goodfellow | To Kill a Puck, Part 1 (for Thomas)

To Kill a Puck, Part 1 (for Thomas)

It had been a good day at Robin's car dealership. Just before closing, he'd talked a mother into buying a three-year-old sports car for her 16-year-old son; from the looks of him, he'd have it wrecked within the week and back for another - at which point he could recommend a nice safe SUV with all the bells and whistles that cost even more than the first one.

He was also expecting a visitor. Thomas Raith, who never failed to put him in a good mood. More than a good mood. What Thomas Raith put him in were orgasms that curled his toes for days. They'd only met two months ago, but he was already far more regular a sex partner than Robin had had in a very long time - but then, anyone who was more than a one night stand amounted to "regular" for Robin.

Everyone else had already gone home, except for a janitor who was sweeping the show room. Robin caught a glimpse of Thomas' lovely head of hair and met him just outside. "Can I interest you in... let's see, something fast, something powerful, something in white, perhaps?" he asked as soon as he opened the door to greet him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Nothing wrong with being direct," Thomas answered, following Robin with an eagerness he didn't let show--not much, any way.

He glanced around, not so much out of curiosity as out of habit. In unfamiliar territory it was best to pick out the exits, the lay of the furniture, that sort of thing. He wasn't even consciously aware of doing it, and he didn't waste a lot of time on it. He stepped up and pressed against Robin's back before the puck could turn around, bending his head to brush light, playful kisses over the back of his neck.

Robin groaned softly and an image formed of his mind of Thomas bending him over the desk and fucking him. Knowing well enough by now that Thomas could probably just pick that out, he murmured, "Just don't scratch the wood, it's mahogany."

"Noted," Thomas groaned, untucking Robin's shirt to slide his hands beneath, caressing his chest, letting the demon start to feed on the already almost overwhelming energy that poured off of Robin.

"You need to start coming by on my lunch hours," Robin said blithely as he felt a full body shudder go through him and his cock rise to attention just at that touch. "I love a midday pick-me-up."

Then he dropped his pants.

"I have my own business to run," Thomas answered, one hand moving lower, hungry for more touching, as the other undid his pants, tugging the fly open. He sucked at Robin's neck, just below his ear, fingers brushing over Robin's hipbone.

"Speaking of which, I've been meaning to come by," Robin murmured, reaching toward Thomas' fly. "I might trust you with my hair. Haven't decided yet."

He licked his lips and arched a little. "But for now, I just want your hands in it while you fuck..."

Robin didn't finish his thought, because they were interrupted. By a loud crash, a rain of glass from the large window behind his desk. And a giant, scaly thing leaping straight for Robin's throat.

Thomas swore, spinning away from the desk with his arms still around Robin, knocking them both out of the way before the beast's trajectory brought it down on top of them--barely. His hand flashed to his waist, the sheath holding his kukri unsnapped and the knife freed with lightning quickness. "What the hell?"

Robin's reflexes probably would have been quicker as well if his pants weren't around his ankles. As it was, he found it easier to step out of them just as he reached down and unsheathed the knife that had been strapped to his calf - as he took in the situation to see how far he was from getting to the sword under his desk.

Unfortunately the creature was between the desk and them. It was a serpent, bigger than either one of them, with feet that looked as if they belonged on a jungle cat on the front, and an eagle on the back. It might seem like a dinosaur at first glance, but Robin knew what it was, especially after it hissed at them with a snake-like tongue.

It seemed to be ignoring Thomas entirely as it lunged at Robin, and he brought up the knife to lay a large gash in one leg. Yellow blood oozed out onto Robin's expensive shirt as it pinned him back to the ground.

Thomas didn't mind that. If it wasn't focused on him it was easier for him to get into a good position to jump on its back, plunging his serrated knife deep into the creature. He didn't get a chance to tear it open, though--the creature made a noise that was half-pain, half anger, and with a serpentine ripple threw Thomas across the room and into the wall, the kukri falling to the floor with a clatter.

Robin took the opportunity of the creature's distraction from Thomas' attack to lift the knife again. When it descended back upon him, he shoved it up into its ribcage.

Unfortunately he suspected that the knife wasn't long enough to hit anything vital, and that thought was validated by the fact that the thing didn't fall - instead it took a swipe at him with one cat-clawed paw.

Pain lashed through his shoulder and chest. Robin howled, and shoved the knife up deeper - and the creature howled in return.

And then, with his knife still sticking out of its chest, it hauled off of him and flashed across the room and out the window.

Robin started to get up to follow, but let out a gasp of pain instead, his legs feeling like jello.

