middaeg | Closed

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Who: L, Niles, and likely Light at some point.
When: Early days of Aguril.
Where: L and Light's house.
What: Emergency tattoo touch up.
Warnings: R rated conversation.

[Normally he would have sent a courtesy text. Asked about logistics. Normally he wouldn't be absolutely bone dry on magic before he needed to set this up. Courtesy and coordination matter a lot less to him when he's partially unarmed. That naga they'd branded together lurks at the back of Niles' mind. From what he could tell he'd been gone two months. Plenty of time for things to have escalated or festered between him and L. If that's the case he doesn't want his anti hypnosis tattoo to be inert one second longer than it has to.

Arriving at L's house in the dead of night feels almost like a guilty pleasure. The windows are dark from the front, but Niles traces a familiar path around the perimeter that gives him a decent line of sight into a few windows without leaving the shadowed cover of the tall hedges dividing the property from its neighbors. Each room he gets a view into is empty and still. Some of the familiarity of his actions fades, but it's a relief. Enjoying the skulking and spying is one thing, seeing L's house in a state of alcoholic dissaray like it had been during the months Niles stalked him would be entirely different. He likes stretching his skulking and spying muscles, but the last thing he wants to do is actually return to needing to use them.

Finally Niles finds one window softly illuminated by a small lamp inside. It's L's study, and Niles is willing to bet his nose is buried in a book. He keeps out of sight anyway, just in case L isn't alone. He shifts into his feline form so he can stay below the level of the window as he approaches. When he gets a glimpse of L's hunched outline, and sees no second humanoid silhouette he relaxes and peers over the ledge, ears, eye, and horns all now lit up by the glow from inside. Now with a full clear look into the room he realizes that the dark shape he'd mistaken for new furniture is....some sort of great hulking animal. And floating? It looks aquatic, is it some strange warped mer form? Confused and curious as he is he doesn't stop to consider the fact that the thing itself has as clear a few of him as he does of it.]

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If it's a gift, then I don't work for you.

[Simple as that. He heads to the liquor cabinet. Cerise lowers her head, the rows of teeth glinting in the cottage's dim light.]

[His tail lashes back and forth and an icy weight drops into his gut. L backing out on the terms of their original truce isn't something he thought L would pull. His pulse quickens further when he hears movement behind him. His ears swivel to fix on it, but his eye remains on L's back. If she lunged what would he even do? No point in trying to fight her, so no point in seeing it coming.

Niles seethes for a long moment, rooted to the spot as L pours himself a generous drink and then pour it back straight. Niles lip curls slowly first into a silent snarl, and then into a cruel sort of grin. If L wants to get drunk, he can work with drunk. He's just got to waste a little time and let the spirits do their thing.

He casts a look behind him at Cerise finally, his gaze traveling the rows of her teeth like a man tracing a stripper's curves in his mind's eye. Back when he lived among street dogs, he had a tactic for when he got bitten. If their teeth are closed around you, shove your arm further back. The strongest jaws in the world can't bite down while they're gagging. With a contingency plan in mind if she comes into play, he turns his back on her once more before approaching L leisurely. He tamps down his leer into something more subdued, calmer.]

You know I'm more than willing to pay you for your trouble. [He might be cash poor at the moment, but he's got other assets to barter with.]

I know, but money's a gauche thing.

[Coughing. L's never really gotten accustomed to the acrid burn of hard liquor. His palate prefers sweeter things, craving what a child craves. He always seems out of his depth when he tries to get really adult with his vices.]

Everything human and generous and important is just boiled down to pieces of paper and metal. I'd know... I wasn't on any lists, but my net worth, back home, shouldn't have been possible for one man to attain.

[He starts, recklessly, to pour another drink for himself. It's going to be an interesting night, apparently.]

[Niles chuckles at L's cynicism. He doesn't disagree with his point about generosity. Hearing that L lived like a king isn't a surprise in the least. His attitude of entitlement alone screamed 'world's most special rich boy' from the moment he demanded chocolate covered strawberries from a refugee kitchen.]

