When the doors slide open to the back entrance of the lobby, the warm lumen-light was only slightly less blinding than it had been in the parking lot. Calix’s eyes barely dilate, tense as he was with the pain of walking. The pain of his tortured body having been through so much.
He wonders if it would all be over soon, for better or worse. He wonders if Aezhyrrael’s manipulation was truly all just domestication to earn himself a spy. Calix wonders if when the morning comes, he’ll oblige him in fear.

He pauses at the corner to the elevator hallways that crossed to the left and right, stiff suddenly. He recalled something- something rather vital.

With a sigh under eyes closed in frustration of a plan gone awry he says,
“wait here.” And proceeds past the hallway and into the lobby. Yes, he knew how he looked. He saw the camera in the corner, imagined the look on security’s face as they leaned forward to the monitor screen barely recognising him.

Before he opens his eyes, he imagines Dolly’s widening look before he hears her voice split his ears.

“Fellner, what the fuck did you do this time? Blind me, what the hell!?”

Calix approaches the cold marble counter, probably looking like death, opening his eyes to the usual sight. Dolores Vance, night shift at the counter almost every night of the week. Always smoking, dropping the cigarette below the counter whenever she suspected it might get her scolded. The mature lines of her face were pulled taut in a quite reasonable measure of horror.

Actually- Perhaps that’s too much? Her eyes, he notes suddenly, were not on him now. They were— Fuck.

“I thought I told you to wait over there?” Calix growls.

“He’s with you?” Dolly rasps in disbelief, unable to take her dull eyes off the Draihari that shadowed him.

“Look, I… Need another key.” He rumbles, turning toward the counter again.
Dolly fixes him with a look so incredulous he felt suddenly younger than he was. She did tease him an awful lot as it was and tonight. Well, tonight he was too tired.

“Another one, Fellner?” She asks without inflection. “And you’re bringing Draihari to your flat now? While… covered in what I’m assuming is blood?” She leans over the counter somewhat to appraise the state of him with a hand on her hip. “What have you been getting into lately, kid?”

Calix sighs in exasperation. “You know I don’t bring anyone to my apartment, Dolly.” He clears his throat weakly. “And I’ll thank you for not telling anyone about this.”

“Uh huh.” She answers with a raised brow. “’Kay, that’s one replacement key,” She says, finally leaning away and rifling behind the counter as the trail of smoke erupting from her nose tailed her movements, “for… one walking sitcom.” She offers a pearly card over the counter with worn fingers.

Calix reaches for it while giving her a stern look. Dolly had always been true to her word, he decides. Never charged him for his lost cards. She let slip once that her ex-husband got into too much trouble for his own good with a hint of sadness or nostalgia on her damaged voice. Without thinking more about it, he mutters a thank you and turns.

And limps past Aezhyrrael toward the elevators.

“Follow.” He says, low.

Dolly strains to lean over the counter to watch their departure with barely veiled disbelief.

There was no sensation in deprivation here-- only the burning lumen-fire as it glared a terrible empyrean stain over the land around it. Where starless night gave way to suffering divine, this complex extinguished the shadows from every corner.

Aezhyrrael defers to Calix's lead in the moments that their nearness to stainless glass and blinding magnificence rose the pulse in his chest, eyes narrowed in silhouette not so coy anymore.

It contracts his pupils to the coldest little slits as he struggles with a hiss as the doors to the hallway part.

Inner thoughts were lost in such a sanctum but the coy fangs return when Calix sighs.

Wait here.

Aezhyrrael does. For some moments before long legs simply continue as they did and he follows him down the hallway into a lobby devoid of all soul. Some plants that were almost synthetic set into decorative stone islands.

For moments he follows him to the nothingness of pale oblivion and peers over him to the creature beyond. A single lone hyuron at the counter with paws on a cigarette- blunt claws hidden behind a marble desk.

The sound of her horrendous. Aezhyrrael thinks he should approach and tell Calix that she was no matter and that he would simply tell him to await as he takes care of the problem himself.

Eye boring predatory designs into her as he stands behind Calix just a little closer. Senses overwhelmed on the crunching of the paper in his companion's bloody hand. His voice clarity amidst so much noise.

The terror on the mroth'fli behind the table was palpable to ecstasy and nervousness and Aezhyrrael bares fangs at her with a grin absorbed in her fear.

It creases the corners of his thin lips, fangs clenching when Calix turns.

I thought I told you--

"You did." He breathes.

And he did wait.

In Calix's domain he would do so very little. A shadow slavering in intent overhead, and he does not hide it as eyes suddenly not so bright watch on. Face and forearms perhaps glowing sickly beneath such scrutinising light.

Were he to glance downward at Calix, he would be forced to regard his own limbs in the corner of his eye and he hardly recognised his own flesh.

Lips still curl in challenge when she moves, imposed upon suddenly. Conversation a cacophony of tedium.

The exchange of a card is some relief. Aezhyrrael knew what that was for.

Follow.

He awaits him and then does.

And does not wait for them to depart the lobby before he hisses from his throat in melodrama.

"Are all your kind so grating to the senses, gauri?" He scoffs, the echo rancid between clinical glass and white walls.

"I think I begin to see why you sought me out."

Said as he skulks behind him in abeyance, shoulders and head dropping towards his creature as he follows him. The limp compelling degenerate affection within.

The eyes behind were not lost on them both.

Aezhyrrael squints as he looks through to the complex's dead guts ahead and he revels in the ambient pain shooting through his own nerves with every step, eyes on his creature. Eyes on the food bag and the card.

"Are you struggling?" He asks, venomous- a little playful. As he takes plaintive steps next to him, following, prowling effortlessly down the corridor until they reach the elevators. Not so different from the eldar's designs but primal. Efficient and opalescent. Designed to recall everything by simplest basal memory.

And reaches with a claw to summon the elevator himself first, a questionable look given.

Are all your kind so grating to the senses, Gauri. I think I begin to see why you sought me out.

Calix barely smiles. “Some more than others.” He relents with some make of good nature as he rounds the corner to the elevator hallway- not deigning to answer the second prodding comment. At least something went according to plan tonight. He lifts his card-hand toward the elevator’s call button but pauses mid-motion when it was Aezhyrrael who pressed it first. Calix offers an apprehensive, narrow look up at him from under a stern brow.

Are you struggling? It prickled his nape, this question. It was likely not meant in any specificity and that’s precisely how he takes it. Was he? Somewhat. Some aspects of this arrangement were harder to swallow than others.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” He mutters. “Only for a lack of options do I relent.”

The elevator door parts to reveal a sparkling interiour, the wall inside a polished mirror. Calix, about to step inside, couldn’t stop himself from halting to take in the sight of them. For the first time tonight in the clearest of lumen-light, every detail illuminated. He meets his own gaze first, bewildered exhausted ringed under the eyes by fatigue. Aezhyrrael, so much taller than himself, not seemingly much worse for wear. His own blazer, open shirt and trousers mussed to particular non-presentability and soaked in blood.

He sees now why Dolly gawked at him the way she had. He looked dreadful. And he steps inside, turning around and tapping the eight on the panel with a curled knuckle. His arm clutching the bag trembled to the shoulder.

The doors slid neatly shut in near-silence and enclose them together yet once more. Seconds drag on into a minute before they open and he steps out briskly into the residential hallway.

In a contrast to the lobby and public areas of the building, the residential areas were like the hidden black guts. Sleeker, black and grey, more intimate. The lumen strips here were warmer and perhaps less painful to Draihari night-eyes. Calix proceeded to one particular door and wonders how much of today he’s apt to forget. How much of it will be fugue in his mind. Pressing the card to the panel on the door, he sighs from his nose upon hearing the familiar click. The gentle light that let one know the door was unlocked.

He brushes it open and almost steps inside before, once again, he pauses. And glances over his shoulder with a wary side-eye. Saying nothing, he feels that this warning look sufficed and led the way within, leaving the door open for his ‘guest.’

Lights slide on elegantly, from dim to warm light and cast the shapes within to relief. Sleek dark grey, all things. Marble counter tops were lined with the minimalism of enough metallic diningware for one only. In fact, aside from the wilted roses and wine bottle above the sink, looking over anything in Calix’s apartment would reveal a lack of any clutter at all. There was so little here.

His steps lead into the dark beyond the entry where his silhouette blotted out the lights of Theastone beyond the darkened glass that stretched the full length of the wall. It allowed a dizzying sight of all Hyuron industry, the bay glittering with ships that came in late at night and towers gridded in work that never slept. The tide was rolling into shore in silent undulations.

Calix sets the bag down on the sideboard behind a grey, squared sofa of modernist lines along with the keycard. Nearby, an armchair in the same style laid in some messy throws. No dust. No smudges on glass or marble. No dirty clothes or food left out. Calix liked taking care of problems as they surfaced.

“I would tell you to make yourself comfortable but I’d prefer you didn’t, if I’m honest.” He says as he reaches carefully for his shoulders. First order of business was getting the blazer off and… And he’s not sure he had the energy for any of the tasks he really should see to. Such as a shower? Dressing his wounds? With a heavy sigh, he drops to sit on the corner of the sofa.

And finally- Finally he allows himself to feel the pain. He groans and leans back with his blazer on his lap, neck rolling against the back cushion with a deadened look at the ceiling.

“You’re not going to kill me now, are you?” He asks levelly upwards.

Aezhyrrael was bidden to his captor's steps, from lobby to halls terribly pristine. Cleansing to the senses in how it slewed the mind in opalescent scrutiny.

A shadow raising beneath his own hand meets Calix's gaze to his own as it rolls languidly towards the flash of silver.

Like moonlight bound within a gem bound within suffering, flecks of a dark night trapped within.

I know what you're trying to do.--

"Oho?" A cold breath.

Only for a lack of options do I relent.

A tight-lipped sound pleasured itself with its own echo for moments only stopped by the whirring of a new mechanism. Crystalline prison within bidding the soul closer to its mirrors as it could have well beckoned his body inside to death for what he was.

Claws flexing at his sides a little more intentionally, Aezhyrrael joins his creature within. With a step longer than usual and hackles raised at reflections in the mirror.

Blood in calculated rivulets dried down the thigh of Calix's slacks beneath still a blazer torn by its dance with thorns not hours before. Bruised by blood prickling through the teeth of it.

White so much prettier when blackened in viscera.

He recalls the conversation with the shrill hyuron while they stand, nerves wincing as the doors close, the destination given.

How often did these mirrors partake of such feasts?

Mortal seconds spiral into empyrean abyss in Aezhyrrael's mind and the pressure does not cease as they rise. Silence a little more disturbed. If he breathed he felt no air return to him. Perhaps the ribs paralysed or the mind easily frayed by dissatisfaction. The sensation enough to draw his gaze over the white flash in the mirror and then down at the very real visage beside himself.

A heel shifting as nails struggle to latch on to anything at his own sides.

When the prison bears the maw of the next corridor to them, Aezhyrrael's skulking form makes to be out in just a little less curiosity. Sweatless nerves a little more ablaze.

Deprivation horrendous just now.

