paradisalogs | You have set something in motion...

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You have set something in motion...

Who: Vicious and Gren
What: Vicious is bored, but knows just how to fix that.
When: Evening, backdated to before a certain car heist.
Where: Starting at the bar Gren works at in town, moving on from there.
Rating: Definitely R, at least. Adults doing Adult things.

He'd come into the bar a few hours before closing, making sure to let Gren see him before taking a table to himself back away from both the crowd, and his old comrade, ordering a succession of drinks from one of the hostesses instead. To everyone in the bar, he gave the air of someone who simply wanted to be left alone to drink in solace. But he knew that Gren knew he was there, and that was all that mattered.

He finished his last drink as the place began closing up for the night, then stepped outside to wait. In years past, he might have lit a cigarette, perhaps even leaned back against the building while he waited, but now he simply stood there, hands in his pockets, ignoring the chill to the air. He was certain he wouldn't be kept waiting long.

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Naturally, Vicious was right about him. He'd certainly noticed the man come in, but had been too busy to come speak to him. The fact that he hadn't come up the bar meant he had other plans, and so left Vicious to his own devices accordingly. Gren could almost feel that brooding presence all night, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. But where this would be bothersome to most people, there was something like a feeling of comfort in the sensation. As well as anticipation. Rare were the instances that his comrade had sought him out instead of the reverse, and he was anxious to find out why.

He cleaned up quickly, slipping the waitress a slightly larger share of tips in return for finishing up the closing duties without him. Slipping on a long gray overcoat he exited the building and cast around until he sighted the familiar shock of pale hair in the moonlight.

"What brings you out here?"

Not to say that Vicious was incapable of simple social calls but...no...he really wasn't.

He didn't move until Gren called out to him, at which point he turned slightly, letting his hands drop to his sides.

"You."

He had just the right amount of alcohol in his system to make the smirk that slid across his face feel almost natural, as opposed to the calculated act it usually represented. "Unless you had other plans...?"

Gren's stomach seemed to do a flip, and wide smile of his own tugging at his lips in response to seeing that expression. It seemed like a private thing, reserved only for him, even as far back as Titan. Maybe it had been in his head, or maybe it hadn't, but he hoarded those glimmers all the same.

"I can always make time for you," he answered.

"Good." Not that he had thought for a moment that Gren would deny him, but it was still pleasing to hear. Without bothering to offer further information, he started walking in the general direction of Gren's apartment.

The air was cold, but the night was clear, and he found himself in something dangerously approaching a good mood.

Gren shot a slightly bemused expression at the back of Vicious' head and hustled to fall into step. He'd had his own share of drinks during his shift, though fewer and mostly watered to keep him sober, but enough to contribute to the lightness of feeling as they walked.

He let himself stop wondering what the agenda here might be and launched into a rambling explanation of his work at the bar and other small talk meant only to fill air. It was simply the expected meter of their relationship. Gren would always talk, and Vicious would listen, often without comment. It was almost never the words that mattered, anyhow.

Before long they were ascending the stairs, accompanied by the jangle of keys as Gren paused on the landing to unlock the front door.

Vicious let Gren's chatter wash over him without paying it much mind. It was simply how things always worked between them. Gren talked to fill the silences, apparently unconcerned by how little Vicious might care about any of it.

He did prefer it to genuine attempts at small talk that less observant people tried to impose on him. Gren, at least, knew the score. So he remained silent as they reached the front door, stepping back to allow Gren to unlock it before stepping in side. He didn't bother trying to locate the light switch, leaving that for Gren. Instead, he occupied himself with unbuttoning his suit-coat and hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, a sign that he didn't intend to go anywhere any time soon.

It didn't escape Gren that his comrade had taken to his house like some kind of homeless, and slightly feral, tomcat - appearing whenever he felt like it and never staying long enough to really impose himself on the space. Not that Gren hadn't tried to charm him into staying.

The comparison almost made him chuckle, but he kept it to a smile in the dark as he went about turning on lights. Electricity was still a sparse resource in this part of town, so other than the one light in the front room, everything else ran on gas. It was low-rent but comfortable enough, maybe in part because of the resemblance to his apartment on Callisto.

A soft glow filled the living room as he unbuttoned his own coat and swept into the kitchen.

"Want some coffee?"

"I'm fine," he replied as he watched Gren shed his own coat. He wasn't particularly sober, but he didn't want to be, either. Not for the moment, any way. For now, he just wanted to see how long Gren would simply accept his presence without further questioning as to his motives, or if he'd simply decided to take Vicious at his word with no further thought for what he might be planning.

