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Another night, another dingy, poorly lit bar in a shitty, dangerous corner of town. The alcohol wasn’t particularly good, but it was cheap, and the list of joints that Raiden hadn’t been bodily thrown out of was rapidly shrinking, so he couldn’t really complain about it. Especially not on his fifth whiskey, with the numbness he’d desperately been seeking starting to sink in.
He swirled the remaining few drops of amber liquid around in the slightly grimy glass, contemplating them for a brief moment before downing them, savoring the burn down his throat. Raising his hand, he tried to signal the bartender.
“One-”
“Two, please.” The voice from his left startled him- he hadn’t noticed someone sit down. “Fill up his, and get me one of the same. On me.” The bartender nodded, turning to the shelves to grab the bottle, and the person sitting at Raiden’s side leaned in closer to murmur in his ear. “I wasn’t expecting to find you alone in a place like this. A happy coincidence.”
He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The sound of his voice, deep and accented, alongside his contempt for Raiden’s personal space were enough for Raiden to identify him.
“You’ve got deep pockets for a dead man, Vamp,” he muttered, glaring at the grain of the bartop. The words didn’t succeed in getting anything more than a chuckle from the man, stirring the low rage already simmering in Raiden’s stomach. “Or a man who should be dead, at least.”
“You tried your best.” Vamp smiled at him thinly. Raiden stared pointedly in the other direction.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t be killing you right now.”
“Besides the fact that you are clearly inebriated, and you wouldn’t be able to?” The tone of his voice wasn’t quite condescending, more… disappointed. Odd. “And if you were sober, you would realize that there would be no cause. We are not enemies right now- you would gain nothing, even if you could kill me. But you might stand to gain a great deal keeping your temper in check, for now.”
“Not enemies?” Raiden snapped, a little louder than he’d intended. The bartender, who he hadn’t noticed walking back with two topped up glasses, flinched, and Raiden flashed him an apologetic face as he took the proffered drink. Vamp took his as well, and the bartender left them alone, albeit with a dirty look. You’d better not start anything. “You tried to kill me last time we met. You- you killed her.” He could still remember Hal’s devastated face, the way the light in his eyes had dimmed as Emma’s had faded away for good.
Vamp shrugged. “I can’t change that now.”
“How can you be so callous?”
“People die all the time. You don’t have to today, if you don’t want to.” Raiden found himself the subject of a thorough scrutinization as Vamp looked him up and down, analyzing him. “Do you…? You’re here looking for something. Something you shouldn’t want.”
“Fuck you.” Raiden swallowed down his drink in one big gulp, fire burning in his gut. His body was like a live wire, twitching with his desire to do something. “Fuck you. Stay away from me.” He stood up, shaking, and shoved Vamp to the side as he walked out, taking the door that led to the back alley.
If he’d stayed, he was going to do something he regretted. Instead, he stood in the cool night air, and punched the brick wall, slamming his knuckles against the rough stone until they were bleeding.
“Asshole,” he muttered once he’d calmed down an iota, pressing his forehead to the wall. He was drunk, but still cognizant enough of his action to know he’d regret busting his hand up later. Faintly, he heard the door swing open, and he turned around to see Vamp approaching him again, eyes dark and purposeful. “I thought I told you-”
A strong hand grabbed him by the neck, pushing him back into the brick wall, and Raiden’s words were cut off with a squeak. For all of the other weird shit Vamp could do with his body, Raiden had forgotten that the man was also incredibly strong. He scrabbled at Vamp’s wrist, fingernails making deep scores in the skin that healed quickly, leaving only droplets of blood in their wake.
“Is this what you want?” Vamp asked, smiling, sliding Raiden’s body up the wall until he was dangling slightly off the ground, feet thrashing helplessly. “Answer me.”
Incapable of drawing breath, Raiden shook his head, a tiny, almost imperceptible no. He couldn’t die yet. Not here, and not like this. The grip on his throat weakened, and Raiden slid down, wheezing. His head was pounding, he felt nauseous, and he couldn’t resist the hands that grabbed his shoulders, turning him around and pressing him against the wall.
A solid, muscular body pressed against him, hips slotting against his own.
“What about this?” Vamp murmured in his ear. “You seem wound up, Raiden. Is that wife of yours not helping?”
Rose. Raiden squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t like to think about her normally when he was drinking, but this was especially wrong.
“Don’t talk about her,” he said.
“She doesn’t touch you the way you want, does she? And you don’t have the heart to tell her you’re not as fragile as she thinks.” Vamp pressed his face into the crook of Raiden’s neck, and Raiden could feel his smirk. “And that’s why you haven’t told me to fuck off yet.”
Don’t think about Rose.
Hands, sliding down his sides, catching in the hem of his pants.
“Is this what you want?”