The tremor of the paper bag awakens him all at once and liminal monochrome is a little more exciting in his desire to leave it.

Aezhyrrael lingers a little closer still and imagines the echo of blood from not hours before as card argues with lock to open. A look exchanged reciprocated with something coy and cold. Teeth returning.

I will wait, said with eyes boring through the threshold into soulless grey emerging from the darkness before them both.

Like old stone. A cliff off Niskerra, perhaps, is how he would describe this. Though squared away with all the efficiency of hyuron obedience like a den carved from apathy itself and never stepped within. A great canvas of sea and false stars in dignified heat death lay beyond.

Aezhyrrael helps himself within and the door closed also, the catch of the lock unwelcome. A distant, dying rosebush lingered upon for longer than only a moment and observed in a place that it simply did not belong.

Decapitated from the source and set down to rot.

A corpse that would not be here cycles from now.

He was already shrugging the pitch blazer from his stiff shoulders as the second set of mismatched things in this condominium are joined upon a surface just behind a central lounge.

I would tell you--

The cackle comes first, a little less cold. A little sharper as it cuts its own throat as quickly.

"Ohnn... I am already so very comfortable, my little gauri." He answers first, his blazer discarded. The body of the fabric rolls once over the arm of the sofa they stood by and Aezhyrrael follows Calix, lingering, angling himself over him as Calix removes his own blazer.

Claws in methodical intent that can only beg in suspense wait to be allowed to tear Calix's linens apart, clawing his own pale skin as he rolls up the sleeves of a black turtleneck.

The allowance does not come. And so very patiently also, Aezhyrrael's tongue presses behind his teeth and his eyes drift downwards. Blood and exhaustion ecstatic in afterglow.

To devour it with desire- he would do that. Seldom willing to do another thing. The glare of the lumen itself oppressed his senses and his eyes flicker from man to window. Some blade of discomfort nicking at the nerves that dared to discern it.

Eyes moving down to the exposed throat, sensation slaked in blood.

It almost tempts him lower.

You're not going to kill me now, are you?

Be it that they would both be slaughtered in this pristine design of a trap, if it were that- Aezhyrrael breathes.

"And offer you the release your soul begs for?" He answers.

Excitement in the after burned through his own muscles as Calix relaxed- compelling Aezhyrrael over him. Stepping, leaning just enough to repress. Enlivened by the voice.

Why did he ache?

Eldar oversensation. A desire for longer torture.

His gaze lidded as he presses a claw to the spine of the sofa and leans over him and dares him to throw him off. An arch of a long spine would see him near enough to be shoved if his host deigned to do so.

Eyes lidding as that talon curls next to Calix's head, resisting gripping his hair and tugging him around. A little easier to see when he did not look directly into lumen-fire's glow.

"Are you hungry, my pet?" He growls then. "Perhaps you would deign to finish that which fuels you. This number five laced in poison."

Obliging him in his den to what the hyuron body lived on.

And obliging himself to pleasured recollection of his torture. Their night was not yet done.

He also.

Nnngh.

Contended with strange feelings. Strange talons within himself.

"Allow me."

Perhaps he was fatigued also.

He could claw him open. He could. He would not. A purr in the chest as he reaches for the bag and grips it, another set of holes punctured with a cruel tearing.

As Calix leaned back, his eyes come to briefly pass over Aezhyrrael. Divested of his own blazer now, Calix could see just how slender he really was. How pale his arms were as he rolled up his sleeves. He was too worn to find the gesture threatening as he ordinarily would have. The last time a man stood over him and rolled up his sleeves, he had a bad night then, too.

And offer you the release your soul begs for?

Calix’s eyes remain up at the dim ceiling. Perhaps it was the exhaustion. The late hour. But he earnestly needed to ask himself if that would be welcome. He blinks slowly as a micro-expression that betrays little washed over his features in a whisper.

He exhaled, eyes closing in focus, his breath hitching as he extends his bloody leg, heel blunt against the dark laminate. Feeling the dip of the cushion at his neck saw him opening his eyes to his guest’s nearer proximity. What fire remained in his body saw him jerk.

“Blind me…” He curses with a breath. “No, I-…” The reminder of the poison nudged a genuine curl into his lip. Something about Aezhyrrael’s tone saw his shoulders drop back down.

Allow me.

Calix rolls his eyes toward him with a soft grimace and holds the look. He didn’t think he could eat right now, he really didn’t. But perhaps some defiant part of him relented for a moment long enough as he turns a palm over, middle fingers gently gesturing for the proffered food.

“Fine.” He answers, mostly air. “If you really want to help me, you’ll fetch the antiseptic from the bath. And the bottle over there on the counter.” Finally, a use for Lord Aurastor’s gifts, he thinks.

“Did you even aim? Or am I just lucky you didn’t hit me in a majour artery?” He questions weakly, leg complaining with a pounding in defiance of his having walked on it. Less excruciating than just earlier but only just.

“Oh… Didn’t even think about-…” He muttered mostly to himself as he shifts his hips in a failed attempt to check if he’d just irreparably stained his sofa in blood.

Eyes that do not meet his own are not the positively enraging things seeking the end merely hours ago. Empty in their attention simply now. Apathy also, he thought as he looked upon him.

The cruelty lessened offered a wince of pleasure to the man's features now, the blink returned in imperceptible thought. Something within exhaustion also willing him to stay put. Willing him to be as though hidden in the comfort of shadow- even while lumen glared above them, spine tremendously exposed to anything in his imagination that might come.

He takes advantage of moments in silence to admire him even with eyes closed. Noticing his beauty for perhaps the first time while it was unmarred: face and flesh a handsome thing when left alone, wasn't it. Bewildering to his senses. The very nature of him left Aezhyrrael unsure at his own desires.