Gren shrugged and went about things as if Vicious were not lurking in his living room. He fixed himself a small meal as he let the coffee brew. Nothing terribly elaborate but enough to satisfy a need after a long day at work. A need Vicious didn't seem to have much interest in, or was currently ignoring for a reason Gren wasn't aware of.

Other needs, however...

By the time he'd poured the coffee he found himself tapping his fingers around the sides of the warm mug as he looked across the room.

Fifteen minutes, give or take, if Vicious had been counting, before he slid onto the opposite of the couch, set the mug down on the table nearby, and propped an arm up on the back of the couch.

"You didn't really come here just to crash on my couch, did you?"

Fifteen minutes. He had to give Gren credit for that level of patience. Most people wouldn't have put up with him lurking around with no defined purpose for more than a few minutes, at best. Of course, Gren was also used to him. Maybe he was letting him get too comfortable.

He would save that thought for later contemplation. Trying to remind Gren to be wary of him would be counter to his purposes tonight, anyway. "No," he replied. "Sleeping isn't on my agenda." Nor was the couch, particularly.

It was probably a good thing he'd been sitting down. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised at all, given that the subject had already been breached, though little had come of it since Christmas other than that brief kiss. That answer was reminder enough to make his jaw drop briefly in surprise, and resurrected that flutter of feeling he'd long tried, and failed, to disassociate from his comrade. Desire.

But it was incorrect to say that Gren had lost all fear of the other man entirely. Accepted and adjusted to his presence on a more domestic level, maybe, but uncertainty would always be a factor. Vicious was a wild card that way. So faced with a rather clear opening gambit, he was too afraid to start it. Maybe later on he'd learn what the rules here were, but for now he had no precedent other than his imagination.

Humor ever his refuge, Gren shuttered the look of surprise as best he could and slid a little closer, leaning towards Vicious with a coy smirk full of false confidence.

"Oh? Mind elaborating on that?"

He caught that look of surprise, and the recovery attempt by way of smirk, and decided to draw it out for a few moments before reacting himself. The surprise was good. He wanted to savor it for a moment before making another move.

And when it seemed that he might just let that question die without any sort of reply at all, he moved, quick and determined with no hint of what he was planning until he was locking his hands on Gren's shoulders to push him back against the couch, leaning in for a hard, ruthless kiss.

For a second he thought maybe he'd miscalculated before he was blindsided by the burst of movement. He let out a slightly panicked breath as his shoulders hit the back of the couch. Vicious' lips, however, dispelled the illusion of an attack and swallowed any question he might have posed at that moment. A hand gesture that might have been an instinctual motion to push Vicious away became a desperate grab at the other man's coat in an attempt to anchor himself as he tilted his chin and leaned into the kiss.

The surprise made Vicious smile momentarily before continuing that kiss. There was nothing romantic or gentle about his approach; this was a thing of hunger and need rather than true affection, though it was perhaps as close to that emotion as the pale man ever came.

But leaning like this was awkward, despite the feeling of control it offered him, and necking on the couch like teenagers wasn't particularly on his agenda for the night. He pulled away finally, and took a few steps away from the couch, reaching up to loosen the knot on his tie as he did so, keeping his eyes on Gren the whole time.

Gren made a tiny sound of desperation as Vicious pulled away, leaving him slightly stunned, looking up at the other man with an unmistakable glassy-eyed expression of desire. There was a wealth of feeling in that look, compared to the icy gaze directed back at him.

He didn't need a direct order - though he wouldn't have denied that he might have liked to hear it anyway. Vicious was always at his most magnetic when he was completely in control, but he also didn't expect his comrade to be especially amused by having to handhold him the entire time.

Finally managing a smile, he slid off the couch and stepped close. Dropping his gaze, he reached out, hesitant at first, tracing his fingers up the line of buttons on the man's shirt. With a sudden burst of bravado he hooked fingers into the loosened tie and tugged Vicious in for another kiss.

It was amazing the sorts of feelings you could provoke in a person, just by giving them what they wanted. It helped that Gren had apparently wanted this for a very long time, of course, but he took a moment to enjoy the simplicity of it all.

He stood still while Gren worked up his nerve, then let himself be drawn forward for another kiss. It was pleasant enough, after all. It had been a very long time since he'd bothered to engage in this level of intimacy with another person, and decided he'd made the right choice in seeking Gren out to entertain himself. He slid one hand around the other man's waist, resting his palm against the small of his back and pulling him in that little bit closer.

This was a more than acceptable development in Gren's estimation, going by the pleased sigh he made in the back of his throat. For years Vicious had been some untouchable thing - a cold, white statue on a plinth far too high for him to reach. But here he was, flesh and mortal blood, pressing against him at last - all hard kisses laced with alcohol. He wondered faintly if being drunk were a necessity for this activity, or if it was just because of the person it was with? Because he was a man? Or because he wasn't Julia? His mind didn't dwell too long on those questions, however.

