Written by: an incredible anon
1 Часть (остальное в комментариях).
Mediocre, Mason spat under his breath, watching his sister smile toothily at the cheering audience as she pulled a knife cleanly through her neck. It was a pathetic illusion; he could do so much better, but she never gave him the closing performance, took all the glory for herself and left him to brood in the shadows of the wings until she signaled him on stage to bow with her.
As if she deserved even half the applause erupting from the idiot masses.
But no matter how much he wanted to leave her hanging high and dry (from a not so metaphorical noose), he couldnt. Unless, of course, he wanted to provoke Stanleys ire which was always made worse by his and Mabels little peas of a pod thing they had going. He knew it all to be a farce. Just as he played Stanford in the hopes of usurping control of the company one day, so too did Mabel dream of slipping up during their rehearsals to leave Stanley either in pieces or a pool of his own blood. Probably both, he speculated silently as he marched robotically on stage, took his congratulations next to his twin, and stalked off again.
Hed have to answer for his attitude at some point or another, but presently, he really needed to beat something in.
The mirror in his changing room momentarily sufficed, and he quietly considered the spider web shattered perfectly in the center of the glass as he rubbed his bruised knuckles. It wasnt enough, though, and he quickly shrugged off his cape and feathered cravat, took a second to smooth his vest in the multitude of reflections similarly grooming themselves, then hurried from the room, making haste as Mabels shrill voice sounded from around the corner.
Hed deal with her in due time.
For now, though, he needed another outlet.
Taking care to keep to the less frequented hallways, Mason made his way to Stanfords office. As predicted, his uncle was absent from the room, and he slipped soundlessly inside, casting a lock charm on the double oak doors in case anyone decided to pry. But no one came in here without Stanfords invitation. His uncle would also be preoccupied for at least the next hour running numbers with Stanley and listening to Mabels bullshit lies about how cruel Mason was treating her. Stanford wouldnt care in the slightest, but Stanley would lose it if he made that apparent.
Either way, the rest of his relations would be too busy to actually come calling for a while yet, a fact that made Mason feel marginally less dour as he approached Stanfords desk.
Running his fingers along under the edge, he found the small keypad almost indiscernible flush against the wood, tapped out the code hed discovered after only three tries that first time, and smirked satisfied as a soft click sounded followed by a faint rush of air. Spinning on his heel, he hung his hands by the thumbs from his pockets and strode toward the west wall where a door-shaped section had sunk in, pushed it open fully, ducked inside, and closed it with practiced, silent ease.
He hummed in low consideration as he looked around the room.
The books had been rearranged again. More of their pages littered the ground, some crumbled into macabre facsimiles of origami, others shredded completely and strewn to resemble runes that were useless without the proper magic to fuel their symbolism.
Another futile attempt at escape, Mason thought, grinding the crude constructions underfoot as he leisurely approached the center-most piece of furniture that was the most obvious testament, if thats what you could call it, to Stanfords sick, obsessive ego.
It wasnt just this desk (an ostentatious black walnut trimmed in silver and moonstone embellishments); the whole room was outfitted to Stanfords taste with a dash of the contained prisoners own preferred aesthetic. Though almost completely obscured by the eviscerated books, the dark marble of the floor still gleamed through in some patches, freckled with flits of white and grey with barely a seam to be seen where the tiles had been set, the dark expanse ceasing only where stone met walls painted a deep mauve. To the right was the bed, disheveled as always, goosedown perpetually hovering about the satin draperies canopied above as though it had been hexed to stay there for an eternity. And it probably was.
Then to the left, the window, the only portal to the world beyond.
Mason approached it cautiously.
Window really wasnt an adequate descriptor. It was just the south wall comprised entirely of reinforced glass, the signals glowing as Mason placed his palm against it and peered down twenty stories below. The dizzying height pulled his stomach through his feet and back up to his throat, and he stepped away, laughing cautiously.
But it wasnt just him laughing, a low giggle gradually increasing in pitch and resonance as Mason turned around to see the rooms only other occupant slowly peeling himself away from the concealing darkness of the furthest corner.
Tough day with the, Sissy? Will goaded, eyeing the young man over.
Unbearable, Mason replied, easily finding his composure and crossing his arms as he rested his back against the window. The signals flared again in response, and he was wreathed in babys blue that made his teeth glare as he gave the demon a brutal smile.