The eyes open again with a gaze far kinder than reflective marble even still. Even as he recoils and sends arcelectric through the draihar's spine to be atop him, a growl of play simply cut short.

The claw tightens over the cushion and Aezhyrrael demands he eat. Insisting then before he can answer that he would assist him.

This game of equals was easily more furious than that he had come here at all with some desire of play staking him from within.

Defeat, then. As clear as the darkest night as a hand raises between their faces to join them. It rolls over and presents with a gesture that sets Aezhyrrael's nape stiff in excitement.

Fine.

He obeys and sets the entire bag eagerly onto the hand offered. With a cackle serpentine; horrendous.

Lingering overlong atop him before he sank away like an unwilling spider from prey. Unwilling as he sensed the pain within himself in sobering waves when Calix shifted his wound in defiance. Such black trickery within his own mind, he thought.

Without adrenaline, it was raw suffering. Tiresome and pleasurable.

"Ohhhn- with pleasure." Aezhyrrael purrs, eyes drawn to several counters. All pristine. It was not a hard thing to see the bottle he sought and Aezhyrrael could guess as its use with comfortable familiarity.

He would not quite spare him of further torture yet. The bathroom first.

He was stepping away with a loping and enthused stride towards the bathroom when asked then and he does not deliberate the answer as another pulse of gentle pain rings through his nerves from leg to spine.

Aezhyrrael makes a nasty little noise all the way into the bathroom until not another sound would be heard- except the rattling of claws through objects. Cabinets pulled open, bottles moved around.

The bathroom light turned off just before his search when Aezhyrrael's eyes decided they were tired of the glowing lumen-blaze.

Items toyed with by grasping fingers searching for Calix's desire until he finds it. And other treats with it. Not so much here that was not entirely necessary for the somatic experiences of bathing a vessel of flesh but.

An unhidden bottle of lube catches his eye with a glimmer first and then the antiseptic. A clinical bottle of Spectra-granted curse upon the flesh, the label recognised well enough.

Claws dancing over several manners of things. Things he could not bring him. Would he sit still for wrapping the wound? Perhaps not at all. But would he for the removal of his pants and an opportunistic rest upon his good leg? Perhaps he could do that.

Aezhyrrael emerges with the antiseptic first and appears behind the couch, teeth baring as he leans over its back- over the counter- to claw the shoulders writhing on the couch.

"You expect so little of me, mroth'fli. Is this because you are afraid that you live?" He sighs clear first.

The antiseptic slid down into his lap with some care. Claws curling over the shoulders likened to stone in their tension before he lets go. A hand hovering featherlight over the white streak before leaving Calix entirely. Eyes on the blood beneath them and he, pleasured, did not doubt the brand it left behind.

He pauses overhead and turns sidelong and not before observing the food in the creature's hand. Are you going to consume it, Calix?

"It has never been my intention to kill you. Torture you to madness for your disruptions, perhaps..."

And now make use of that lube of yours also.

The answer fades in distraction as Aezhyrrael pulls himself away and he skulks to the next thing. Mind turning towards the lube again in ecstatic curiosity dulled by the apartment's smog.

Naturally, Calix was tired. His torture and loyalties torn deep this day. Less fun for a creature who thrived on the wails and writhing of agonised thrill.

The bottle is taken with a tapping against long claws that do not assist freeing the drink of its prison- obeying with it presented to the wounded lap. Firstly over Calix's shoulder as his own arms wrap around him overhead in grotesque desire once again.

"Do not flatter yourself with the lifeblood of your own death. I would not allow such a thing. You will endure what is given to you only." Aezhyrrael quickly says into an ear with a growl as he slides the drink down over the good leg, eyes drawn to the injured one.

Said as the creature takes the antiseptic from Calix and intends to force the lid apart himself- eyes down. Gaze locked on the chest rising and lowering back rhythmically. Terror not so oppressive and delectable to taste, now.

Eyeing the food in the hand and craning his neck closer over a shoulder, regarding it with a flare of nostrils first. Hands and lap occupied by the food given even while the bag sat amongst apparati meant for release. No such depressing of the nerves when take-out was concerned, Aezhyrrael surmised.

"Your mythical number five... that which you have still deigned not to tell me about." Aezhyrrael growls at him, performative and throaty. He grips him for an answer with a hard stare. Eyes distracted by fluffy muscle and such pristinely cut fur. Colours entirely pleasurable- obviously meant for a prince of such divinities.

He could admire Calix's face and arms second, all aesthetic perfection to his own senses.

"If the poison bites falsely after all, I may even eat mine also." He complains with a smirk as his free claw drops and begins to rifle through the bag also, purposefully as he drags away fries and tissues with claws buried out of sight. Imagining flesh.

Imagining some quiet in this apartment where he could do no such thing to the senses.

Calix feels the entire bag placed on his hand and he rolls his neck sidelong with a soft disapproval. Without further movement, his eyes flicker to Aezhyrrael’s and narrow. And, as if it expended great effort- and it did- he reaches with his free hand to fetch the prize within the destroyed bag, lengths of paper hanging limp from its torn mouth. He relates desperately to the sight.

He almost regretted sending Aezhyrrael off into the depths of his apartment unattended and listens to the pattern of his steps. The flick of the lights. The rifling through his cabinets. He trusted that, despite Aezhyrrael’s clueless handling of Arunaic banknotes that he would be able to find the antiseptic without too much trouble. And hopefully not destroy his home in the process.