His clever musicians fingers might be denied their art, but they could be applied quite nicely to the removal of that tie. Useful though it had been, it was getting in the way of his rising need to feel more than fabric under his hands.

The alcohol did make this easier, though it had nothing to do with Gren in particular. It simply rounded off a few of the sharp edges, which was probably to the other man's benefit. It loosened some of the control he held over himself, which was otherwise only breached by rage, letting him get more enjoyment out of the situation without resorting to more extreme methods.

It let him relax enough to let Gren this close. He made no protest as his tie was removed, and took a moment to tug the hem of Gren's shirt free from the waistband of his pants so he could slide a hand up along his side.

He had more than half of Vicious' buttons undone by the time that hand worked it's way under his dress shirt and the t-shirt underneath to reach skin. He shivered at that contact, breaking the kiss to gasp slightly. It was both alarming and slightly gratifying to feel. Vicious had long been an object of desire, but it was a different thing entirely to see him capable of it in any amount. Logically he'd known it was there, under the surface, given the evidence of past relationships, but it was different to experience it himself.

Just past his ribs those fingers found the bottom edge of the bandages that wound tightly around his chest. He dropped his head to Vicious' shoulder to hide the twist of anxiety, placing open-mouthed kisses against the slender neck as he went back to work on those buttons.

He wasn't particularly surprised by that sudden moment of apparent self-consciousness. In fact, he was expecting it, looking forward to finding out just how Gren would react to the situation as it unfolded. While he felt no personal responsibility for what had happened to him, he knew from past conversations that Gren didn't see things in precisely the same light, and he wondered how he would deal with that particular conflict. The war between what he wanted, and the wrong he had suffered.

It was bound to be interesting. Vicious let his hand linger a moment longer before he let it trail back down the musician's side and then left off touching him all together in favor of going to work on the buttons of his dress shirt.

It would have been easy to let that anxiety eat at him, but he'd gotten very good at repressing thoughts like that in the intervening years. He couldn't deny that it worried him, despite the fact that Vicious knew what lay underneath those wrappings. Knowing and seeing were very different things. The layers weren't intentionally there to complicate things for Vicious. It was simply a result of both the cold season and an ingrained habit of shielding others from finding out what he really was.

Gren distracted himself by running his palms over his comrade's chest and stomach and along to the hollow of his back, keeping just enough space between them for the other man's hands to work. He renewed the kiss, a little hungrier and more insistent than before, as much a testament to his nerves as it was to his need.

He finished with the buttons in short order, and abandoned the task momentarily for the distraction of kissing Gren back. Before too long, however, he was pulling away, stepping back just far enough to momentarily halt the proceedings, a slight smirk on his face.

"You'll have to help with the rest."

Not that he thought he'd really be thwarted by either a tee-shirt or some bandages, but there was no reason for him to do it himself when he could step back and watch Gren do it instead. It would be far, far more interesting to see how he dealt with that prospect than if he simply did the work himself.

Gren didn't think so either. He was adept enough at reading Vicious to figure out that much. Under most circumstances it was a reasonable enough request - to watch your partner get undressed. But for him it was like a particularly ugly scar. Worse, a scar the other man had at least indirectly caused.

He shrugs off the dress shirt to fake complicity and instead reaches for Vicious again, in an attempt to tug him towards the bedroom door.

"Maybe we should move this elsewhere?" he said, aware that it was a temporary evasion at best.

It wasn't the best attempt to change the subject he'd ever encountered, and it certainly wasn't going to get Gren out of the situation in the long-run, but he did have a good point. There was no point in standing around in Gren's living room when there were other options available to them.

A temporary reprieve, then.

"Lead the way."

He allows himself a slightly relieved smile as he pulls Vicious that direction. Funny, how he can't quite remember the last time he'd gone through this particular dance, with anyone. It's almost painfully normal, if it weren't for the people involved.

The room is small and dark, except for what floods in from the living room and the moonlight from the window, and he isn't in a hurry to remedy that. This wasn't the kind of activity to be carried out in good light anyway. Darkness was his friend here.

Even in the dim light it's easy to see the bed isn't terribly large, but Gren isn't concerned about them needing much space to spread out. The idea still gives him a nervous flutter in his chest, despite teetering on the edge of it. But he's smiling as he toes off his shoes and pulls the tie from his hair, stepping back to sit on the edge of the mattress and pulling Vicious close. With the other man standing it's easy to lean forward and brush lips against his abdomen, still with that slightly reverent manner as if he still can't quite believe he's allowed to do this now.

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