#a song and a dream (free bird yancy)

[late-night-cabaret]

That darling little caged bird. Such an interesting creature, so alluring to him. Yancy may have tried to live a clean life, but he was never against the occasional indulgence with Murdocks life. After all, the murderer couldn’t forget the dream so lovingly shared only a few weeks after they’d met. And how can he not give him that?

Before his lover ever touches the table, he’s given the last of a gentle touch. Quiet laughs shared between them as Murdock undresses him, Yancy lifting the sunglasses off of him before they’re set in place to give him the threatening allure he’s almost always broken. Less intricately tied than he wanted, only held down by the straps on his arms and wrists.

“Oh darling, open your mouth for me. I’m not going to be using it just yet tonight.” Murdock pulls out a gag, pushing the ring into the waiting mouth and tightening it around his head. “You’d really let me take all this from you? Filthy whore.”

@murdersinthemaking

Being incarcerated as young as he was, Yancy never had a chance for much exploration of things he was into. Sure, contraband of various types always had a habit of making its way into Happy Trails, but the real learning came after he got out. The man who had taught him the most is also a serial killer who's strapping him to the table where he usually handles his victims.

If the blood that's supposed to operate his brain wasn't currently rushing to his cock, he might have been able to ponder why that's so fucking arousing.

Yancy does as he's told and opens his mouth. The ring is different, but not bad, and he's glad he was able to get a feel of it before all this. What he isn't expecting is Murdock to call him... that. But even as he goes to make a noise of indignation, something hot burns beneath the skin. It's embarrassment, but it's mixed with another thing that makes him whine and stare up at Murdock pleadingly. He nods.

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy nods, watching Enzo intently, unable to take his eyes off of him. He's so fucking pretty like this, and the softest whimper escapes his lips as the detective runs his tongue along the bite marks. Yancy is coming back to himself, slowly but surely. Dark brown eyes hinted at behind swirls of white fog.

And then Enzo moves in his lap, and he suddenly sees stars. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders how he has enough blood to make his cock so fucking hard. One of his hands slides down to palm at the front of Enzo's pants, groaning against his mouth before kissing him. "Fuck, baby, I need you..."

Enzo has been thinking a lot about one particular thing recently: blood. The look, the smell, the taste... that intoxicating taste....

Gods, he feels like he's losing his mind.

In the interest of the safety of his coworkers (as well as keeping his job), he's bitten through his lip in the office at least 9 times this week; he only works 4 days a week. It's just to hold him over until he can feed properly, that's all. Just a filler habit.

He just hopes it won't have to be a regular thing.

[lamiasluck]

Freebird

(This was a fun story from start to finish! Thanks for sticking around til the end!)

Summary: Illinois is finally out of jail! Immediately, he's eager to start adventuring again, and this time he's accompanied by a new adventuring partner. Yancy isn't sure what to expect out of this endeavour, but he's along for the ride.

Characters: Yancy & Illinois

Words: 4349 

Read on AO3!

Chapter One  Chapter Two

-

The day was beautiful. Birds sang their songs with reckless abandon, the sun shone brightly…

And Illinois was housing an established criminal.

Yet, he has never slept better. Waking up in his bed was a dream come true. Putting on basic comfy clothes felt like heaven. There was a pep to his step as he got ready for the day. He was always a morning person, but he never had more energy than today.

In the guest room, Yancy slowly got up and stretched. Clad in a baggy shirt and sweatpants Illinois let him borrow. Prison made him a morning person too, because of routine. However, he had a rough night in the new environment. Even if the bed was something he’d call “one of ‘em fancy, soft beds,'' he had a rocky night. He blamed it on homesickness. The door cracked open and he saw Illinois.

“Oh, you’re up early,” Illinois said. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, s’alright I guess,” he replied through a yawn.

“Must be weird, huh?” Illinois read his mind like a book. “I’m gonna make us breakfast. You can stay here if you want.”

Yacny swung his legs out of the bed. “Nah, nah, I’m already up. What youse gonna make?”

“Whatever didn’t spoil.” He shrugged. Being away for more than a month must’ve been hell for for his food supply.

When he got to the kitchen he tried to see what he could cook. There weren’t many options, but he could figure something out. “You alright with bacon and eggs?” He asked as Yancy trailed after him.

“I’ll eat anything. Just make it edible.” Yancy sat down by the kitchen aisles and watched Illinois cook. The kitchen was big, everything was. Illinois lived in a fancy house in the middle of nowhere. A house that could only be brought with the riches he collected during his adventures. Awfully big for one person, some might say, but he was out so often he barely noticed.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m a natural cook,” he flaunted. “It’ll be better than what they gave us in prison. Anything’s better than that slob…”

“Watch ya mouth,” Yancy warned. “Youse were there for a month, barely got the experience.”

“I think I’ll pass…”

“I didn’t even see ya in solitary.” Yancy shivered at the thought of the punishment. “Would’ve been funny to see a freebird all caged up,” he snickered.

Illinois flicked water at the other. “I already regret bringing you.”

“That’s rude! And ‘ere I thought we’s bonded… let bygones be bygones!”

“Well, I guess that’s true,” Illinois hummed. “I’d much rather hit on you than hit you~” He looked at Yancy briefly to shoot him a wink.

“I - wha…?” Yancy stuttered, staring wide eyed at Illinois as he cooked. Suddenly his throat felt dry and he couldn’t find anything to respond with. After a few moments, Illinois laughed and broke the silence.

“Oh, the jailbird can stop singing? Glad to know.”

“You asshole!” Yancy snapped. Masking his bashfulness with an exaggerated pout, he cast his eyes downward. “Just… what the hell are we’s gonna do anyways? Youse wanted to adventure, yeah?”

“We’ll get to that don’t you worry.” The pan sizzled as Illinois put in the bacon. A knowing smile made its way to his face as he heard the panic in Yancy’s voice. “We’ll enjoy breakfast, then get ready to set off.” He glanced over at him again. “You should wear something different. You can borrow something else from my closet.”

“What’s wrong with my regular clothes?”

“They’re prison clothes. If police come by, we’ll get arrested again,” Illinois sighed. “Just go to my closet, you look about my size anyways. Play dress up and I’ll finish this.” Just for fun, and because he was a little shit, he looked at Yancy again and gave him another wink. “Pick out something pretty~”

“Sh-Shut up!” Yancy stuttered, pushing himself away from the counter and storming off.

Like the rest of the house, Illinois’ closet was fairly big. Lots of the clothes looked practical for adventuring, some were for fancy occasions. As Yancy browsed through the selections, he found an outfit that made him audibly gasp. He didn’t care if it wasn’t the most practical, he needed to wear this one. He looked at himself in the mirror, smoothing out the jacket before making his way back to the kitchen.

“Ay, freebird!” he called out. “Why do youse have this?”

Illinois turned to look at him, blatantly checking him out with an up and down look. He picked out a leather jacket, white shirt, and black pants. “You know, I was expecting you to pick that.”

“Youse didn’t answer my question.”

“I had to ride with a biker gang for one of my missions. The jacket costs a lot so I kept it,” Illinois explained. “You don’t look half bad in it.”

“Damn right,” Yancy boasted. “Haven’t wore something like this in forever. Youse got good taste, I bet I look better than youse in this, though.”

“Well, it’s not really my style.” He plated the food while Yancy sat down again. “I do look good in everything, of course.” His usual outfit worked well for him, in a practical sense and a social sense. Yancy eagerly took the plate of food as he sat down himself. “Bon appetit.”

“So,” Yancy started, talking through mouthfuls of food, “can youse tell me where we goin’ now?”

“With pleasure.”

-

The day was still young when they reached their destination. Not like they could tell, because they had travelled to a cave. Ancient carvings decorated the walls, depicting rituals and unknown cultures.

Yancy let out a low whistle as he looked around. “Ain’t this something?”

“Better than any museum,” Illinois hummed. He lead the charge deeper into the cave, analyzing his surroundings with a careful eye. “Just like how I remember it. Glad to see those brutes that took me away didn’t mess with anything.”

“Yeah, theys only messed wit’ youse,” Yancy laughed. The idea of Illinois being taken away by police amused him greatly. He wished he was there to see it. Now that would have been an adventure.

At first, their path seemed like a straightforward cakewalk. Yancy was about to say how bored he was before Illinois stuck out his arm to stop him.

“Now, for this next part,” Illinois reached in his bag and pulled out a blindfold, “I’m gonna need you to wear this.”

Yancy stared deadpan. “You’re fucking wit’ me, yeah? Youse seriously want pay back for that?”

The blindfold was already being wrapped around his head, he didn’t protest. “Yes and no,” Illinois answered, a smug smile no doubtedly plastered on his face. “You’ve never done this before since you’re always all cooped up, jailbird. So it’s up to me to make sure you stay safe.”

“Youse not gonna kill me?”

“I’d never.” He placed his hands on Yancy’s shoulders and lead him further into the cave. “Just follow my lead.”

The next part of the cave was dangerous. Traps galore. Any wrong move and it’d be game over. Any bit of panic and Illinois would have to bring Yancy back to the jail in a body bag. As much as he disliked the guy ---could he even say that anymore?--- he didn’t deserve a gruesome end. Ignorance was bliss, in this case. Yancy would be better off not knowing what death traps he was walking through.

“I’m going to need you to calm down, okay? Don’t hesitate from this pace. Free your mind from any panic.”

“Youse sound like a motivational speaker,” Yancy snickered. As they continued walking, a spike trap lunged forward just a few inches shy from his chest. “What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing, don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t quiet anymore. The sounds of metal grinding against rock echoed throughout the walls. Arrows sliced through the air inches behind them. Illinois felt Yancy falter at the sounds.

“Illinois… what’s going on?” He didn’t outright stop their pace, but he resisted slightly against Illinois’ push.

