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sissytobitch10seconds · 1 year ago

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he sang louder and louder inside the house, and no i couldn't get him out

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows (Shadow and Bone TV) Summary: Wylan isn't used to loud noises, despite being a chemist and coming from a home with an abusive father. Kaz is always loud, but not in the same way that sounds are. He kind of likes it. Warnings: Sexual situations, masturbation, and background implied polyamory Word Count: 8,226 Ship(s): Wylan Van Eck/Kaz Brekker

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A/N: So I had this idea before I had consumed anything other than the show, which means that while there might be tiny bit of book stuff splattered throughout, it's primarily the show. Also, I didn't intend for it to turn out as sexual as it did but then their interaction became more and more sexual as time went on and now we're here. I hope you guys enjoy this weird little character piece that I wrote! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Wylan may not have been able to read, but he was still very smart.

His father had tried to convince him of his stupidity his entire life. He knew that it was true when it came to reading and writing, but he was still able to excel in science and music. It turned out to be true when it came to learning about people and the culture of a new place, as well.

He had been a fast learner when he was working out his new life in the Barrel. He had learned first that no one was to be trusted at face value, to always look at someone’s hand, and to assess what their body language meant when their sweet words sounded too good to be true. He had learned how to read people that he couldn’t see during the second week that he lived in his boarding room. He could tell how tall someone was, how quickly they were walking, and what their intentions were from their footsteps alone.

The clacking of a cane and a pair of good shoes behind him was brought to his attention as soon as he turned out of the main street where he worked. When he had first begun to search for work he hadn’t thought about picking some place like the local tannery, but it only made sense given his penchant for science and his illiteracy. It was good work that he usually enjoyed, even if he wished that he could be putting his talents with chemicals to slightly better use.

Wylan clocked that the person behind him was following him the second that he turned the corner and the sound followed. Something would have changed slightly if the person had continued straight, further into the merchant lined street to do window shopping. The fact that the steps had continued at the exact same pace as they had before told him that they were going to be turning the corner together.

It was the second time that he had ever been followed home, and he had learned from the first.

The first time that he had been followed, he had just rushed up to his room and desperately tried to lock the door with the foolish hope that the boarding house master would somehow stop the person that was following after him. He still had a broken rib halfway through the last stage of healing to prove why that hadn’t worked.

He had changed how he was going to deal with that specific situation soon after. Wylan walked into the front of the boarding house just long enough that whoever was following him hung back past the door. He darted around the corner and hid in an alcove until another one of the tenants of the boarding house left, giving a reasonable pair of footsteps for his attacker to pursue.

He then immediately slipped back out of the boarding house and walked around the back. Raising his arms above his head hurt and ached, uncomfortable because of the broken bone deep in his sternum, but he had gotten very good at ignoring pain. He placed his fingers securely around a brick above his head and then planted his feet on the wall. With measured movements and expert amounts of precision, he scaled the wall until he was finally up at his window.

Wylan grasped the window to his room, the one closer to the left side of the building. He had two windows that overlooked the city from the main part of the room that he had rented but only one of them was prepared for this seemingly inevitable eventuality. He had memorized the outside and inside of it so that he could be fully prepared, never doing anything halfway.

He pushed the glass upwards silently until it was behind the second half of the window. He pulled himself up so that his heels were resting on the edge of the sil while he felt around for the elongated piece of metal. It was sharpened but thin enough that it would be easy to hide within the frame without being noticed.

As soon as it was properly palmed, hidden away but quickly available when he needed to use it, he slipped the rest of his body so that he was inside of his room. He set his feet carefully down on the ground so that they made as little sound as possible. The wind whistled around the building outside and ruffled his jacket just enough that he was worried he might be found out, but the man currently stalking around his apartment hadn’t even turned to face him.

He stood up and then moved away from the window. It took three steps before he was up behind the intruder, the makeshift knife pressed into the hollow of his back. The man was at least six inches taller than him, which decreased the intimidation factor that he had been trying to go for. He didn’t think about it too much as he hissed, “If you want to steal something then you came to the wrong boarding house.”

“I didn’t come to steal anything,” the man replied, his voice dark and raspy in a way that spoke to something feral in the back of Wylan’s mind. Suddenly they flipped over so that the man that had broken into his home was on the advance and Wylan was protecting himself.

