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@asmilelikegenocide
Hello, this is Bullseye!Mun Manicr.
If you want to start a thread with me, either send an ask or message me. We can work something out.
This is an +18 environment due to Muse being a homicidal and crude assassin with serious mental health issues. Please Do Not Interact if you're underage.
GUIDELINES
MUSE + HEADCANONS
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He hisses at the bite, riding it out as Aaron rides his fingers. Finally, he gives in and pulls them out, wiping off on the sheet, and pressing his cock against Aaron's slick hole.
"Ride me, Cowboy," He growls at him, letting him set the pace.
Ideally, there would be more pain to come, Aaron knew and wanted it anyhow given his habit of using Bullseye as his chew toy.
It's easy to let his mind go empty (not that that's such a big difference from his usual) when blood hits his tongue. Aaron whines loudly, but it's a sort of pleased sound, the sound of someone that knows he's getting what he wants.
Once the words process, and he's left horrifically empty, Aaron adjusts slightly, pushing back until he feels Bullseye's cock against him, and then he's sinking down slowly. The downside to this is that he has to let go to sit up. Not a fan of that particular development.
Squeezing around the man's cock, he rakes his nails down Lester's chest, intent on drawing blood. Slowly, he begins to roll his hips, shuddering at the stretch.
It's enough that he doesn't think either. Thinking never got them anywhere good. Fucking is enough, and it's always nice to see someone take him even if he's not particular about it.
Aaron's kitty scratches are an obvious downgrade from his teeth, Bullseye will switch ut up in a moment, but he enjoys the watching for a while. It's not killing, but that little death is nice too. A though of Aaron's throat cut open, pumping red down him like a river, invades his thoughts. Bullseye doesn't flinch from it, trying to simply enjoy that as well, but it doesn't appeal to him like it might have once.
Deciding to make the best if it, Bullseye grabs Aaron and flips him down on his back, pressing in and onto him. Giving him free reign to bite as he ruts into him, their chess dragging along each other.
Bullseye chuckles at Aaron's immediate impatience, but it was hardly a game though if he just stopped right away? He teases along his insides, looking for his prostate to rub, inserting a second finger with a playful little hum.
The bites are enough to keep him pleased, but then Aaron stops that too. "Get your teeth in me, Puppy," he orders with a little authority behind it and more pressure on his ass. The dull throb of the bruising bite on his shoulder won't keep him engaged long.
Aaron whines again, more insistently, digging his nails in deeper as he's not given what he wants.
As long as people let him be a brat, he will be one.
A second finger makes him shudder and he eagerly obeys the order. No time to think. He wants his teeth sinking into something that bleeds, and there is a shoulder right there. Aaron's canines are naturally slightly pointed, and they break skin as he bites down hard. Whining, he scratches at Bullseye's arms, pushing against his fingers.
He hisses at the bite, riding it out as Aaron rides his fingers. Finally, he gives in and pulls them out, wiping off on the sheet, and pressing his cock against Aaron's slick hole.
"Ride me, Cowboy," He growls at him, letting him set the pace.
Ideally, there would be more pain to come, Aaron knew and wanted it anyhow given his habit of using Bullseye as his chew toy.
Talking always dug a hole for him, so Bullseye doesn't reply. He simply grins and grabs Aaron by the waist and thigh, flipping him on top and then giving his ass a squeeze.
His morning wood is a weight against Aaron's backside, and he tries not to think, just to feel and offer. Skin and heat, firm flesh with too little fat to really hide any line of bone or muscle. Not his favored type, but still nice enough. His own is a criss-cross of scars, and he doesn't have much to spare either, and he's in no place to complain.
He quirks a grin and bucks under Aaron in invitation to play without being demanding. He can dominate him at a moments notice, but he tries to be... safe. "Lube?"
Bullseye chuckles at Aaron's immediate impatience, but it was hardly a game though if he just stopped right away? He teases along his insides, looking for his prostate to rub, inserting a second finger with a playful little hum.
The bites are enough to keep him pleased, but then Aaron stops that too. "Get your teeth in me, Puppy," he orders with a little authority behind it and more pressure on his ass. The dull throb of the bruising bite on his shoulder won't keep him engaged long.
Talking always dug a hole for him, so Bullseye doesn't reply. He simply grins and grabs Aaron by the waist and thigh, flipping him on top and then giving his ass a squeeze.