A harder push forward made Yancy narrowly miss another spike trap. Illinois’ eyes widen. “I need you to trust me, Yancy. Follow my pace.” His voice was stern, yet calm. An axe appeared from the walls, barely grazing his arm in a single swing. “Think of something else. Distract your mind and let me handle everything.”

Yancy gave a short nod. A soft hum then began to juxtapose the harsh weaponry. He began to hum a familiar tune that everyone in the prison heard at least once.

“I don’t wanna be free~” Yancy started, singing much softer than usual, but who could blame him.

Illinois smiled. Already he felt Yancy loosen up as they continued their walk. “Leave me in luxury~” he continued, voice stronger but unpracticed. The song went against all his values, but damn was it catchy.

By the time they reached the end of the song, they were homefree. Illinois untied the blindfold and gave Yancy a pat on the shoulder.

“Good job, jailbird! You’re a natural,” he praised. Not a single scratch on Yancy and only a little cut on his arm. Could’ve been a perfect run, but not bad.

Yancy blinked once he could see again. He looked back at where they were and paled. “What the fuck?!” He looked back at Illinois with frantic eyes. “We walked through that?!”

“See? This is why you needed the blindfold!”

“How the fuck am I alive?!”

Yancy was only met with a chuckle from the other. Illinois grabbed his arm and began to walk again. “Enough about that! We’re only getting started,” he mused, clearly enjoying his reaction.

“Oh, I’m gonna die, aren’t I?” Yancy asked, breathless. In his disbelieved daze he followed obediently.

“I promised you that I’ll return you safe and sound, didn’t I? I’m not one to break a promise.” While his tone was playful, there was sincerity in his words. Yancy gave another silent nod and they continued further into the cave.

Eventually they stood before a huge chasm blocking their path. Illinois went over to a pile of nearby rocks and rummaged through them, pulling out an odd statue from the rumble.

“This is where I got caught,” he said. “My mission was to return this artifact,” he pointed to the statue, brushing away the dirt, “It’s a wonder how those brutes managed to find me, but I bet someone ratted me out.”

Yancy listened while staring down at the dark abyss. He threw a rock into it. He didn’t hear it hit the bottom.  

“How did they make it through… that?” He gestured towards the death hallway they strolled through.

“Oh, they barely made it. They sent a whole team after me, only two made it out. Gave me enough time to hide the artifact, but not enough time to figure this out,” he explained, gesturing to the chasm.

Yancy shivered when he looked back at the dark abyss. There was no way in hell they could jump over it, so they would have to scale the rocky walls. Surprisingly, Yancy found a path fairly quickly. He recalled scaling a wall like this when escaping the prison.

“1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3, 4…”

Illinois watched in awe as Yancy got to work. He repeated the mantra quietly as he fearlessly scaled the wall, never faltering once. In no time, he was on the other side.

There was a shine to his eyes as Yancy bounced on the balls of his feet. Probably adrenaline in technical terms, but Illinois always referred to it as “the spark of adventure”. Illinois hooked his thumbs on the loops of his belt, trying to remember the exact steps Yancy took.

“That was easy!” Yancy exclaimed. “Should be alright for youse, yeah? If you can survive all that then you can do this.”

“Yeah…” Illinois swallowed harshly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he reassured himself, putting the artifact in his bag. The elegance Yancy had scaling the wall was nowhere near present in Illinois’ recreation. Nearly every thought in his head was a version of how the hell did he do that? but he tried his best to repeat the mantra Yancy created.

For a minute, everything seemed fine and he was nearly done. Yancy stood close near the edge, carefully watching his footing. Then a rock broke loose under his feet.

“Shit-!” Illinois yelped as he slipped. He didn’t react fast enough to regain his composure, but Yancy reacted fast enough to grab his arm and pull him to stable ground. Yancy pulled him close to his chest with a death grip on his wrist. Much better than death at the bottom of the chasm.

“Youse alright?” Yancy asked, voice laced with concern and fear.

Illinois gave a short nod in return. “I’m alright now.” The two backed away from the edge and regained their breath. “Thanks for saving me. Told you a partner would come in handy for this.”

“To make sure your dumbass doesn’t die, sure.” The both of them laughed, airy with disbelief. At least the rest of their path was peaceful. Great for calming down after nearly dying and watching someone nearly die.

From his bag, Illinois pulled out the artifact again to examine. Yancy grabbed it from his hands before he could realize.

“What’s this thing anyways?” The statue looked to be pure crystal, depicting a long forgotten idol.

“Easy there,” Illinois snickered. “It’s the heart of this place, stole it from a pirate ship that were gonna sell it to make a quick buck, but… well,” he looked around at the walls. Only a careful eye like his could tell how unstable this place was because of its absence, “taking it is dangerous. I’m surprised whatever spirits cursing this place didn’t wreak havoc while I was gone.”

“Oh.” Yancy quickly handed off the statue to Illinois, wiping his hands on his pants. “Didn’t realize.”

