[But good thing he asked. He puts his cigarette out on his opposite forearm, then throws it away. No burn, just ash.]
What you do need to know is this. You can go all out on me. I want you to. [and he's not going to explain why. it's hardly something Cole would understand.] You can't kill me, not permanently. But I can die.
If that happens? [he lifts the bag.] You make sure what's inside this bag is the first thing I see. No matter what.
[He takes his phone out of his jacket pocket, then shrugs the jacket off and sets the phone right on top of it beside the bag. That's how nice he plans to be.
Settling into a loose, flexible stance, he stares right into Petre's eyes with a slightly demented light in his own.]
[Cole knows exactly what he means by that word, as Petre intended him to. Irony is one of his favorite pastimes, which brings it pretty close to getting his mouth and fists in a bloody mess. Be it caused by him or unto him.]
Punching bag ready.
[His stance is relaxed, a sort-of shrug when he lifts his hands to his sides, palms open and facing up.]
[It still feels so much like an act from Petre that Cole wishes he were a more artful fighter (a boxer, if he'd heard of them), but he just comes on like a steamroller and there's no difference this time. Instantly he's right in Petre's face, delivering a hard punch to his jaw and then a follow-up to his temple with the other hand. Getting a fistful of Petre's hair, he drags his head down so he's bent double and starts to unload on his abdomen, upper-cut after upper-cut right beneath his ribs and then down to his stomach. Already it's plain that he's wild, over the edge, but the killer instinct hasn't kicked in yet.]
[The punches land on him like a boulder, knocking him from side to side until he's being grabbed and forced to remain perfectly in place while his middle gets massacred. That Cole had this kind of destructive energy in him is no surprise, but there's definitely something very startled in the sounds that he releases, neither a cry nor a laugh. Already blood is flaring in his skin, pain throbbing and air knocked right out of his lungs. Had he eaten before this and he'd be probably throwing up.
But just because he told Cole he wouldn't break him in half, that doesn't mean he won't fight back at all. Maybe that makes him a shitty punching bag, but it does make things fun. So as soon as there's even the smallest opening his own hand is grabbing Cole by the throat and throwing him around and away.
[The toss sends him flying, only landing on his feet because his back hits a wall and it's his turn to be winded. Gasping for air, he snarls in Petre's direction - of course he'll fight back, and doesn't that make it so much better - before moving in for round two. This time he gets a solid backhand across Petre's face, hand closed so that his knuckles will hit hard, then bends slightly to get him around the middle and push him back into the wall. Immediately he's upright again, hand back in Petre's hair to knock his head against the wall: not aiming for unconsciousness, because they're just getting started, but at least disorientation.]
[There's a grin of victory on his face to see the way Cole's body is sent flying like a lifeless doll, back against the wall, still making it down to his feet before he's ready to fight back. Petre obediently stays in place to watch him close in again and he doesn't even pretend he's bracing for it, grinning at those bitchslaps before his skull is smashing against the wall behind him.
Fuck, he's insane. And so is Petre, given that he just starts to laugh.]
[That laughter makes him think of torture, just for a fleeting second - not just tying someone up and beating them, but the sharpened bamboo shoots he had shoved under his fingernails, real torture - before he reels himself in a little. Torture is only ever used for a solid purpose, not for enjoyment, and it's completely irrelevant here.
Petre's laugh is just so grating in this moment that it feels like a solid purpose, making him scream instead.
He grabs Petre by the collar, whirls him around and off the wall and brings a knee up to his abdomen this time. It's hard, too, and high enough that he might be aiming for broken ribs.]
[It's easy to tell Petre's being willingly maneuvered by him, not fighting back and instead just fighting to breathe. The more frustrated Cole gets the more vicious he'll become, so Petre hopes it's worth it for the show. See how much damage he can do before he thinks he's gone too far. Will Petre die? Will Cole get to see how he'll transform?
Another choked out sound, hysterical and reaching for air that's being knocked right out of him, and he does feel that horrible crack of bone breaking inside him. That's when he screams, that's when he falls down to his knees.
And that's when he lunges onwards towards Cole, spearing right through his stomach to throw him back on the ground and climb on top. One hand holds his own ribs, like he's trying to keep the bone in place, while the other swings around to punch Cole's jaw a couple of times, one right after the other.]