His morning wood is a weight against Aaron's backside, and he tries not to think, just to feel and offer. Skin and heat, firm flesh with too little fat to really hide any line of bone or muscle. Not his favored type, but still nice enough. His own is a criss-cross of scars, and he doesn't have much to spare either, and he's in no place to complain.
He quirks a grin and bucks under Aaron in invitation to play without being demanding. He can dominate him at a moments notice, but he tries to be... safe. "Lube?"
Oh, and that's a 'yes'.
Honestly, Aaron had been planning on just sucking the assassin off, standard fare, nothing too complicated, but it seems like Bullseye has other ideas. Not like communication is their strong suit.
"Hell," he murmurs quietly, huffing as he's dragged on top and feels the hardness against him. Being manhandled is a sure fire way to get him interested. Groaning as Bullseye bucks underneath him, Aaron arches his back and takes a moment to process the request. "Y-Yeah, here," he mumbles, reaching for his nightstand's drawer and pulling the lube out, tossing it onto the bed.
His teeth ache, and he leans down, not hesitating before he's biting down on the hard muscle between the neck and shoulder. It's hard to keep his head on straight when he's having sex with someone stronger, able to manhandle him, to dom him properly. But he's not sure Bullseye wants to deal with... all of that. So he tries to stay present.
Aaron is like a horny vampire, but it suits him just fine. He hisses as teeth sink down on flesh, but it does what he needs, clearing his mind and sending a hard jolt to his cock. His grip on Aaron is firm, a step below bruising, and he grabs the lube single-handedly, uncorking it and letting it ooze into his hand in a mess.
His own eyes want to roll back un his head, he wants to simply fall into that rhythm of sex and violence, but with Aaron that went places. So instead, he's fingering him, slipping inside slick, and playing with his hole. A game of how long he can do that before Aaron or he loses patience.
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"My point exactly."
It goes by in a blink, then Aaron is curled up beside him and he's asleep.
Bullseye sleeps like a log, doesn't even move, and then he's awake without any warning.
His eyes flickers to Aaron.
Aaron curls up, then sprawls, then rolls over, then repeats for the entire duration of his nap. Asleep, but still unable to stop moving. He breathes quietly, breath only hitching occasionally before he moves.
When he wakes, it's with a full-body twitch and a groan, blinking around blearily. "Fuckin' hell," he murmurs, before he notices he's being watched. Makes sense. He doesn't usually wake up with live bodies.
A blink. Then another. "Offer still on the table?"
Talking always dug a hole for him, so Bullseye doesn't reply. He simply grins and grabs Aaron by the waist and thigh, flipping him on top and then giving his ass a squeeze.
His morning wood is a weight against Aaron's backside, and he tries not to think, just to feel and offer. Skin and heat, firm flesh with too little fat to really hide any line of bone or muscle. Not his favored type, but still nice enough. His own is a criss-cross of scars, and he doesn't have much to spare either, and he's in no place to complain.
He quirks a grin and bucks under Aaron in invitation to play without being demanding. He can dominate him at a moments notice, but he tries to be... safe. "Lube?"
He chuckles at Aaron calling him mean, knowing that he'd only do it when he was being Nice by his own standards.
"There is a difference between sex kitten and preteen girl, Cowboy."
He yawns again and takes it by Aaron's response that this conversation was over. "I'm hitting the sack," He declares and makes an indistinct wave, sauntering into the bedroom and throwing himself into bed, crawling under the sheets.
Aaron makes a face at that and flips him off. "Don't bring preteens into this conversation." Children. Ew. What were they good for, anyways?
"Be right there," he tells the other man, going to the bathroom to take a quick shower as well. He'd been... stable. Ish. Going to the gym. Keeping busy. Taking care of himself. So he'd gotten some muscle back, even though his ribs were still somehow managing to show.
Ugh.
Crawling into bed with his hair still wet, he shoves himself against Bullseye's side and closes his eyes. There's only a handful of people he feels comfortable enough to sleep besides. Interesting that the assassin is one of them.
"My point exactly."
It goes by in a blink, then Aaron is curled up beside him and he's asleep.
Bullseye sleeps like a log, doesn't even move, and then he's awake without any warning.
His eyes flickers to Aaron.
The lighter mood makes him smile, easing him back to relaxation. He rises to the challenge and catches, with his mouth, the next piece thrown, but the next, he takes it his hand and pelts back with just enough strength to annoy right between Aaron's eyes.