Thomas dragged himself up from the base of the wall he'd slid down, wincing as he tried to catch his breath, watching the retreating beast to make sure it wasn't circling around to have another go at them. When it was clear it wasn't coming back he started toward Robin, limping as he took the first step and then reaching down to pull a jagged piece of glass from his calf, pale pink blood staining his pants, smeared on the shard. "Robin. You all right?" he asked breathlessly, then took in a sharp breath as he saw the slash marks across his chest.

Robin blinked up at him and then looked down. He was covered in blood, though at least only some of it was his.

"It's not deep," he grunted, struggling a little but managing to sit up. "I'd have had its head off in a second if my pants hadn't been around my ankles. On a good day I could take out a nest of them without breaking a sweat."

He was in pain, but he mostly sounded pissed off.

"Uh huh." Thomas held his hands out to help Robin to his feet, balancing carefully. "What the fuck was that?"

Robin swayed a little bit on his feet, grasping Thomas' arm for support. No, the wound wasn't deep, but it didn't have to be.

"What do they teach you pups in school these days?" he ground out as he began to feel the poison working its way through his system. This was gonna hurt like a bitch.

"That was a sirrush. Sixth century B.C. Babylonia." As soon as he said the words, he felt a cold chill wash over him at the implications. Implications he had absolutely no intention of sharing with Thomas.

"I was homeschooled. It was more about how to deceive and backstab, and less about ancient Babylonia." He slipped an arm around Robin's waist, offering silent support. "It seemed more interested in you than me. So who did you piss off?"

Robin snorted. "You're joking, right? Who haven't I pissed off? Ex business partners, ex marks, ex lovers, ex lover's husbands and wives..." He swayed a little. "There isn't a rolodex in existence big enough to keep that list. Thousands upon thousands of years, the enemies add up when you've got a sparkling personality like mine."

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling lightheaded. "Get me to a bed. And I don't mean that in a sexy way."

"Color me surprised," Thomas muttered, but he frowned and looked at Robin at his next words. "They're not that deep," he reminded Robin, unsure if he was just milking it or if he was really hurt. He leaned closer to observe the wounds and caught the faintest whiff of something besides puck blood (which had its own rather unique smell, not quite human, like his own). "...Poison," he breathed, then swore. "Empty Night, I think you need more than a bed!" But he tightened his grip on Robin, dragging him toward the now-gaping opening in the building.

"No, a bed will do," Robin said tersely. "If I were human, I'd be dead by now. Lucky for me, I'm not."

At that moment, the janitor chose to walk in from the door, his eyes going wide. Robin swallowed hard and looked over his shoulder at him. "Two hundred dollars," he said. "If you clean the place up as best you can before going home tonight, and then come in tomorrow and pretend you didn't see a damn thing. Deal?"

The janitor nodded numbly. Robin chose his employees well. He leaned back against Thomas and groaned. "How am I going to explain this to the insurance company..."

"Say a disgruntled ex-employee drove their car through the wall," Thomas suggested as he half-led, half-carried Robin to his own car. "I'll come back and put lay some convincing rubber after you're settled, if you want." He glanced back at the janitor and narrowed his eyes. "Can you trust him?"

Robin was kind of surprised by the offer to help him. He wasn't used to inspiring that instinct in people. Ever.

To the question about the janitor, he weakly waved a hand. "Discretion is something I vet my employees for. I am one hundred percent confident that bribing every one of them is effective." In his opinion, it was much more effective than trying to inspire loyalty.

When they reached the car, Robin took in the giant white hummer and snorted. "Subtle, aren't you."

"Good enough for me," Thomas muttered. If bribery worked, then the janitor was the least of their worries.

He hit the button on his key fob and the doors unlocked with a double-chirp. "It's fun. And can take a beating." He'd seen to that with a few modifications.

He yanked the door open and helped Robin up into the passenger seat. "Buckle up," he commanded, steadying him, making sure the puck wasn't going to fall back out of the vehicle before he could get the door closed.

Robin managed both to fasten the seatbelt and to wait until the door closed to lean against it, his body slumping a little. "I'll try not to bleed on your seats," he mumbled when Thomas entered the car again. "Where are we going, your place or mine?"

"With the life I live? The fabric's treated. Blood should just wipe right off." He glanced over as he started the car, pressing his lips together. "Mine." That way he could keep an eye on Robin, make sure he wasn't lying or exaggerating about not needing more than a bed.

Robin lolled his head a little so that he could look at Thomas while still resting it on the glass.

"I really wish I were in a condition to be excited about that," he sighed. "Damned sirrush." He sounded seriously disgruntled. "Made even more of a mess than the aqrabuamel the other day..."

"The what?" Thomas pulled out onto the street, driving fast, clearly not worried about silly things like speed limits. Part of it was wanting to get Robin settled and get a look at those scratches--but part of it was he just liked speed. And hell, he had the reflexes, why not use them?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject