket and daggers. Taking a deep breath, he dematerialized downtown, having decided that the fresh, though chilly, night air would do him some good, he was just going to walk around. If he was lucky, a fight would come his way. Or, maybe Butch would call. As that last thought crossed his mind, he pulled out his cell, nothing. That's when it happened, he felt the pain of the bullet as it tore through his shoulder. With a hiss, he spun, looking up and down the alley way he had managed to end up in. He couldn't see anyone, but he sure as shit could smell it. Stinky fuckin' bastards.
Something was definitely wrong. He didn't know precisely what it was, but he was 100% sure that something had happened. His pupils constricted to slits, his eyes hidden carefully beneath the brim of the Red Sox hat that never seemed to leave his head. That's it, he thought. Fuck propriety, he was going to have to budge first. Feeling a bit like a teenage boy asking his first crush to prom, Butch pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and stared somewhat hopelessly at the screen for a moment. Phury, by far the most intuitive of the three, peered over his drink, one of his smokes in his hand. "Something wrong?" he asked, inhaling the smoke and letting it out on a breathy sigh. Butch didn't reply right away, his thumb brushing the send button on the screen. "Not a fuckin' thing." the Bostonian replied under his breath, shooting the rest of his scotch and just forcing himself to send the text message.
Call me crazy, but I gotta feelin' you're not doing so hot tonight. What's good?
Maybe that didn't look as pathetic as he felt. Rhage set his drink down with a clink and immediately had his sights on Butch. If it was one thing Rhage knew how to do, it was get what he wanted, in any way that he had to. He wasn't Hollywood just for his good looks. "You better look alive, bASStard. When we go out there if you keep staring into space that way, a Lesser's gonna run you right through. Then we gotta call V to come save your sorry ass, and get Jane in here... Ehlena too, I'm sure. Do you want that mess? I sure as fuck don't wanna go for rounds two and three of THAT bullshit." Now it was Butch's turn to get mad. He turned sharp hazel eyes on the other male with a look that could have frozen boiling water. "Mind your goddamn business, Hollywood. And I don't need him to fuckin' save me, true? I can handle the pasty bastards without any of you guys' help." With that, he got up from the table, throwing a five spot on the counter for his drink before shouldering his equipment and going out the door to do just that, patrol on his own. Phury gave Rhage a disapproving look. He had gone and driven Butch to make yet another in what was sure to be a series of terrible decisions. Luckily, he had the med team on speed dial for just such an occasion.
He got outside, and he immediately smelled what he had suspected was here. With a grunt, he headed forward, praying his phone would buzz. He needed to at least know the stupid bastard was okay. In the mean time, it was game on. For one, he would show Rhage just who the fuck needed saving.
His dagger went flying, embedding itself in the nearest lesser. With a satisfied smirk, Vishous pulled himself away from the brick wall and turned to face the other approaching figure. A gun went off, the bullet whizzing past his head and hitting the wall, causing bits of brick to fall. Vishous let out a slight growl of frustration and looked around, there was one pale freak in front of him and one he couldn't see. He'd bet his ass there were more, the ungodly stench was way too strong for there to have only been three. Cursing a fierce and colorful streak, Vishous advanced, eyes intent on the bastard before him, ears focused on the one hiding. Palming a dagger, Vishous smirked as the lesser took a swing at him, he caught the arm and bent it back at an awkward angle, eyes bright as the creature let out a squeak. Before it had the chance to move its other arm in what would have resulted in another failed attempt to hit him, he plunged the dagger into its chest, watching as it dissipated. Another shot rang in the air, this time, the bullet planted itself in his shoulder, right below the other. With a pained grunt, he slammed his back up against the wall, the pain this time, too much to ignore. Shit. If he didn't get out of there soon, he was royally fucked. Figuratively and literally, because if he got his ass injured good enough, Wrath would be all over his ass and that was the last thing he needed to add to his ever growing shit sandwhich.
The smell of blood stopped him cold, mid-step. Butch's fangs elongated again, and his mouth ached, his whole body combusting at the scent he knew. It wasn't just blood for god's sake. Oh no. He stumbled, catching himself on one knee before he was back on his feet again. Nothing but adrenaline kept him moving at this point. He understood what his objective was. He knew what to do, and his body knew where he was going, even before his mind did. It seemed to steer itself, and he hit the ground running, powerful legs pumping as he hurtled himself down the street. The smell of V's blood mingled with the nauseating scent of baby powder, and Butch was now on the alert. A shot rang out, and he hit the ground, in the push-up position, his dagger in his hand, blade flat to the palm. He felt it cut into his skin as he ducked out of the way of the bullet that whizzed over his head. The Lesser he saw first was easy to obliterate, with a dagger through the sternum, and the next couple fell easily enough, but it wasn't until he saw Vishous that his hatred for the pasty fucks grew to the point that he saw red. He was injured alright, his shoulder busted up good with those fucking bullets, and he was in obvious pain. That is, obvious for someone that really and truly knew V, which was...well, Butch, pretty much. He glanced at Vishous, but neglected to speak to him, figuring his body would do the talking. He extended the dagger from its stationary place in his hand, and spun on his heel, his boot cracking a Lesser right on the nose, sending him reeling. The thing hissed and sprung back at him, aimed to kill, but for his usual, slightly more clumsy style of combat, Butch was in rare form tonight. In a flawless motion sent by rippling muscle and well honed reflexes, Butch cleared a path to Vishous. They kept coming, but for someone that had only barely slept the night before, and whose blood was thick with scotch, Butch was taking no shit tonight. One by one they dissipated with a torrential downpour of screams and hisses. Butch was deaf to the noise. He wanted destruction. He wanted these baby-powder smelling cum-stains to disappear, to die a hellish death for what they had done to Vishous. Yeah, Butch knew V had suffered worse, but the thought of anyone, anything, laying a hand (or otherwise) to his best friend put him in a mood well beyond murderous. When the onslaught ceased, Butch stood alone, having fought from the opening of the alley that Vishous had barricaded himself in. His chest was heaving, and he was streaked with blood from many miscellaneous injuries sustained by Lesser knives and bullets. Blood dripped down his face, over his right eye, and hit the payment with a splash. It was the only sound there. The sound of heavy footfalls got his attention, and when Butch turned his head, he saw Rhage and Phury on their way. "We missed the party, didn't we?" Rhage asked, sounding honestly annoyed with that. "I was hoping I could knock some of this damn dragon's edge off." Butch ignored him, walking past the blond as if he weren't even there. Phury looked around, finding the area vacant. Had the cop done this all by himself...? Butch stopped in front of Vishous, his gaze intense. "Usually...it's my ass that is doing things like this." He was quiet a moment, and he knelt by the Brother, inspecting the wounds. "And I say that...because this? This wasn't very smart. This actually borderlines stupid." He growled as he looked at the damage. "And that's my fucking job."
Vishous watched, completely transfixed as Butch tore through the lessers. The level of respect that he had for the other male had just grown, increasingly. He hadn't even been aware that he could respect him more than he already did. Though, as he stayed there, leaned against the wall, trying to breath past the pain, he couldn't help the thought that dancing around his head, Did he do this for me? His heart beat painfully against his chest as he sank to the dirty pavement. When Butch knelt down beside him, he closed his eyes, listening as he was scolded. He had been looking for a fight, itching for it and he had gotten one, but it wasn't going to be the fight he had wanted. Once they got back to the Pit, Butch was gonna rip him a new one.
With a grunt, Vishous pulled himself upright, eyeing the cop, "Just get me home, true?" His voice was rough, almost gravely. He was full of emotions that he couldn't even begin to explain. There was also something else lurking just below the surface, something like...fear. As his balance faltered, he leaned against Butch, only just having noticed that Rhage and Phury were standing in the alley, assessing the damage that his cop had done. The air seemed to squeeze from his lungs as it dawned on him that once Butch was done wringing his neck over this, he was going to say something about last night. Fuck.
Butch rose from the crouch alongside him, and when Vishous stumbled, he caught him against his shoulder with a grunt. V was bigger than he was, and though he supported the males weight just fine, he felt the strain, mostly due to his own sudden exhaustion. "Yeah, you'll get home, alright." he said quietly. "And when they're done patchin' your ass up...I got a bone to pick with you." The pickup was quick once Rhage got on the phone, though everyone that heard about it back at the compound was deeply surprised that it was Vishous who had suffered injury. V was usually so calculated, always one step ahead of everyone, especially the lessers. Butch stayed beside his friend until the familiar black Escalade pulled up with a screech of tires. The ventures of the medical staff took longer than they suspected it would, due to the fact that the Lesser bullets had done more damage than it seemed at first glance. Butch sat closely by, uncharacteristically silent as they worked on his roommate. He stared straight ahead, right at the wall, his whole body tense and stiff, his pulse practically visible in his throat. Some of the Brothers were deeply unnerved by Butch's sudden icy temperament, how silent and cold he was, but no one said a word. He was on edge, and he even went so far as to growl at Ehlena when she accidentally botched a stitch, causing a little more blood to pour forth.
Disturbed by this, the medical staff was quick, and when they had done what they could to patch up Vishous' wounds, they sent him home. Butch was quiet still, all the way back to the Pit, and still hadn't said anything when he helped Vishous inside. Once the door was closed, he looked out the window a moment, and then lowered his head in his shoulders, closing his eyes and leaning against the door, supported by his arm. When he finally turned around, his brown eyes were dull. He looked tired rather than angry, frustrated and drained. "Are you fuckin' insane, V?" he asked, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You're smarter than that. Ya know better than to go lookin' for shit." He dropped to sit on the couch, looking at Vishous intently for a long moment, and there was a spark in his gaze. "What the fuck am I supposed to do if something happens to you? You can't play with your life, Vishous." He sounded dead serious now, his tone flat and cool, though he felt like breaking into a million pieces. His heart was aching, like he'd been punched in the chest. The very thought of what might have happened had he not gotten there in time... He would rather die.
Vishous eased onto the leather couch with a groan, trying not to jar his shoulder too much. Tonight had not been a good night for him, physically and mentally. He was exhausted, just flat out exhausted. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of the couch, breathing slowly as he tried to calm his already shot nerves. "I'm sorry," He finally managed. There, he had apologized, something he usually did not do. That alone was probably enough to floor Butch, but just when he thought he would stop with the sorry, more came out, "I've been completely out of it lately. With Jane, Marisa and now...this shit with you," He took a deep breath, lifting his good arm to scrub a hand over his face, "Fuckin' shit man, it's been rough," His eyes opened slowly, risking a peek at the cop who looked as drained and warn out as he felt, "Tonight...I don't know what happened, I really fuckin' don't," With a soft hiss of frustration, he pulled himself up and started toward the bathroom. He wanted a shower, though, regardless of the fact that he had gotten up and headed that way, there was a chance that Butch wouldn't let him go until he was done ripping him a new one.