"Eh, the distinction is so weird with other people. I pick whatever I find funnier at the moment." Sex was generally a topic he didn't have a great instinctual feel for unless violent.
"You'd be an annoying ghost, that's for sure." He realizes to skirt away from delving too deeply into that. "Scout's honor on not freezing you to death. I'll buy you good socks." He chuckles. "Pink with sparkles."
"I'm serious enough." He cocks his head. "Sex just isn't that big of a deal." Unless he is feeling fucked up about it. He sighs and tries to think, trying to give context. "My life is a roller coaster. Sometimes, shit just doesn't work. Sometimes, it's easy. Right now sex is easy." He doesn't know what else to say. "Take it or leave it. No skin off my back, but I'll make it fun. Ya know what I like."
He had agreed not to hurt Aaron. So Aaron got to hurt him if it was to work or he'd do it himself.
"But whatever, fuck it, I need sleep now anyhow." He yawns and tastes his own blood again, his lip was bleeding again.
"Ow," Aaron whines, rubbing at the spot between his eyes. It hadn't hurt, but it was still satisfying to whine, maybe annoy the assassin just a little bit. Keeping it safe, and light. "I'm feeding you, you don't get to be mean to me."
"You say that like you haven't seen me in fishnets and lace, dude," he replies with another roll of the eyes, referring to the hypothetical socks.
Being told that Bullseye is serious about being okay with having sex, makes Aaron pause and tilt his head, staring blankly at the man as he processes. Then he nods, and grins. "I'll see what I feel up to after my nap," he tells Bullseye and stretches. "Y'know, if I need to walk tomorrow or not."
Keeping it light.
"Now, seriously, I need to sleep, and so do you." His bedroom has AC and it's warm and he needs to crash.
He chuckles at Aaron calling him mean, knowing that he'd only do it when he was being Nice by his own standards.
"There is a difference between sex kitten and preteen girl, Cowboy."
He yawns again and takes it by Aaron's response that this conversation was over. "I'm hitting the sack," He declares and makes an indistinct wave, sauntering into the bedroom and throwing himself into bed, crawling under the sheets.
He can't remember when that was or what Aaron was referring to, nor did he care that much to try. He's a hedonist, right now playing dead doesn't appeal to his sense of fun.
"That a sex thing? If I remember right, you've always been on to bottom from the top, though. Real Cowboy." He winks, playful again.
He catches the bread and eats it, as if he caught the proverbial canary, and then finishesthe sandwichin his hand in a fell swoop. His body is bruised, but most cuts are old or healing, nothing that needs care or covering. Only his lip has a fresher gash, and it's closed already.
"Ah, then you get to be my heater." He announces and grins slowly. "You can wake me with sex if you're still interested." His offer is sincere, but he doesn't mind either way. Sex was physical rather than anything else, and in his current state, it didn't bother him as it could periodically. Aaron, despite it all, was safe.
Did he care or think about what Aaron thought or felt? No, not really, and it never occurred to him to question how his offer might be received in light of their history and relationship.
Aaron rolls his eyes and throws more bread at him. Heh. Bullduck. Bullgoose? Duckeye. "It stops being funny when I have to start pointing out what's a sex joke and what isn't," he grumbles, but there's quiet contentment there. As close to affection as someone like him can get to.
"If I die from hypothermia in my sleep, I'm coming back to haunt you," Aaron hums. He doesn't run particularly hot, but the metal in the assassin's bones really had a way of leeching any heat off anyone sleeping with him.
There's something about the way the other man is speaking about sex that has Aaron hesitating a little. "You're never this serious about it," he brings up with a slight frown. "I can't tell if you're just fucking with me because you know I would."
And isn't that half their relationship? Fucking with each other?
The lighter mood makes him smile, easing him back to relaxation. He rises to the challenge and catches, with his mouth, the next piece thrown, but the next, he takes it his hand and pelts back with just enough strength to annoy right between Aaron's eyes.
"Eh, the distinction is so weird with other people. I pick whatever I find funnier at the moment." Sex was generally a topic he didn't have a great instinctual feel for unless violent.
"You'd be an annoying ghost, that's for sure." He realizes to skirt away from delving too deeply into that. "Scout's honor on not freezing you to death. I'll buy you good socks." He chuckles. "Pink with sparkles."