Aezhyrrael would find Calix’s bathroom spotlessly clean. Moreso than even the apartment outside. There were no stocked-up supplies or great collections of things. He seemed to have only what was needed but what was there seemed to be chosen with care. Either luxury brands or things touting how natural they were with a lack of syntheticism that pervaded so much of Hyuron society. Each and every container or bottle placed with the label out, including the lube.

Meanwhile, in the den, Calix had his fingers set at his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons with fingers clumsier than usual. His belt, undone. His face, hot from the discomfort of company unwanted and pain both. He senses Aezhyrrael’s approach rather than hearing him and turns to peer out of his peripheral with a silver side-eye.

You expect so little of me, mroth’fli.

Aezhyrrael’s talons come to reach for his shoulders and he leans away from them with a half-hearted grimace but couldn’t avoid the grip. The bottle of antiseptic slid down into his lap and he grunts- bad thigh nudged to complaint. He fixes Aezhyrrael with a look of apprehension. What do you mean, he almost asks, and then glances at the little box off Aezhyrrael’s look that contained the mythical number five that so perplexed his company.

He sighs and reaches for it.

It has never been my intention to kill you.

Aezhyrrael pulls away and Calix carefully unfolds the box. Within, nothing more or less impressive than a golden bun folded over a trout patty blanketed in greenery. Peppers and veridian sauce entangled with sprouts. It was. Fine. He forces himself to take a bite carefully balanced over the box. He didn’t need more filth on the couch.

“And so why haven’t you?” He asks after he swallows. His voice uncomfortable. Almost nauseous. He reaches eagerly for the wine as it comes into view, the neck strangled as teeth came to secure the cork. With a struggle, it releases with a shunk. So preoccupied was he that he didn’t notice Aezhyrrael had come to almost curl about his shoulders in a possessive encircling.

The mouth of the wine bottle hovers at his lips as he pauses, lidded eyes sliding over to regard the nose and mouth in profile. You will endure what is given to you only. Calix rolls his neck gently, vertebrae popping softly, audibly, as he takes a long drink. And shivers against the cushion. And this time allows the claws to stay as he continues to swallow the wine. The intention wasn’t to taste it.

When he finally lowers it, ears buzzing, he glances at the mentioned ‘number five’ seemingly unbothered by Aezhyrrael’s insistent gripping.

“Try it, then. Is it not obvious what it is? Mountain fish and greens.” He grumbles back, aware of eyes on him so intently and yet, he trusted this not to end in more bloodshed. “Cease your pawing and fetch us a towel from the kitchen.”

His own sandwich and the wine- now half empty- were set back upon the sideboard as he clipped a nail under the cap of the antiseptic. He was already a mess and decided not to wait for the arrival of a towel before he tips it over his chest first, catching the excess in a hand resting under the deep cut- now clotted- that tore him before folding it over the damage.

He extends his free hand for the towel he expects.

And so why haven't you?

Aezhyrrael's eyes linger over-long on the gouge in the sandwich as he presents the wine over a shoulder with a hand that hesitated to let go just yet. The sight of blunt teeth through the meat- he scented the fish with a sigh as he sneers overhead- prickling thrill.

Intensity in pleasured senses draws Aezhyrrael closer, nearer over in a swathe of black amidst sanitised imitation stone.

"First," he begins, pausing instantly as he watches on with a claw hovering at a shoulder.

"You are useful to me. I have told you why." He breathes.

As Aezhyrrael peers over him, his eyes catch the split-hair running over Calix's chest and his claws seize his shoulders in black pleasure.

"Second."

That he had captured him had been no accident.

Silence comes willing and severe as Aezhyrrael's eyes flicker predatory to the slender mouth captured around the glass. He does not continue.

As wine disappears within and the silhouette of his throat rises to meet it in such willing indulgence, pale eyes flickering to meet mouth and throat in willing desperation. The claws around his shoulders tap his bare flesh with nails.

The scent of blood drying and sterilisation overwhelming in pleasure.

In mortal moments shared he admired the lines from jaw to cheek in miserable musculature, pretty eyes glazed in concentration or perhaps release.

Try it, then. Is it not obvious what it is?

He blinks, and then smirks and stops his own breath with a noise. A purr rinsed in bloodthirst.

"Hssk! You ask suffering of me to do so, bold gauri. Nnnh-" A rumble and then no more. He would oblige this. Oh, he enjoyed this so deeply.

The deep tapping of bottle to wood prickle the nerves down Aezhyrrael's spine as he turns away and does not see them, in not anticipating bloodshed but perhaps the exhausted disdain of play.

Aezhyrrael dutifully collects his towel and returns it to him and, the hand extended, resists clawing through his palm to set the towel down upon him.

He would reach for the bag also and tear through it just a pointed bit more as he inspects the contents within. The same scaled box peering back and a pile of loose vegetable. Hyuron-grown potato, he knew it to be. Carved into, he supposes, what they thought to be some make of artistry.

Aezhyrrael remains over the back of the couch with claws peeling open the box and taking the same sandwich and plucking it.

He takes an effortless bite from it suspended above the open box- the taste of fish not new to him. That was the one thing he would admit to in guilty pleasure.

The elongated form slouches craned over Calix as he waits until his mouth was empty to speak then.

"Well... I do not taste the poison." He concedes in play as he sets the thing back into the box and lowers it to the sideboard, setting it precariously also next to Calix's own sandwich.

"You can finish that, dear gauri."

Eyes glitter in devious patience to help as Aezhyrrael takes a long step around him suddenly, licking long talons clean of damp warmth.

He pauses at the foot of the collapsed creature and hunches over him to set a claw against slacks unbuttoned. He notes this first.

"Oh, but I should help you remove these..." Aezhyrrael grins, both hands set to already tugging the trousers from his hips even as he says the words.