Butch got up the minute Vishous did, and he was in the doorway, barring him from getting to the bathroom. "You're not listening to me." he growled, his voice low and rough. "You don't have to tell me that it's been rough. I know as well as you do that the shit has really hit the fan, true?" The smaller male looked up at him with brown-green eyes so full of desperation that he couldn't ever let himself express with words or actions. "That wasn't you being out of it, Vishous. That was you being completely careless." He knew his words were kind of biting, but he had to get this out there. Things had been tense and strange since the night before when their tensions came to fruition. It ended now. He couldn't take this. The apology did get his attention, it really did hit home, but some things were more important than Vishous' pride. Butch was prioritizing. "You can't DO that shit to me, ya hear?" His voice was thick with frustration, and something unusual for Butch. Panic. Butch was usually one that didn't let too much bother him, shrugging it off and rolling with the punches, but this...this was too much. V had put himself in danger, and it was way past the capacity of the younger vampire's nervous system. He wanted to scream and punch walls, punch Vishous if he got close enough. But he couldn't. He was too relieved that the male was alive. Sure, shoulder injuries weren't fun, and it could have been very easily life threatening had Butch not followed his gut. He'd be worried anytime his best friend got injured, but for whatever reason, due to the unearthing of certain feelings, this felt so much worse. "What if something had happened to you? I mean real shit! And just what would have happened if I hadn't felt the need to come chasing after you!?" His face felt warm, and he felt like he'd be sick, but he held his ground, looking up at Vishous with fervor and despondence. Butch stepped forward suddenly, pushing Vishous back, against the wall, where he braced himself on either side of V's shoulders. "You can't...you can't leave me."
"I am listening to you," Vishous snapped, frustration increasing, "I have listened to every single word that's left your mouth," His tone was harsh, his anger growing with his frustration. He knew what he had done was stupid, but at that moment, it hadn't mattered. Nothing had. A growl slipped from parted lips as he watched Butch get closer. His shoulder was killing him, the pain increasing as his blood pressure rose, his heart slamming against his rib cage. When Butch backed him into the wall and told him he couldn't leave him, his heart skipped a beat and his breathing stopped. He struggled for a moment, taking a deep breath on a sigh. Fuck. His mind screamed, though, that fuck was quickly followed by something else, something louder, MINE. Oh, this was not good. Not this shit again. Vishous reached up with his good arm, hand landing on the cop's chest, palm flat, "Back. Off." He hissed, eyes shut tight. Touching the cop was a bad idea, he could feel his heart beat thumping against his hand.
The flat palmed touch to his chest set his whole body aflame. Their eyes met, and the panic in Butch's gaze dissolved, and hurt took its place. Butch was not one to express that kind of emotion, and if he ever suffered that kind of pain, he kept it to himself. His natural reaction to such a thing was anger, and that was just what he did. Butch shoved the man off, throwing his hand off of his chest, and looked up at him for only a split second, his expression icy. That had stung. He cared, he had put his own life on the line to defend the one life that mattered to him...and here he was, feeling like he'd gotten punched in the gut. "Fine." he snapped, about to head down the hallway. "Fuck you, man." he growled, turning his back to the dark haired vampire male. He didn't want to think about what he was feeling, he didn't want to recognize that what had just happened here...well, fuck it hurt. He felt rejected, stilted...shit, just downright upset. It wasn't very becoming of a Warrior to feel such an emotion, something so pertinent to females. He suddenly felt pretty pathetic, and with a snarl, was out the door again. Fresh air was what he needed, he thought. Fresh air, and maybe...another drink.
Vishous growled as he hit the jerked against the wall, his shoulder hitting the plaster. "Fucking shit," He cursed, everything in him screaming for the cop to stay. Butch couldn't go out there, not right now. They could not separate on such terms. When Butch told him off, he swallowed a gasp as pain clenched his heart like an unrelenting fist. Pulling himself from the wall, he bit his lip, moving after Butch as quickly as he could. "Butch," His voice came out weak, "BUTCH!" This time it came out a bark, "God Damn it Cop!" He tore after him, hand landing on the door knob, yanking it open. He moved to walk out the door and stumbling, taking the cop down on onto the pavement, "Not like this cop, you're not leaving like this," He hissed, more or less collapsing into the cop, his body suddenly just giving up.
"Oh shit, watch this." Rhage said with a snicker, leaning down over Butch, who was laying on his stomach, both arms underneath the pillow. Rhage stuck a finger in his own mouth, and then put it in Butch's ear. "You are such a child." Phury muttered at Rhage, who ignored him. Butch sat up with a snarl, aimed to punch Rhage in the face, but seeing who it was, lowered his hand and dropped back onto the bed, rubbing his now gross feeling ear. "What the hell do you assholes want." he muttered, stuffing his head under the pillow. God, he was so not ready to be up yet. He still couldn't shake the feeling he'd gotten from last night. That searing kiss still burned a hole in his mind, it had consumed his dreams that day, and left him still kind of dizzy now that he was awake. He couldn't shake that feeling, that memory of Vishous looking at him like that, like he was literally all that existed in this world. His skin prickled with goose flesh and he rubbed it away, peeking out from under the pillow at Rhage, who was now looking at him kind of strangely. "The hell's your problem?" Rhage wanted to know. Something was off about him today. "Nothin'. Now let me ask again. What. Do. You. Assholes. Want." Phury narrowed his eyes slightly, and Rhage just snorted. "Well, we were coming down here to see if you wanted to drag your lazy ass out of bed and come to ZeroSum with us. We've had some reports of some of those baby powder lovin' freaks of nature around those parts, as usual, and while we were down there, thought we'd at least get a drink. You in?" Butch sat up again, and threaded a hand through his brown hair. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there in a sec" Rhage and Phury dismissed themselves to the living room of the Pit while Butch showered, and slipped into a fresh pair of jeans, a black t-shirt and his Red Sox jacket before heading down the hallway. He turned his baseball cap around backwards and glanced down the hall at Vishous' bedroom door. For a moment, he felt a pang of longing, but kept walking, following the other two out the door.
He was dreaming and he knew it, he also knew that he did not want to be dreaming, but couldn't wake himself. He rolled onto his back, legs stretching out underneath black satin sheets, long fingers gripping the comforter as he struggled to breath. It felt as if someone had parked a truck on his chest, the pain, the lack of oxygen. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. His body trembling under the force of the dream. He hadn't felt anything like this aside from the night he was shot. The night he met Jane. His eyes snapped open, body bowing off the bed as he struggled to pull air deep into his lungs. Images flashed through his head, causing his eyes to rolled back, body going still. Then it happened, he felt something inside of him break, something rip away. A scream tore from his throat, filling the silence of his bedroom.
Vishous shot upright, eyes bouncing around the room, struggling to focus on one thing. "Fuck," He cursed under his breath as his breathing slowly composed itself. Now he could add one fucked up dream to the list of fucked up shit he was already dealing. As that crossed his mind, he fell back with a groan, how was he going to face Butch after last night?
A weird feeling came over him, and Butch stopped, on his way into ZeroSum. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder, at nothing in particular. His eyes lowered, and he only responded the second time Rhage called his name. "The hell is your problem, cop?"
Cop.
Butch's eyes darkened. The way he said that word made him feel a little sick, and the nickname rung in his head like a death-toll bell. That word reflected a memory from the night before, Vishous using that word while he kissed him like the world was ending. Those diamond eyes, that eerie, encompassing way he looked at him. His stomach dropped, and for a split second, he knew something was wrong. Butch was consumed with this all consuming urge to run back to the Pit and go see what was wrong with Vishous. He knew it was Vishous that was suffering, too. He had always had gut instincts regarding the man. Rhage headed back to the stationary Butch, while Phury stood by the door, watching with a bit of antsy curiosity. What the hell was wrong with the guy tonight? He was sure acting funny, and not the usual Butch kind of funny. It was a little bit more...neurotic. Distracted, maybe, that was the word he was looking for. Phury's yellow optics focused on the other two for a short moment and headed into the club. He'd let Butch work this out on his own. Rhage, however, was not being quite so courteous. "Where's your head at tonight, man?"
"...Nowhere. Don't worry about it." he grumbled, shoving Rhage's hand off of his shoulder and following Phury into ZeroSum.
Vishous had started pacing much as he had last night, mind going way to fast. This shit was just ridiculous, Jane was gone, Marisa had left Butch and now here he was, practically throwing himself at the other male. He had forced himself to crawl out of bed, but that was about it. He had made it into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of Goose and went right back into his bedroom, slamming the door with a thud. Then the pacing had begun. Groaning, Vishous ran a hand through his hair, brushing the black locks back from his eyes, something was nagging at him. Something telling him to call Butch, get him home so they could fix this, but he couldn't do it. It wasn't in his nature, though, within the last 24 hours he had done a lot that wasn't in his nature. Shaking his head, he set his glass down on the nightstand, beside the alarm clock. It was his night off, and he needed to find something to do because if he had to stay in the Pit with his thoughts, he was going to go absolutely postal.
Within minutes, Vishous was ready to leave. Dressed in his leathers, shit kickers, a black tee-shirt, jacket and daggers. Taking a deep breath, he dematerialized downtown, having decided that the fresh, though chilly, night air would do him some good, he was just going to walk around. If he was lucky, a fight would come his way. Or, maybe Butch would call. As that last thought crossed his mind, he pulled out his cell, nothing. That's when it happened, he felt the pain of the bullet as it tore through his shoulder. With a hiss, he spun, looking up and down the alley way he had managed to end up in. He couldn't see anyone, but he sure as shit could smell it. Stinky fuckin' bastards.
Something was definitely wrong. He didn't know precisely what it was, but he was 100% sure that something had happened. His pupils constricted to slits, his eyes hidden carefully beneath the brim of the Red Sox hat that never seemed to leave his head. That's it, he thought. Fuck propriety, he was going to have to budge first. Feeling a bit like a teenage boy asking his first crush to prom, Butch pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and stared somewhat hopelessly at the screen for a moment. Phury, by far the most intuitive of the three, peered over his drink, one of his smokes in his hand. "Something wrong?" he asked, inhaling the smoke and letting it out on a breathy sigh. Butch didn't reply right away, his thumb brushing the send button on the screen. "Not a fuckin' thing." the Bostonian replied under his breath, shooting the rest of his scotch and just forcing himself to send the text message.
Call me crazy, but I gotta feelin' you're not doing so hot tonight. What's good?
Maybe that didn't look as pathetic as he felt. Rhage set his drink down with a clink and immediately had his sights on Butch. If it was one thing Rhage knew how to do, it was get what he wanted, in any way that he had to. He wasn't Hollywood just for his good looks. "You better look alive, bASStard. When we go out there if you keep staring into space that way, a Lesser's gonna run you right through. Then we gotta call V to come save your sorry ass, and get Jane in here... Ehlena too, I'm sure. Do you want that mess? I sure as fuck don't wanna go for rounds two and three of THAT bullshit." Now it was Butch's turn to get mad. He turned sharp hazel eyes on the other male with a look that could have frozen boiling water. "Mind your goddamn business, Hollywood. And I don't need him to fuckin' save me, true? I can handle the pasty bastards without any of you guys' help." With that, he got up from the table, throwing a five spot on the counter for his drink before shouldering his equipment and going out the door to do just that, patrol on his own. Phury gave Rhage a disapproving look. He had gone and driven Butch to make yet another in what was sure to be a series of terrible decisions. Luckily, he had the med team on speed dial for just such an occasion.
He got outside, and he immediately smelled what he had suspected was here. With a grunt, he headed forward, praying his phone would buzz. He needed to at least know the stupid bastard was okay. In the mean time, it was game on. For one, he would show Rhage just who the fuck needed saving.