It was all very reminiscent of what had happened the first time that someone had broken into his place, but somehow it felt like more was on the line. It might have been simply because he had more things than the bare bones that had lined his rented room back when he could afford basically nothing. On the other hand, something in the back of his mind was whispering that it was different than that. It meant more than just paltry possessions, but it refused to tell him exactly what.

The man reached up so that he was grabbing Wylan’s wrist, squeezing once so that the smaller of the two was forced to drop the shiv that he had been grasping for dear life. The man’s other hand moved down to his hip, causing the cane that he had been holding to clatter noisily down to the ground. They took a step and a half backwards before Wylan’s back was pressed against the wall of his apartment, right next to the window that he had snuck through.

“I have to admit, you do have a rather good plan set up if you were to try that on anyone other than me,” the man whispered.

They were in just the right spot that the light from the moon and lanterns down below poured onto his face, allowing Wylan to finally see who had been following him all the way from his work. He had sharp cheekbones and jawline, smoothe and pale skin that was almost golden underneath, with a small scar just above his lip and stretching over his cheek. He was ruggedly handsome in an objective way, but his eyes were so darkly dangerous that they made gooseflesh appear on the edges of Wylan’s arms.

The first thing that he noticed sensationally was the fact that the man was wearing gloves. Wylan had spent enough time making leather at this point to know that they were high quality, better than a lot of items that the scum of the Barrel were usually able to pay for. The leather had obviously been made from a healthier animal than the tannery were used to using given the thickness of it against his skin. The pair had been made by someone that had to have specialized in gloves based on the way that the seams felt, smooth compared to the rest of the garment and also fitting perfectly to the hand inside.

“W-what do you want from me then?” Wylan asked. His eyes refused to meet the other man’s and his voice warbled as it emitted from his throat. He cleared it to try and stabilize the sound for the next time that he had to speak, despite knowing it wasn’t going to work. Fear, adrenaline, and a slight bit of arousal were mixing deep inside of his stomach.

The man on top of him suddenly released him, allowing his body to slump back against the wall like it already would have had he been holding himself up. He sucked in a breath when he realized that he had breathed out a long time ago and had never bothered with the other half of the mechanism. His heart was thrumming loud enough in his veins that any Heartrender within a mile of his room would be able to hear him.

Wylan slowly picked himself up, wringing his hands in front of him as he watched every minute movement that his attacker made. For some reason, he didn’t think that it was important to reach down for the shiv that was still laying uselessly on the floor. He began to wring his hands in front of him as he walked forward, towards his workbench.

Wylan had always had a bad habit of bringing his work home with him. That used to mean that he brought his homework back with him to his room, studying under the smallest flickering candle that wouldn’t let anyone know what he was doing until he literally fell asleep on top of it. Now it meant that he had dozens of beakers filled with chemicals of all sorts, some of which had been boiling for days and were finally getting down to the remnants that he could actually use for something. He didn’t know what yet, but he liked the freedom to experiment now that he was no longer under his father’s thumb.

The man stopped and ran the tip of his gloved index finger over the edge of one of Wylan’s beakers. “I was hoping that you could make me something.”

“Make you something?” Wylan repeated, his eyes glues on the pair of gloves and refusing to move.

“Yes,” the man replied. “I need a couple of light bombs. Something that will cause a big show of exploding and possibly blind onlookers for a time but nothing that would do physical harm to them.”

“Th-then you need a phosphorus bomb,” Wylan replied quickly. He grabbed the bottle that the man was playing with away from him so that he didn’t shake it too much in a certain direction, which would have caused it to explode.

“Are you offering to make them for me, little magpie?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. He looked like some of the birds that Wylan had seen in the gardens from his tutor rooms before everything had gone to shit.

He twitched slightly as he let his eyes flit over the bottles and beakers to make sure that they were all there and accounted for. He had a couple that were placed in locations that were more likely to get picked up, which he had done on purpose. If the man in front of him hadn’t been proposing a job that he desperately needed then he would have simply let him pick up one of those beakers and then suffer the consequences that it would bring him. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to work with you when I don’t even know who you are,” he mumbled.

Wylan had a sneaking suspicion as he got a better look at the cane. It was a deep black wood on the base and then an ornate, carved bird head with at least a facade of gold for the handle. The gloves that rested on top of it was the second clue that he got, but it simply just made him more suspicious instead of cluing him in properly.

“I think that you know, Wylan. You simply don’t want to be all that aware so you refuse to say it,” he replied.

