G O L I A T H

“Revolutionary, I would imagine.”

It was time to get a better lay of the town, not because he was staying, no, it was just precautionary. Always made more sense to know the details, just in case. What that case was May had no idea but somebody had decided it at some point in the course of human awareness and it stuck. Or whatever; getting that lay of things had mostly meant places that interested him, like the bars. Places that meant people with low tolerance and lower inhibitions thanks to it; great targets. The drunker they got the easier it was to talk them into things and out of what they had that he wanted, like money of course, with empty suggestions and false charm, which to be honest was probably about the only sort of charm May could claim to have. The key was finding the ones who were ninety percent alcohol and ten percent still conscious enough to find him interesting long enough, then forget he existed the second he disappeared  

Less than two hours into his little adventure and May was ready to hit the door, a few drinks and a couple of idiots already less than an afterthought. No point in hanging around, he had to weave his way past people, a few choice words to a couple with the misguided thought that he might want to chat, and he had almost made it to the exit when whatever bitch Karma was decided to kick him for good measure, apparently. 

“Seriously.” May might have twitched about it but what was the use? It would have been funny if he’d been actually drunk, just short of that it was creepy. “Why are you even here?”

@golicth

Mistaking May’s scent was impossible, which was the only reason his feet stalled the moment he walked through the doors. It didn’t take long to find him in the crowd, and for a moment, Sam debated turning around and leaving - finding another place to unwind. But, the only other place that made drinks strong enough for him was Sins, and he was not in the mood to be in that kind of atmosphere if he could help it. 

He kept himself to the corner of the bar, close enough to the door that - should it be needed - a quick escape was easy enough and the damage as he dragged the zombie out was minimal. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t needed, which left Sam to his own devices, and a rather uncharacteristically long chat with the bartender.

That was, right up until the two came into contact yet again. The gargoyle blinked from behind his glass, watching the bartender for another moment - the silent demand they leave - before turning to the other. “Meditating toward inner piece.” Despite the flat tone of his words, his brow arched - the touch of confusion evident on his features as glass was placed back on the bar. “What the fuck does it look like?”

“All I’m saying is I don’t really get why we need sponsors! Why they don’t just trust us to be here without calling us rescues. Even if I was rescued, why should someone have to vouch for me just for me to stay here. And plus that, why do I have to give them my memories. It’s so controlling.” Catarina dropped her head into her hands, shaking it as she stared at the table. “It’s not like I wanna leave, but the requirements to stay just don’t seem worth it.”

There was a ghost of a smirk sitting at the corner of his mouth, etching the faint outlines of predictable amusement that came with her complaints. Most people had issues with the rules, which, had he come as a rescue, he would have as well. But... tough shit, am I right? He stood for a moment, tips of his fingers scratching at the days worth of stubble that had gathered along his jaw bone. “You clearly have too much confidence in the behavior of others,” he finally let out. “There’s a reason they’re in place as they are.” His hand fell and the gargoyle offered the girl a shrug. “Avoiding destruction and what not. What else can you complain about?”

“Let’s be clear, I’m stuck nowhere. Guardianship can change from this town, to a god damned rodent if I should so chose, first of all. Secondly, I don’t know what gave you the impression I was worried at all. So.”

“I’m incapable of snoring, I don’t breathe.” He muttered, knowing that even Sam wasn’t that dense but for the sake of arguments he felt the need to point it out, again. “Or, I do when I want to talk but obviously it’s pointless when I…sleep, not that I actually sleep.” By then May caught himself before he, once again, said more than he wished to. How odd was it that Sam brought that out of him when he loathed telling people anything about himself. 

People, as a rule, were judgmental assholes, both when he had been alive and after death because in both cases he had been considered something below their acknowledging to be a person. So they didn’t get a damn thing from him, not one detail of his real life, they didn’t deserve it and all those things he was perfectly happy to carry to his grave for the second time just to keep anyone else from knowing. Which made it incredibly frustrating how much that idiot was almost easier to talk to knowing that Sam was outside the realms of human himself. 

It was unacceptable on so many levels that he was starting to feel any sort of steadiness around Sam when he knew damn well that people couldn’t be trusted to even remember he existed once he was no longer interesting to them. Bitterness, yes, but just as much it was because May refused to do that to himself ever again. 

Real clarity came in those moments after, when the question was still burning under his skin with his body tense and that resounding idiot decided to step back into his space and touch him. The growl was right there at his lips, just barely drawn back over the edge of teeth, an unstable mix of anger and confusion gleaming in his eyes. Demands he was used to, narrowed eyes and cold edges; things he knew how to process and react to. Maybe not in healthy ways but reaction none the less. 