[Pinning him is not a good move (or maybe the best move). That is guaranteed to bring out the most vicious side of him, and sure enough, he just rolls his head with those hard punches until he can take advantage of the light pin; with only Petre's legs holding him in place, he's able to sit up, and he gets his hands on Petre's head, elbows anchored on his shoulders, in exactly the same way he did with Remy. About to twist his head right around and snap his neck.
Cole! A flurry of voices rush through his head, Sheva's and Connor's and Ramse's and - Cassie's, which finally stops him. Petre can die and return, but that doesn't mean Cole has to kill him. Or should. It can end here. He's...
... not relaxed, actually. He's breathing more heavily than ever, body throbbing with serious pain in several different spots, and he's... so turned on he can barely see straight. His hands dig deeper into Petre's hair where he's got it, and he lets out a frustrated growl before letting go and trying to shove Petre off him.]
I'm not doing this. I'm not killing you because you let me. [With a bit more distance between them, the high colour in his cheeks and blackout depth of his pupils is much more obvious. He couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything but aroused.]
[He's hissing now, baring his teeth with a snarl and a grimace when Cole comes up to retaliate. Not because he's tired, not because he's frustrated that this man is still fighting back - quite the opposite. Perhaps for the first time in his life Petre is fighting a human that feels more like a monster, relentless and nothing but furious instinct, and he loves it.
Even Caleb paled in comparison.
The moment of hesitation is enough for Petre to recuperate. His bones had immediately begun to heal themselves from the moment they were broken, but the pause helps with the relief. He breathes properly for the first time since the blow, and then the smile becomes different.
Cole is bleeding. That was Petre's intention when he punched him once and then twice across the mouth. He's not supposed to feed on people while he's in Eudio, but - the fight is fully consensual, and bleeding is an inevitability. What he does next is only a logical convenience. They'll understand. Predatory.
So he leans in after Cole's done, holding on to both sides of his neck to press his tongue to the corner of his mouth. He licks then sucks lightly on the blood, producing a sound that's obscenely similar to a moan. It tastes so good. It's been so long since he's had a taste of it - synthetic meat always comes in dry. It does the job but it doesn't compare.]
[Petre making a move on him is no surprise by this point, but the hot, wet pressure right where his lip has split followed by sucking on it - that stings in a way that's all too pleasant, making him utter a choked sound of his own before tangling his hands back in Petre's hair and kissing him fiercely. This is it, this is what it took: the chance to kill him, the conscious act of backing away, gave him the rush that's finally pushed him beyond caring about Petre's darker sides.
And yes, sides, because there are many.
He just wants a release in some form other than killing now, and there's one Petre's all too willing to give. So why not give in? Now, here, in a place and situation where all bets are off.]
[The taste of blood is more than enough to get Petre excited - added to the adrenaline of their fight running through his veins - but the moment Cole grabs his hair and presses his mouth right back is when he finally releases a pathetic sob. It's like he's sent himself into a trance and now Cole is upping the ante by giving in, loud and hard sensations rushing in every inch of his body.
Again Petre snarls, completely out of his mind, and both hands grasp Cole's shoulders to shove him back down on the ground. He stares right into his eyes with a possessive edge, then ducks down to smash their mouths together for a hungry kiss. The way he's straddling Cole makes it obvious he's quickly growing hard, rolling his hips with a moan. This is happening. Cole's giving in and he isn't telling him to back off. It's happening.
(He thinks of Caleb. How out of his mind Petre was when he forced him to fuck him, how profane the whole situation was, fueled by a horrible and destructive instinct that translated into sex.)
His hands crawl down to the bottom of his shirt, yanking it up and off Cole's body. Scars and muscle, sculpted by years of surviving amongst other animals, felt by the palms of his hands with utter reverence. There's some desperation in his quick breath, exhaling with a little sound that just reads as the culmination of utter frustration.]
[No one has to be worried about consent by this point, because Cole's half-crazy himself with his own adrenaline amping up higher and Petre rocking against him and their mouths pressed together hard enough to bruise. He wants this now, an end to the forever spiking and waning tension that surrounds everything in Eudio but especially the two of them. He wants to let go.