The smaller of the two swallowed harshly. He didn’t know why, but the other man’s voice and the way that he was speaking were doing something to him. His body was quivering slightly in the too big clothing that he was using to hide his skinny frame from his boss and onlookers that might use it as a weakness. The most embarrassing thing was the way that his cock twitched in his pants, pressing against the center seam as it began to harden with every word that was spoken to him. He had never been that prone to falling to someone or being seduced that easily, but the man in front of him was different.

He listened to the sound of a cane hitting the wood of his floor and steps following after them as the other man made his way around the table and then paused. “Tell me, who do you think I am?”

“The Bastard of the Barrel, the owner of the Crow Club,” Wylan replied, his voice almost catching on his lips as he forced himself to get the words out.

“That’s right. Well done, magpie,” Kaz replied as a sick smirk grew over his perfect, thin lips. It stretched the scar there in a way that Wylan longed to feel under his fingers the same way that he did the strings of an instrument.

Wylan resisted the urge to preen at the praise. He knew that Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, was a dangerous man. The Crow Club was a place that many people visited when they wanted one of the smaller establishments that felt more intimate or didn’t want to be under Pekka Rollins’ rule. Wylan had ventured through the doors of the club for only a moment before the smell of tobacco leaf and alcohol had overwhelmed him. He had only been living in the Barrel for a couple of weeks at that point, he knew he’d be able to handle it better now.

Still, he had been warned away from that place by the people that he had talked to. He had been warned that Kaz Brekker was in the business of renting an indentured Wraith that he used liberally, just as he did his gunslinger, on people that wronged him.

“Why are you coming to someone like me to fill this job? I think that you know people that are far more skilled in this kind of thing than I am,” he mumbled as he stared down at his table again. He was fiddling with the edge where some of the wood was beginning to splinted from how often his belt buckle had knocked against it while he was working.

“I’m coming to you because I know that you’re strapped for kruge and you don’t want to be involved in my world, so you’ll be discreet,” Kaz replied easily. His gloved hands were grasping tightly around his cane as he advanced on the smaller man. “Am I wrong?”

He didn’t want to admit it. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized just how correct the other man was. He was making a good deal of money with his work at the tannery, but it wasn’t enough to support him in a cutthroat city like Ketterdam. He could go without meals, Ghezen knew that he had done it enough when he wasn’t making enough academic progress, but he couldn’t lose the roof above his head. The Barrel wasn’t really the type of place where anyone could get away with sleeping in the streets if they wanted to keep their dignity and personhood.

Wylan grit his teeth as he realized just how correct Kaz had been on literally every single front. He didn’t want to get involved in the crime part of the Barrel even if he was stuck in the destitution of it, so it was unlikely that he was going to get involved with even more criminals. “The job that you’re working on right now has to be pretty busy if you’re willing to put your trust in someone completely new,” he said, glancing at Kaz out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction.

The other man finished the walk around the table that he had been doing, stopping so that he was beside Wylan. He reached up and past him, grasping at another one of the vials as he said, “Correct again, magpie. Which is why I’m willing to pay you a little bit extra to make sure that you keep quiet about this no matter who comes knocking at your door.”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell them anything about it anyway,” Wylan replied bitterly. He didn’t want to be involved in this kind of thing, he had grown up hearing about the kind of degeneracy and immoral things that came with the criminal life, which is why he had worked so hard to stay on the straight and narrow despite everything that his life seemed determined to throw at him.

Something in the back of his mind, a very quiet voice, was letting him know that he liked it. He could feel the phantom brushes of clothing from Kaz’s arm every time the other man moved around him, the illusion of breath against his face and neck and hair as they spoke to each other. It sent thrums of fear and adrenaline through his body in a way that he had never experienced before.

Wylan may not have had a lot of practice with it, but he had had sex before. He knew what it was like to see a very handsome man and be attracted to him to the point where the butterflies in his stomach had turned into blood flowing to his dick. He had been in the bedroom with both women and men and discovered what he preferred, usually with a blush plastered to as much skin as possible and the awkwardness pouring from him in waves.

This felt so similar to that and yet so different. He was unable to muffle down the gasp that pushed its way out of him in a millisecond as one of Kaz’s gloved hands touched his back and tilted him slightly forward so that he was touching the table with his stomach. His cock was straining against the inside of his pants, pressing so hard against the seam that he was surprised he hadn’t already popped a couple of the stitches.

