Waking up your lovely sub by grinding on them and sucking/gently biting on their cute fingers (with consent). Telling them how adorable they look all sleepy-eyed and flustered, just to make them blush more.
“I know,” Ollie answered, moving closer to try to soothe him.
“I know you are, but that’s why I’m here; to remind you of your potential for good, that you try so hard to walk that path and that you still deserve forgiveness even if it gets hard sometimes. Just because you sometimes do bad things doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”
“I’m just…tired.”
He was tired of the dead ends and, worst, the leads resulting pups that hadn’t survived long enough for rescue. He was just tired of being too damn late to do anything even remotely useful outside of making sure their bodies got a proper burial.
The car ride wasn’t much further, just outside the main part of the city were the close-packed streets opened out to allow for larger, more lavish houses, Delaine pulling into the driveway of one such house through electric gates that opened automatically at the press of a button on his keyfob, crisp white stucco on the outside walls and as immacualtely kept as he was.
“Welcome to mi casa,” he teased with a smirk, himself a little anxious to get inside.
Honestly, Lewis would have been more impressed had he not grown up in nice houses. Sure, he looked the casual sort, but the jeans and shirt were higher end and well kept, not a thread out of place either.
“Nice place,” he replied, hoping the interior was a little more on the homey side. It was easier to get a read off of a person depending on how they decorated a place.
He was trying to figure out if there was any link between the two, since he was pretty damn mortal too, as evidenced by the fact he’d already died once, not that he wanted to acknowledge that part with how he still felt about the incident.
“I don’t know. I was just told that you’re important and to keep you safe.”
She had also been told not to grow attached to him, to keep her distance, but she had failed miserably at that and didn’t see the point in telling him that. After all, he had seemed to need a friend.
Zayde knew he’d taken too much. Six tabs of X, two bumps of speed and a gram of cocaine had him so far past comfortably numb. Now everything was sharp, every sensation and movement jagged and dizzying. It felt like his brain had turned to stone, his pupils blown so wide his eyes looked black and his jaw aching from the tension the overstimulation caused it, and his heart beat like it was about to explode at any moment and try to drop him dead on the spot, although it wouldn’t be the first time he’d hospitalised himself with his drug use. He was so high, he couldn’t tell if he was hallucinating or not, the only conscious thought breaking through the static was the repeating of the same phrase over and over, that made perfect sense to him at the time, but came out as nonsense if he tried to speak it.
It was making him agitated and disoriented, stumbling from room to room of the club in search of something that would bring him relief and help him ride out the peak of the high until the edge came off just enough for him to pretend to be semi-functional again, but nothing lasted longer than a moment or two before his body was forcing him to move again, staying still becoming unbearable, like his bones had turned to knives and glass shards. Reaching the back of the main room, he found a dark corner and collapsed into it, up against a wall of amplifiers. The cold metal grill on the front of one felt soothing against the heat of his cheek and the vibrations of the thundering bassline ran through him deep enough to set his pulse back on a steady rhythm, Zayde closing his eyes and shutting off all his senses to anything else until he didn’t feel so much like his soul was making every attempt to evacuate his body by any means possible.
Chayton had seen it before, more times than he could count if he were to be completely honest. Decades of picking his father up out of gutters had long since taught him the signs of a bad trip verging on an overdose and he watched as the other made his way through the place before collapsing. Sure, he had been following him once he noted the signs, the familiarity tugging at the part of him that was just ingrained with the habit of picking people up. The saddest part of it was the sheer fact that Chay had left home specifically to get away from this sort of thing while he was trying to sort out the noise in his head over learning his mother had only faked her death. Maybe he just needed a distraction and focusing on someone else’s disaster made it easier to ignore his own. He couldn’t be sure but either way, there he was.
With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes before leaning down and pulling the stranger to his feet. “Yer a damn mess, ya know tha’? Collapsin’ here’s a good way ta wind up dead,” he muttered, half carrying him to somewhere a little quieter and less open to the public eye. At least here he could lie the boy down and prop him on his side in case he puked. Wouldn’t do a damn bit of good if he choked to death on vomit.
ofviolentdeath 