"I'm serious enough." He cocks his head. "Sex just isn't that big of a deal." Unless he is feeling fucked up about it. He sighs and tries to think, trying to give context. "My life is a roller coaster. Sometimes, shit just doesn't work. Sometimes, it's easy. Right now sex is easy." He doesn't know what else to say. "Take it or leave it. No skin off my back, but I'll make it fun. Ya know what I like."
He had agreed not to hurt Aaron. So Aaron got to hurt him if it was to work or he'd do it himself.
"But whatever, fuck it, I need sleep now anyhow." He yawns and tastes his own blood again, his lip was bleeding again.
"Got it," he hollers back, but he catches the moment Aaron sees him. It makes him grin. He steps into the shower and brushes his teeth, spitting out blood colored water, he'd opened up some wounds, he assumes. It doesn't bother him. It takes him 5 minutes tops to wash off in alternating boiling and freezing water. He saunters out with the towel at his waist, unwilling to dress in his dirty clothes and wanting the comfort of not having his ass stick to everything.
Bullseye walks out into the kitchen, hearing that Aaron has holed up there again. It had taken him a bit to realize that if he wanted to find Aaron in his own home, it was in the kitchen: kinda ironic given how little the man ate.
"Ooh, sandwiches." He takes one and chows down. His eyes go up to his host, though, reading him with a little more clarity after his shower. Sleep still beckons him, but Cowboy pokes at his attention.
"Snap, joke, or just hit me. It's boring when you just lie down." Bullseye eats and lets his guard down. "I don't play for a dull audience." He can't taste much of the food, but he needs the calories. Simply moving his metalbound body burns through most he consumes.
"I wasn't hearing any complaints the last time I 'just lay down'," Aaron mutters, grabbing his own sandwich and pecking at it. He's not hungry, which isn't exactly a surprise. But he needs food, theoretically. "You haven't pushed me hard enough to snap. And that's not an invitation to."
He takes a bit of bread, balls it up between his fingers, and tosses it at Bullseye, stalling actually having to eat.
His eyes give the man a onceover, just making sure he's not bleeding on his kitchen floor or anything. Considering the state the assassin sometimes showed up at his place, never hurts to check.
"Fuck, I need a nap," he complains, setting down the sandwich, having made no real progress on eating the thing. Maybe later. The shake's easier. Liquid, no hard work.
He can't remember when that was or what Aaron was referring to, nor did he care that much to try. He's a hedonist, right now playing dead doesn't appeal to his sense of fun.
"That a sex thing? If I remember right, you've always been on to bottom from the top, though. Real Cowboy." He winks, playful again.
He catches the bread and eats it, as if he caught the proverbial canary, and then finishesthe sandwichin his hand in a fell swoop. His body is bruised, but most cuts are old or healing, nothing that needs care or covering. Only his lip has a fresher gash, and it's closed already.
"Ah, then you get to be my heater." He announces and grins slowly. "You can wake me with sex if you're still interested." His offer is sincere, but he doesn't mind either way. Sex was physical rather than anything else, and in his current state, it didn't bother him as it could periodically. Aaron, despite it all, was safe.
Did he care or think about what Aaron thought or felt? No, not really, and it never occurred to him to question how his offer might be received in light of their history and relationship.
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He can feel it, as close as he is, Aaron's heart beats harder and his flesh shivers. There's a frisson in it; not his usual or fear, pain and rage, but close enough that it's not hard to pretend a little more, to tease and make a nuisance of himself.
He lets his breath touch Aaron's ear and neck as he speaks, pressed fully against his back, but in a way that's not too dominant, simply willing: Daken had a playbook full of that move. "Can't I be appreciative?" he murmurs, an invite on its own.
He considers a cannibalism or sex joke on eating Italian, but dismisses it to simply huff a laugh. "I like my slow mornings. Whenever they do happen."
Fuck.
Aaron hates himself for wanting it. Especially because he knows Bullseye is just messing with him.
He bites back on the comments he wants to make, something with Rumlow and being needy, because the last few times he'd popped off at the mouth with Lester, he'd gotten his ass beaten, threatened and/or stabbed. So no. Not today.
"Sure," he mumbles weakly, trying to focus on the road. He lives fifteen minutes away from town, and yet the ride feels like an eternity.
When the gate closes behind them, Aaron jumps off like he's been burned and shudders. Definitely not thinking about being absolutely destroyed by the man, nope, not at all. "Shower. I'm gonna go—go into the kitchen."
He feels the tension and the mixed emotion in Aaron's body as much as in his weak reply, it makes him smile and laugh a little. He has half-a-heart to murmur his other nickname for Aaron, and give him a little lick just to see if he'd swerve off the road or not. But he's too tired, instead Bullseye rests on Aaron's back, a little too heavy.
Then Aaron was off the bike and Bullseye catches himself before he can face-plant into the handlebars. He blinks slowly and deliberately yawns, it's a deliberate show of weakness to try to invite ease in Aaron who was being a jackrabbit again. Aaron takes his games far too seriously: it was just a little fun. He climbs off gracefully and saunters in, moving to the showers as asked.
Then he strips and looks for a towel. His clothes are on the floor, carelessly as always, and he doesn't mind that. He turns on the shower, letting it get warm. The gummy feeling in his mouth prompts another question.
"Ya got an extra toothbrush?" He doesn't want to share that. He walks out to the door, equally careless about his nudity as he was about his clothes.
The kitchen is Aaron's space. Always has been ever since he moved out the first time around. It sounds stupid, but it feels safe. He shouldn't need to feel safe from his... no seriously, what the fuck are they to each other? At first they had been brothers, but even that had been a parody of the word. Now? No idea.
He takes a few deep breaths as the water starts running, fixing up two sandwiches. He's all out of hot sauce, though, so Bullseye's shit out of luck when it comes to flavor.
"Under the sink," he calls out, as he takes a protein shake from the fridge. Seeing Lester in all his, ah, naked glory just makes him roll his eyes and curse under his breath. Focus, Aaron. Any distraction could be either lethal or extremely embarrassing.
"Got it," he hollers back, but he catches the moment Aaron sees him. It makes him grin. He steps into the shower and brushes his teeth, spitting out blood colored water, he'd opened up some wounds, he assumes. It doesn't bother him. It takes him 5 minutes tops to wash off in alternating boiling and freezing water. He saunters out with the towel at his waist, unwilling to dress in his dirty clothes and wanting the comfort of not having his ass stick to everything.
Bullseye walks out into the kitchen, hearing that Aaron has holed up there again. It had taken him a bit to realize that if he wanted to find Aaron in his own home, it was in the kitchen: kinda ironic given how little the man ate.
"Ooh, sandwiches." He takes one and chows down. His eyes go up to his host, though, reading him with a little more clarity after his shower. Sleep still beckons him, but Cowboy pokes at his attention.
"Snap, joke, or just hit me. It's boring when you just lie down." Bullseye eats and lets his guard down. "I don't play for a dull audience." He can't taste much of the food, but he needs the calories. Simply moving his metalbound body burns through most he consumes.
He can feel it, as close as he is, Aaron's heart beats harder and his flesh shivers. There's a frisson in it; not his usual or fear, pain and rage, but close enough that it's not hard to pretend a little more, to tease and make a nuisance of himself.
He lets his breath touch Aaron's ear and neck as he speaks, pressed fully against his back, but in a way that's not too dominant, simply willing: Daken had a playbook full of that move. "Can't I be appreciative?" he murmurs, an invite on its own.
He considers a cannibalism or sex joke on eating Italian, but dismisses it to simply huff a laugh. "I like my slow mornings. Whenever they do happen."
Fuck.
Aaron hates himself for wanting it. Especially because he knows Bullseye is just messing with him.
He bites back on the comments he wants to make, something with Rumlow and being needy, because the last few times he'd popped off at the mouth with Lester, he'd gotten his ass beaten, threatened and/or stabbed. So no. Not today.
"Sure," he mumbles weakly, trying to focus on the road. He lives fifteen minutes away from town, and yet the ride feels like an eternity.
When the gate closes behind them, Aaron jumps off like he's been burned and shudders. Definitely not thinking about being absolutely destroyed by the man, nope, not at all. "Shower. I'm gonna go—go into the kitchen."
He feels the tension and the mixed emotion in Aaron's body as much as in his weak reply, it makes him smile and laugh a little. He has half-a-heart to murmur his other nickname for Aaron, and give him a little lick just to see if he'd swerve off the road or not. But he's too tired, instead Bullseye rests on Aaron's back, a little too heavy.