His dagger went flying, embedding itself in the nearest lesser. With a satisfied smirk, Vishous pulled himself away from the brick wall and turned to face the other approaching figure. A gun went off, the bullet whizzing past his head and hitting the wall, causing bits of brick to fall. Vishous let out a slight growl of frustration and looked around, there was one pale freak in front of him and one he couldn't see. He'd bet his ass there were more, the ungodly stench was way too strong for there to have only been three. Cursing a fierce and colorful streak, Vishous advanced, eyes intent on the bastard before him, ears focused on the one hiding. Palming a dagger, Vishous smirked as the lesser took a swing at him, he caught the arm and bent it back at an awkward angle, eyes bright as the creature let out a squeak. Before it had the chance to move its other arm in what would have resulted in another failed attempt to hit him, he plunged the dagger into its chest, watching as it dissipated. Another shot rang in the air, this time, the bullet planted itself in his shoulder, right below the other. With a pained grunt, he slammed his back up against the wall, the pain this time, too much to ignore. Shit. If he didn't get out of there soon, he was royally fucked. Figuratively and literally, because if he got his ass injured good enough, Wrath would be all over his ass and that was the last thing he needed to add to his ever growing shit sandwhich.
The smell of blood stopped him cold, mid-step. Butch's fangs elongated again, and his mouth ached, his whole body combusting at the scent he knew. It wasn't just blood for god's sake. Oh no. He stumbled, catching himself on one knee before he was back on his feet again. Nothing but adrenaline kept him moving at this point. He understood what his objective was. He knew what to do, and his body knew where he was going, even before his mind did. It seemed to steer itself, and he hit the ground running, powerful legs pumping as he hurtled himself down the street. The smell of V's blood mingled with the nauseating scent of baby powder, and Butch was now on the alert. A shot rang out, and he hit the ground, in the push-up position, his dagger in his hand, blade flat to the palm. He felt it cut into his skin as he ducked out of the way of the bullet that whizzed over his head. The Lesser he saw first was easy to obliterate, with a dagger through the sternum, and the next couple fell easily enough, but it wasn't until he saw Vishous that his hatred for the pasty fucks grew to the point that he saw red. He was injured alright, his shoulder busted up good with those fucking bullets, and he was in obvious pain. That is, obvious for someone that really and truly knew V, which was...well, Butch, pretty much. He glanced at Vishous, but neglected to speak to him, figuring his body would do the talking. He extended the dagger from its stationary place in his hand, and spun on his heel, his boot cracking a Lesser right on the nose, sending him reeling. The thing hissed and sprung back at him, aimed to kill, but for his usual, slightly more clumsy style of combat, Butch was in rare form tonight. In a flawless motion sent by rippling muscle and well honed reflexes, Butch cleared a path to Vishous. They kept coming, but for someone that had only barely slept the night before, and whose blood was thick with scotch, Butch was taking no shit tonight. One by one they dissipated with a torrential downpour of screams and hisses. Butch was deaf to the noise. He wanted destruction. He wanted these baby-powder smelling cum-stains to disappear, to die a hellish death for what they had done to Vishous. Yeah, Butch knew V had suffered worse, but the thought of anyone, anything, laying a hand (or otherwise) to his best friend put him in a mood well beyond murderous. When the onslaught ceased, Butch stood alone, having fought from the opening of the alley that Vishous had barricaded himself in. His chest was heaving, and he was streaked with blood from many miscellaneous injuries sustained by Lesser knives and bullets. Blood dripped down his face, over his right eye, and hit the payment with a splash. It was the only sound there. The sound of heavy footfalls got his attention, and when Butch turned his head, he saw Rhage and Phury on their way. "We missed the party, didn't we?" Rhage asked, sounding honestly annoyed with that. "I was hoping I could knock some of this damn dragon's edge off." Butch ignored him, walking past the blond as if he weren't even there. Phury looked around, finding the area vacant. Had the cop done this all by himself...? Butch stopped in front of Vishous, his gaze intense. "Usually...it's my ass that is doing things like this." He was quiet a moment, and he knelt by the Brother, inspecting the wounds. "And I say that...because this? This wasn't very smart. This actually borderlines stupid." He growled as he looked at the damage. "And that's my fucking job."
Vishous watched, completely transfixed as Butch tore through the lessers. The level of respect that he had for the other male had just grown, increasingly. He hadn't even been aware that he could respect him more than he already did. Though, as he stayed there, leaned against the wall, trying to breath past the pain, he couldn't help the thought that dancing around his head, Did he do this for me? His heart beat painfully against his chest as he sank to the dirty pavement. When Butch knelt down beside him, he closed his eyes, listening as he was scolded. He had been looking for a fight, itching for it and he had gotten one, but it wasn't going to be the fight he had wanted. Once they got back to the Pit, Butch was gonna rip him a new one.
With a grunt, Vishous pulled himself upright, eyeing the cop, "Just get me home, true?" His voice was rough, almost gravely. He was full of emotions that he couldn't even begin to explain. There was also something else lurking just below the surface, something like...fear. As his balance faltered, he leaned against Butch, only just having noticed that Rhage and Phury were standing in the alley, assessing the damage that his cop had done. The air seemed to squeeze from his lungs as it dawned on him that once Butch was done wringing his neck over this, he was going to say something about last night. Fuck.
Butch rose from the crouch alongside him, and when Vishous stumbled, he caught him against his shoulder with a grunt. V was bigger than he was, and though he supported the males weight just fine, he felt the strain, mostly due to his own sudden exhaustion. "Yeah, you'll get home, alright." he said quietly. "And when they're done patchin' your ass up...I got a bone to pick with you." The pickup was quick once Rhage got on the phone, though everyone that heard about it back at the compound was deeply surprised that it was Vishous who had suffered injury. V was usually so calculated, always one step ahead of everyone, especially the lessers. Butch stayed beside his friend until the familiar black Escalade pulled up with a screech of tires. The ventures of the medical staff took longer than they suspected it would, due to the fact that the Lesser bullets had done more damage than it seemed at first glance. Butch sat closely by, uncharacteristically silent as they worked on his roommate. He stared straight ahead, right at the wall, his whole body tense and stiff, his pulse practically visible in his throat. Some of the Brothers were deeply unnerved by Butch's sudden icy temperament, how silent and cold he was, but no one said a word. He was on edge, and he even went so far as to growl at Ehlena when she accidentally botched a stitch, causing a little more blood to pour forth.
Disturbed by this, the medical staff was quick, and when they had done what they could to patch up Vishous' wounds, they sent him home. Butch was quiet still, all the way back to the Pit, and still hadn't said anything when he helped Vishous inside. Once the door was closed, he looked out the window a moment, and then lowered his head in his shoulders, closing his eyes and leaning against the door, supported by his arm. When he finally turned around, his brown eyes were dull. He looked tired rather than angry, frustrated and drained. "Are you fuckin' insane, V?" he asked, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You're smarter than that. Ya know better than to go lookin' for shit." He dropped to sit on the couch, looking at Vishous intently for a long moment, and there was a spark in his gaze. "What the fuck am I supposed to do if something happens to you? You can't play with your life, Vishous." He sounded dead serious now, his tone flat and cool, though he felt like breaking into a million pieces. His heart was aching, like he'd been punched in the chest. The very thought of what might have happened had he not gotten there in time... He would rather die.
Vishous eased onto the leather couch with a groan, trying not to jar his shoulder too much. Tonight had not been a good night for him, physically and mentally. He was exhausted, just flat out exhausted. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of the couch, breathing slowly as he tried to calm his already shot nerves. "I'm sorry," He finally managed. There, he had apologized, something he usually did not do. That alone was probably enough to floor Butch, but just when he thought he would stop with the sorry, more came out, "I've been completely out of it lately. With Jane, Marisa and now...this shit with you," He took a deep breath, lifting his good arm to scrub a hand over his face, "Fuckin' shit man, it's been rough," His eyes opened slowly, risking a peek at the cop who looked as drained and warn out as he felt, "Tonight...I don't know what happened, I really fuckin' don't," With a soft hiss of frustration, he pulled himself up and started toward the bathroom. He wanted a shower, though, regardless of the fact that he had gotten up and headed that way, there was a chance that Butch wouldn't let him go until he was done ripping him a new one.
Butch got up the minute Vishous did, and he was in the doorway, barring him from getting to the bathroom. "You're not listening to me." he growled, his voice low and rough. "You don't have to tell me that it's been rough. I know as well as you do that the shit has really hit the fan, true?" The smaller male looked up at him with brown-green eyes so full of desperation that he couldn't ever let himself express with words or actions. "That wasn't you being out of it, Vishous. That was you being completely careless." He knew his words were kind of biting, but he had to get this out there. Things had been tense and strange since the night before when their tensions came to fruition. It ended now. He couldn't take this. The apology did get his attention, it really did hit home, but some things were more important than Vishous' pride. Butch was prioritizing. "You can't DO that shit to me, ya hear?" His voice was thick with frustration, and something unusual for Butch. Panic. Butch was usually one that didn't let too much bother him, shrugging it off and rolling with the punches, but this...this was too much. V had put himself in danger, and it was way past the capacity of the younger vampire's nervous system. He wanted to scream and punch walls, punch Vishous if he got close enough. But he couldn't. He was too relieved that the male was alive. Sure, shoulder injuries weren't fun, and it could have been very easily life threatening had Butch not followed his gut. He'd be worried anytime his best friend got injured, but for whatever reason, due to the unearthing of certain feelings, this felt so much worse. "What if something had happened to you? I mean real shit! And just what would have happened if I hadn't felt the need to come chasing after you!?" His face felt warm, and he felt like he'd be sick, but he held his ground, looking up at Vishous with fervor and despondence. Butch stepped forward suddenly, pushing Vishous back, against the wall, where he braced himself on either side of V's shoulders. "You can't...you can't leave me."
"I am listening to you," Vishous snapped, frustration increasing, "I have listened to every single word that's left your mouth," His tone was harsh, his anger growing with his frustration. He knew what he had done was stupid, but at that moment, it hadn't mattered. Nothing had. A growl slipped from parted lips as he watched Butch get closer. His shoulder was killing him, the pain increasing as his blood pressure rose, his heart slamming against his rib cage. When Butch backed him into the wall and told him he couldn't leave him, his heart skipped a beat and his breathing stopped. He struggled for a moment, taking a deep breath on a sigh. Fuck. His mind screamed, though, that fuck was quickly followed by something else, something louder, MINE. Oh, this was not good. Not this shit again. Vishous reached up with his good arm, hand landing on the cop's chest, palm flat, "Back. Off." He hissed, eyes shut tight. Touching the cop was a bad idea, he could feel his heart beat thumping against his hand.
The flat palmed touch to his chest set his whole body aflame. Their eyes met, and the panic in Butch's gaze dissolved, and hurt took its place. Butch was not one to express that kind of emotion, and if he ever suffered that kind of pain, he kept it to himself. His natural reaction to such a thing was anger, and that was just what he did. Butch shoved the man off, throwing his hand off of his chest, and looked up at him for only a split second, his expression icy. That had stung. He cared, he had put his own life on the line to defend the one life that mattered to him...and here he was, feeling like he'd gotten punched in the gut. "Fine." he snapped, about to head down the hallway. "Fuck you, man." he growled, turning his back to the dark haired vampire male. He didn't want to think about what he was feeling, he didn't want to recognize that what had just happened here...well, fuck it hurt. He felt rejected, stilted...shit, just downright upset. It wasn't very becoming of a Warrior to feel such an emotion, something so pertinent to females. He suddenly felt pretty pathetic, and with a snarl, was out the door again. Fresh air was what he needed, he thought. Fresh air, and maybe...another drink.