So he lifts his arms when Petre starts to take off his shirt, shivers under the touch of his hands before pushing back up against him again to sit up and tug at Petre's shirt in return. His mouth finds Petre's neck, the juncture of his shoulder, biting roughly and sucking on the skin. It'll just disappear anyway, right? Petre's healing worlds faster than he did.]
[A little growl and a grunt, hissing through bare teeth as Cole's own sink into his skin, leaving a red mark when he sucks. He might care a lot more about his appearance if it didn't all just heal back into immaculateness, so instead he just lets anyone do just about anything they want and laughs through it.
Soon as the other man stops to speak, Petre flashes a Cheshire-smile, gaze relaxed. He cups Cole's face, then the hand runs down to his collarbone and chest, back to the sensation of muscles and scar beneath his palm. Petre lowers himself too, now positioned over Cole's thighs to start working on his pants, unbuttoning and shoving them down to reveal the bulge pushing against the fabric of his underwear. His hand presses down again to massage it for a moment. Then his mouth finds skin and dots his abdomen with kisses and swipes of his tongue. Just warmth and wetness, all for him, until the waistband of his boxers is pulled down too.
Petre still needs to get rid of the bottom half of his own clothes, but that's not quite as prompt. Let him just. Jerk the other man off to get him to full hardness, all the while keeping their mouths busy.]
[Cole is nothing but eager when Petre's hands finally reach his pants, arching his hips up to make it easlier to slide them down. The combination of his hand working and the wet heat of his mouth on skin makes Cole gasp, wonder wildly how long it really has been since he's done this before he brings himself back to the moment, the way he's swelling hard and fast under Petre's hand. And it only doubles when his boxers come off and the hand's finally right on him, earning a grunt and a much harder arch upward.
His kisses are nearly violent by the time Petre finds his mouth again, drawing blood on Petre's teeth and tongue because he can't control his own teeth, or because he crushes their mouths together so roughly that the inside gets torn open. Need, need, he's all base need now and how it happens doesn't matter in the slightest. He can't imagine anything that would give him pause.]
C'mon, Petre. [He gasps it out between kisses.] You got me. Show me what to do.
[There's a loud complaint when Cole is rough enough to draw blood inside Petre's mouth. It doesn't stop either on of them, though; instead he just continues to stroke him hard and fast, pressing his hips up against him in a forceful thrust that squeezes his own hand between their bodies.
At the provocation he chuckles, still breathless, licking the blood off his lips. So he sits up and gets rid of any piece of clothing still in the way and straddles Cole properly, palm heavy and flat on his chest. For the following moments all he does is roll his hips, both their cocks in the hold of his hand, shifting up and down. With it he breathes shallowly, uttering small moans every other second. He's wondering how to do this without any lube at the ready, lest it hurt Cole so much it cuts their fling off short. Never mind himself.
[It's a bit of a surprise to him, how aesthetically pleasing the whole thing is: Petre hovering over him, sleek and golden, big hand holding both of their cocks while the movements of their hips create the friction he so desperately needs. His full, parted lips, his arrogant eyes. He didn't think about being in this for looks, because he spent so long not thinking about attractive men at all, but there are many levels on which he likes this. They make a pretty picture from his angle, and that causes him to lick his own lips and let out a low moan of his own.
Of course Petre prods at him, though. Of course.]
You know - hngh - how arbitrary years were until I started time travelling? Shit. A long time.
[He doesn't quite laugh, mouth instead hanging open when he releases a breath that mixes in with a moan. His hips rock right against Cole's, whole body shifting to their own rhythm, releasing just a drop of pre-come into his hand.]
Let's make up for all that lost time then.
[He lets go, breathing hard, and gets up on his knees. Pushes one finger into Cole's mouth to press down his tongue and lips, his cock between Petre's asscheeks.]
[He's got no idea what's happening with that finger, so he tries to turn his head and get it out of there as if Petre might be trying to gag him - until he thinks that maybe he's supposed to suck on it. Still not sure why, he does so, trying not to moan even more deeply around it when his cock fits perfectly into Petre's cleft like that. God, whatever's happening, he just wants it to happen now; his hands move to Petre's ass, nails sinking in hard, and he rocks into the warmth of his soft skin impatiently.]