“I will bite you if you don’t leave me alone right now.” Through clenched teeth it was the only warning he would offer and more than he granted other people, extended solely for the fact that Sam had caught him so off guard with his actions. But sharing those details? Giving more of himself up? Sam was asking dangerous questions that he did not want the answers to, curiosity was irritating at times but May had shouldered it a few days because it fit into his plans but that was no longer the case. 

What took the place of dismissal was a chilly trickle of panic down his spine over not knowing what to do, a sensation that was so much worse than anger because that, the uncertainty, was new. He didn’t understand the motives, they weren’t clear, deciphering them was how he dealt with people but Sam was not acting the ways he expected. The gargoyle’s curiosity was baffling, the demand was not one he was prepared for. People drew away much sooner, out of annoyance or repulsion, so what sort of madness afflicted Sam that he sounded so earnest in his question?

“Tell you what? You really think you want to know anything?” A cornered animal would always cower or attack, May would have rather gathered a few more wounds under his already flawed surface than draw back in defeat. For a terrifying instant though he had almost waned to answer honestly and see where it all fell after, he wasn’t sure why it felt like seeing disgust from Sam might have been worse; he didn’t let people do that to him. He didn’t let them get closer than snapping at arms length. 

“People don’t. Maybe it’s some fucked up curiosity that makes them think they do until there’s that line where it makes their stomach turn. I’m not giving anyone the satisfaction of judging me over that anymore.” There was nothing in his tone that wavered but May’s thoughts were a dizzy blur, for once not sure where or how the conversation would crash to an end . Confrontation, yes, he understood that but not the version Sam offered, not with that tangle of coaxing to the words that he almost wanted to believe. 

But May was ultimately just what he was, eye narrowed and incapable of taking any show of potential concern with easy acceptance. He had warned Sam, his mental state was not sound, there was too much weighing on him with that confusion creeping more evident into his expression the longer Sam wouldn’t allow him to recoil. It was all right at the cusp of turning very bad.  

“I heard you the first time,” he gave right back, that touch of a grin lingering at the corner of his mouth, “you don’t breathe.” He could see how it could be unsettling to some, that lack of proof of life. He’d seen plenty of dead bodies in his time, and having a corpse on his living room floor wasn’t a first. It was, however, a first knowing that he’d be up and moving at some point. And Sam, being Sam, saw more benefits to the notion than not. 

Watching him, it took some effort not to let that grin take over – he was rambling again, and while it had become something he appreciated it, the zombie’s ramblings usually left Sam with a million more questions than he started with. “So if you don’t sleep, you’re just, what? Dead?” He didn’t flat out ask what the point was, because even he knew that was rude. Still, it hovered. The gargoyle gave away more of himself these days than he did before, useless bits of information – though, he’s learned nothing is ever really useless to a determined person – so there was a part of him that could understand the closed off nature that was May. Which was why Sam willing gave whenever the other did. The two were similar in more ways than what people would assume, and he liked to keep an even playing field as much as he could. 

Most days, at least.

In his space, he kept a close eye on the other’s expression, watched the way his mouth moved as he issued that warning. Serious as it may have been, Sam let out a little snort of a laugh. It was no threat to him, he quite liked the violence that some people could carry with him. He leaned in, his head dipping down to come closer to May’s. “Then bite me.” He had half a mind to run his thumb along his lips, but he still wasn’t quite sure how quick either one of them were, should he want to save that finger. Instead, he dragged the very tip of his thumb over his bottom lip. A quick, sweeping motion to tug. 

Surprisingly, he was speaking again, though. And despite all the efforts to try and keep everything to himself, Sam was selfish. Admittedly so. Beyond the fascination and interest he let show for the other, there was an appreciation and understanding, and it wasn’t often he found that with others. Not like this, never in such a dark way. 

There were depths in their respective histories that went untouched, undiscovered by anyone. Save for Aidan, finding someone you didn’t have to hamper that with was unheard of here. 

And he wanted it. Greedily. Obsessively. Selfishly. 

So he pushed, albeit a bit aggressively for most, but he knew no other way. “You still think this is just about twisted curiosities?” The corner of his mouth twitched, the quick flash of an amused grin. “You think I’ve sought you out and asked you to stay because you amuse me?” This time, he did let out a laugh. That low rumble of a sound that seemed to stop just at the base of his throat. Explanations had never been a strong suit for him, in any matter. But explaining himself had always been an impossibility. His hands against his face adjusted, found an even sturdier position as fingers slid down to the sides of his neck. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, but how am I supposed to help keep you alive if I don’t know hardly seemed like it was it.

Sleepy sex (do they give oral to wake their partner up? do they like receiving oral to wake up? do they like fucking their partner awake? being fucked awake? how about being fucked to sleep at night? do they have lazy morning sex?) 

Q - Quiet please (what’s the volume like in the bedroom? are they quiet? do they scream? do they like a loud partner? do they prefer if their partner is more soft spoken?)