Vishous growled as he hit the jerked against the wall, his shoulder hitting the plaster. "Fucking shit," He cursed, everything in him screaming for the cop to stay. Butch couldn't go out there, not right now. They could not separate on such terms. When Butch told him off, he swallowed a gasp as pain clenched his heart like an unrelenting fist. Pulling himself from the wall, he bit his lip, moving after Butch as quickly as he could. "Butch," His voice came out weak, "BUTCH!" This time it came out a bark, "God Damn it Cop!" He tore after him, hand landing on the door knob, yanking it open. He moved to walk out the door and stumbling, taking the cop down on onto the pavement, "Not like this cop, you're not leaving like this," He hissed, more or less collapsing into the cop, his body suddenly just giving up.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Life's Greatest Questions: Chapter One
First off, I would like to say that I do not own any of the characters used in this. This is purely fanfiction. Second off, I would like to say thankyousofuckingmuch Sidney for helping me with this little "project".
Now, onto the reasoning.
I love the BDB series by J.R. Ward. And well, as a reader, I have had my own interesting thoughts and ideas about how things could have happened between Vishous and Butch. Thus, this little fanfiction was created. With the help of a good friend, Life's Greatest Questions began! This is the FIRST fanfiction I have ever written. All of my work is my own original thoughts, characters and ideas. Sometimes with the help of a partner. So, bare with me. And do enjoy!
So, the story begins.
He didn't even have words. The only thing he could say was "fuck" and he kept repeating it under his breath, standing there without feeling in most of his body, except the searing in his lips. What the hell was he even supposed to do about this?! V was his room mate, and his best friend in the entire goddamn universe. So that made what he just did completely and utterly wrong. Didn't it? Something within him purred at the thought of another kiss like that, and he even felt a strain against the crotch of the jeans he was wearing. Now, that made no sense. In the core of his being, Butch knew that he was not gay. He knew this for a fact. However, V kissing him had not felt "gay", as some would have put it. It felt...well, it felt like it was supposed to happen. That freaked him out a lot more than did the prospect of a gay love affair with his best friend. He watched Vishous pace like a caged animal, and his almost feline eyes followed the big male around the room. The scent of the rolled cigarette filled the room, and to a degree, comforted him. It was familiar, it was pleasant, and it calmed them both down. Okay. Picking up the half spilled scotch, and looking down at the tiny puddle with disdain, Butch took a big shot for confidence and wiped his mouth before going further into the room. "You wanna tell me just what the fuck has gotten into you tonight?" he asked the dark haired male, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I'm not saying I hated that, but I do wanna know what's got your boxers in such a bunch."
Another growl slipped past parted lips as Vishous exhaled smoke once more. He was not one to talk about his feelings, that was something he just did not do. Turning to face Butch, his eyes narrowed, "You know what the fuck just happened," He snapped, voice deep. He pushed past the cop and went straight for the kitchen, grabbing a fresh bottle of goose and a glass. Full glass in hand, he settled against the counter, eyes locked on the contents of his glass, swirling the liquid around. As Butch joined him, he finally let out a groan and spoke, "Jane is gone. As in, not coming back. Never to be seen again. And now this shit with you and Marisa. It's too much man. Too much," He brought the glass to his lips, but hesitated a moment before downing the contents, not wanting to erase the sweet taste of Butch. It felt as if a hand had wrapped fingers around his heart and gave a rough squeeze. His breath left his lungs in a gasp, the pain becoming almost unbearable. Butch was the only person he had ever really felt close to, aside Jane, and still, there had been things even she hadn't known. The cop, his cop, there he went again, was the only one he could be open with, honest with. His cop wouldn't judge, wouldn't push him away...wouldn't think him a freak. And that alone scared him.
He followed him into the kitchen, keeping pace with his long strides and then following him back into the room. He was not letting V out of his sight for a single minute, and that came to fruition when he told him about Jane. To be honest, that was only a matter of time, he had thought. From the moment Jane had died and had been brought back as a spirit via a favor of the Scribe Virgin, he, and most of the other Brothers knew that this could not be a permanent situation. Sure, his cursed hand could turn her solid again, but what kind of relationship was that? It was something they'd all kept to themselves, and to a degree, Butch thought even V knew that she couldn't stay forever as she was. He was bound to lose her one way or another, even if it hadn't been that way. Jane had been a human. She'd have aged and died anyway. The way she went was just...unconventional. Now he was mad. Butch's brown-gold eyes flared, and he bunched his fists by his side. "Why the hell didn't you say something about that!? Vishous, that is the kind of shit you TELL a guy! I don't care how dark and mysterious you are! We're supposed to be friends." Or more than that. Hell, he was not 100% sure what the fuck was going on between them. Whatever it was, it had him on edge. "So no! As it happens, I did NOT know that, fuck you very much, because you don't tell me anything!" The Irish temper was coming out now, and he knew he'd have to apologize later. Butch took long strides across the bed room and stood in front of Vishous, his eyes flashing as he peered up at the slightly taller man. He was shaking now, partially nerves, partially his temper, but he wasn't sure what to do. "V... You don't have to hide from me. You know that, damn it. And things like that...that's something we could have dealt with together. But goddamn, man... You have to TELL a brother. You can't always suffer alone, ya know. That's something this rag-tag gang of assholes we call the Brotherhood taught me to do. Team-work. And you know that shit's stronger with us. I don't know why, but it's always been that way. Stronger than what they got. Hell, stronger than what me and Marissa ever had." Open mouth, insert foot.
Vishous spoke, voice low, deadly, eyes unmoving from his glass, "I didn't...couldn't grasp it man, I couldn't let myself believe that it was over, the end," His hand shook, causing the liquid to slosh around. He closed his eyes and swallowed his pulse. His whole body was shaking, eyes squeezed tight as he forced himself to stop the break down he felt coming. Vishous' grip on his glass tightened, causing cracks to spread, cracks that quickly caused the glass to shatter. The shards fell as he opened his hand, eyes focused on the blood that was now pouring down his hand, dripping from his fingers. "This..." He whispered, "Us...I don't know," He looked up then, eyes bright, unable to hit the emotion that hid behind long, black lashes, "You can't want this...me," His eyes never moved from Butch's as he continued on, "You've always known, fuck man, I told you. I just...fuck," He was at a loss for words, him, Vishous, the man of many words, could not find the words to express the feelings, the emotions that were taking over. "And now...with Marissa...you cannot...there's just not way. It's not logical, or realistic," His eyes finally dropped, focused once more on his bleeding hand.
Butch's pupils dilated when the blood rushed out of Vishous' hand that way. His stomach clenched and his fangs elongated. Hunger rumbled in his very being, and the scent of the other male made him feel slightly dizzy with want. Yes, Marissa had had blood he craved, yes, he had loved feeding from her, and yes, he had even adored kissing her. He had loved everything about that woman. And she threw him away, not the other way around. In a way, his gut told him this might be a good thing that she had done. The woman's image planted itself in his brain, and he shook it away by force, his bright eyes locked on those diamond optics of Vishous', unblinking. He had always been entranced by that bizarre, swirling color, and his knees went temporarily weak looking at him, though it never showed, and he regained his composure by some incomprehensible stretch of the imagination. For the first time in their history as friends and roommates, it was Vishous who was cracking, and not Butch. Vishous, so strong and unbreakable, finally showing the stress fractures that had been long carved into him by his father. This particular instance wasn't related to the man's family history, but it was The Bloodletter who had taught him to shun emotion and embrace virility and anger instead. Butch understood that. He was Irish Catholic. Anger was kind of their thing. When Vishous insinuated that Butch couldn't possibly want him, Butch's eyes narrowed to glittering, hazel slits. "Who the fuck decided that, V? You didn't even bother to ask me if I wanted that shit. Don't be an asshole and put words in my mouth. You know I fucking hate that." the Irishman snarled, advancing to the sink where he withdrew a clean rag. He took Vishous' hand and brushed the broken glass off of the wound, pausing to look at it. No serious damage, and the glass was all gone, nothing stuck. Butch lifted V's hand to his lips and flicked his tongue over the gash, tasting the blood and vodka mix there. It tasted...dark. Not that you could taste a color, but that was what was on Butch's tongue. Darkness, complexity, Vishous. He'd be able to know that taste anywhere. Like the back of his hand. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and dropped V's hand, his eyes unwavering, locked on Vishous.
Butch's words slammed into Vishous with an intensity like no other. Was it possible that his cop wanted him the same way that he wanted his cop. His thoughts whirled at a blinding speed, unable to latch onto any one thought. The only person in his life who was willing to stand up to him, willing to face whatever danger may come their way, was Butch. Maybe it was the cop in him, keeping him on one thing, hook, line and sinker until it was figured out, solved, had finally been put to an end. Whatever it was should not have had Vishous standing there, knees weak, heated and quickly becoming aroused. Not. A. Single. Fucking. Thing. And yet, there he stood, unable to keep himself under control. Control was his strong suit, the one thing he always had, not matter what the situation, but there he stood with Butch before him, without a single ounce of that safely gaurded control. When Butch reached out and grabbed his hand, his body went stiff. The heat that Butch put off had him dizzy. When the cop brushed the glass from his palm and he felt the warm, slightly rough brush of his tongue against his skin, he nearly lost it. When he looked up and met his eyes, it was entirely too much. It was like the world had disappeared, vanished in the blink of an eye. No one existed, except Butch. MINE. His mind screamed at him. With a sharp gasp, Vishous closed his eyes, unable to bare his friends stare a moment longer, head dropping. This could not be happening.
"Hell. I can't be botherin' you that badly." the Bostonian said softly, his accent still apparent despite the New York residence he had taken for the last few years. His heritage was certainly not questioned. "I really wish you wouldn't go into that damn shell of yours every time something bugs you." Butch told him, his voice very low, as if talking to a child, afraid to frighten him. "You're as bad as Zsadist. But at least Zsadist will show it when he's havin' trouble. But you...? You're somethin' else, V." He picked up V's hand again, to look at the wound, pleased to see that it was already healing itself. Well, surely, the son of the Virgin would have no problems regenerating like that. "Don't make decisions for me, damn it. If I didn't like you kissing me like that, I would have had the nuts to at least punch you in yours." He lifted Vishous' head, forcing the dark haired male to look at him. "I thought we were clear on that. Back when you developed that weird-o man crush on me before Marissa gave me the time of day. I told you back then that it wasn't my thing, but here lately, I don't know. I loved Marissa. I did. She was my shellan. Like you loved Jane." Butch didn't like that he was the short one here, it made it hard for him to assert his authority in this situation, which he got a chance to do so rarely. "But this is so fucking different. SO fucking different. I don't even know what this is." Butch ground his teeth together. His fangs still hurt for the taste of Vishous in his mouth, but he ignored it. This was more important. Vishous was hurting right now, and it was his job, as his friend, and...as more, to fix this. Butch took a step forward, both amazed and disgusted by how the bigger male could just encompass him that way, how safe he could feel in this instant. Nothing in this world could touch him right now. He set his head against V's shoulder, lowering his eyelashes over his bright eyes. "This is fucked up, ya know that? This is usually the other way around. When you gotta come rescue my stupid ass from some kind of issue."