Then Aaron was off the bike and Bullseye catches himself before he can face-plant into the handlebars. He blinks slowly and deliberately yawns, it's a deliberate show of weakness to try to invite ease in Aaron who was being a jackrabbit again. Aaron takes his games far too seriously: it was just a little fun. He climbs off gracefully and saunters in, moving to the showers as asked.
Then he strips and looks for a towel. His clothes are on the floor, carelessly as always, and he doesn't mind that. He turns on the shower, letting it get warm. The gummy feeling in his mouth prompts another question.
"Ya got an extra toothbrush?" He doesn't want to share that. He walks out to the door, equally careless about his nudity as he was about his clothes.
"Cig, booze and heroine," he explains with a grin. No judgement on the whole, but he liked food, even if he forgot sometimes. Jobs could get longer than he'd planned for.
"Kinky," he retorts, having settled into that everything is innuendo and not being able to turn it off. "Sound's nice~" his voice gets a little throaty, huskier than usual, with a satisfied hum in it. He follows and settles behind Aaron, holding him firmly, a hand slipping in to touch skin.
It's theater, of a kind, a mask he pulls on because it amuses or benefits him, right now it was a bit of both. It might look a little strange to see Bullseye, 6" and 200 pounds of scarred muscle, act like a sex kitten, but it wasn't a first. He knew enough of those to mimic the basics and to make it have subtle menace when he wanted it too. Now, it was just playfulness because Aaron opened that door.
Aaron huffs and rolls his eyes, but it's not like Bullseye was wrong. He's better now, much better than when they had first met. Still, he's going to carry that weight for the rest of his life. That weight being Bullseye making fun of him.
He breaks out into goosebumps at the voice, and his grip on the handles tightens as he feels fingers on his skin. Focus. Focus. It's a bad idea that never ended well the few times they'd acted on it.
It's pathetic how easily Lester can throw him off, how deeply and quickly he sinks.
"You already have a place to stay," he manages to choke out, covering up with a chuckle. "Don't need to pretend, my guy." Aaron knows he's far from Bullseye's type, for all that the man is his. "I'm thinking Italian for dinner? Or breakfast? Or whenever the fuck you wake up." Still, life with Bullseye isn't boring, and there isn't anything Aaron wouldn't do to stave off boredom.
He can feel it, as close as he is, Aaron's heart beats harder and his flesh shivers. There's a frisson in it; not his usual or fear, pain and rage, but close enough that it's not hard to pretend a little more, to tease and make a nuisance of himself.
He lets his breath touch Aaron's ear and neck as he speaks, pressed fully against his back, but in a way that's not too dominant, simply willing: Daken had a playbook full of that move. "Can't I be appreciative?" he murmurs, an invite on its own.
He considers a cannibalism or sex joke on eating Italian, but dismisses it to simply huff a laugh. "I like my slow mornings. Whenever they do happen."
"Don't I always? You'd eat like a runway model from the 90's if it weren't for your baking." Bullseye huffed, unimpressed. The asking was a courtesy, he'd more than once simply turned up and used what was Aaron's as his. But after the whole killing him deal, he... tried. Even if he forgot and didn't really care enough.
Submission was sex to some extent, so was domination. But mostly, so was violence. Bullseye was fuzzy around the edges on his priorities at the moment, letting whim and need steer him in the general direction of where he needed to be.
"Sorted?" he asked even as he processed it. "Um, yes, sleep. Take me to your bed." The last part he added some humor, a wry smile and a play at sex with a wink. "I can get you drunk later."
He didn't know where Aaron lived at the moment, if anywhere. Hence the oddly formulated question. He'd found Aaron, he could always find him one way or another, but other aspects didn't hold his attention long enough. He was unmedicated for a while now, but having avoided the biggest crashes so far.
"What does that even mean?" Aaron grumbles. "Fuck, you're old." Considering he hadn't even been born for most of the 90s. "I eat plenty." Which is... look, it's only an eating disorder if he goes to a doctor.
Yeah, Bullseye needs sleep. Preferably before Aaron gets stabbed again. Wouldn't want a repeat of that night.
"You're riding bitch," he huffs as he nods towards his motorcycle, an echo of their first meeting. Mostly, he doesn't want to die in a crash. He'd just left the gym, and he was tired, and wanted a shower. Bullseye appearing out of the blue hadn't been in his plans.
Is it ever?