[He laughs a little at Cole's initial reaction, giving way to a sultry change of mind. Petre groans in response, still smiling, riding him dryly for a moment longer before re-positioning himself, taking hold of Cole's cock, and lowering his body with a painful cry. It's... going to hurt for the both of them. But they can handle pain, can't they.]
[There's not a drop of pleasure in his voice at that. It's horrible, so tight it's excruciating and rough against his skin. Petre must be tearing open inside, he thinks. Is this really how it's done? Is this meant to be any sort of enjoyable? He breathes harshly through his nose, trying to keep hold of the core of pleasure inside him through the pain, and somehow he doesn't soften right in Petre's ass.]
Yeah - yeah - [He rolls his hips regardless, continues through the pain, grabbing Cole hard because there is no way he's turning away now.] It'll get better, c'mon, don't stop -
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[But good thing he asked. He puts his cigarette out on his opposite forearm, then throws it away. No burn, just ash.]
What you do need to know is this. You can go all out on me. I want you to. [and he's not going to explain why. it's hardly something Cole would understand.] You can't kill me, not permanently. But I can die.
If that happens? [he lifts the bag.] You make sure what's inside this bag is the first thing I see. No matter what.
Tell me you got that.
no subject
Yeah, I got it. [This is feeling like a really, really bad idea again. And yet again, it's come from and to Petre.] Just leave it close by.
no subject
[Close by it is. He drops the thing on the ground with a dull thud, then rolls his shoulders back.]
If that doesn't work, you need to call someone who can help you. Someone who can handle a demon.
[And after all those warnings, Petre suddenly smiles.]
But I'm sure it won't come to that. We'll be nice.
no subject
[He takes his phone out of his jacket pocket, then shrugs the jacket off and sets the phone right on top of it beside the bag. That's how nice he plans to be.
Settling into a loose, flexible stance, he stares right into Petre's eyes with a slightly demented light in his own.]
Ready?
no subject
Punching bag ready.
[His stance is relaxed, a sort-of shrug when he lifts his hands to his sides, palms open and facing up.]
no subject
no subject
But just because he told Cole he wouldn't break him in half, that doesn't mean he won't fight back at all. Maybe that makes him a shitty punching bag, but it does make things fun. So as soon as there's even the smallest opening his own hand is grabbing Cole by the throat and throwing him around and away.
He just needs a breather, that's all.]
no subject
no subject
Fuck, he's insane. And so is Petre, given that he just starts to laugh.]
no subject
Petre's laugh is just so grating in this moment that it feels like a solid purpose, making him scream instead.
He grabs Petre by the collar, whirls him around and off the wall and brings a knee up to his abdomen this time. It's hard, too, and high enough that he might be aiming for broken ribs.]
no subject
Another choked out sound, hysterical and reaching for air that's being knocked right out of him, and he does feel that horrible crack of bone breaking inside him. That's when he screams, that's when he falls down to his knees.
And that's when he lunges onwards towards Cole, spearing right through his stomach to throw him back on the ground and climb on top. One hand holds his own ribs, like he's trying to keep the bone in place, while the other swings around to punch Cole's jaw a couple of times, one right after the other.]
no subject
Cole! A flurry of voices rush through his head, Sheva's and Connor's and Ramse's and - Cassie's, which finally stops him. Petre can die and return, but that doesn't mean Cole has to kill him. Or should. It can end here. He's...
... not relaxed, actually. He's breathing more heavily than ever, body throbbing with serious pain in several different spots, and he's... so turned on he can barely see straight. His hands dig deeper into Petre's hair where he's got it, and he lets out a frustrated growl before letting go and trying to shove Petre off him.]
I'm not doing this. I'm not killing you because you let me. [With a bit more distance between them, the high colour in his cheeks and blackout depth of his pupils is much more obvious. He couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything but aroused.]
no subject
Even Caleb paled in comparison.
The moment of hesitation is enough for Petre to recuperate. His bones had immediately begun to heal themselves from the moment they were broken, but the pause helps with the relief. He breathes properly for the first time since the blow, and then the smile becomes different.
Cole is bleeding. That was Petre's intention when he punched him once and then twice across the mouth. He's not supposed to feed on people while he's in Eudio, but - the fight is fully consensual, and bleeding is an inevitability. What he does next is only a logical convenience. They'll understand. Predatory.
