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Every time a civilization reaches the pinnacle of its decadence, we return to restore the balance.
I am going to hurt you.
You are going to hurt me.
But we will do it with practiced fingers
and passionate mouths
and I swear to god
it will be worth something.
Finishing his drink, he nodded. John understood. He did, really. He was a little surprised by Barsad’s reaction, but that being said, he had never seen the other man jealous before. He had been a surprising and easy entry into their little world, he was new and knew it, still trying to find his place while the other two waited patiently for him to figure out and molest him while they all went about it. He blinked and spluttered a little, hearing his name and the plan attached, part swallowing, part choking down his beer and blushing bright and vibrant. Sure, sounded like an awesome plan. “Oh, oh, okay,” and he nodded, stilling as Bane wandered away, looking fucking delicious as he walked past in stretched black cotton and making a little sound he couldn’t help as Barsad not only grinned (leered) but leaned in, nuzzling him and smelling him like some sort of hound. He gasped when Barsad sunk his teeth into his throat and he swallowed hard, watching as they walked off. Na ah. Not without him. He scrambled out of his chair, the piece of furniture bouncing as it hit the floor. He half skidded into the kitchen, sighing happily at the sight of the two of them wrapped around each other. “Let me help. I vote we get started early on John as well,” and he grinned, stirring a little in his pants already.
Bane and Barsad. Bane and John. John and Barsad. They were a happy little trio. Barsad and John helped him with the dishes making it all go by that much faster because he too voted to get an early start on John. When all the little chores were done and the lights turned off and the doors locked, Bane was the last one upstairs, doing one last run through of security check. Nobody could be too cautious. Every step creaked as he went up. The wood was cold on his bare feet but the wood on the railing felt warm under his palm with the energies of the other two men that came scampering up before him. He stood in the doorway of their bedroom and leaned against the gable of the door. Three grown men stuffed into a king sized bed with varying pillows and many blankets because one would hog the bundle while another kicked them down and by the time they woke up, Bane was usually bare, nude and freezing, left in the abandon to the chill of the air and visible for anyone to see. So he made sure to make their bed over abundant in the blanket department. He took the mask off and set it on his dresser top carefully, readied the opiates Ivy had prepared for him and drew them into the syringe. Three altogether would allow him to sleep through the night unaffected by pain. He could fuck his lovers and sleep peacefully without the awful mask in the way but these were his last three until his next meeting with the woman. Given Barsad didn’t fight her away. He rubbed the soft hairs on his chin, reminding himself to shave later. “What’s the plan for tonight then? Break John? Build John? Enjoy Barsad’s skillful mouth?”
Barsad wouldn’t chase her away (he was getting far too used to feeling Bane’s mouth on his own, and in other places) he just wanted to know who she was. That was all. So he could some territorial parading around and make it know that the big man with the kind eyes was his and John’s (he had to make a statement on Bambi’s behalf because Bambi couldn’t make his own just yet) and if she wanted a genius in favour of violence and liberation, she would have to find her own. So nani nani boo boo. “The plan for the evening,” Barsad repeated from his spot on the bed, still full dressed in his top and jeans and socks. “Should be to pull John apart,” and he tackled the younger, smaller male to the bed, pinning him to the mattress by his wrists above his head and his hips against his, grinning that wolfish grin up at Bane. “Into little pieces. Slowly,” and he leaned down until he was nose to nose with John, teasing the eager young man. “Carefully. Make you squirm,” he said to the body under him before looking up at Bane. “If that means enjoying my many oral talents in the process,” and he gave a quick quirck of his brow and a quick shrug before leaning down and stealing John’s bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a tug and a suck.
I will bruise your lips,
and scar your knees
and love you too hard.
I will destroy you
in the most beautiful way possible.
And when I leave,
you will finally understand,
why storms are named after people.
— M.K., Katrina (via kitty-en-classe)