MINE. My cop. My Butch. His brain screamed as his friend spoke. With his emotions stripped of their tight leash, his actions were unpredictable. Even more so with Butch standing in front of him, separating their bodies by mere inches. He let out a soft laugh as Butch's comment broke through the tirade of thoughts. His hands on his shoulders, bodies so close. He did the only thing he could think to do, he leaned in, closing the distance between them, lips meeting once more, softer this time. He groaned, unsure and extremely unsteady as his hands landed on the cop's hips, lips a gentle caress. His tongue slipped out, asking, begging the cop to let him in, some part of him praying that the cop wanted him, prayed he would accept him and not push him away. I want your skin against mine, your fangs in my flesh, mine in yours. Vishous whispered through Butch's mind. He was unable to say the words aloud. Something about the way the stood, the conversation they had just had made it okay to whisper through his mind, but he quickly found himself tacking more on, I know this makes me a sick, dilusional freak, but I can't keep hiding this. I want...no, I need you cop.
V's voice echoed in his head, and he felt himself swoon at the feeling that flushed his body. He was suddenly warm, suddenly forgetting that anything at all had upset him. Marissa would be back to haunt his mind later, but for now, she was gone. Only Vishous occupied that space now. He held all of his senses in his grasp. Vishous had that effect on him, Butch realized. He took all Butch had and held it hostage until he surrendered. And surrender he did. Vishous' attentions were more appealing this time, not quite so harsh, not quite so much an attack, but a hesitant invitation. Butch accepted it this time, now that he had some warning, and he practically melted in Vishous' hands. He felt beneath his jeans the silk texture of his black glove and the calloused roughness of his natural hand. "You're none a' that." Butch replied in their own private line, something so unbelievably intimate, something that fit their bond so closely. "You've never been a damn freak. Not to me." V had always known that. Butch had always been oddly accepting of the man's weird traits, had always taken hi as he was and never questioned a thing. At the mention of such carnal pleasures, fangs in flesh and such close contact, he flushed, and his whole body warmed to V's touch. "Then don't disappoint me, dammit. My first man to man...thing...had better not suck." he said privately, breaking the kiss to look up at him with a teasing glint in his eye.
Vishous hissed into Butch's accepting mouth, his now full erection straining against the cotton of his sweats. He deepened the kiss, tasting blood as his tongue rubbed alone one of Butch's fangs. The male before him had just granted him the one thing no one ever had. Full. Fucking. Acceptance. And damn did that feel good. His grip tightened on Butch's hips, pulling his cop closers, but not close enough to feel just how excited this all had him. He didn't want to freak the cop out, slow, slow was good. The last thing he wanted, hell the last thing he needed, was for Butch to bolt. A soft, unashamed moan slipped from him as his back relaxed against the counter, no longer stiff, but feeling almost...relaxed. All tension lost between them. That was, until Vishous realized exactly what was happening and where it could end up. He jerked back suddenly, hands landing on the lip of the counter, grip tight enough to crack the marble. He hung his head as his body shook, his massive erection on display for all to see. He had lost control, lost it completely and utterly. Suddenly, the image of Butch close, mouth at his neck shot into his brain, causing a shudder to roll through him as his chest heaved with the effort to breath. He could feel Butch right in front of him, their scents mingled, along with the sweet tang of sex and...something darker.
His mouth was still full of the taste of Vishous, and his whole body was tingling. He had practically smashed their groins together, and Butch's own erection was throbbing against his jeans. It ached, actually it damn well hurt. He had only had an erection for Marissa before, she was who kept him up, but...Vishous was a guy, and here he was, with an aching stiffy trapped inside the world's most indestructible jeans. While that made no sense, Butch ditched the thought, saying fuck logic for now, and seeing where this went. Butch was in no rush to get in over his head with something like this, and erotic playtime with another guy was something he knew absolutely nothing about. Perhaps they could just ease into this, he thought. Move slowly for now until Butch knew how comfortable he was with this. He looked at Vishous for a long moment, and then he cracked a grin. "God, you always gotta make shit so tense, don't you?" Butch knew where he wanted to start. He was fucking starving. Butch approached Vishous and braced his hands on the now cracked counter, his fangs sinking into the thick skin of Vishous' throat. The dark, hot blood poured into his mouth, and Butch just sighed. It was so good. He had never imagined that feeding could feel this nice, or taste this fucking wonderful. When he had taken what he wanted, he pulled back, blood dripping from his fangs, down the side of his lip, and then falling off in ruby droplets down his chin. He stared up at V for a distended moment, and he smiled, turning around. He glanced back over his shoulder one time. "That's enough for one night, don't you think? I'm new to this whole...dude thing, and I'm not sure I wanna skip all the way up to the grand finale." He waggled his hips as he walked away, grinning like a fiend. "And besides, what kinda guy do you think I am? I mean, shit!" he said, clearly teasing, as he disappeared.
His whole body was an aching ball of need as he stood there, tremors rolled throughout him, causing full body shakes and spasms. When Butch spoke, that accent sinking into him. He blinked in response, breath squeezing out of him as he continued to struggle with breathing. Butch did crazy things to him, had since the day they met. As he stood there, staring at the cop, he couldn't imagine his life without him. This was Butch, crazy ass cop. Unafraid and blunt. A groan was ripped from his mouth as Butch stepped forward, mouth seeking his neck before fangs meet flesh. Never, in his life had someone taken his vein. Everything vanished in a rush of pure ecstasy as Butch took long, hard pulls. Taking him in, drinking him down. His grip on the counter tightened more, gasps escaping him. When the cop pulled away, the site of him with V's blood on his fangs, a small line down his chin caused something inside of him to explode. When Butch turned, talking over his shoulder as he walked away, Vishous couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, lighting his eyes up. It was a true smile. One he couldn't have wiped off his face if he tried.
Now, onto the reasoning.
I love the BDB series by J.R. Ward. And well, as a reader, I have had my own interesting thoughts and ideas about how things could have happened between Vishous and Butch. Thus, this little fanfiction was created. With the help of a good friend, Life's Greatest Questions began! This is the FIRST fanfiction I have ever written. All of my work is my own original thoughts, characters and ideas. Sometimes with the help of a partner. So, bare with me. And do enjoy!
So, the story begins.
Life's Greatest Questions
A Vishous and Butch Fanfiction
CHAPTER ONE
By Teagan & Sidney.
He
sat slumped on the leather couch, a squat glass in one hand, the
other settled awkwardly on the cushion beside him, thoughts going a
million miles a second. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh and
pulled himself up, pacing across the floor, completely on edge. There
was something there, it was so close to the surface, but he couldn't
say the words aloud, he couldn't force himself to acknowledge that
there was definitely something going on. With a curse, he downed the
remaining contents of his glass and nearly slammed it onto the coffee
table. What the hell was going on, and what the fuck was he going to
do about it. Cursing again, he shuffled toward the bedroom, shrugging
out of his blood soaked leather jacket, the heavy material hitting
the bed with a sigh. The shitkickers were neck, collapsing against
each other as they landed by the foot of the bed. Tugging his black
tee-shirt up and off, he tossed it into the hamper by the closet,
making his way to the bathroom. Hands landing on his belt, he made
quick work of it and was soon sliding the leather pants down long,
muscled legs. Groaning, he started the shower, making sure the water
was extremely hot before stepping under the scalding spray.
He honestly could not believe this. After all this, after two fucking years, she was just gonna up and do this. As he headed into the Pit, he slammed the door behind him, not quite caring whether Vishous was home or not. He was going to hear him throw a fit and that was fucking okay. He headed into the kitchen and with no such tact, opened the cabinet and withdrew the bottle of scotch he had left. There was only a half a fifth left, and that pissed him off more than it should have, but under the circumstances, he was not in the mood to be sober. He snarled as he tore the cork out of the bottle and drank a good fourth of it in one gulp. Butch wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and swore something fierce under his breath. God fucking dammit. So it was over, was it? Two years, and Marissa was just done with him. God... He had loved her, too. More than he should have let himself. The picture of he and his ex-shellan was on the wall, and with a growl that exposed fangs, he flung it, hearing the glass break against the wall behind him before drinking from the scotch again. His Red Sox cap blocked part of his vision, pulled low over hazel eyes, and he stood there for a long time, peering down at the broken glass and frame, over the picture. Fucking bitch.
Long fingers reached out, wrapping around the knobs, turning off the water. Vishous grabbed a towel and dried quickly, wrapping the soft black material low around his hips. With a another groan, he pulled open the bathroom door, steam rolling out with him. Damn, he needed a drink, like, yesterday. Cursing a string of colorful language, he carefully made his way into the living room of the Pit. Butch was home and by the looks of it, in an extremely lethal mood. Not bothering to make a stop into his bedroom for a pair of sweats, he went straight to Butch, "Hey man, what's going on?" His tone was a lot harsher than he had intended, sensing his nearest and dearests emotional distress. Something had happened, something bad. Sharp, diamond eyes narrowed as he noticed the picture of him and Marissa on the ground, glass shards spilled out around it. "Fuck..." He breathed, realization slamming into him like a mac truck.
Butch knew he was there, he hadn't had to see him to know that. He also knew by the look he caught out of the corner of his eye that Vishous had neglected to put on pants. How very predictable. He pushed the visor of his baseball cap up, revealing that his eyes were dark, and he looked a bit haggard. He leaned back against the wall, and stumbled, not due to drunkenness (yet), but due to the end table, and sank to sit down against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. Butch tipped up the bottle and his head, letting his hat fall off and land to the side as he polished off the scotch. He needed more already. Fucking fantastic. The ex-cop pushed a hand through his short brown hair and swore out loud, looking up at Vishous with a lop-sided, highly unstable looking smile. "Fuck is right, man. Ain't that just like a woman? Milk you for all you got, and then hit the highway." He tossed the bottle aside, and it landed with a thud. Butch picked up the picture he'd discarded minutes earlier, and stared down at it, though there was no flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Not like I was ever good enough for her anyway. That's what everyone was afraid to say."
Something inside of him snapped as he listened to the cop talk, everything inside of him wanted to wipe the look off his face, take away the hurt that had burrowed inside of him. Without so much as a conscious thought, Vishous knelt down in front of the cop, Butch, his best friend, "That's a line of bullshit and you know it, true?" He reached out, hands settling on Butch's forearms, "No one was afraid to say it, because it's not true," His felt heat flood his body as he met Butch's hazel eyes, the hurt in them very visible. He sat there for a moment, unable to form words as he stared at his cop. He paused, blinking as if something had caught him off guard, and well, in a sense, it had. He had just called Butch his. Vishous closed his eyes, lips thinning into a line. When he opened them, he swallowed, "You're so much better, she just couldn't see it," His fingers ran soothingly up and down Butch's arms, odd. At that moment, all he could think about was comforting his friend. Nothing else mattered, nothing but erasing the hurt, taking away the pain.
This was not the first time that V had come to rescue him in a time of crisis. When he had been infected by that evil essence by the Omega? V had been there. When he was being changed and inducted in the Brotherhood and needed blood? V was there for that too. As a matter of fact, not a day went by that he didn't at least briefly think of that moment. Electricity shot through his veins at the thought, but was doused as Vishous came that close to him. He knew that back in the day, when he and Marissa first got involved, that there had been a bit of tension between V and himself, and Butch was aware of what the reason was. Some part of him wanted him back then too. But now? Now, he didn't know what the fuck had happened. Or what he wanted. His Catholic upbringing cringed at the thought of what that might have become, but in reality...if he had just let it happen? Would he and Marissa ever even have happened at all? The thought was making his head spin, and that rapid wash of alcohol into his system was making him feel even more discombobulated. His hazy eyes roamed to Vishous, down to where the bigger man's hands were on his forearms. Without his shellan, a black hole of loneliness accompanied a sense of being so utterly lost. Marissa had been his whole world... What was he to do now? Heartbreak was such a bitter poison, but as it always was, Vishous' presence was a soothing antidote. He didn't think on that for too long. Half drunk though he was, Butch had seen a flinch in Vishous' composure, he'd seen that strange look on his face, like something had happened that he wasn't expecting? "What?" he asked, his voice low. He knew Vishous too well not to know when something was up.