“So what do you say?” Kaz asked.

“Mm?” Wylan asked, blinking as he tried to come back into his mind. His thoughts had all been replaced by white hot static as he suddenly realized just how aroused and sexually frustrated he was. Kaz may not have been conventionally attractive the same way that a lot of the people he had been forced to deal with when he was back with his father, but he was alluring and dangerous. He was something that Wylan shouldn’t have been interacting with and that by itself was appealing, ignoring the other layer of captivating mystique that Kaz brought everywhere with him.

Kaz moved away and suddenly Wylan felt like he was dying. The places where they had almost been brushing up against each other were absent of the warmth from the other man, but still buzzing with a magical lightning that Wylan had never felt before.

He resisted the urge to whimper as he turned so that he was properly facing the criminal. “Are you willing to work with me, little magpie?”

“What do you need from me, exactly?”

That short sentence felt like it was cementing him to an early grave more than anything he had ever done. It was worse than when he had decided that he was going to stay in the Barrel instead of moving anywhere else to find safety. Yet somehow, it also felt like it was breathing life into a part of himself that he had been denying since he was old enough to begin understanding the world around him.

“Three of those bombs that you mentioned. I’m willing to reward you handsomely for it,” Kaz purred, his voice silky against Wylan’s ears despite the rasp that clung to every word like it was created to be there.

“Right,” he nodded. “When do you need them by?”

“I’ll come by by the eighth bell. I’m sure you won’t mind, right, magpie? I know you don’t work tomorrow. You never work on the last day of the week,” Kaz smirked as he spoke. Wylan knew that he had seen some kind of flicker of recognition or understanding in the other man that had clued him in to the fact that he was correct. He both hated and adored that the other could read him so easily, which was a very conflicting emotion to have to dig through when he was as hard as he was.

Discussing business while experiencing the worst orgasm denial that he had ever given himself wasn’t something that he had ever anticipated happening to him in his life. Wylan wondered if this was something that Kaz did with every other person that he encountered, riling them up so that their blood was in their cocks instead of their minds so that they’d be more pliable under his dirty hands.

“I’ll have them ready for you by tomorrow morning. It’s just a one time thing, right?” Wylan nodded the final confirmation. He was trying so hard to make sure that his voice was steady and the waver of arousal wouldn’t give him away.

He stayed where he was, his hands grasping the edge of the table like he was going to slip away into nothing if he didn’t have something physical to hold onto. Kaz pulled even further away from him, which made something deep inside of his chest ache with need. Wylan only tilted his head up when he heard the clacking of the cane making its way up the short set of stairs from his work area to the foyer of his room. He turned properly so that he could watch the other man leave him blissfully and heart wrenchingly alone in his own space.

Slowly, he collapsed down to the ground so that his back was pressed against the leg of the table for some kind of semblance of support. His hand was shaking as he removed it from the edge of the wooden mass behind him and then flopped it across his stomach. His breath hitched in his throat as he began to let his hands wander slowly down towards where his erection was refusing to leave.

Usually when he started thinking about work he’d be flaccid in no time, but nothing was working. Kaz had riled him up too much, he was going to have to get rid of his problem before he worked on the second one that he had gotten himself into.

Wylan’s fingers paused when they got to his belt buckle as he contemplated on whether or not he was actually going to go through with what he had promised. He didn’t really see an alternative, since it would likely result in his death if he suddenly refused to give the notorious Dirtyhands what he had paid for.

“Think later,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. Talking out loud had always helped him process things that stuck to the forefront of his mind and refused to leave him alone, which was a lot more accepted when he lived alone.

He whimpered slightly as the buckle of his belt pressed against his cock. All of his thoughts were focused down onto the problem at hand instead of thinking about everything else he had to do. His fingers fumbled for just a moment as his body was vibrating with the excitement of the promise he had made to not only Kaz, but to himself.

He grasped the belt buckle and slipped the leather through until he held half of it in each of his hands. He tossed them as far out to the sides as they would go while still stuck in the cloth loops on his pants. He undid both of the buttons holding the garment together and then shoved it down until his white underthings were on display. A second later, his dexterous fingers had slipped underneath the material and shoved it down as well.

His mind was just enough his own that he had the common sense to move onto his knees. One hand was grasping his workspace again to keep him steadily upright while the other focused on the burning arousal.