A loud laugh echoed as Illinois giggled at Yancy’s reaction. He tossed the statue between his hands and continued to talk casually. “Just another day in the life! I could tell you so many stories, if only we had the time,” he trailed off.

Ahead of them were two pedestals illuminated by a crystal light.

“Looks like the place to return this,” Illinois hummed.

“Which one is it?”

Illinois hooked his thumb in his belt. “That’s a good question.” He pondered to himself, looking at Yancy and the statue. “Why don’t you chose?”

“Me?!” Yancy gasped. “Why do I gotta do it? What if I choose wrong?”

“Come on, what’s an adventure without a little risk? What are you afraid of?”

Yancy stared at him deadpanned. “Dying.”

“Fair point,” Illinois nodded, “But I’m just as blind as you are, jailbird. So let’s take the gamble.”

“Alright…” Yancy scratched the back of his neck as his examined the pedestals. He pointed at the one on the left. “Do that one.”

None of them breathed as Illinois placed that statue slowly. “You know, I would’ve picked that one too.”

“So did I pick right?”

“I think so-” His thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud. Then, by the sound of a boulder rolling towards them. They looked at the dark hallway in front of them with wide eyes. He looked back at Yancy. “Run.”

They didn’t dare to look back, running a full sprint. A boulder big enough to barely fit within the cave’s walls was fast approaching. Fully intent on crushing them for their mistake. Yancy was swearing like a sailor as he ran. Illinois’ mind was racing just as quickly as he was running.

“Wait, Illinois!” He realized something grave. “The hole! We can’t fuckin’ pass that!” In the distance, they saw the chasm, just as intimidating as before.

If it was possible, Illinois’ eyes widened more. He looked desperately for any solutions. Then he saw it.

He grabbed Yancy’s arm and shoved him in a small crevice broken in the wall. While a tight fit, he managed to squeeze himself in too. Now chest to chest, they watched the boulder pass the mouth of the hole in suffocating silence. There was a loud thud following as it fell into the chasm. As if the boulder was going to magically get out of the chasm, they kept their gazes at the crevice’s opening for a bit longer. With how close their were, they could feel the heavy rise and fall of their chests.

“Are you alright?” Illinois asked.

At first, Yancy only replied with an under the breath “Holy fuck…” Afterwards, he did his best to clear his throat and nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright now.”

He turned to look at Yancy, only to realize how claustrophobic of a space they were in. They were nearly nose to nose, and both were too aware of that fact. “Oh. Hey there,” he said awkwardly. A small smile made its way to the adventurer’s lips, a smile he usually shined after barely dodging certain death. “Let’s get out of here.” He squeezed his way out of the hole and offered a hand to Yancy.

Yancy brushed off the dirt on him. He was a bit scuffed, being slammed into a tight corner and all, but overall he was alive and well. Though being up close and personal with his friend ---could he call him that?--- was… an experience. “Damn, youse gonna kiss me or something? Way too close, freebird.”

“What? You’d rather kiss the boulder? I saved your life.”

“Guess we’re even then.” Yancy fidgeted. “So... what now?”

“We should head back and put that statue in the right place this time.” Illinois nodded, shaking off the dirt on his hat. “Doubt the spirits are satisfied, after all.”

The trek back to the pedestals was quiet. What could they say after nearly being crushed to death? When they got back, the statue stood untouched where Illinois left it.

“I swear if I gotta run like that again…” Yancy mumbled under his breath while Illinois picked it up.

“Don’t worry,” Illinois reassured, placing it on the other pedestal. “There usually isn’t a second boulder.”

For a moment, nothing happened. The hairs on the back of their necks stood up in anticipation.

From behind them, the walls cracked open with an ugly sound on rock against rock. Their attention snapped towards the sound. Yancy jumped, ready to run again, but Illinois held him back. The new passage revealed a staircase leading to the surface.

Illinois’ shoulders slumped. “What, no reward? Lame.”

“Lame?!” Yancy gasped, staring at Illinois like he was crazy. “Christ, I think I’ve had enough adventure for today. I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“Alright, alright…” Illinois gave a lopsided smile, clearly tired. He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “But you have to admit, that was pretty fun, wasn’t it?”

Yancy was already walking towards the staircase. He thought to himself for a moment. Yeah, he almost died multiple times, but goddamn was that a thrill. He legs wanted to give out at any moment, his heart pumped and made his ears ring, and he was scuffed and dirty as all hell. Yet, he has never felt more alive.

“Y’know what? Yeah, youse right! Must be fun to do that all the time, yeah?”

Illinois gave him a pat on the shoulder. The two of them began to walk out of the cave. “You have no idea.”

-

Maybe he was getting used to the bed, maybe he was so tired that he could sleep on anything, but Yancy slept like a baby when they got back to Illinois’ house. During the next day, they both slept well into the afternoon.