You are useful to me. I have told you why.

“Implying torture to madness prevents use.” He answers in a near-conversational tone. What he wanted Aezhyrrael to disclose was the reason for his very pointed further attentions. Surely, the threats were enough? He presumed to believe this entire affair was a make of psychological operations that aimed to erode his defenses to compulsion. The usual. But when no ‘second’ reason was given, his brows furrowed over his silence.

The look he’s given, not lost on him, inspires a pointed one of his own. Softened at the corners by long night and need for simple sleep. He fears he wouldn’t last so much longer. And fears further that he’d wake up dead. Or, not at all, he supposed darkly.

He allows Aezhyrrael to consume unobserved, his own attention now upon the brought towel which he brought to his chest, rubbing the encrusted blood with a thumb covered. He noted how much brighter it became on the fabric, like a blooming. Fixated for moments.

Well… I do not taste the poison. You can finish that, dear gauri.

Calix smirks, just barely. The expression vanished as quickly as it came as Aezhyrrael’s shadow circles him to stand at his extended leg. For a moment, he paused all movement to watch him, suspecting his intent even before the claws came to his slacks and began to tug. Calix pressed himself to the sofa, towel dropped to his waist as he curls his fingers over his belt, the loops straining under their feud.

He had no logical complaint to offer. They did need to come off and there was no way around this. He couldn’t very well clean the gunshot through them. Not easily. His arms slacken with a sigh through his nose as he relinquishes control of the belt and allows himself divested further. Even still, he leans carefully forward to follow their removal, leaving him in his black briefs and bloody trousers binding his knees awkwardly.

“Mmn-…” He grunted in the effort. Dried blood pulled at the entry and exit, his hair, while his skin still felt like it had been burned. He collects the towel in a hurry before Aezhyrrael could find some new way to torment him. With a nervous glance upward, he pours the antiseptic to a fresh section of the fabric and sets the wet folds over the puncture to clean it.

Another hitched breath as his mouth curls near imperceptibly into a disdainful grimace. Another disapproving look cast up at his wretched company. You did this, he reminds with his eyes, before inching himself forward enough to reach the exit wound.

“What is a gauri?” He finally asks, voice tense with concentration, seeking to distract that predatory leer that hovered near. He knew mroth’fli already. Annoying, short-lived thing. A common epithet among Draihari for Calix’s people. Gauri, though. He wonders. In seconds, his brows begin to furrow as he recalls common lex. Another insult, he assumes, and perhaps fairly.

"It is an art. Beyond your ken to understand," Aezhyrrael simply shrugged, claws flexing against scale-marked paper. "If you were broken, you would be no use also. And I do not like breaking my new pets so soon."

Said over his sandwich, an ember of passion clawed tight.

Embers scalding the back of his neck as he imagines the mouth on him in turn- then bound in leather and punished for biting. Bound up to the sleep clawing through the veins in his eyes.

Aezhyrrael watches in dull pleasure and eyes drowned into a soft abyss by the lumen above. His eyes are on the look returned and then on Calix grooming himself, gaze forced to flicker his way even as Aezhyrrael himself writhed overhead.

Blood smears like shattered mosaic across the towel and he can almost taste it beneath the beds of his own claws, chest above on desperately pretty display. Fixated also even as he steps around him.

When Aezhyrrael's claws lower to the thighs, they curl into the handled of pinched fabric and pull.

Resistance. Protest- as Aezhyrrael raises a brow first. His gaze narrows on the towel and hidden hands then and he growls louder in his throat as he tugs for another moment, grip struggling against his own and yet he tries.

"Let go, gauri." He warns as he lowers over him, teeth baring with a hiss.

Teeth warning if he thought to resist for longer.

He does let go, and the growl strangles into a purr of rewarded effort- a purr of exasperation- as Aezhyrrael fights the dead weight to strip him free a little fervently. Beneath, the reward of muscled legs, furred, too exhausted to escape him. The hair and skin patterned in drying blood clotting over a neat black hole prickling with fresh viscera when it was pulled away from the slacks.

Aezhyrrael leaves the pants, belt and all, fastened neatly around his legs before his claws drag upwards in curiosity unhidden.

Any bruising or further damage would not be seen while smeared in blood- mortal aether prettiest when fresh and glimmering crimson- this he knew.

With his own kind he could lap up the gore and play or bite in further punishment. But the glance and repressed gestures were not lost on him and he sneers down at him, standing uselessly over him yet.

"Pretty." He admires it openly as it was cleaned, clotted dark rivulets wiped free by the antiseptic entirely nauseating in smell. Worse than any hyuron alcohol could be. It turned Aezhyrrael's own stomach.

As he watches on, the knowing gaze made him writhe as if scolded and his eyes lid at him with a head that tilts in deference. In desire without asking.

Aezhyrrael let himself nearer in predatory curiosity even still, near-silence and rhythmic wiping of fabric to bloody flesh titillating. He doesn't expect the breath that follows.

What is a gauri?

Aezhyrrael's glance peels itself from the wound to the furry chest as it strained and then Calix's face. His mouth and silverine eye.

"Little wolf. A young beast." He answers, claws hovering near to hold him or to pull him around as asked- as curiosity intrigues him to want to touch the pale flesh.

Aezhyrrael admires the fur over his chest with a claw extending towards it and daring to brush featherlight as he worked his wound.

"That is what all your kind are, isn't it. Wolves once. Still furred, still soft..."

The thought curls his lip in pleasure.

As Aezhyrrael pets him, his claws turn inwards to attack gently. The lip becoming a playful sneer. It was the warmth that excited him also when his claws touch him- and the recollection of his pained howl against the sedan as he grabbed him.