I'm not talking about cunes. Money's for the nobility really. You might have been rolling in it back home, but here we're both closer to my world, the barter economy. Pour me a drink, let's negotiate. [Contrary to his statement he steps back, away from L and towards the couch, sitting uninvited. The first thing Niles had to bargain with was simply his company. New domestic partner or not, L was a lonely man, letting an old enemy linger in his house even as his own blood dried on Niles' arm.]

[There's a lot Niles doesn't know about how L lived, beyond the sheer monetary value and output of his work. His shabbiness, alone, probably raises some questions and some cognitive dissonance.]

I'm as far as you can get from noble, by birth. And I don't bother with sweet, when I'm drinking.

[It's a clear delineation. His ice cream is sacred; his sugar is pure. His alcohol is high proof and hurts going down, because he wants those two disciplines are far away as possible from each other.

He holds out the glass across the table.

Don't ruin this for me.]

Maybe that's why he takes some pleasure in pouring the acrid half-glass for Niles. It's straight gin, cheap, just a step up from drinking mouthwash, but it's what he downs regularly to soften the harsh and ugly contours of his troubled mind. It's good enough for the chimera.]

[Leo often wore clothes inside out when he tried to dress himself. Niles knows how useless the ruling class can be without babying, and that's what he assumes L's unkempt appearance is a symptom of. If he'd ever seen the places L called home he'd have a lot more questions, but for the moment he thinks he's got all the answers.]

Then how about some spice?

[When L leans to hand him his drink Niles sits up to meet him, but rather than closing his hand around the glass he cups it under L's wrist. He leans his head down and swipes his tongue over L's fingers, finishing by putting his lips on the tip of his thumb and sucking.]

[L doesn't even have time to repeat the word in bemusement before Niles' hand is close, touching the sensitive skin he often cuts or bites for blood magic.]

State your intentions.

[Clipped. Suspicious; not hostile. Not yet. This is outside of his wheelhouse of expectations.]

[Niles chuckles, drags his tongue along the side of his thumb, then places an uncharacteristically soft kiss to the inside of L's wrist. Not even a hint of teeth. Then he takes the drink and sits back. He too knocks it back in a single gulp, but with no wince and no cough. He's plenty used to swallowing down bitter and acrid tastes with a smile. He sets his glass on the table and rests his chin in his hand.]

You're always so stiff L, but if you'll let me I bet I can get you to relax.

Not with everyone, and not always.

[Niles isn't wrong about the present matter. L's wiry muscles are tense, on the edge of fight or flight. He could get a Bonded over with just his state of mind, alone...

But he takes another drink. Whether or not it goes down any easier is difficult, if not impossible, to discern.]

You can skip playing coy. Are you outlining the terms of an agreement, or not?

What, don't you trust my skills? Do I really need to prove to you that I can walk a short distance before I swallow your cock to the hilt and make you see stars?

[A pointed callback to L's indignation about Niles' own need for clarification and explicit agreements, but to make his point stick he has to freely offer what L refused to him.]

I am. I've paid you in services before, but stalking and thievery aren't things I can deliver returns on immediately. Sex though, that I can offer here and now. [A quick frown flashes on his face and he tips his head to one side, adding a small restriction as an afterthought.] Well, I'm not prepped to receive, but my mouth, my thighs, my hands, my tits. Whatever else you want to use barring my ass.

I don't trust anyone.

[Neither does Cerise, judging by her arching, open-mouthed hissing.]

I don't know what you think, but I don't want payment like this. Sex isn't transactional to me, or it's not really consent.

[It was with Mello. L's heel is already on its way to taking a step back.]

I don't want any of that.

[His ear pin, the flash of anger is undeniable, but the shock and disgust is focused inward. The fur on his tail poofs up, but the thing as a whole curls up around his own ankles rather than arching up or out. The hiss sends a shiver up his spine and when he turns to stare into those jaws an idea flashes into his mind. An idea about repentance. He takes a deep breath and entirely shifts his posture. He tucks his arms across his chest and leans back, giving L his space.

He needs it just as much as the other does now. The rejection stings and he hates it. He's angry because he did think he knew what L wanted. He's angry he was wrong. And he's angry he's not getting what he wants. But he's also not really after sex. This is still a negotiation and he is not out of tender.]

Fine. Whoring is more than just sexual relief you know. Your neck, shoulders and back also look incredibly stiff. Let me work out a few knots for you. And if you don't trust me...[Niles trails off at first, frowning down at his tail as it starts to twitch back and forth across the floor.] believe me, I get it...[He stomps on it with a hoof then leans down to grab it. He has to wrestle with it, like the limb itself doesn't like the idea it knows Niles is acting on, but without too much fuss Niles is holding the end of his tail to make a loop of harmless flesh and fur, stinger doubled back at himself.] Let's not rely on trust. [He catches Cerise's huge dark eye, and holds out his tail to her.]

[L's wary; L's also not actually kicking Niles out, or rejecting him outright before he can say his piece. And to his credit, the detective listens, even if he is as tense and stiff as Niles points out.

He isn't wrong.]

Then... in that case it's not "whoring."

[He says the word differently than the words around it, as though it's not one he'd choose himself, merely one he's repeating out of necessity.

Cerise's face is not particularly expressive; no cetacean's can be, but she still responds, taking the stinger in her mouth and framing it with surprising delicacy in her razor-sharp teeth.]

I've never done this.

[Received a massage.]

Should I lie down, or...?

[He shrugs. ] It's a part of the package. [L ignoring the menu options to instead exclusively eat complimentary bread was a strange option, but it didn't mean Niles wasn't a waiter.] And yes, you should. If your spine were a proper shape I could do plenty for you seated, but in your case I think I need to address a larger area to give you any real relief. [He stands up and gestures down at the couch. A bed would be better, but L is thin enough that his arms won't be uncomfortable at his sides even with the back, and he doesn't feel like trying to shuffle all the way to L's bedroom tethered to his mammal.] I recommend taking at least your shirt off, but if you need it to be truly chaste I can work through it.

[L makes a soft, derisive noise at Niles' observation about his spine... but again, the chimera isn't wrong. Years of poor posture and bad habits have rendered the very foundation of L's body slipshod and difficult.]

It's medicinal, right? No chastity required.

[He slips off his shirt without preamble or ceremony. He's painfully thin; a body like this has no secrets. Not quite a hunchback, his spine is still twisted in a way that makes it virtually impossible to stand upright without pain. Muscles have clustered and clumped around preferred postures, and anyone laying even therapeutic hands on L might be left with the unnerving notion that the slender bones under their hands might wetly snap under pressure.

He takes a seat first on the couch, seeming to resist the urge to curl into a ball, tilting and laying on his side with his hands clasping his knees loosely.]

Edited 2021-10-17 05:50 (UTC)

[Niles shakes his head and and puts one hand on L's shoulder, and the other on his leg, gently pushing L to stretch out.]

No. Lay flat, on your stomach. [He puts L how he needs him, then spends a few moments just running his hands slowly over the canvas of L's back and shoulders with light pressure. He's making a map of the damage, sorting the most stiff twisted areas by severity and making a plan of action. He doesn't know the names of the muscle groups, isn't trained in anatomy or physiology, but he's touched so many bodies and he knows how flesh and bone and skin are supposed to knit and work together. L's body seems determined to pull against itself, the tension inside warping the frame and weakening the whole structure as a result. Niles has his work cut out for him. His hands stop their roaming at L's hips to lay warm and heavy against his lower back.] Now, try to relax. Breathe deep and slow. [On L's fist exhale Niles drags his hands along his sides over his ribs and then up to his shoulders. On the inhale he traces the same path back down. He goes slowly, guiding L with his touch to breathe all the way in and then all the way out. Once L has a good rhythm going he brings his hands up to the base of L's skull. He uses his thumbs to press small circles there, gradually increasing the pressure as he does.]