Illinois was the first to wake up. He made oatmeal for the two of them and waited for Yancy. Despite the sun shining, the day felt somber for him. For once he found an adventure partner that didn’t die on the first trap, and he was going to leave him. Just like all the rest. All he could do was accept it at this point. Yancy had his own responsibilities and his own life, it’d be cruel for Illinois to keep him from that.

“Mornin’, freebird,” Yancy greeted as he walked in the kitchen. He put on the leather jacket again after he woke up.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Illinois snickered at Yancy’s tired state. Rather than his usual slicked back hair, he had a messy bedhead. “You really like that jacket, hm? What, did you sleep in it?”

Yancy shrugged. “Might as well wear it now. Not like I can again.”

“That’s true.” Illinois picked at his bowl then looked Yancy in the eyes. “So you’re still going back?” he asked, tone disappointed.

Somehow, Yancy didn’t falter under his gaze. He nodded. “Didn’t even say goodbye to the others, y’know? It was fun while it lasted, though. This was nice.”

“I’m glad you thought so. You were a natural yesterday so, lemme give you something.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a flip phone. “I’m not going to stop you from leaving, but if you ever want some fresh air just give me a call. I’ll be more than happy to let you out of your cage for a bit, jailbird.”

The phone was slid over to Yancy, who grabbed it in surprise. “Woah… Thank youse!” He let out an airy laugh. “I’ll be sure to call youse! Hopefully I can hide this when I get back.”

“Just do your best, I’d love another adventure with you,” he said, sincere. Then, he flashed a smile as he thought of something. “And if it helps when you get back, maybe say I kidnapped you or something. So you won’t get punished.”

“Oh yeah? Like I’m your lil’ damsel in distress? Hold on.” Yancy cleared his throat and faked an exaggerated hurt expression. “Oh, w-warden-!” he gasped and did his best to quiver his lip, “It was so scary, youse have no idea! He was such a brute a-and I couldn’t stop him! Heavens know I tried…”

Illinois threw his head back in laughter. “Dear god…”

Yancy broke his facade slightly to snicker, only to return to his dramatic state. “He’s was out for blood I tells ya! He’s held me hostage for fun and was all like,” Yancy then proceeded to do the worst impression of Illinois’ voice, “That’ll teach them to lock me up! You’ll never escape me~”

It sounded like an oversexualized villian that was played by someone who clearly couldn’t get rid of their accent. Illinois laughed even harder, voice going up a pitch in volume.

“Is that what I sound like to you?! I’m insulted!” He snorted.

Yancy gripped the table for support, joining in on the laughter. “Well, yeah! I sound just like youse!”

“You better pray that that performance gets you out of trouble, you asshole!” Illinois wheezed, trying to catch his breath. He covered his mouth to hide a sudden mischievous smile. “Youse better watch ya mouth.” He tried his best to do that raspy accent that Yancy had, but failed horribly.

Yancy visibly cringed as he giggled. “Never do that again.”

“Right back at ya,” he continued to talk like a West Side Story reject, snickering.

A couple more hours passed with the two of them talking their heads off. Lots of stories of adventures from Illinois, and lots of stories of prison from Yancy. Though eventually, Yancy began to get ready to leave. He changed back to his prison clothes and gave back the jacket to Illinois.

“If you ever come back here,” Illinois started, hanging up the jacket, “This jacket and I will be waiting with a warm welcome.”

“Aw~” Yancy gave a bashful smile, scratching the back of his neck while looking down. He let out a heavy sigh and looked back at Illinois. “C’mere, freebird!”

Next thing Illinois knew, he was being pulled into a tight hug. He returned the gesture and hugged back just as tight. They lingered for a moment, the realization that they’d actually miss each other set in. Who would have thought?

“I’ll be sure to take youse up on that offer.” Yancy pulled back and gave him a heart pat on the shoulder. “Youse not gettin’ rid of me that easily, ya hear?”

“I would hope not.”

Yancy sighed and stepped back. He made his way out the front door. The car keys he stole still in his possession, so at least he had a way back. Illinois stood by the door frame, ignoring the ache in his chest as he watched him walk away.

His mind still raced with things to talk about, but they could wait. He furrowed his brows as he saw the car, turning back to Illinois one more time. “And uh, Illinois?”

“Yes?”

He swallowed his pride and muttered his next sentence, abnormally quiet, but Illinois could hear it loud and clear. “Youse pretty alright.”

Illinois huffed and rolled his eyes. “When I’m not annoying as hell?”

“Nah, I think it builds character.” He shrugged. “Youse a good man.”

Illinois felt his heart ache more at that comment, actually taken aback. “Yancy…” he gave an airy chuckle, shaking his head with a small smile. “You’re a good man, too. I’m glad I met you.”

It looked like Yancy had more to say, but decided against it. His throat tightened more as he stepped closer to the car. He cast one more look back at Illinois. “Stay safe, okay freebird?”

“Likewise, jailbird. Take care of yourself,”

Yancy nodded and finally got in the car. Illinois watched him drive away, offering one last wave goodbye.