Raiden shuddered, pressing himself back against Vamp, who chuckled. He didn’t have to say anything- all the better, since shame and liquor were already clawing their way up his throat- and soon enough, deft hands were working his zipper open, rucking his jeans and underwear down his thighs.
“Palms against the wall.” Raiden did as he was told, sticking his ass out with a glare. “There’s a good boy. Always so ready to follow orders, aren’t you?”
“Just…” His fingers curled, nails scraping against brick. “Hurry up, before I realize how stupid I’m being.”
There was a hiss of leather against metal, and Raiden felt something cold and sharp press against his legs- the tip of a knife, tracing a pattern against his skin. Not enough force to cut, but the threat of it made his skin tingle.
“Is this what you want?” Vamp asked again, and with a flick of his wrist, he cut a white-hot line into Raiden’s thigh. The fingers of his other hand moved between Raiden’s legs, smearing blood over his skin, up to the lips of his pussy. “Your body seems to want it, at least.” Another flick, a cut on the other thigh, shallow, but bloody and painful. Raiden bit his cheek, swallowing any noises, but his knees were trembling with arousal.
Two more sharp cuts, one on either side, and Raiden could feel himself dripping- blood and otherwise. The tip of the knife wandered from the gouges Vamp had already dug, up further between his legs, poking at his clit, which twitched, swollen and needy.
“You don’t want love. You want to be torn apart to prove that you can feel something.”
“Fuck you,” Raiden grit out, hating himself for being weak, hating Vamp for being right. “You don’t know me.”
“Don’t I?” He chuckled, and Raiden heard some sort of impact- a sound he didn’t recognize as knees hitting the ground until he felt hands spreading his legs, and felt something warm and slick on his thighs, followed by the sharp pain of Vamp’s tongue working its way into the cuts on his leg. The sounds he made were all-too pleased, lapping up Raiden’s blood like it was a delicacy.
It was going to be impossible to hide the marks he left behind, and they both knew it.
“Sensitive,” he murmured, pressing forwards, licking at Raiden’s dripping hole, tracing along the delicate, pink folds of his skin. One hand gripped the swell of Raiden’s ass, long nails digging half-moon marks into his flesh- the other had wandered between Raiden’s legs as well, the calloused pad of Vamp’s thumb rubbing his clit. “And you taste so good.”
The alcohol that Raiden normally relied on to dull sensations was doing the opposite of that now. It felt like his body was on fire, the heat concentrating anywhere and everywhere that Vamp was touching him. His wounds throbbed, and he gasped as he thrust back onto that tongue, long and sinful and perfect at finding the spots that made him shake.
“Careful. You don’t want everyone inside to wonder what’s going on out here.” His fingers spread the lips of Raiden’s pussy apart, working in tandem with his tongue to make Raiden weak at the knees. When he whimpered and rolled his hips back, Vamp paused. “Or do you?”
“I don’t- oh-” In a flash, there was another long cut on his body, tracing down the back of his leg. He jolted, the pain sending a spike of warmth through him.
“Go ahead, Jack. Let everyone know what a slut you are.” Knife pressed to his ass, Raiden moaned, hands grasping against the wall as his body quaked in orgasm, unable to hold back the sound. “There’s a good boy.”
Two fingers stroked down his oversensitive slit, making it twitch, but the rest of him was too warm and sated to do anything as Vamp stood up. Raiden heard him unzipping his pants, and seconds later his cock was pressed between Raiden’s thighs.
“Keep your legs together,” Vamp hissed, sounding worked up for the first time that night. He gripped Raiden’s hips with bruising force and thrust forwards, through the gap in Raiden’s thighs. Raiden squeezed, keeping up the pressure as Vamp’s cock slid against his thighs, rubbing against his pussy and making his cuts bleed again and with every small movement, until his legs were slick with saliva and blood and he could barely feel it when Vamp pulled back and came on them, hot and wet.
Raiden breathed in and out, calming himself down, and started to realize how much of a terrible, terrible decision he had just made. His thighs, bleeding, wet, and covered in cum, trembled under his weight. The cuts would probably scar, and he was going to have bruises on his hips and throat. He couldn’t hide this.
He pulled away, standing up, and debated whether or not it was a good idea to ruin his shirt to clean himself up, before deciding that he didn’t want to walk home, or wherever he’d find himself tonight, with his jeans sticking to his legs. The shirt came off, and he rubbed at the cuts, soaking up any excess blood he could find before pulling his pants back up.
“This was a mistake,” he mumbled. Vamp, who looked far too unfairly put together, folded his arms.
“Perhaps,” he said. Raiden glared at him, and wobbled on unsteady legs towards the door that led back into the bar. “And if you ever feel like making a similar one… Try to avoid getting kicked out of this place.”
Maybe if he drank enough, he would be able to forget this, too.