Wylan let his eyes drip shut as his mind replayed what had just happened to him over and over again. He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock as he vividly replayed the way that Kaz’s lips had looked when he spoke to the other, the gravely sound of his voice as it left his throat. He wondered what it would feel like to have those vibrations passing through him, either with a kiss on his skin or by having those thin lips wrapped around his swollen member.

A small gasp passed through his own lips as a shock of pleasure rushed through his system. He was very familiar with that feeling, having spent more nights alone while frustrated about pretty serving boys and visiting merchers than he wanted to admit to himself.

He thrust downward into nothing, his hand still wrapped around the base of his cock. Wylan didn’t think that he was going to last very long if he gave into his every single whim, so he decided that he was going to stretch it out at least a little bit. He ran his hand down the underside of his cock until the edge of his finger caught along the head.

He let out another shaky breath and then wrapped his fingers around the tip, pressing his thumb onto the top. “Shit,” he whimpered as he brushed the side of his nail against the slit of his cock, smearing the precum that was already beading there onto more of his skin. He wondered what it would feel like to have Kaz’s gloves in place of his own nail and finger, the seams brushing across the sensitive foreskin and underside of his cockhead.

Wylan whimpered and thrust forward with a smooth movement. His body was lithe and graceful, despite all of the shaking that his frame was doing to hold himself back from going wild. “Come on, come one,” he gasped as his hand slipped all the way down his cock again, settling at the base.

He spread his legs apart so that he was supporting himself while still pointing his erection down towards the ground to try and prevent the precum from getting his only clean set of clothes dirty. He took his other hand slowly off of the table next to him and delved into his pants and underthings, pressing the palm to his scrotum.

Vividly, his mind began to show him what it would be like to have that cane, the noise of which was still ringing through his head despite the other man’s departure, pressing where his hand was. He whimpered and thrust down into nothing a few more times before he began to pump his hand up and down his cock.

His breath hitched and sped up as the pleasure began to build in his gut. His hips were working in tandem with himself, thrusting down into the hand pressing to his balls while also up into the hand wrapped loosely around his cock. Each movement that he made added to the heat that was already pouring into his veins. It was making his shaking body tense and quiver more than it had before, threatening to release at any moment. He could feel the beginning of an orgasm building inside of him until he was sure that he was going to explode.

Unable to keep any sounds back whatsoever, the moans forced their way out of his mouth before he even clocked what was happening. He had been breathing in and out heavily through his nose when he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be holding his breath but now he drew air in through his mouth, choking back the spit that had pooled there. He was completely unable to form words but the sounds that were being drawn from him by his own hand was enough to show how heavily he had been torn apart.

His body loosened when his orgasm rolled over him. His cock twitched twice in his hand, his palm halfway down the shaft and now stuck there while he dealt with the almost overwhelming feeling. Pearly white cum poured out of him in even stripes as shocks of pleasure rocked through his system. He had been smart enough at the beginning to move himself so that it was all dripped down onto the wooden floor instead of his clothing, something that he was grateful for when he came back to himself.

His mind had been full of static while he had been grasping the fact that he had just gotten so turned on by a visit from a criminal and the charged energy between them that he had jerked off without even getting into his bed. He came back to himself as soon as his toes uncurled and he realized that he was very uncomfortable on the ground.

He moved his hand up his cock, wiping off the remnants of the cum, and then stuffed himself back into his pants properly. He cleaned up his hand and the floor before he turned back to his workbench so that he could do as he had been asked.

---

“I promised I wouldn’t do it again.”

The words felt like a lie as they rolled off of Wylan’s tongue, but he had meant them. He hadn’t promised anyone but himself and he was notorious for breaking the oaths that he swore in his own mind. Usually they had something to do with jobs that he was going to force himself to take for his own comfort or things that he wasn’t going to do because they made his skin feel like living snakes.

Still, having the man that had stolen his heart from inside of his chest standing in front of him made it hard to want to keep the promise whatsoever. Usually he had a little bit of fight in him even if a single growl in his stomach or the impulsive part of his brain shouting a little too loud made him fold. This was one that he had said he was going to have to keep to himself for his own sanity and safety, but it was so hard to want to keep it.

Kaz Brekker was standing in the middle of his laboratory in all of his Bastard of the Barrel glory. He was wearing a pair of straight legged black pants with a black leather belt that had a rather ornate looking golden buckle. Wylan could only see part of the curving design from underneath the patterned blue vest. His jacket had a popped collar and pressed sleeves, leading down to the leather gloves that always covered the flexing tendons in his hands. He had a hat perched over his carefully slicked back hair and his cane clutched faithfully by his side.

