Shattered

Oz gave a shrug not really bothered with whatever hangups Declan might have. If there was someone who shouldn’t trust the other it should be Oz given he was the powerless one in the overall situation. He wouldn’t act like a slave and as long as someone didn’t treat him like one, they weren’t going to have a problem. He eyed the cross and the bench before gesturing to the bench. “Get on.” He instructed trying to syke himself up and get in the right headspace for this. 

“Because I’m a slave or because you think I’ll be an interesting dom?” Oz questioned with a raised brow, the hint of a smirk on his lips. He wasn’t one to back down from a challenge and it was starting to feel like he had something to prove. He selected the flail and some leather cuffs before looking at where he could bind Declan. “Got somewhere you want to be bound?” He questioned.

Oz chuckled at the joke before he listened to Declan’s list. It was all things Oz was particularly well versed in and rather enjoyed himself, but then Oz did enjoy most things. He wasn’t that pleased with being given no indication as to what the other wanted right now because it made figuring out a scene work for Oz and he was tired after the fighting, still sore and had honestly been looking for something a little easier. “And you want me in charge?” He questioned, toying with the leather tails of a flail. 

Oz looked around, impressed with what he saw. He’d been in many a playroom before, both for his work in porn and his own recreational enjoyment. “What are you into? And be specific none of this ‘everything’ bullshit because that’s not useful for me to work with. And while you’re at it, tell me what you’re in the mood for.” Oz commanded as he surveyed the array of items at his disposal, 

Oz looked over to where Declan indicated and his curiosity got the better of him. “I’m curious what you’ve got to play with.” He replied heading towards the loft playroom without hesitation, fully expecting the other to follow him. Oz didn’t mind being in charge, even if he’d gotten the vibe from the other that their roles were reversed, but he could work on the fly and he liked to keep things interesting. The worst feeling in the world for Oz was being bored.

“Well okay,” she smiled sheepishly up at him. She listened to him speak about his different classed and she laced her hands in front of her, bringing them up to her lips as her eyes grew wise. “Wow that all sound so interesting! I’d love to take any of those classes honestly. Maybe next semester if I have some free time I can get a chance to.” She nodded as she glanced down for a moment. But then paused. “I-I mean if you wouldn’t mind that. I’m not a literature major or anything like that. But….I think it’s important to broaden your horizons I guess.” 

“This is several years worth of dedication but no I didn’t waste time getting my first tattoo.” Oz smirked. He was very proud of his ink and if someone didn’t like it well it wasn’t his problem. Oz was glad Declan didn’t seem to have a problem with being bossed around like he’d come to the conclusion most masters did. He watched as the other stood and stripped down to match Oz, smirking as more skin was revealed.

While Declan didn’t have the level of ink that Oz did he could still appreciate the one piece that he did have. “Might have to ask you about your tattoo later. As you can see I’m kind of a fan.” Oz chuckled. “You wanna keep this here or move it somewhere else?” He questioned. If they fucked here on the couch that was fine with Oz he’d just get them fucking in other places around the suite after round one was over.

Oz was glad he didn’t get any complaints when he suddenly shoved the other back against the couch, you never knew with some people, they just had to be in control but seeing as Declan had made it clear he was as much a switch as Oz earlier, he’d not been worried about a complaint to the action. A low hum rumblednin Oz’s chest as they kissed, feeling the ice travel down his body. He wouldn’t be opposed to its continued use but for now Oz was more interested in the rough movement of their lips. “You haven’t even had a good taste yet.” Oz smirked tilting his head back slightly, giving Declan better access to his long tattooed neck when he felt the others exploratory touch.

As soon as clothes were starting to be pulled off Oz aides, tugging his T-shirt over his head to reveal just how tattooed he really was, both arms covered, his chest dotted with numerous different images, and his most recent the Roman numerals along the hollow of his throat. Soon enough Oz was making quick work of his belt and jeans, biting at Declan’s lips with a smirk before he felt the other rock his hips up against Oz’s own causing him to moan. In one fluid motion Oz stood and discarded his boots and jeans with a practiced effort before motioning for Declan to do the same. “Strip ‘em.” He commanded.

Declan was licking his lips again as he let his eyes drop to study the inked skin on display. “Y’didn’t waste any time in gettin’ inked up,” He commented, though his tone was appreciative. Oz bit back and the mimic let out a playful growl.

He was rather impressed with the fluidity in which the slave was suddenly naked in front of him and couldn’t help a lazy grin – then the command followed. Declan let out a little groan of pleasure himself. He hadn’t been sure what mood he’d be coming home to find himself in but this was certainly hitting the spot. 

Oz took the water and painkillers when they were handed to him, taking the pills quickly in a smooth swallow that showed Oz was no stranger to having to pop painkillers, both from fights and from vicious hangovers. “I’m more interested in being sore from a good fucking than from those fights.” Oz smirked, watching as Declan came close, their noses brushing briefly. Oz drank the rest of the water while the master disappeared to retrieve ice before placing the glass to one side and sitting comfortably.

The touch of the ice to one of his bruises was rather nice and for a moment, Oz let his eyes closed and just enjoy the soothing while the painkillers started to kick in. Hearing Declan’s challenge, Oz looked at him with a grin before he felt the other kiss him. Not one to shy away from a challenge or the advances of a hot guy, Oz immediately shoved the other back against the couch, straddling his waist as he kissed roughly, even enjoying the slightly pain his split lip caused when they kissed. “Just try and keep up sweetheart.” Oz purred with a smirk. 