When are you just going to kill her? Will said, the chains of his shackled wrists chattering as he slouched dramatically, tilting his head too far to one side and leering at Mason. D make things so much easier for the both of us.
Oh what, you dont like our time together?
Mason kicked off the window and moved toward the demon.
Ah-hah, Will shrank back, though his elation failed to falter entirely. Exactly opposite, kiddo. Just a bit eager to oust the competition already.
Mason had heard this speech before, but he never could refuse flattery, even from the most prolific liar this side of his own familys dishonesty. So he let Will continue.
We both know its lo-o-ong overdue, the demon said, straightening himself and meeting Masons mostly indifferent stare eye to eye. Not even sure how you put up with it sometimes. Sucks to be second rate to some cunts parlor tricks, doesnt it?
Will took a step closer.
Mason remained where he was, nothing but cold calculation in his expression.
Wed do it together, Will had begun to pace now, walking slowly to the left. Id take care of Stanford, and you just get the others. Drug em if you need, and I can finish it.
His words passed Masons ear, just a whisper now that stroked his spine from neck to tailbone.
Wed finally run this place.
Before the sigh poised on Masons lips could be released, the demon sprang, throwing his arms over the young mans head and lashing his chains around Masons throat, wrenching with devastating strength, slamming his own back against the wall and Masons back against his chest as he strained and tightened his hold.
Just like this! The demon panted in his ear. Its that fucking easy!
Instinctively, Mason started clawing at his throat, trying to slip even one finger between chain and flesh. When this immediately proved pointless, he focused his efforts on attacking the demon, reaching behind as best he could and scratching, pulling hair, slapping, anything to subdue Will.
But the demons hold was steadfast, and un-oxygenated black fuzz steadily encroached on Masons swimming vision and ragged coughs.
Just as unconsciousness seemed inevitable, the pressure abruptly released, and he collapsed at Wills feet, heaving raw gulps of air, hacking them out again along with spattering of blood that disappeared against the floors complexion.
Ba-astard, he wheezed. Ill fucking kill you.
No you wont, came Wills reply, and he crouched down, patting Masons curling and uncurling spine as the young man continued to retch air. Because we cant do that until old Stanfords outta the way. Once that geezers gone, I will delight in disemboweling you, but for now we gotta play it cool, capiche?
Mason stilled for a second, neither breathing nor speaking. The fingers of his right hand trembled against the marble, and with a deft movement, he sent his fist smashing into Wills left eye.
Reeling from the force, the demon crashed onto his back, and Mason was on him in an instant.
Do you realize how hard its going to be to cover this up! He screamed, yanking down his collar to reveal the swollen, red imprint the chains had left. What if Stanford sees! What the fuck do I tell him!
He grabbed Wills own shirt and brandished his fist again, but the demon didnt even flinch. The only tell of his terror were the heavy tears streaming down his temples, but he was also grinning madly, so Mason wasnt taking any risks.
I could kill you right now, he hissed, lower his hand and materializing a thin, silver pick between thumb and forefinger. I know how. Ive read Stanfords journals. And I could just say you got loose. No one would ever question it.
Oh but youd miss me, kid! Will sang cheerily, tears still pouring, eyes now completely indecisive, unsure if they should meet Masons or stay trained on the pick.
Youd miss all the fun we have together, our lessons and magic and
Will lowered his eyelids to a tempting gaze, and, with hands Mason had unwittingly left free, reached down
Youd miss this, too, wouldnt you.
Mason made no move, the anger twisted on his face untangling into an impassive stare. Slowly, he stood, brushed himself off, fixed his mussed hair, then motioned for the demon to stand, as well.
Still smiling seductively.
He knew exactly how to play his hand against this boy.
And then there was a knife between his ribs, cold metal freezing in his cold blood, and he staggered, but Mason had a firm grip on his waist, held him tightly as he guided the demon to the bed. There, he took a hold of Wills chains before promptly letting him collapse to the floor while he sat himself on the edge of the plush mattress, placidly watching as the demon winced and gasped and tried to embrace himself to alleviate the pain, but he had Wills hands firmly secured overhead.
It takes a special kind of arrogance to think Id miss you, Mason finally said, nudging the handle of the blade with the toe of his shoe, seeing if he couldnt just push it a little deeper.
You would, Will wheezed, coughing up a thick glob of blood before lifting his head.
Hair already plastered to his forehead, eyes red and swollen especially where Mason had struck him, whole body shivering at the wound he wouldnt be able to heal unless Mason allowed it
Goddammit he was right.