Wylan shouldn’t have been paying that much attention to what the other man was wearing, nor should he have let that influence his judgment in the slightest. It was well known that he wasn’t very good when it came to impulse control, though.

“I think that perhaps you didn’t mean it,” Kaz drawled lowly. He took a step forward, the clank of the hard metal tip of the cane sounding at the same time of the click of his shoe. So many of them in the higher parts of society had carried a cane with them as a fashion statement, but Kaz walked like it was another part of his body.

Wylan’s mind thought back to when he had taken the first job, the flash of the cool cane against one part of his body while the leather of his gloves traced over another. It made goosebumps raise on the flesh hidden under his baggy shirt and a flush raise to his cheeks.

“I did- I did mean it,” he replied as he cleared his throat awkwardly.

By the time that he got over his cowardice enough to look at his bad decision in the eye, Kaz had already rounded the table so that he was standing in front of Wylan. The smaller man kept his head pointed towards his experiments, as if he was watching the bubbling and smoking glasses to make sure that they didn’t erupt instead of refusing to look at Kaz for fear of losing what little resolve he had left.

“When was the last time that you ate, my dear?” the criminal asked, the nickname making Wylan’s heart flutter in his chest.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he mumbled.

He could feel the cool leather of the glove trailing over the table, getting closer and closer to where his hands had been absently trailing over the grain to give himself something to do. “Of course it’s relevant,” Kaz replied softly.

Someone with as much fire and vitriol inside of them shouldn’t have been allowed to be so tender, in Wylan’s opinion. He felt like he was turning to oil the same way that butter did when left out underneath the sunlight. The thought of that, half melted butter spread out over old bread rounds, made his stomach growl obnoxiously loudly.

“I don’t like it when my things aren’t well taken care of. If you do this job, then you will become one of my investments. I will make sure that you want for nothing. Understood?” Kaz asked. The trailing hand on the table stopped mere millimeters away from Wylan’s hand. He could feel where the air had been pushed to the side to make room for the other man and yet they were still far enough away that he felt like his body was going to compress and shrivel up with want.

It took him a moment to steady his breathing and ignore the way that he was becoming painfully aroused in his pants, just like he had last time. He shouldn’t have been riled up by something so small, but the bird that had flown through his window all those weeks ago was still driving him insane.

“How did the phosphorus bombs I gave you work?” he asked instead. He tilted his head even further away from Kaz, refusing to look at him so that he could keep the walls around his heart up for a little bit longer. He took several deliberate steps away from the table so that he was on the other side and began to fiddle with a few bottles he had placed out for another project he was working on. “Did I pack enough in?”

“Of course you did, Wylan,” Kaz replied.

His name on the other man’s lips was enough to make what little was left of his resolve on one specific thing to disappear like the last ice on top of a lake on the first day of summer. His heart throbbed in his chest and his stomach flipped with arousal and desperation. The muscles that had been tensed up to try and protect him at least a little bit loosened enough that his entire body began to quiver.

Wylan wasn’t given the chance to say or do anything before more words were pouring from the other man’s mouth, wrapping around him and consuming his flesh.

“I wish that you had more confidence in yourself. I know that you are aware of my reputation and who I am, so you should also know that by working with you, I have decided that you are worthy of my time and money,” Kaz let out a little sigh. “You’re a worthy investment only because you are capable, magpie.”

“I…” he couldn’t make any of the words caught in his throat bubble up to the surface like he desperately wanted them to. He was trapped in the fugue state as everything that the other man was beginning to consume him. The natural musk of his body mixed with his cologne to create a hypnotic, drugging effect on Wylan whenever the other man moved so that he could catch a whiff of it. The push and pull of their bodies around the table was addictive in a way that no substance, natural or man made, could ever be.

“I’ve offered to add you to my flock, you know,” Kaz murmured. Wylan could feel his breath against the back of his neck, sending up the hairs so that they were standing on end. He was so painfully aroused, it almost felt as though he was going to explode on the spot. He certainly hoped that he didn’t, he was wearing the only pair of clean clothing that he had on him and he wasn’t able to afford so much as food, let alone a place in the wash house so that he could clean anything he soiled.

“O-oh?” Wylan asked, his eyes finally darting back towards Kaz. His heart leapt up into his throat the moment at that his own locked with those dark, dangerous brown eyes.