He shudders at the thought and cannot resist clawing in play dangerously close to the yeshyidi's wound before the backs of his knuckles rub back over the silver hairs. Grabbing at him in pleasure and meeting the gaze sidelong, coyly.

"Do you prefer mroth'fli?" He asks with a smirk then.

Pretty

He hears. It affected him strangely to hear and he couldn’t place why. Narrowing his eyes as he worked his leg clean in its entirety, towel stained brightly crimson. His hand raises carefully to grip the slender wrist hovering at his chest, now gently pushed away.

That is what all your kind are, isn’t it. Wolves once.

Calix’s brows only knit more tightly together. He’s not sure what that meant, precisely, but also couldn’t help but wonder if Aezhyrrael just called him a puppy. Aezhyrrael’s hand- apparently unable to resist- was upon his chest again and he slowly raises his hand to encircle the bony wrist once again, stifling further groping. He casts a stern look towards him.

Do you prefer mroth’fli?

Calix couldn’t stop the smirk that tugged his lips into a wry curl. Aezhyrrael’s reward is a release of his wrist as Calix continued to wipe carefully underneath his own thigh. He did not prefer mroth’fli. And for this to be presented as a choice had an undertone of amusingly dark play. He supposes this to be an improvement. And- finished- he sets the towel aside and leans back as if all motive force left him suddenly. His head tilts gently as he sank into the cushions and his eyes lid with all the weariness of the night.

“That’s enough. I can do no more.” His words were heavy with wine and dreams of rest. A shower was in order but he couldn’t lift himself from this spot if he tried. This he knows. Eyes flicker slowly to his company and he feels a twinge of sick memory. Yet again were his limbs heavy while Aezhyrrael showed no signs of slowing down. Bright eyes staring. Always looking at him, it felt. With a concentrated effort and eyes narrowed with inconvenience, Calix lifts his hands. A clap heralds the return of shadow to the apartment as the lumens slid into darkness.

“You’ll leave me unmolested.” He mutters in the dark, trying to keep his eyes open. “I trust…” His words were slurred and he’s not even certain of the nature of his own demands. And then a quiet, “please.”

The gripping excited Aezhyrrael the first time and drew a growl from him the second time-- for the moments, the make of it a threat. One subsumed in exhaustion not long after as Aezhyrrael sat with him, one leg tucked under his hip as he sat with the same coy, useless offer of abyss omnipresent. Lumen-fire above granted him a headache all the while.

That's enough.-

His exhaustion was not enough to discourage Aezhyrrael's touching as he sets a hand back to the flesh beneath the bullet wound and ponders in contention with a situation he had created himself.

Now, he was left in grotesquely strange wonder at the sight of Calix alone as he lay his hand on him a third time-- away from Zhaine's eyes beneath opalescent steel.

His hand recoils just then as hands come between them in an instant and the noise startles him to pinning Calix with the same claw, excitement found again. Instantaneous abyss is a relief after minutes beneath lumen-fire and Aezhyrrael gasps in relief. For moments, an uncomfortable mosaic of unnatural shapes and Theastone's bay in nearest intimacy beyond the glass. Comfortable. Not violating.

His eyes drag down to Calix again when he speaks.

You'll leave me unmolested.

Aezhyrrael licks his teeth and grins at him first.

"I will not do a thing to you, my pet." He says, eyes on the muscled neck as it sinks into the cushion behind it.

He pets his chest then again. Purring, petting soft muscle with one hand leaning on the backrest of the sofa, his head upon his palm.

When the borders of the antiseptic graze his claws he frowns in reminder. Noticing where he was bathed- and where he was not.

He lifts up his hand to pull a button free from its clasp- and another. All the way until both sides of the shirt were split away and his white fabric belly parted for Aezhyrrael's sight. Antiseptic collected onto his fingers and lifted, dripping down the furred torso to the wound at his waist- where the yeshyidi's bite had driven itself into his belly hours ago.

The entry hole, violent and raised in pain, was wiped over quickly and plucked at by claws looking to remove crusted blood beading gently again.

His other hand lifts his head away from the couch to undo his own hair clasp and he pushes a sigh from his ribcage as his own body sulks into the couch with his pet, tresses like ink rolling over a shoulder and down to his mid-back and shoulder.

He would assure the wound saturated and lean across a shoulder bared as he pets over the wound beneath.

I will not do a thing to you, my pet.

It was enough of a promising notion that Calix’s body sank with an exhale. Too exhausted. Too sodden with drink suddenly to question its honesty. It would be enough for now. Heavy eyes drop to the sight in the dark, of claws at his buttons and his waist bared. He hadn’t wished to divest further but here he was, a mess. City light silhouette his knees. His hand feeling so distant from him where it rested in a lazy angle upon the armrest.

Dissociation in thriller. Aezhyrrael’s killer claws elicit an involuntary tense and tremor from his waist where he twisted gently in place from their caress. With a quiet sound in his throat, he turns his face away, sliding down further against the sofa. Plucking claws lift dried blood and a clumsy hand raises to bump Aezhyrrael’s away.

“Leave it…” He whispers, eyes closed. Aezhyrrael’s presence, not particularly warm, was still felt. The hand returned to pet hot skin and a breath caught strangely in Calix’s throat, shuddering with something of a whimper unconscious as his elbow rose to nudge the other’s ribs, hand upon Aezhyrrael’s thigh to insistently, weakly, shove.

“I’ll do it…” He mutters moments later. “Please.”

Calix's writhing brings Aezhyrrael's thrill to beneath the skin again when he squirms, claws turning inwards against him in what he thought to be play in the throes of darkness.