Vishous said nothing, unable to form words as his brain started to spin. His fingers stilled on Butch's arms, body rigid. Heat pulsed throughout his body, the blood gathering below the towel that loosely clung to his hips. "Shit," he cursed, pulling himself up and stepping back, eyes focused on the floor. "It's nothin' cop," He muttered, turning to go to his room, anything to put some distance between the two of them, "And there's more scotch in the cabinet," with that, he disappeared.
Butch sat there, unable to move for a long moment as he watched Vishous leave. His eyelashes lowered slightly, and he moved his hands to his lap. What had gotten into him all of a sudden? Not to mention that Butch wasn't stupid. He knew that it was never "nothing" with Vishous. As far as the Brothers went, there were problems, yeah. Take Z for example. Zsadist had issues. Vishous had demons. If Vishous let a reaction show on his face, it was certainly something to be noted. The brunette Boston native pushed himself to his feet, and stood there, on wobbly knees for a minute before he headed for the kitchen. The scotch was easy to find once he really looked, and he took the top off of it. He didn't drink any of it, to his surprise, and instead looked at the bottle with disdain. Suddenly...he wasn't interested in a stiff drink anymore. Butch pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead in an attempt to stop the pounding in his temples, and when he felt a little more stable, he headed for the hallway. Scotch still in hand, though untouched, he was in V's room without a second thought. It wasn't like the two had any sense of boundary or any concept of "personal space". Leaning against the door frame, his beloved drink in hand, Butch took one look at V and smirked, acting a little bit more like himself, at least for V's sake. "You know better than to bullshit me, roomie. Despite what you wanna think, you're a really shitty liar." "At least when they know you as well as I do" he silently added, putting yet another thing on the list of things he felt he could never say to Vishous, at least not while he was conscious.
Vishous paused in the process of pulling a black tee-shirt on, arms poised above his head, broad back exposed, muscles flexed, "I said drop it Butch," His tone was harsh, but there was something under that harshness, something he could not explain and did not want to even begin to analyze. Closing his eyes, back still facing the cop, he took a deep breath, paying Butch hadn't caught the underlining tone in his voice.
"I heard what ya said." Butch countered stiffly. "But I ain't droppin' it." He tipped up the bottle and took a sip of the harsh tasting black liquid inside of it. The liquor sloshed and then the room was silent. He knew better than to pass this off as nothing. He knew Vishous was volatile and mean when he wanted to be, and though Butch knew better than to push him, he was gonna risk the pain of getting punched in the face or worse. No one else around here had those kind of balls. Even Wrath knew what a cold blooded killer V was when provoked. As the son of the Scribe Virgin, it wasn't a good idea to fuck with him, but Butch, out of curiosity, and what might be concern, was going to do it anyway. "Now you can either tell me what the fuck is up your ass, or I am gonna stand here all night and make a drinking game out of how many times I can get you to say 'go away Butch.' until you punch me in the face, true?" Oh, yeah. It was game on, wasn't it? The younger vampire scratched his chin and felt the bristle of needing to shave, but alas, ignored it. "Now, what is it gonna be?" he asked, turning his Red Sox cap on backwards.
Vishous growled low in his throat, the sound seeming to vibrate throughout his body, filling the room with an almost icy breeze. He finished pulling on his shirt, the black cotton clinging to every muscle. He turned facing Butch, eyes glowing. He took a step forward and then another until he had the other male backed up against the wall, their mouths inches apart, "Butch, drop it. Now," Heat spread through his body in a blinding rush, causing his knees to shake and his heart to race, "Keep it up and i can promise you, you won't like where this leads," His mouth was now a mere centimeter from the cop's, so fucking close and yet he felt miles away.
Butch felt his back push against the wall, and the cold, hard drywall was not a forgiving mistress. The bottle fell out of his hand, and hit the floor with a clatter, the half consumed scotch dripping onto the floor. The atmosphere in the room had changed completely, and Butch was fully aware that his best friend had just flipped the hostile switch, and shit was about to go down. On second thought, LET it go down, he decided. Vishous could hurt him he throw a fit, he could do whatever he wanted, but as the descendant of an Irishman and a true, blue blooded Bostonian, he was not about to let some other man tell him what to do. Especially not V. "Everyone else in this place may be fucking afraid of you, but I'm not. So you go right ahead, hit me, beat me the fuck up, do whatever it is that you hafta do to get it out of your system, but listen to me very closely, Vishous when I say...Bring. It. The. Fuck. On." And just like that, he knew in the pit of his stomach, that he was fucked. Before he could stop himself, he had his arms out, hands flat against the wall, "I'm not going to hit you cop," His voice was a gasp. He should have turned, shoved the cop out of the room and shut the door, but he didn't. Instead, his lips landed on Butch's, rough, demanding, wanting...needing.
All motion seemed to just stop. His pulse raced, his stomach tightened, and in that split second, he swore he literally tasted sparks from the other man's lips. His hazel eyes went wide, and his hands went flat against the wall behind him, as if looking for something to hold on to. What in the fuck was going on right now!? Butch had known that Vishious wanted him sexually, he knew that before he and Marissa even started as a couple. But he had never in a million years banked on the fact that V would actually act on it, and do something about the desire that he claimed to have had. Feeling his mouth on his, Butch no longer questioned that desire, and in the midst of it, something flickered to life inside of him, like a tender flame being struck by a match. The notion became that maybe...somewhere really, really deep inside... Maybe he wanted V too. Now that was a notion he had tried very hard to ignore in the past, but with Vishious kissing him like that, it was an idea that was coming to the forefront very quickly. When the kiss broke, Butch stood there like a deer in the head lights, his hazel eyes wide, mouth still slightly ajar. He pressed his fingertips to his lower lip, feeling the smoldering heat still lingering. "Fuck." was all he could say. But on a positive not for Vishous' ego, he was still standing there instead of running away screaming.
Vishous went ramrod straight, heart slamming against his rib cage, vision swimming, "Fuck is absolutely right cop," He muttered, stepping back and turning to face the wall. He could smell Butch all over him, taste him. Not only that, but he could sense the cop right behind him, sense his cop right behind him. Crossing thick arms over his broad chest, Vishous blew his bangs out of his eyes and started to pace. Part of him wanted to push Butch out of the room, the other, less sane part of him wanted to throw the cop back up against the wall and fuck him. There is was, that unnamed emotion popping up. He wanted the cop, any way he could have him. The cop was his. Sadly, there were many things that stood in the way of that becoming a reality. He stood, trying to slow his breathing. Shuffling about the room, he located a lighter and a hand rolled and lit one up, sighing as he exhaled. He was waiting for the cop's freak out. Surely Butch had a list of colorful things to throw in V's direction.
He honestly could not believe this. After all this, after two fucking years, she was just gonna up and do this. As he headed into the Pit, he slammed the door behind him, not quite caring whether Vishous was home or not. He was going to hear him throw a fit and that was fucking okay. He headed into the kitchen and with no such tact, opened the cabinet and withdrew the bottle of scotch he had left. There was only a half a fifth left, and that pissed him off more than it should have, but under the circumstances, he was not in the mood to be sober. He snarled as he tore the cork out of the bottle and drank a good fourth of it in one gulp. Butch wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and swore something fierce under his breath. God fucking dammit. So it was over, was it? Two years, and Marissa was just done with him. God... He had loved her, too. More than he should have let himself. The picture of he and his ex-shellan was on the wall, and with a growl that exposed fangs, he flung it, hearing the glass break against the wall behind him before drinking from the scotch again. His Red Sox cap blocked part of his vision, pulled low over hazel eyes, and he stood there for a long time, peering down at the broken glass and frame, over the picture. Fucking bitch.
Long fingers reached out, wrapping around the knobs, turning off the water. Vishous grabbed a towel and dried quickly, wrapping the soft black material low around his hips. With a another groan, he pulled open the bathroom door, steam rolling out with him. Damn, he needed a drink, like, yesterday. Cursing a string of colorful language, he carefully made his way into the living room of the Pit. Butch was home and by the looks of it, in an extremely lethal mood. Not bothering to make a stop into his bedroom for a pair of sweats, he went straight to Butch, "Hey man, what's going on?" His tone was a lot harsher than he had intended, sensing his nearest and dearests emotional distress. Something had happened, something bad. Sharp, diamond eyes narrowed as he noticed the picture of him and Marissa on the ground, glass shards spilled out around it. "Fuck..." He breathed, realization slamming into him like a mac truck.
Butch knew he was there, he hadn't had to see him to know that. He also knew by the look he caught out of the corner of his eye that Vishous had neglected to put on pants. How very predictable. He pushed the visor of his baseball cap up, revealing that his eyes were dark, and he looked a bit haggard. He leaned back against the wall, and stumbled, not due to drunkenness (yet), but due to the end table, and sank to sit down against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. Butch tipped up the bottle and his head, letting his hat fall off and land to the side as he polished off the scotch. He needed more already. Fucking fantastic. The ex-cop pushed a hand through his short brown hair and swore out loud, looking up at Vishous with a lop-sided, highly unstable looking smile. "Fuck is right, man. Ain't that just like a woman? Milk you for all you got, and then hit the highway." He tossed the bottle aside, and it landed with a thud. Butch picked up the picture he'd discarded minutes earlier, and stared down at it, though there was no flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Not like I was ever good enough for her anyway. That's what everyone was afraid to say."
Something inside of him snapped as he listened to the cop talk, everything inside of him wanted to wipe the look off his face, take away the hurt that had burrowed inside of him. Without so much as a conscious thought, Vishous knelt down in front of the cop, Butch, his best friend, "That's a line of bullshit and you know it, true?" He reached out, hands settling on Butch's forearms, "No one was afraid to say it, because it's not true," His felt heat flood his body as he met Butch's hazel eyes, the hurt in them very visible. He sat there for a moment, unable to form words as he stared at his cop. He paused, blinking as if something had caught him off guard, and well, in a sense, it had. He had just called Butch his. Vishous closed his eyes, lips thinning into a line. When he opened them, he swallowed, "You're so much better, she just couldn't see it," His fingers ran soothingly up and down Butch's arms, odd. At that moment, all he could think about was comforting his friend. Nothing else mattered, nothing but erasing the hurt, taking away the pain.
This was not the first time that V had come to rescue him in a time of crisis. When he had been infected by that evil essence by the Omega? V had been there. When he was being changed and inducted in the Brotherhood and needed blood? V was there for that too. As a matter of fact, not a day went by that he didn't at least briefly think of that moment. Electricity shot through his veins at the thought, but was doused as Vishous came that close to him. He knew that back in the day, when he and Marissa first got involved, that there had been a bit of tension between V and himself, and Butch was aware of what the reason was. Some part of him wanted him back then too. But now? Now, he didn't know what the fuck had happened. Or what he wanted. His Catholic upbringing cringed at the thought of what that might have become, but in reality...if he had just let it happen? Would he and Marissa ever even have happened at all? The thought was making his head spin, and that rapid wash of alcohol into his system was making him feel even more discombobulated. His hazy eyes roamed to Vishous, down to where the bigger man's hands were on his forearms. Without his shellan, a black hole of loneliness accompanied a sense of being so utterly lost. Marissa had been his whole world... What was he to do now? Heartbreak was such a bitter poison, but as it always was, Vishous' presence was a soothing antidote. He didn't think on that for too long. Half drunk though he was, Butch had seen a flinch in Vishous' composure, he'd seen that strange look on his face, like something had happened that he wasn't expecting? "What?" he asked, his voice low. He knew Vishous too well not to know when something was up.