He shut the door behind him, now alone in his quiet house. He was a free man at least, but what now? He had lost many, many partners in his time, but this one struck a chord. Well, Yancy did have his number, so he could call at any time. He hoped that he was serious about keeping in touch.

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy is due some nice smooching.

So Asterius has no qualms in just picking him up and dragging him to bed.

As a treat.

"Ast, what-"

Yancy groans when he's picked up, but not from discomfort. Oh no. It's because he fucking loves when Asterius picks him up, and he's all too aware that the Minotaur has an intimate understanding of this.

Then he sees where they're heading, and he's at a loss for words. But he's more than ready to give Asterius whatever it is he wants from him. He lets out a huff of air, holding on a little tighter. "Sweetheart..."

[late-night-cabaret]

Good boy. That never fails to make heat rise up Yancy's neck to his ears. It's a whiplash he'll gladly enjoy, being good and filthy for Murdock.

Groaning at his request, Yancy's eyes flutter before barely staying open, moving his tongue along the digit. Hairy chest already heaving and beginning to glisten, wishing his wonderful torturer would stick something else in his mouth.

He grunts as he tries to say something around the gag. "'Leas... 'leas..."

That darling little caged bird. Such an interesting creature, so alluring to him. Yancy may have tried to live a clean life, but he was never against the occasional indulgence with Murdocks life. After all, the murderer couldn’t forget the dream so lovingly shared only a few weeks after they’d met. And how can he not give him that?

Before his lover ever touches the table, he’s given the last of a gentle touch. Quiet laughs shared between them as Murdock undresses him, Yancy lifting the sunglasses off of him before they’re set in place to give him the threatening allure he’s almost always broken. Less intricately tied than he wanted, only held down by the straps on his arms and wrists.

“Oh darling, open your mouth for me. I’m not going to be using it just yet tonight.” Murdock pulls out a gag, pushing the ring into the waiting mouth and tightening it around his head. “You’d really let me take all this from you? Filthy whore.”

@murdersinthemaking

Being incarcerated as young as he was, Yancy never had a chance for much exploration of things he was into. Sure, contraband of various types always had a habit of making its way into Happy Trails, but the real learning came after he got out. The man who had taught him the most is also a serial killer who's strapping him to the table where he usually handles his victims.

If the blood that's supposed to operate his brain wasn't currently rushing to his cock, he might have been able to ponder why that's so fucking arousing.

Yancy does as he's told and opens his mouth. The ring is different, but not bad, and he's glad he was able to get a feel of it before all this. What he isn't expecting is Murdock to call him... that. But even as he goes to make a noise of indignation, something hot burns beneath the skin. It's embarrassment, but it's mixed with another thing that makes him whine and stare up at Murdock pleadingly. He nods.

[late-night-cabaret]

There's a lingering worry that he's overstepped some line, but Yancy immediately feels nothing but relief once Enzo responds. He loves him. They love each other. Just as they do in several different universes. It's the most natural thing in the world, like breathing.

Letting out a shaky breath, Yancy rests his forehead against Enzo's, also moving his hand to cup his cheek. His neck smarts in a couple of places now, but he doesn't mind. He likes the idea of being marked. "I'm... I'm ready, if you need more. Please..."

Enzo has been thinking a lot about one particular thing recently: blood. The look, the smell, the taste... that intoxicating taste....

Gods, he feels like he's losing his mind.

In the interest of the safety of his coworkers (as well as keeping his job), he's bitten through his lip in the office at least 9 times this week; he only works 4 days a week. It's just to hold him over until he can feed properly, that's all. Just a filler habit.

He just hopes it won't have to be a regular thing.

[late-night-cabaret]

Everything is slow and intimate, even with the fact that Enzo is doing something like drinking his blood. Hell, maybe that's only increasing the feeling. Even if Yancy wasn't currently experiencing the emotions of several different versions of himself, he'd be lost to him.

Yancy holds him firmly, his breath coming out in soft pants. Hand trailing off of his hip so he can wrap an arm around his middle. "Enzo, mhh... I love you..."

Enzo has been thinking a lot about one particular thing recently: blood. The look, the smell, the taste... that intoxicating taste....

Gods, he feels like he's losing his mind.

In the interest of the safety of his coworkers (as well as keeping his job), he's bitten through his lip in the office at least 9 times this week; he only works 4 days a week. It's just to hold him over until he can feed properly, that's all. Just a filler habit.

He just hopes it won't have to be a regular thing.

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy barely registers the bite this time, his body in a warm haze like he's submerged in warm water. He's groaning along with Enzo, and as soon as more blood is pulled from his veins, the connection increases again.

Yancy loves him. It's clear as day to him. Each and every connection is an electrified web, and that's the truth at its core. He's groaning along with him. One hand palms his hip and slowly encourages Enzo to move against his lap. The other tangles into the hair at the nape of his neck to keep him close.

"That's it, baby... I've got you..."

Enzo has been thinking a lot about one particular thing recently: blood. The look, the smell, the taste... that intoxicating taste....