Leave it...

"I am only cleaning it." A growl rebels in his throat through tightened fangs, eyes narrowing.

The hand pushes Aezhyrrael's own and he paws it back, wetting it in antiseptic and complaining with a breath as he struggles against him. His own body leverage suddenly as Aezhyrrael sits up from the sofa and reaches to clasp Calix with both hands to pull him near.

The shove spurs Aezhyrrael to come nearer and overwhelm him in his own shadow as the growl escapes him and he hisses. Hisses without the venom in the comfort of darkness now that he had some excuse to paw him in greater earnest.

I'll do it...-

"Silence." He mumbles.

Even still, it was not a no.

He simply could not help himself as he ignores the begging and paws Calix anyway until the wound was soaked- untouched by claw or maiming.

Quickly enough for the wetting to suffice, Aezhyrrael finishes and lifts his hand to grip where Calix's chest did not bruise. He presses himself to Calix from behind and rubs from belly to sternum along where the fur grew- where it split into such handsome silver. Mesmerising to the senses.

Close enough to him to be flush now, he offers his tongue in imitated submission to lick the muscular jaw once.

Where Aezhyrrael himself assures his word to the falling Calix with a hard stare- a pale and strange look- if Calix thought to deny him again.

Talons pluck meticulously through the hair and work in swirls, separating the dark from the light in deliberate concordance with the lay of the fur as the muscle slackens beneath.

I am only cleaning it.

“Yes, I-…” I know. Don’t touch me anymore. You’ve done enough. Please.

Silence.

Calix gasps, skin shivering away from Aezhyrrael’s touch whenever his claws should return to such sensitive flanks. When a slender arm comes to capture him in a clutch so intimate, his revulsion ripped through the veil of his haze.
“What are you…” Calix’s back curls in tension, fingers hooking clumsily against the armrest as he fails to re-adjust himself in Aezhyrrael’s grip, thinking he means to escape.

The lick elicited a strange noise from Calix’s throat, lips parting to exhale a freezing breath while brows knit into a frown in the dark. Fumbling fingers wrest for control of the hand on his chest and his breath quickens even now. What… Was this focused attention? His gut turns in worn uncertainty as he angles his head into the touch for a moment long enough to regret himself, as quickly jerking it away.

“Stop this, I—…” I have not the strength. “What are you doing to me?” He groans, pupils contracting as his awareness was summoned by hooking talons. Back to the surface. The hair on his nape rose.

“This pawing? Why?” His voice, ordinarily low, was gentle- almost desperate. For sleep. For clarity. To be free or captured safely? It was clear in his eyes as he turns them to Aezhyrrael with a look out of his peripherals that he struggled to focus upon him. A brown eye flickers unsurely from pale skin to hair released to ink cascade as his nostrils flare over a heavy breath.

Away from the kabal and within a man-made cage, Aezhyrrael was forced to consider his own pleasure. As he held Calix in the searching claws he realises his own thrill at the other beneath him. In the afterglow of torture yes, but in something beyond pleasure alone.

What are you...-

"Observing you." The utterance low in admiration.

He gripped Calix with intent to wrest him still from nape to fluffy chest, wanting so much to cease him by some force and to observe him for longer. Fascinating, incessant, drunken creature. The arch of a back inspiring Aezhyrrael's own as he eagerly tried to meet him, tugging with claws for attention. Focused in holding him still and surprised at gauri strength.

How was it that his stupid mroth'fli was so immense even while languishing in the veil?

Predatory nerves are struck alert by the struggling as the claws turn into Calix's fur and Aezhyrrael sighs a warning, the lick momentary and apologetic in place of words. In place of all his own nature where he might have attacked Calix for such struggling.

Sighs and complaints were not a no- enjoyed as stubble made of soft needles teased Aezhyrrael's tongue in a touch shocking. Different from anything else. Fur groomed to neatness that his own kind could never hope to imitate.

His gaze dilates as he breathes over Calix- as the warm creature struggles again.

Stop this, I--

"Be still, gauri."

Night-eyes narrow and regard Calix with their daggers sheathed this time. Watching still. The complaint heard without words. The black organs inside Aezhyrrael's own body twisting in desperate desire as he holds his palms to him and clasps him near with a writhing, pleased hiss. The whimpering impossibly charming. Impossibly enraging to the senses.

Arousal coiling within a furry chest inspires Aezhyrrael's own writhing as both hands pet Calix- one at his nape in fascination while the other pets his chest. Aezhyrrael could imagine tearing him open. Fucking him.

What are you doing to me?

Claws tighten as they trace lines down the thicker sternum and past his ribs again. What was he doing. Observing him. He had told him this. Eyes tightening at their edges as Aezhyrrael himself fought with his own ardour. His claws tighten and his own spine winces with a shudder. How to communicate such fascination? Aezhyrrael sighs as he runs a thumb sidelong along the fur and a purr chokes itself within his chest.

"Fade. Be asleep." He snarls, fangs snapping against growing rebellion. Fighting sleep less so in the afterglow of madness. He meets the flickering eyes of Calix and sighs. The panic thrumming within in protest against Calix's body hardly able to move against him.

It is moments before sound twists its way out of Aezhyrrael's throat. Claws gathering at Calix's chest to pluck his hair in some punishment.

"There is sensation for me in your fur. You'll let me continue." Aezhyrrael growls- the corner of a lip curling then as he nears himself to Calix's ear again with a sigh. Aezhyrrael could not deny a desire to have him dominated for his noises. For your duty to me, gauri.

"You will not wake up eviscerated this time. You have my word."