Vishous said nothing, unable to form words as his brain started to spin. His fingers stilled on Butch's arms, body rigid. Heat pulsed throughout his body, the blood gathering below the towel that loosely clung to his hips. "Shit," he cursed, pulling himself up and stepping back, eyes focused on the floor. "It's nothin' cop," He muttered, turning to go to his room, anything to put some distance between the two of them, "And there's more scotch in the cabinet," with that, he disappeared.
Butch sat there, unable to move for a long moment as he watched Vishous leave. His eyelashes lowered slightly, and he moved his hands to his lap. What had gotten into him all of a sudden? Not to mention that Butch wasn't stupid. He knew that it was never "nothing" with Vishous. As far as the Brothers went, there were problems, yeah. Take Z for example. Zsadist had issues. Vishous had demons. If Vishous let a reaction show on his face, it was certainly something to be noted. The brunette Boston native pushed himself to his feet, and stood there, on wobbly knees for a minute before he headed for the kitchen. The scotch was easy to find once he really looked, and he took the top off of it. He didn't drink any of it, to his surprise, and instead looked at the bottle with disdain. Suddenly...he wasn't interested in a stiff drink anymore. Butch pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead in an attempt to stop the pounding in his temples, and when he felt a little more stable, he headed for the hallway. Scotch still in hand, though untouched, he was in V's room without a second thought. It wasn't like the two had any sense of boundary or any concept of "personal space". Leaning against the door frame, his beloved drink in hand, Butch took one look at V and smirked, acting a little bit more like himself, at least for V's sake. "You know better than to bullshit me, roomie. Despite what you wanna think, you're a really shitty liar." "At least when they know you as well as I do" he silently added, putting yet another thing on the list of things he felt he could never say to Vishous, at least not while he was conscious.
Vishous paused in the process of pulling a black tee-shirt on, arms poised above his head, broad back exposed, muscles flexed, "I said drop it Butch," His tone was harsh, but there was something under that harshness, something he could not explain and did not want to even begin to analyze. Closing his eyes, back still facing the cop, he took a deep breath, paying Butch hadn't caught the underlining tone in his voice.
"I heard what ya said." Butch countered stiffly. "But I ain't droppin' it." He tipped up the bottle and took a sip of the harsh tasting black liquid inside of it. The liquor sloshed and then the room was silent. He knew better than to pass this off as nothing. He knew Vishous was volatile and mean when he wanted to be, and though Butch knew better than to push him, he was gonna risk the pain of getting punched in the face or worse. No one else around here had those kind of balls. Even Wrath knew what a cold blooded killer V was when provoked. As the son of the Scribe Virgin, it wasn't a good idea to fuck with him, but Butch, out of curiosity, and what might be concern, was going to do it anyway. "Now you can either tell me what the fuck is up your ass, or I am gonna stand here all night and make a drinking game out of how many times I can get you to say 'go away Butch.' until you punch me in the face, true?" Oh, yeah. It was game on, wasn't it? The younger vampire scratched his chin and felt the bristle of needing to shave, but alas, ignored it. "Now, what is it gonna be?" he asked, turning his Red Sox cap on backwards.
Vishous growled low in his throat, the sound seeming to vibrate throughout his body, filling the room with an almost icy breeze. He finished pulling on his shirt, the black cotton clinging to every muscle. He turned facing Butch, eyes glowing. He took a step forward and then another until he had the other male backed up against the wall, their mouths inches apart, "Butch, drop it. Now," Heat spread through his body in a blinding rush, causing his knees to shake and his heart to race, "Keep it up and i can promise you, you won't like where this leads," His mouth was now a mere centimeter from the cop's, so fucking close and yet he felt miles away.
Butch felt his back push against the wall, and the cold, hard drywall was not a forgiving mistress. The bottle fell out of his hand, and hit the floor with a clatter, the half consumed scotch dripping onto the floor. The atmosphere in the room had changed completely, and Butch was fully aware that his best friend had just flipped the hostile switch, and shit was about to go down. On second thought, LET it go down, he decided. Vishous could hurt him he throw a fit, he could do whatever he wanted, but as the descendant of an Irishman and a true, blue blooded Bostonian, he was not about to let some other man tell him what to do. Especially not V. "Everyone else in this place may be fucking afraid of you, but I'm not. So you go right ahead, hit me, beat me the fuck up, do whatever it is that you hafta do to get it out of your system, but listen to me very closely, Vishous when I say...Bring. It. The. Fuck. On." And just like that, he knew in the pit of his stomach, that he was fucked. Before he could stop himself, he had his arms out, hands flat against the wall, "I'm not going to hit you cop," His voice was a gasp. He should have turned, shoved the cop out of the room and shut the door, but he didn't. Instead, his lips landed on Butch's, rough, demanding, wanting...needing.
All motion seemed to just stop. His pulse raced, his stomach tightened, and in that split second, he swore he literally tasted sparks from the other man's lips. His hazel eyes went wide, and his hands went flat against the wall behind him, as if looking for something to hold on to. What in the fuck was going on right now!? Butch had known that Vishious wanted him sexually, he knew that before he and Marissa even started as a couple. But he had never in a million years banked on the fact that V would actually act on it, and do something about the desire that he claimed to have had. Feeling his mouth on his, Butch no longer questioned that desire, and in the midst of it, something flickered to life inside of him, like a tender flame being struck by a match. The notion became that maybe...somewhere really, really deep inside... Maybe he wanted V too. Now that was a notion he had tried very hard to ignore in the past, but with Vishious kissing him like that, it was an idea that was coming to the forefront very quickly. When the kiss broke, Butch stood there like a deer in the head lights, his hazel eyes wide, mouth still slightly ajar. He pressed his fingertips to his lower lip, feeling the smoldering heat still lingering. "Fuck." was all he could say. But on a positive not for Vishous' ego, he was still standing there instead of running away screaming.
Vishous went ramrod straight, heart slamming against his rib cage, vision swimming, "Fuck is absolutely right cop," He muttered, stepping back and turning to face the wall. He could smell Butch all over him, taste him. Not only that, but he could sense the cop right behind him, sense his cop right behind him. Crossing thick arms over his broad chest, Vishous blew his bangs out of his eyes and started to pace. Part of him wanted to push Butch out of the room, the other, less sane part of him wanted to throw the cop back up against the wall and fuck him. There is was, that unnamed emotion popping up. He wanted the cop, any way he could have him. The cop was his. Sadly, there were many things that stood in the way of that becoming a reality. He stood, trying to slow his breathing. Shuffling about the room, he located a lighter and a hand rolled and lit one up, sighing as he exhaled. He was waiting for the cop's freak out. Surely Butch had a list of colorful things to throw in V's direction.
He didn't even have words. The only thing he could say was "fuck" and he kept repeating it under his breath, standing there without feeling in most of his body, except the searing in his lips. What the hell was he even supposed to do about this?! V was his room mate, and his best friend in the entire goddamn universe. So that made what he just did completely and utterly wrong. Didn't it? Something within him purred at the thought of another kiss like that, and he even felt a strain against the crotch of the jeans he was wearing. Now, that made no sense. In the core of his being, Butch knew that he was not gay. He knew this for a fact. However, V kissing him had not felt "gay", as some would have put it. It felt...well, it felt like it was supposed to happen. That freaked him out a lot more than did the prospect of a gay love affair with his best friend. He watched Vishous pace like a caged animal, and his almost feline eyes followed the big male around the room. The scent of the rolled cigarette filled the room, and to a degree, comforted him. It was familiar, it was pleasant, and it calmed them both down. Okay. Picking up the half spilled scotch, and looking down at the tiny puddle with disdain, Butch took a big shot for confidence and wiped his mouth before going further into the room. "You wanna tell me just what the fuck has gotten into you tonight?" he asked the dark haired male, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I'm not saying I hated that, but I do wanna know what's got your boxers in such a bunch."
Another growl slipped past parted lips as Vishous exhaled smoke once more. He was not one to talk about his feelings, that was something he just did not do. Turning to face Butch, his eyes narrowed, "You know what the fuck just happened," He snapped, voice deep. He pushed past the cop and went straight for the kitchen, grabbing a fresh bottle of goose and a glass. Full glass in hand, he settled against the counter, eyes locked on the contents of his glass, swirling the liquid around. As Butch joined him, he finally let out a groan and spoke, "Jane is gone. As in, not coming back. Never to be seen again. And now this shit with you and Marisa. It's too much man. Too much," He brought the glass to his lips, but hesitated a moment before downing the contents, not wanting to erase the sweet taste of Butch. It felt as if a hand had wrapped fingers around his heart and gave a rough squeeze. His breath left his lungs in a gasp, the pain becoming almost unbearable. Butch was the only person he had ever really felt close to, aside Jane, and still, there had been things even she hadn't known. The cop, his cop, there he went again, was the only one he could be open with, honest with. His cop wouldn't judge, wouldn't push him away...wouldn't think him a freak. And that alone scared him.
He followed him into the kitchen, keeping pace with his long strides and then following him back into the room. He was not letting V out of his sight for a single minute, and that came to fruition when he told him about Jane. To be honest, that was only a matter of time, he had thought. From the moment Jane had died and had been brought back as a spirit via a favor of the Scribe Virgin, he, and most of the other Brothers knew that this could not be a permanent situation. Sure, his cursed hand could turn her solid again, but what kind of relationship was that? It was something they'd all kept to themselves, and to a degree, Butch thought even V knew that she couldn't stay forever as she was. He was bound to lose her one way or another, even if it hadn't been that way. Jane had been a human. She'd have aged and died anyway. The way she went was just...unconventional. Now he was mad. Butch's brown-gold eyes flared, and he bunched his fists by his side. "Why the hell didn't you say something about that!? Vishous, that is the kind of shit you TELL a guy! I don't care how dark and mysterious you are! We're supposed to be friends." Or more than that. Hell, he was not 100% sure what the fuck was going on between them. Whatever it was, it had him on edge. "So no! As it happens, I did NOT know that, fuck you very much, because you don't tell me anything!" The Irish temper was coming out now, and he knew he'd have to apologize later. Butch took long strides across the bed room and stood in front of Vishous, his eyes flashing as he peered up at the slightly taller man. He was shaking now, partially nerves, partially his temper, but he wasn't sure what to do. "V... You don't have to hide from me. You know that, damn it. And things like that...that's something we could have dealt with together. But goddamn, man... You have to TELL a brother. You can't always suffer alone, ya know. That's something this rag-tag gang of assholes we call the Brotherhood taught me to do. Team-work. And you know that shit's stronger with us. I don't know why, but it's always been that way. Stronger than what they got. Hell, stronger than what me and Marissa ever had." Open mouth, insert foot.
