#4ger.

it's a little dubious if the nausea is from the barely abated panic or the bottle of wine he chugged half an hour earlier. likely the former, given his alcohol tolerance is far higher than that. the air is faintly electric from the glow of shop windows mingling with the moisture, although it has temporarily stopped raining. rory shelters out front of a bodega, dark hoodie pulled up over peroxide damaged hair and decade-old vans surprisingly in tact. concealed between the hoodie and his shirt is a decently thick manila folder with pages upon pages of information that was acquired through extremely legal means. if you didn't change your password after it was leaked, that's on you, and makes it much easier for him. his employer insisted that the transfer of data needed to be physical — after all, it was harder to trace, didn't the fbi's most wanted hacker know that? sure, spark said, i'll get my people on that, while rory promptly went and threw up in the toilet.

hooded eyes are painstakingly scrutinizing @4ger with long awaited, ingenious quips that are equally examining his presence in the building–––––tips are thrumming upon half-empty glass, johann tries his best to ignore the blood cascading from eam.es' nostrils to show his feigned apathy merely because they should not have had encountered each other, nor recognising each other.

&. yet, eam.es decided to acknowledge his existence among people johann does not want to be recognised, but to pretend would make things even more uncanny–––––he is supposed to look that he belongs there, as if he were a fighter that would get up into a ring to earn few bucks, but his calloused hands are bandaged from the wall he purposefully thwarted, the man's quickly interjects quietly from other people amongst them,

❝  i am working, ❞  a sip upon the liquor; johann doesn't offer the other the indulgence because he knows that he had been struggling to keep it minimize, thus he grants the other curtesy to slides a cigarette between them, with an unspoken question lingers within the corner of his eyes–––––his work must have brought him here, or did eam.es simply seek for enjoyment from gore? johann doesn't fathom which is the truth, but neither have ever been transparent about each other;' their works are untouchable but they should pretend that they seek euphoria because some start to seek for another fight for their entertainment in the ring,

❝  i don't want to suggest you this, but for the sake of our respective work, we should get into the ring so they wouldn't be suspicious–––––can you just .. next time you ever see me here, just pretend we don't know each other so we don't get killed .. ❞ 

[deep guttural hurgling]

he should have known: it could be the last time that johann ever seen the man because he chose that it is their last time; he had found other person who sees him as something worthy to stay upon––––––uplifting the belittlement he oft endures whenever he is with the other merely because there's something beyond than him; he doesn't like to be second, &. yet he didn't treat the other as an option .. but he is now.

@4ger sets a scene [ CLAIM ]  our muses are arguing because receiver is worried and overprotective of sender,  but when they get up in each other’s faces they end up kissing and groping at each other.

‘ oh, you're a little shit, ’ accusatory degradation, fingers are coiling upon his own palms as head beckoning against the other whilst the other is leaning upon streetlamp; eam.es left hand is wrapping upon his other whilst an impish simper is scintillating; he is deliberately amusing himself upon his own state whilst concern veiled with an anguish chide of feigned resentment,

‘ you know what. you should be fucking dead. i could have not gone to this fucking place &. you'd be dead. ’ fingers now are coiling upon the other's bloodied collar from the blood cascading from his nostrils .. johann would have landed a jab if the other weren't already beaten up, because the aggressive proximity &. the pique bubbling within him. but he sees him as a kicked dog that wished to be accepted again after their obliviousness for wrongdoing .. the sweetest punishment is to accept them.

‘ jesus fuckin' christ, ’ omitting the crude words whilst pulling the other abruptly into a famine kiss––––––brims are gnawing upon the chapped ones whilst nails are scrapping the scarred face; he tastes like metallic taint of false indulgence whilst his tongue is deprived from larrup. pushing him into the abyss of intoxication as body turning him from the lamppost to the vehicle's body; hungrily devouring him as if he would vanish if he doesn't contain him into a desperate tug of revelation .. taunting him, into a temporary salvation that could dissipates if they were apart once again.

double bingo 😌

‘ last time i checked, you were pretty submissive. ’

@4ger said , ❛  do whatever you want to me.  ❜

‘ yeah? i can do whatever i want to your body? ’ it isn't an inquiry of confirmation, but rather an invitation to repetition on his own words–––––listening to his own inclination repeats once again, &. diminishing the value of it because he will hear how desperate &. needy he is .. a form of self-induced degradation; of acceptance that he is relenting himself to be used &. handled by him. his chapped brims are nibbling on his shoulders whilst his hands are slithering to the belt before slowly opening it &. . . . . leaving it hanging because he retracting himself from e.ames, with a saccharine beam scintillating, even though he couldn't see it unless he turns around &. humiliate himself in front of him ... unfortunately; he can do anything to him, &. he chose that, ‘ what if i don't want to do anything to your body? maybe i just wanted to tease you, &. leave you hanging, &. frustrated, &. desperate? maybe i was just playing with you, than fucking you. ’