Good, now to get the most out of this I'll need feedback from you. If something hurts, tell me. If it doesn't hurt enough, tell me that too. When you want it harder or faster, slower or lighter, you need to tell me. I know what I'm doing, but you know how you're feeling. Understood?

[For all of L's professed confidence that he can separate the contact and proximity from anything remotely suggestive, Niles' touch causes his body to tense. He's able to shift into the position he's being coaxed toward, overcompensating toward a rag doll state, but his muscles are stiff, limbs rigid and braced under Niles' roaming hands. He's practically holding his breath before Niles offers instructions to do otherwise, and the there's something almost comically deliberate about his attempts to relax and breathe. There are difficult things that L can make appear magically effortless; the opposite is true for things that most people find relatively easy, seemingly.

He glances back over his shoulder after Niles explains how to get the most out of the experience, the importance of providing feedback.]

I don't know how I'm feeling.

[Hardly ever, if ever.]

You said you know what you're doing. If it hurts, or doesn't, I assume that's how it's supposed to be.

[Above him Niles frowns then lets out his own slow, calming breath. He's won't let L suffer this as an ordeal. He doesn't want him to endure it, he wants him to enjoy it. This has to be good, it has to be worth it, it has to work.

L wasn't numb from the neck down, he did know the information that Niles needed, he just had no context for what the difference between good hurt and bad hurt was here. Niles just needed to be more specific. He goes ahead and starts working on L's neck in earnest, keeping his touch gentle and the pressure carefully symmetrical.]

Alright, if it starts to hurt, it's supposed to be dull pain. Slow pain. If it's sharp or sudden I need to stop. Aching and stretching is good, stabbing and tearing is bad. Does that help?

Stabbing and tearing...

[His shoulders scrunch up in spite of Niles' care and gentleness. The chimera is doing everything right, but the detective almost needs a massage to get him relaxed enough for a massage.]

That sounds more to your speed than mine.

[But as out of touch as L is with his own body, he knows how stretching can feel after hours curled in the dark, how the ache can feel good and cathartic and even cleansing.

Stabbing, maybe. [When L tenses, Niles' hands stop pushing and his fingers fan out flat. They just rest there, waiting for the inevitable if delayed release of some tension on L's next exhale.] But tearing, not even I'm a fan. [Puncture wounds healed up easy, damage from tearing is a lot harder to recover from, even magically.

As the air leaves L's lungs and his chest compresses, Niles rolls his thumbs from the base of his neck across the thickest muscles of his shoulders encouraging the muscle to lie smooth and soft and in line with the bones they're anchored to. He's going gingerly, carefully. He can feel that to provide any lasting relief he'll need to add a lot more pressure, dig in with knuckles and really release the tight coiled tension L is holding, but he'll need to work up to that. If L keeps going rigid under his hands Niles will only make things worse.]

Here, listen and follow my breathing. [He starts purring. It's a constant sound, but the timber of it changes during inhale and exhale, marking the inflection points. It's louder, a little harsher, less melodic, than the purring L has heard from him in the past during tattooing. That was reflexive purring, an automatic response to a strangely soothing sensation while this was choosing to make the noise.]

[The release is excruciatingly slow, and extremely delayed. One with less experience than Niles might believe it's not happening at all, but it is, of course. The bones and sinew below the chimera's hands are part of a human, after all, and there's only so much a human can resist his own body.

He's spent so much time hunching. The bones might have grown crooked. The knots tangled up by time and habit are no small or simple task to unravel.

He glances back (adding, briefly, more tension in his neck and shoulders), but seems, at least, amenable to attempting to follow Niles' breathing. His is shallower, never seeming to fill his lungs more than halfway. Half the problem might be that L rarely breathes deeply with those full, cleansing, meditative inhales.]

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