Vishous spoke, voice low, deadly, eyes unmoving from his glass, "I didn't...couldn't grasp it man, I couldn't let myself believe that it was over, the end," His hand shook, causing the liquid to slosh around. He closed his eyes and swallowed his pulse. His whole body was shaking, eyes squeezed tight as he forced himself to stop the break down he felt coming. Vishous' grip on his glass tightened, causing cracks to spread, cracks that quickly caused the glass to shatter. The shards fell as he opened his hand, eyes focused on the blood that was now pouring down his hand, dripping from his fingers. "This..." He whispered, "Us...I don't know," He looked up then, eyes bright, unable to hit the emotion that hid behind long, black lashes, "You can't want this...me," His eyes never moved from Butch's as he continued on, "You've always known, fuck man, I told you. I just...fuck," He was at a loss for words, him, Vishous, the man of many words, could not find the words to express the feelings, the emotions that were taking over. "And now...with Marissa...you cannot...there's just not way. It's not logical, or realistic," His eyes finally dropped, focused once more on his bleeding hand.
Butch's pupils dilated when the blood rushed out of Vishous' hand that way. His stomach clenched and his fangs elongated. Hunger rumbled in his very being, and the scent of the other male made him feel slightly dizzy with want. Yes, Marissa had had blood he craved, yes, he had loved feeding from her, and yes, he had even adored kissing her. He had loved everything about that woman. And she threw him away, not the other way around. In a way, his gut told him this might be a good thing that she had done. The woman's image planted itself in his brain, and he shook it away by force, his bright eyes locked on those diamond optics of Vishous', unblinking. He had always been entranced by that bizarre, swirling color, and his knees went temporarily weak looking at him, though it never showed, and he regained his composure by some incomprehensible stretch of the imagination. For the first time in their history as friends and roommates, it was Vishous who was cracking, and not Butch. Vishous, so strong and unbreakable, finally showing the stress fractures that had been long carved into him by his father. This particular instance wasn't related to the man's family history, but it was The Bloodletter who had taught him to shun emotion and embrace virility and anger instead. Butch understood that. He was Irish Catholic. Anger was kind of their thing. When Vishous insinuated that Butch couldn't possibly want him, Butch's eyes narrowed to glittering, hazel slits. "Who the fuck decided that, V? You didn't even bother to ask me if I wanted that shit. Don't be an asshole and put words in my mouth. You know I fucking hate that." the Irishman snarled, advancing to the sink where he withdrew a clean rag. He took Vishous' hand and brushed the broken glass off of the wound, pausing to look at it. No serious damage, and the glass was all gone, nothing stuck. Butch lifted V's hand to his lips and flicked his tongue over the gash, tasting the blood and vodka mix there. It tasted...dark. Not that you could taste a color, but that was what was on Butch's tongue. Darkness, complexity, Vishous. He'd be able to know that taste anywhere. Like the back of his hand. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and dropped V's hand, his eyes unwavering, locked on Vishous.
Butch's words slammed into Vishous with an intensity like no other. Was it possible that his cop wanted him the same way that he wanted his cop. His thoughts whirled at a blinding speed, unable to latch onto any one thought. The only person in his life who was willing to stand up to him, willing to face whatever danger may come their way, was Butch. Maybe it was the cop in him, keeping him on one thing, hook, line and sinker until it was figured out, solved, had finally been put to an end. Whatever it was should not have had Vishous standing there, knees weak, heated and quickly becoming aroused. Not. A. Single. Fucking. Thing. And yet, there he stood, unable to keep himself under control. Control was his strong suit, the one thing he always had, not matter what the situation, but there he stood with Butch before him, without a single ounce of that safely gaurded control. When Butch reached out and grabbed his hand, his body went stiff. The heat that Butch put off had him dizzy. When the cop brushed the glass from his palm and he felt the warm, slightly rough brush of his tongue against his skin, he nearly lost it. When he looked up and met his eyes, it was entirely too much. It was like the world had disappeared, vanished in the blink of an eye. No one existed, except Butch. MINE. His mind screamed at him. With a sharp gasp, Vishous closed his eyes, unable to bare his friends stare a moment longer, head dropping. This could not be happening.
"Hell. I can't be botherin' you that badly." the Bostonian said softly, his accent still apparent despite the New York residence he had taken for the last few years. His heritage was certainly not questioned. "I really wish you wouldn't go into that damn shell of yours every time something bugs you." Butch told him, his voice very low, as if talking to a child, afraid to frighten him. "You're as bad as Zsadist. But at least Zsadist will show it when he's havin' trouble. But you...? You're somethin' else, V." He picked up V's hand again, to look at the wound, pleased to see that it was already healing itself. Well, surely, the son of the Virgin would have no problems regenerating like that. "Don't make decisions for me, damn it. If I didn't like you kissing me like that, I would have had the nuts to at least punch you in yours." He lifted Vishous' head, forcing the dark haired male to look at him. "I thought we were clear on that. Back when you developed that weird-o man crush on me before Marissa gave me the time of day. I told you back then that it wasn't my thing, but here lately, I don't know. I loved Marissa. I did. She was my shellan. Like you loved Jane." Butch didn't like that he was the short one here, it made it hard for him to assert his authority in this situation, which he got a chance to do so rarely. "But this is so fucking different. SO fucking different. I don't even know what this is." Butch ground his teeth together. His fangs still hurt for the taste of Vishous in his mouth, but he ignored it. This was more important. Vishous was hurting right now, and it was his job, as his friend, and...as more, to fix this. Butch took a step forward, both amazed and disgusted by how the bigger male could just encompass him that way, how safe he could feel in this instant. Nothing in this world could touch him right now. He set his head against V's shoulder, lowering his eyelashes over his bright eyes. "This is fucked up, ya know that? This is usually the other way around. When you gotta come rescue my stupid ass from some kind of issue."
MINE. My cop. My Butch. His brain screamed as his friend spoke. With his emotions stripped of their tight leash, his actions were unpredictable. Even more so with Butch standing in front of him, separating their bodies by mere inches. He let out a soft laugh as Butch's comment broke through the tirade of thoughts. His hands on his shoulders, bodies so close. He did the only thing he could think to do, he leaned in, closing the distance between them, lips meeting once more, softer this time. He groaned, unsure and extremely unsteady as his hands landed on the cop's hips, lips a gentle caress. His tongue slipped out, asking, begging the cop to let him in, some part of him praying that the cop wanted him, prayed he would accept him and not push him away. I want your skin against mine, your fangs in my flesh, mine in yours. Vishous whispered through Butch's mind. He was unable to say the words aloud. Something about the way the stood, the conversation they had just had made it okay to whisper through his mind, but he quickly found himself tacking more on, I know this makes me a sick, dilusional freak, but I can't keep hiding this. I want...no, I need you cop.
V's voice echoed in his head, and he felt himself swoon at the feeling that flushed his body. He was suddenly warm, suddenly forgetting that anything at all had upset him. Marissa would be back to haunt his mind later, but for now, she was gone. Only Vishous occupied that space now. He held all of his senses in his grasp. Vishous had that effect on him, Butch realized. He took all Butch had and held it hostage until he surrendered. And surrender he did. Vishous' attentions were more appealing this time, not quite so harsh, not quite so much an attack, but a hesitant invitation. Butch accepted it this time, now that he had some warning, and he practically melted in Vishous' hands. He felt beneath his jeans the silk texture of his black glove and the calloused roughness of his natural hand. "You're none a' that." Butch replied in their own private line, something so unbelievably intimate, something that fit their bond so closely. "You've never been a damn freak. Not to me." V had always known that. Butch had always been oddly accepting of the man's weird traits, had always taken hi as he was and never questioned a thing. At the mention of such carnal pleasures, fangs in flesh and such close contact, he flushed, and his whole body warmed to V's touch. "Then don't disappoint me, dammit. My first man to man...thing...had better not suck." he said privately, breaking the kiss to look up at him with a teasing glint in his eye.
Vishous hissed into Butch's accepting mouth, his now full erection straining against the cotton of his sweats. He deepened the kiss, tasting blood as his tongue rubbed alone one of Butch's fangs. The male before him had just granted him the one thing no one ever had. Full. Fucking. Acceptance. And damn did that feel good. His grip tightened on Butch's hips, pulling his cop closers, but not close enough to feel just how excited this all had him. He didn't want to freak the cop out, slow, slow was good. The last thing he wanted, hell the last thing he needed, was for Butch to bolt. A soft, unashamed moan slipped from him as his back relaxed against the counter, no longer stiff, but feeling almost...relaxed. All tension lost between them. That was, until Vishous realized exactly what was happening and where it could end up. He jerked back suddenly, hands landing on the lip of the counter, grip tight enough to crack the marble. He hung his head as his body shook, his massive erection on display for all to see. He had lost control, lost it completely and utterly. Suddenly, the image of Butch close, mouth at his neck shot into his brain, causing a shudder to roll through him as his chest heaved with the effort to breath. He could feel Butch right in front of him, their scents mingled, along with the sweet tang of sex and...something darker.
His mouth was still full of the taste of Vishous, and his whole body was tingling. He had practically smashed their groins together, and Butch's own erection was throbbing against his jeans. It ached, actually it damn well hurt. He had only had an erection for Marissa before, she was who kept him up, but...Vishous was a guy, and here he was, with an aching stiffy trapped inside the world's most indestructible jeans. While that made no sense, Butch ditched the thought, saying fuck logic for now, and seeing where this went. Butch was in no rush to get in over his head with something like this, and erotic playtime with another guy was something he knew absolutely nothing about. Perhaps they could just ease into this, he thought. Move slowly for now until Butch knew how comfortable he was with this. He looked at Vishous for a long moment, and then he cracked a grin. "God, you always gotta make shit so tense, don't you?" Butch knew where he wanted to start. He was fucking starving. Butch approached Vishous and braced his hands on the now cracked counter, his fangs sinking into the thick skin of Vishous' throat. The dark, hot blood poured into his mouth, and Butch just sighed. It was so good. He had never imagined that feeding could feel this nice, or taste this fucking wonderful. When he had taken what he wanted, he pulled back, blood dripping from his fangs, down the side of his lip, and then falling off in ruby droplets down his chin. He stared up at V for a distended moment, and he smiled, turning around. He glanced back over his shoulder one time. "That's enough for one night, don't you think? I'm new to this whole...dude thing, and I'm not sure I wanna skip all the way up to the grand finale." He waggled his hips as he walked away, grinning like a fiend. "And besides, what kinda guy do you think I am? I mean, shit!" he said, clearly teasing, as he disappeared.
His whole body was an aching ball of need as he stood there, tremors rolled throughout him, causing full body shakes and spasms. When Butch spoke, that accent sinking into him. He blinked in response, breath squeezing out of him as he continued to struggle with breathing. Butch did crazy things to him, had since the day they met. As he stood there, staring at the cop, he couldn't imagine his life without him. This was Butch, crazy ass cop. Unafraid and blunt. A groan was ripped from his mouth as Butch stepped forward, mouth seeking his neck before fangs meet flesh. Never, in his life had someone taken his vein. Everything vanished in a rush of pure ecstasy as Butch took long, hard pulls. Taking him in, drinking him down. His grip on the counter tightened more, gasps escaping him. When the cop pulled away, the site of him with V's blood on his fangs, a small line down his chin caused something inside of him to explode. When Butch turned, talking over his shoulder as he walked away, Vishous couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, lighting his eyes up. It was a true smile. One he couldn't have wiped off his face if he tried.
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