Declan didn’t fight it, letting the slave push him back against the couch - though he arched his neck to keep contact between their lips. He hardly needed to, given how Oz was following through. They parted, the mimic panting a little as he let the ice drift down the other male’s body slowly and licked his lips. “Y’taste as good as y’look darlin’.” He revealed. Even bruised, he was a pretty picture and Declan lifted his free hand to the slave’s neck. 

Oz smirked at the idea of anyone ‘spoiling’ him but gladly shared the cigarette as they walked to Declan’s place. He didn’t mind the arm draped around his shoulders so long as the other didn’t find it uncomfortable to keep it there. Oz knew most of the time he was taller than others and some guys didn’t like trying to top a taller guy which Oz always found kind of strange. 

Once inside the suite, Oz looked around, noting that it looked pretty much like every other master suite he’d been in. Maybe some fixed theirs up to their own tastes eventually, maybe some couldn’t be bothered with the hassle. “Am I gonna be sore in the morning?” Oz smirked back, one brow raised in playful challenge before he sat himself down on the couch and shrugged out of his own leather jacket. Oz ran one hand through his raven hair, pushing the front back from his face as he waited for Declan to return. 

The height difference between them wasn’t so great that he found it uncomfortable, fortunately. Walking along with his arm slung up around Oz’s shoulders created something of a comfortable beat between them. 

He laughed as he came back in with a glass of water and some painkillers, placing each in one of Oz’s hands. “You tell me,” He commented as he leaned in close, smirking himself. Declan got so close that their noses brushed before he pulled back. The grin on his face said he wasn’t shying away from intimacy though - disappearing only to retrieve a baggie of ice. When he returned, this time he dropped onto the couch beside the slave, reaching out to touch the ice to one of the bruises he could see. 

She shouldn’t have been staring, but she couldn’t help it. He had caught her attention, when he first dropped it, and now…well, she just hadn’t turned away. Easily distracted, it was sometimes hard for her to turn her focus back around.

She licked her lips. Did she offer to help? Did she walk away? What was one supposed to do in this situation, but then she realized how long she’d been standing there.

“Um…hi..” she said awkwardly, chuckling a little.

He inhaled again heavily when she greeted him, blowing out a lungful of smoke while he decided what the hell to do about his audience. Rolling his neck sharply, Declan’s shoulders relaxed when it let out a loud crack. Only then did he nod slightly in acknowledgement.

“Hi.” He drawled, “Don’t s’pose y’can just... wipe that from y’memory?” He asked, beginning to walk over closer to her. 

Kit grinned as she looked at him. She was pleased he didn’t seem to be one of those masters who wanted to make her feel small. “Well of course, I always like to show my art to those that inspire them!” She nodded as she bounced lightly on her heels. She looked down at her sketch book, planning out an imagine. 

The dragon paused before her lips pulled into an even wider smile. “Yeah? You think so?”  She nodded and sighed heavily. “I sure hope so, it’s the dream anyways.” Kit muttered quietly. She looked over at him with an arched brow. “Really? Which one do you teach? I-if you don’t mind my asking. I’m not trying to be a busy body or anything like that.” 

“I don’t mind.” He promised, licking his bottom lip idly. “N’ the one the graphic novel is my prize-winnin’ novels class. Actually, that’s the first text y’study. Maus. I think it makes for a good start. Not all prize-winnin’ literature is so palatable for students. Worth lookin’ at though, y’learn a lot about prized work n’ profitable work. Ain’t always a crossover.” He half-rambled. His two real passions in life were his cons (or the money they brought him) and literature, both studying and teaching. 

At the offer of a hit from Declan’s cigarette, Oz took it and breathed in deeply before handing it back. “Thanks.” Oz replied, smoke filtering out from his nose on the exhale. He started walking with the other back towards the master’s suites, assuming that was where this guy lived if he was new to the island. “I’m not gonna say no to some ice and painkillers even if I have seen worse than this.” Oz chuckled, gesturing to his beaten and battered person. But then, the other guy looked ten times worse. “Plus spoiling me is always a good thing.” Oz winked with a smirk. It was clear that being out of the club loosened the fighter up a lot more. It wasn’t that he hated working for Gio, fighting wasn’t that big of a deal to Oz, it was that he disliked Gio and the way the other had to control everything. Oz was an independent guy, so being controlled even in small ways, didn’t sit well with him.

Declan laughed in response to the wink, and this time he did move in a little closer their shoulders bumping lightly before he wrapped an arm around the slave’s. It wasn’t too tight a grip, testing out their comfort levels at being close. “Guess I’ll be spoilin’ you a bit then.” 

At the offer to join Declan for the evening, Oz turned slightly to look at the other, sharp grey eyes running over him, taking in the Professor. At this point what did Oz really have to lose? So he gave a slight shrug and nod. “Alright, beats going back to that shitty cell.” Oz agreed before he stood from his seat. “Gimme five minutes to get my shit and collect my winnings for the night, you can wait out front if you want.” Oz said before he turned and headed towards a door that led to a room in the back reserved for fighters where they could change, get cleaned up and store their stuff. Oz didn’t have a lot with him, but he usually left his t-shirt in the back room when he fought, wearing only his leather jacket on his torso or going bare from the waist up. It made cleaning off the blood easier. As soon as he’d slipped his shirt back on and collected his money, Oz made his way out of the club.