He really would miss this.
Mason didnt vocalize this, of course, instead rose again, forcing Will to do the same as he pulled the demons bonds. With a flick of his fingers, he manifested another length of chain, looped it through Wills and around the horizontal canopy beam at the foot of the bed, successfully securing the demon on his feet for as long as he needed.
Will protested with feeble grunts and whimpers, all the while crying silently and smiling like he was the sun in some childs nursery rhyme, but neither demon nor man said anything.
Mason did hum quietly, though, as he removed his vest, unbuttoned his shirt and coaxed the tails from his trousers, folding it neatly on the bedspread before doing the same for Will. It was harder what with the knife in the way, but Mason tore a wider hole around the entry wounded fabric and slipped the garment off, pressing the fresh bloodstain to his nose and inhaling deeply.
Th-thats real sick ya know, Will stuttered, stomach tightening as Mason sat back again and examined the skin of his naval. Not even Stanfords got a blood thing, ya creep. Consider yourself all kinds of fucked up!
Mason paused, palm nearly flat against the demons abdomen, and glanced up, raising an eyebrow.
He made to open his mouth with an equally smart retort, but decided against it at the last second, and both Wills knees and voice gave out as Mason ripped the knife from its perch and replaced the blade with his own tongue.
Good thing Stanford made this room soundproof, the young man thought to himself as he probed the wound, flexing his tongue, widening it, flicking, curling, tasting the acid that flowed through the demon. Really, Mason didnt have a blood thing. He just had a thing for Wills.
Th-that fu-ucking hurts you know, the demon in question panted, trying to squirm away from the intrusion in his chest, but Masons powerful hands latched onto his hips and held him in place.
If you w-wanted to eat something, Will continued, trying to find some sort of upper hand, shoulda just gone down on your sister.
That had Masons attention and then some, and he slowly extricated his tongue, laving it over Wills chest as he straightened himself and leisurely cocked his head.
Unless you dont mindf I do, Will sneered, using all his energy to steady his words.
Still silent, Mason closed his eyes and shook his head ever so slightly.
Th-thats too bad, the demon continued goading. Id probably have her squirming just like you.
Still silent, Mason removed his hands from Wills waist and massaged at his temples, and the demon had the audacity to laugh as though he really had any sort of upper hand.
Lets say we put all this aside and get to that. You know I love all those little noises you make.
But what about you, Mason offered softly, visibly brandishing the knife this time before carefully sliding it back into the weeping hole just below where Wills heart supposedly was.
What about you.
In one, fluid motion, he was poised behind the demon, mouth latched to the skin behind Wills right ear, one hand racing on fingernails along his stomach to the band of his trousers, the other toying idly at the handle of the knife.
And, indeed, the demons response was orchestral, high to low to needy to guttural, and Mason ran his tongue over Wills damp cheek, savoring the salty heat before growling in his ear, What am I going to do with you.
Hn-ah, the demon gasped as Mason bit down hard on his shoulder. H-hopefully something depraved, he finished, shuffling and bucking his hips forward as Mason worked off his belt and slid his hand down, palming and pressing and teasing.
He was always such a goddamn tease.
N-nice one, kid, Will gasped, throwing his head back and exposing more throat for Mason to mar.
Which he did ever so graciously, turning the demons neck into a Rorschach patchwork.
F-hah, real nice, Will breathed, footing coming loose as pain and pleasure amalgamated.
Mm, was Masons reply, his fingers, the ones fiddling with the knife, splaying out to explore more of Wills chest as he continued tasting the pulse beating against his lips and teeth.
Sh-should get in on this, the demon said, still hoping to maintain his composure over Masons, see what th-these can do, eh?
He shook his chains to indicate his bound hands.
Dont worry about me, Mason reassured, smirking as he placed a quick kiss to Wills cheek. Just let me take care of you, hm?
Both hands moved to Wills trousers, one methodically undoing each button, the other carefully taking the demons dick and giving it a few strokes.
Will whined at the rough friction, tried to pull back, but Mason stopped him, pressing his hips forward, just barely grinding his own erection against the demons ass.
Looks like I forgot something, he said conspiratorially and promptly shoved Wills mouth full of as many fingers as he could fit.
Better get them nice and wet, he said, curling them against Wills tongue as he continued to tease his cock. Unless you want me to fuck you dry.
Or we can use this, he let go to smear his palm full of the blood oozing down th