Finally, a touch was laid upon his skin. It wasn’t what he had been expecting since their first interaction had gone much like the second had, but with Kaz leaving quickly after giving him the order of what he would need. It wasn’t something that he didn’t want, but it did make him suck in a surprised breath and stumble forward towards the table.

The smooth leather of the other man’s glove ran over the skin of his cheek and down to his neck. He couldn’t help but tilt his head to the side, much like he did when he was thinking. The seams of the gloves pressed into the rivulets of sweat that had begun to drip down from the base of his hairline. He could feel his cock straining so hard in his pants that he felt as though he were losing all of the blood in his body just to the one organ.

Kaz trailed his hand down the side of Wylan’s face and neck until he stopped at the juncture of his shoulder. He grasped at the space there, giving a tense squeeze while his thumb slipped around to Wylan’s throat. It pressed further into the sensitive skin until it caused some barely uncomfortable pulling a delicious pressure.

A strangled mewl forced its way through his crushed larynx before he had the chance to try and force it back down. The arousal burning in his gut had intensified even more than it had the last time that Kaz had been at his apartment and he was noticing all of those small things.

“You’re a good boy, Wylan,” Kaz whispered, the huskiness of his voice sending another shiver throughout him. “You saved my life, you know.”

“I-I did?” Wylan asked, trying to keep some semblance of dignity despite the way that he was falling apart in the hands of the other man. He felt the cane in Kaz’s hand tilt towards him slightly so that the wood was pressing against his skin through the cloth of his pants. He whimpered again and tried to not let his legs cave in.

The other man chuckled, a dark and dangerous sound that made the bead of precum already forming on the head of Wylan’s dick spill over so that it ran uncomfortably down his shaft until it was caught by his underthings. “You know what I like to do with people that serve me well, don’t you?”

“N-no,” Wylan shook his head. The only rumors that he had ever heard about Kaz had to do with what happened when he was crossed, none about when he was given what he wanted. He had heard, of course, about the unwavering loyalty from the Wraith and gunslinger that he kept by his side at all times, but there weren’t really a lot of other details about what their relationship might be.

“I reward them,” Kaz replied casually. Wylan felt tears welling in the corners of his eyes as he felt the ghosting breath against his neck, on the other side to where the gloved hand was holding onto his throat. “Each person requires something different to feel as though they are being rewarded. I had a man that wanted nothing more than a single silver coin every time that he did a job well done. Didn’t spend them either, just collected them. I hired an herbalist once that decided she wanted a Durast made hairpin so that she could hold her hair up better when she worked. Neither of them were my Crows, not like you are, but they still wanted something specific from me. My Crows also get something special when they do a good job at what I’ve asked them to.”

“W-what do they get?” Wylan asked. He had a feeling that there were only two crows other than Kaz himself, the Wraith and the gunslinger. Wylan’s veins sung as he thought about what him being added to that repertoire of deadly weapons would mean. Despite everything that he had been taught about how to think of those that lived in the Barrel and dealt with what Kaz did, he liked the idea of his weapons being used to help further whatever mission the criminal had taken.

“Well, my Wraith asks for nights off so that she can do anything that she wishes. My gunslinger asks for a strong bottle of alcohol and free reign over my betting tables with a high capped tab,” Kaz replied lazily. He had released the thumb that was pressing over the front of Wylan’s throat, but he was still using the digit to brush over the pretty red mark that he had left.

Somehow Wylan liked the idea of being bruised in the shape of gloves more than he liked the idea of someone’s fingerprints being indented in his skin. He dug his nails further into the wood of the table below his hands as he tried to keep his arousal back. Images of what he could ask for and what he might get in reply flashed through his mind, which only served to make his problem all that much harder to hide.

“I have a feeling I know what you want already, magpie. You’re quite easy to read, something that I think I can help you with if we ever choose to bring you with us when we go out instead of just keeping you locked up pretty and safe in your chosen cage,” Kaz murmured.

Fear shot through Wylan immediately, which caused his erection to wilt slightly. “I don’t want to be trapped in a cage. Never again.”

“I thought that you said you didn’t want to be involved in the life that I led, pretty bird,” the criminal let out a small hum. “You can only have one now that I’ve decided to invest in you.”

“I’ll come with you. I’ll do whatever you need me to,” Wylan replied immediately. “I can learn how to be like you, to be useful. I don’t want to be locked away. I want to be free.”