Gods, he feels like he's losing his mind.

In the interest of the safety of his coworkers (as well as keeping his job), he's bitten through his lip in the office at least 9 times this week; he only works 4 days a week. It's just to hold him over until he can feed properly, that's all. Just a filler habit.

He just hopes it won't have to be a regular thing.

[late-night-cabaret]

Even though Yancy asks, he already has a feeling what Enzo's answer is going to be. He's not sure how... or he is. Everything is really fuzzy at the moment, and it isn't from blood loss. It could have to do with blood being redirected to his cock, but he's too focused on Enzo anyway.

"Hmm," he hums, watching intently as Enzo licks his thumb. Swiping along his lower lip, Yancy then tilts his head back, exposing more of his neck while his hands move along the detective's waist. "Go on then. Take more."

Enzo has been thinking a lot about one particular thing recently: blood. The look, the smell, the taste... that intoxicating taste....

Gods, he feels like he's losing his mind.

In the interest of the safety of his coworkers (as well as keeping his job), he's bitten through his lip in the office at least 9 times this week; he only works 4 days a week. It's just to hold him over until he can feed properly, that's all. Just a filler habit.

He just hopes it won't have to be a regular thing.

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy kisses Enzo like it's been years since they've done so, and it will be even longer until they get to do it again. The blood hardly fazes him... if anything, it spurs him on as something like a growl rumbles in his chest. It isn't the blood so much as knowing that Enzo needed and wanted it from him.

When his lungs finally scream at him for a proper breath, he pulls back just enough to stare into Enzo's eyes. Hypnotized by the blue-red, swiping his thumb along the detective's chin to catch the blood there. "Did you get enough?" he asks softly. His eyes are still cloudy and voice deep, but it sounds more like himself. Once Enzo answers, Yancy presses his thumb to his lips to offer what's there.

Enzo has been thinking a lot about one particular thing recently: blood. The look, the smell, the taste... that intoxicating taste....

Gods, he feels like he's losing his mind.

In the interest of the safety of his coworkers (as well as keeping his job), he's bitten through his lip in the office at least 9 times this week; he only works 4 days a week. It's just to hold him over until he can feed properly, that's all. Just a filler habit.

He just hopes it won't have to be a regular thing.

[late-night-cabaret]

When Yancy looks at Enzo, everything he feels is intensified. His consciousness contains multitudes, and all of them are staring at the man they care about more than anything. An electric current thrums beneath his skin, and even though Enzo has detached, he feels connected.

It's emotional and physical, which the latter could be evidenced by how hard he's become beneath Enzo.

Yancy's eyes open a little more, still cloudy white as he smiles dreamily at the man in his lap. The hand gripping his shirt slides up to cup his cheek, nodding before gently pulling him closer and into a passionate kiss. Even when he hums deeply, it sounds like more than once voice, all in harmony as his other arm wraps around him.

Enzo has been thinking a lot about one particular thing recently: blood. The look, the smell, the taste... that intoxicating taste....

Gods, he feels like he's losing his mind.

In the interest of the safety of his coworkers (as well as keeping his job), he's bitten through his lip in the office at least 9 times this week; he only works 4 days a week. It's just to hold him over until he can feed properly, that's all. Just a filler habit.

He just hopes it won't have to be a regular thing.

[late-night-cabaret]

Great, now Yancy is thinking about being leashed. He whines again like he should be wearing one, cock throbbing and resting against his stomach now. It almost hurts, but his head feels like it's gradually being stuffed with cotton as he huffs.

Gloved hands on his chest are a cooling balm, and he shivers, staring up at Murdock with rounded eyes. He doesn't... he's not even taking the gag off. Such an ass but he fucking loves it and he knows that Murdock knows it. Tilting his head back against the table, he closes his eyes and grunts as he tries to focus. He wants to be good.

"Oose... argh..." He looks at Murdock again, pleading and speaking as clear as he can. "Oose eee..." Use me.

That darling little caged bird. Such an interesting creature, so alluring to him. Yancy may have tried to live a clean life, but he was never against the occasional indulgence with Murdocks life. After all, the murderer couldn’t forget the dream so lovingly shared only a few weeks after they’d met. And how can he not give him that?

Before his lover ever touches the table, he’s given the last of a gentle touch. Quiet laughs shared between them as Murdock undresses him, Yancy lifting the sunglasses off of him before they’re set in place to give him the threatening allure he’s almost always broken. Less intricately tied than he wanted, only held down by the straps on his arms and wrists.

“Oh darling, open your mouth for me. I’m not going to be using it just yet tonight.” Murdock pulls out a gag, pushing the ring into the waiting mouth and tightening it around his head. “You’d really let me take all this from you? Filthy whore.”

@murdersinthemaking

Being incarcerated as young as he was, Yancy never had a chance for much exploration of things he was into. Sure, contraband of various types always had a habit of making its way into Happy Trails, but the real learning came after he got out. The man who had taught him the most is also a serial killer who's strapping him to the table where he usually handles his victims.