"I'm taking you to my shower, then you can use the bed," he prods, digging a knuckle into the older man's ribs. With that, he climbs on, revs up the engine. He still lives in the same house, nosy neighbours kept away by tall trees and unfriendly-looking fences. "Come on."
"Cig, booze and heroine," he explains with a grin. No judgement on the whole, but he liked food, even if he forgot sometimes. Jobs could get longer than he'd planned for.
"Kinky," he retorts, having settled into that everything is innuendo and not being able to turn it off. "Sound's nice~" his voice gets a little throaty, huskier than usual, with a satisfied hum in it. He follows and settles behind Aaron, holding him firmly, a hand slipping in to touch skin.
It's theater, of a kind, a mask he pulls on because it amuses or benefits him, right now it was a bit of both. It might look a little strange to see Bullseye, 6" and 200 pounds of scarred muscle, act like a sex kitten, but it wasn't a first. He knew enough of those to mimic the basics and to make it have subtle menace when he wanted it too. Now, it was just playfulness because Aaron opened that door.
No hellos or how are yous, those wasted time.
"Good. It's mine tonight." In someone else that might have been a flirtation, a deliberate one to boot, but Bullseye meant it literally. He was, once again, homeless. "And your shower."
Briefly, his mind connected Aaron's body language to have meaning. Aaron and he were the same height, but Aaron wielded his body in a way that always made him seem shorter. Just like Daken had somehow done the reverse. But both were sexual in a way he seldom bothered with.
"Because I haven't slept a full night in a week and I stink." He considered the unspoken offer. "If ya wanna blow off steam, that's negotiable." It was the least sexy way to say it, but his heart wasn't in it.
Aaron could make his 'office' into a guest room. He could. Probably should even, with the amount of people who crashed on his couch, and occasionally in his bed. But it's too much work, and he's not going to bother. Besides, he's slept next to Bullseye enough times. Got the scars to prove it, too.
"Sure," he replies with a careful shrug. The asking is a courtesy. The man could take whatever he wanted by brute force and without a word, but it's part of the unspoken agreement between them that he doesn't. "Buy me food."
His body language, currently, isn't meant to indicate anything but quiet deference. Submission, socially. Safer, that way, as long as Bullseye doesn't find him too pathetic. "I'm a classy guy, get me drunk first," Aaron jokes, before waving him off. "Get yourself sorted out first."
"Don't I always? You'd eat like a runway model from the 90's if it weren't for your baking." Bullseye huffed, unimpressed. The asking was a courtesy, he'd more than once simply turned up and used what was Aaron's as his. But after the whole killing him deal, he... tried. Even if he forgot and didn't really care enough.
Submission was sex to some extent, so was domination. But mostly, so was violence. Bullseye was fuzzy around the edges on his priorities at the moment, letting whim and need steer him in the general direction of where he needed to be.
"Sorted?" he asked even as he processed it. "Um, yes, sleep. Take me to your bed." The last part he added some humor, a wry smile and a play at sex with a wink. "I can get you drunk later."
He didn't know where Aaron lived at the moment, if anywhere. Hence the oddly formulated question. He'd found Aaron, he could always find him one way or another, but other aspects didn't hold his attention long enough. He was unmedicated for a while now, but having avoided the biggest crashes so far.
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Out of the Blue
@the-graves-family
"Aaron, you got a bed?" He loomed in close, too close for comfort.
Aaron tilts his chin up, leaning back ever so slightly, and grins at his—whatever the fuck they are to each other. "I currently have a bed amidst my earthly possessions, yes," he drawls, glancing down just to make sure Bullseye isn't actively armed. "Why?"
No hellos or how are yous, those wasted time.
"Good. It's mine tonight." In someone else that might have been a flirtation, a deliberate one to boot, but Bullseye meant it literally. He was, once again, homeless. "And your shower."
Briefly, his mind connected Aaron's body language to have meaning. Aaron and he were the same height, but Aaron wielded his body in a way that always made him seem shorter. Just like Daken had somehow done the reverse. But both were sexual in a way he seldom bothered with.
"Because I haven't slept a full night in a week and I stink." He considered the unspoken offer. "If ya wanna blow off steam, that's negotiable." It was the least sexy way to say it, but his heart wasn't in it.
Out of the Blue
@the-graves-family
"Aaron, you got a bed?" He loomed in close, too close for comfort.