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” Kaz whispered. He took a small step closer so that Wylan could feel the warmth from his stomach pressing through to his back despite neither of them actually touching each other. It soothed the shaking in his limbs and the panic clawing through is chest. “I know what it’s like to be a bird with clipped wings, I would never do the same thing to you. You’ll fly free with the rest of the flock.”

He sniffled and shook away the tears that were trying to run down his face as well as he could with the hand still around his throat. “Thank you,” he mumbled, though his lips were sticking together.

“You’re welcome, my magpie. Now tell me what you want for your reward,” Kaz ordered. The change in his voice, from comforting to strict and commanding, brought the arousal back before it had even had the chance to properly leave.

Wylan whimpered and bucked his hips forward towards the table. He felt as though he was pushing his luck by being as close to the other man as he was. One of the only rumors that did actually exist about the Bastard of the Barrel and his two loyal workers was that he never touched them and they seemed to be inches yet miles away from their boss at all times. Given that and his relative newness to being considered part of that crew, he wasn’t sure what he’d be able to ask for.

He wasn’t a material person, so that was immediately off the table. He didn’t want silver coins or hairpins or even new equipment. He had everything that he wanted and had already been promised a roof over his head and food in his belly. He didn’t want time away from people since that seemed to be all he got nowadays, even when he was out busking for money in the streets.

“You,” he mumbled before his brain even had the chance to shut him up. It was the only thing rolling through his mind as he tried to find an abstract concept or gift that he could ask for.

Instead of getting hit or the touch immediately leaving like he was so scared that it was going to, he got a dark chuckle, “I was waiting for you to say that.”

Suddenly the cane was pressed to the back of his calves and slowly dragging further up his body. It pressed firm to his thighs before it turned and slipped between his legs. He had fantasized about it before, but now the heavy wood was pressing directly into the bottom of his cock and over his balls. It sent shocks of pleasure through him so strong that he wasn’t able to keep the noises from bubbling up through his chest.

“Th-thank you,” he immediately bit out. He was bending forward slightly as his legs trembled in the effort to try and keep him upright while he was being flooded with such a high amount of pleasure. He had never been treated as something worthy by anyone that had gotten to know him, so having his deepest fantasy executed on his willing body was euphoria he thought he would only receive in death.

“You do not have to thank me for something that you earned,” Kaz reminded him gently. The hand over Wylan’s throat moved to behind his head, threading gloved fingers through the ruddy brown-red curls until they tightened and dragged his head back properly. He gasped as he thrust his hips down towards the cane and table, where his cock was pinned. “Especially since this is the only way that you will get me for some time. I apologize for that, as I want you too. But we can make do, can’t we, magpie?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Wylan was almost crying at how good it felt. He continued his ministrations with his hips, moving them back and down so that he could toy with his balls along the cane and then forward to stimulate his cock against the seam of his pants and the table. The idea that Kaz Brekker, the untouchable Dirtyhands himself, had just admitted to desiring someone such as him hadn’t even begun to cross Wylan’s mind.

Just as it had before, when he was touching himself to the fantasy of what was happening now, he exploded with pleasure. His cock twitched in his pants as it began to spew white lines of cum into already soiled undergarments. He moaned loudly and unashamedly, for now, despite the tenseness of his head and how it was pulled back. It was hard for his toes to curl from where they were trapped in his steel-toed shoes but his muscles did turn to gelatin, loose and crumbling.

Before he had the chance to fully collapse down to the ground, Kaz caught him and lowered him down slowly. “Was that what you wished for?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

Kaz brushed the gloved hand still in his hair over the side of his face, much like he had before but tender instead of rough and charged. “Are you alright to clean yourself up and then get started on your new work, magpie?”

Wylan nodded without even thinking about it.

He was fully trapped in the song of the man in front of him, listening to the haunting notes and letting him draw Wylan in further and further until there was no escape. But somehow, he was okay with it. Later that day, when another one of his sexual encounters hurried down the steps to meet with him as Kaz had apparently ordered him to, he found that the birdsong was coming from his own lips.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #grisahverse #six of crows #soc #shadow and bone tv #shadow and bone #oneshot #wylan ven eck #kaz brekker #wylan x kaz #kaz x wylan #kazlyn #waz #what even is there ship name #he sang louder and louder inside the house and no i couldn't get him out fic

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