If the blood that's supposed to operate his brain wasn't currently rushing to his cock, he might have been able to ponder why that's so fucking arousing.

Yancy does as he's told and opens his mouth. The ring is different, but not bad, and he's glad he was able to get a feel of it before all this. What he isn't expecting is Murdock to call him... that. But even as he goes to make a noise of indignation, something hot burns beneath the skin. It's embarrassment, but it's mixed with another thing that makes him whine and stare up at Murdock pleadingly. He nods.

[late-night-cabaret]

Yancy has just enough coherence left to groan indignantly, bumping the back of his head lightly against the work table. Murdock is such a shit. He wants to tell him how mean and unfair he's being, but all he can muster is something that maybe sounds like 'ah c'mon!'.

He angles his head back down to look at his implements of torture as they wobble on his chest, breath coming out in short huffs. He wants to tell Murdock to choose, that he will take anything as long as he starts doing something. But again, too many words.

"Argh... 'at uhn..." He replies roughly, nodding his head toward the vibrator.

That darling little caged bird. Such an interesting creature, so alluring to him. Yancy may have tried to live a clean life, but he was never against the occasional indulgence with Murdocks life. After all, the murderer couldn’t forget the dream so lovingly shared only a few weeks after they’d met. And how can he not give him that?

Before his lover ever touches the table, he’s given the last of a gentle touch. Quiet laughs shared between them as Murdock undresses him, Yancy lifting the sunglasses off of him before they’re set in place to give him the threatening allure he’s almost always broken. Less intricately tied than he wanted, only held down by the straps on his arms and wrists.

“Oh darling, open your mouth for me. I’m not going to be using it just yet tonight.” Murdock pulls out a gag, pushing the ring into the waiting mouth and tightening it around his head. “You’d really let me take all this from you? Filthy whore.”

@murdersinthemaking

Being incarcerated as young as he was, Yancy never had a chance for much exploration of things he was into. Sure, contraband of various types always had a habit of making its way into Happy Trails, but the real learning came after he got out. The man who had taught him the most is also a serial killer who's strapping him to the table where he usually handles his victims.

If the blood that's supposed to operate his brain wasn't currently rushing to his cock, he might have been able to ponder why that's so fucking arousing.

Yancy does as he's told and opens his mouth. The ring is different, but not bad, and he's glad he was able to get a feel of it before all this. What he isn't expecting is Murdock to call him... that. But even as he goes to make a noise of indignation, something hot burns beneath the skin. It's embarrassment, but it's mixed with another thing that makes him whine and stare up at Murdock pleadingly. He nods.

[late-night-cabaret]

It was a delightful mistake to give himself away the first time Murdock paid attention to his chest. It had been good that first time, but now that the area is more ample, it's somehow become even more sensitive. Doing his best to push his chest up against gloved hands, Yancy nods at the question with a 'uhhuh' over a whimper. In this moment, he will be whatever Murdock wants him to be.

Yancy whines when he lets go, but the anticipation ramps up when he hears the rummaging. Wondering what his 'torture' will be, shivering when he sees the grin he's treated to. Fuck. It's such an easy ask. Pick a number between one and three. With the static between his ears and heat descending through his body, he'd have an easier time trying to get a hand free. Not that he would want to.

"Uhn... uhn..." For good measure, Yancy extends his index finger on one hand.

That darling little caged bird. Such an interesting creature, so alluring to him. Yancy may have tried to live a clean life, but he was never against the occasional indulgence with Murdocks life. After all, the murderer couldn’t forget the dream so lovingly shared only a few weeks after they’d met. And how can he not give him that?

Before his lover ever touches the table, he’s given the last of a gentle touch. Quiet laughs shared between them as Murdock undresses him, Yancy lifting the sunglasses off of him before they’re set in place to give him the threatening allure he’s almost always broken. Less intricately tied than he wanted, only held down by the straps on his arms and wrists.

“Oh darling, open your mouth for me. I’m not going to be using it just yet tonight.” Murdock pulls out a gag, pushing the ring into the waiting mouth and tightening it around his head. “You’d really let me take all this from you? Filthy whore.”

@murdersinthemaking

Being incarcerated as young as he was, Yancy never had a chance for much exploration of things he was into. Sure, contraband of various types always had a habit of making its way into Happy Trails, but the real learning came after he got out. The man who had taught him the most is also a serial killer who's strapping him to the table where he usually handles his victims.

If the blood that's supposed to operate his brain wasn't currently rushing to his cock, he might have been able to ponder why that's so fucking arousing.

Yancy does as he's told and opens his mouth. The ring is different, but not bad, and he's glad he was able to get a feel of it before all this. What he isn't expecting is Murdock to call him... that. But even as he goes to make a noise of indignation, something hot burns beneath the skin. It's embarrassment, but it's mixed with another thing that makes him whine and stare up at Murdock pleadingly. He nods.