So he leans in after Cole's done, holding on to both sides of his neck to press his tongue to the corner of his mouth. He licks then sucks lightly on the blood, producing a sound that's obscenely similar to a moan. It tastes so good. It's been so long since he's had a taste of it - synthetic meat always comes in dry. It does the job but it doesn't compare.]
no subject
And yes, sides, because there are many.
He just wants a release in some form other than killing now, and there's one Petre's all too willing to give. So why not give in? Now, here, in a place and situation where all bets are off.]
no subject
Again Petre snarls, completely out of his mind, and both hands grasp Cole's shoulders to shove him back down on the ground. He stares right into his eyes with a possessive edge, then ducks down to smash their mouths together for a hungry kiss. The way he's straddling Cole makes it obvious he's quickly growing hard, rolling his hips with a moan. This is happening. Cole's giving in and he isn't telling him to back off. It's happening.
(He thinks of Caleb. How out of his mind Petre was when he forced him to fuck him, how profane the whole situation was, fueled by a horrible and destructive instinct that translated into sex.)
His hands crawl down to the bottom of his shirt, yanking it up and off Cole's body. Scars and muscle, sculpted by years of surviving amongst other animals, felt by the palms of his hands with utter reverence. There's some desperation in his quick breath, exhaling with a little sound that just reads as the culmination of utter frustration.]
Fuck me.
no subject
So he lifts his arms when Petre starts to take off his shirt, shivers under the touch of his hands before pushing back up against him again to sit up and tug at Petre's shirt in return. His mouth finds Petre's neck, the juncture of his shoulder, biting roughly and sucking on the skin. It'll just disappear anyway, right? Petre's healing worlds faster than he did.]
Show me how.
[It's happening.]
no subject
Soon as the other man stops to speak, Petre flashes a Cheshire-smile, gaze relaxed. He cups Cole's face, then the hand runs down to his collarbone and chest, back to the sensation of muscles and scar beneath his palm. Petre lowers himself too, now positioned over Cole's thighs to start working on his pants, unbuttoning and shoving them down to reveal the bulge pushing against the fabric of his underwear. His hand presses down again to massage it for a moment. Then his mouth finds skin and dots his abdomen with kisses and swipes of his tongue. Just warmth and wetness, all for him, until the waistband of his boxers is pulled down too.
Petre still needs to get rid of the bottom half of his own clothes, but that's not quite as prompt. Let him just. Jerk the other man off to get him to full hardness, all the while keeping their mouths busy.]
no subject
His kisses are nearly violent by the time Petre finds his mouth again, drawing blood on Petre's teeth and tongue because he can't control his own teeth, or because he crushes their mouths together so roughly that the inside gets torn open. Need, need, he's all base need now and how it happens doesn't matter in the slightest. He can't imagine anything that would give him pause.]
C'mon, Petre. [He gasps it out between kisses.] You got me. Show me what to do.
no subject
At the provocation he chuckles, still breathless, licking the blood off his lips. So he sits up and gets rid of any piece of clothing still in the way and straddles Cole properly, palm heavy and flat on his chest. For the following moments all he does is roll his hips, both their cocks in the hold of his hand, shifting up and down. With it he breathes shallowly, uttering small moans every other second. He's wondering how to do this without any lube at the ready, lest it hurt Cole so much it cuts their fling off short. Never mind himself.
But when did Cole ever flinch away from pain.]
How long has it been, Cole?
[His turn to provoke.]
no subject
Of course Petre prods at him, though. Of course.]
You know - hngh - how arbitrary years were until I started time travelling? Shit. A long time.
no subject
Let's make up for all that lost time then.
[He lets go, breathing hard, and gets up on his knees. Pushes one finger into Cole's mouth to press down his tongue and lips, his cock between Petre's asscheeks.]
no subject
no subject
no subject
[There's not a drop of pleasure in his voice at that. It's horrible, so tight it's excruciating and rough against his skin. Petre must be tearing open inside, he thinks. Is this really how it's done? Is this meant to be any sort of enjoyable? He breathes harshly through his nose, trying to keep hold of the core of pleasure inside him through the pain, and somehow he doesn't soften right in Petre's ass.]
- shit, that hurts -
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)