[QUINN] Devil's Bitch

[connor crayze sykes]

Fingers traced over the few day old burns on his wrist, back and forth, back and forth.
Connor hadn't talked to Quinn much, except to tell him sorry for being fucked up enough to try and off himself. He hadn't really thought about it, had said he thought maybe things would have been fixed for Quinn and Makism without him in the picture. Had blamed himself...

Second screw up. Deacon, now Quinn. He seemed to be making enemies around every corner. No smiles came, no determined spark in those blue eyes. He was so starved he could barely function, staggering along against the wall of a building. Drugs hazed his mind. He didn't know what he hadtaken, just that he wanted to be numb. Connor pulled his wings closer, panting for deeper breaths.

[tarquin finley ellis]

Six days. Was it six days already? Interesting, the way time was going. Of course having spent four days in a restraint room sort of made things seem longer, shorter.... blurred. Yes, blurred. That was it. Actually, so many things were blurred, and it wasn't all about time or days. Quinn's mind was a little fuzzy. He's not drugged up, that's not the issue. It has come to the point where taking drugs right now would probably cause him to resort to a lot of violence and possibly the burning down of everything in another room. And that would be the nice version of what could happen.

There were still a lot of unanswered questions within Quinn's own mind. He knows that he's different now, that when he looks in the mirror his gaze is colder. The warmth is gone, it's burning if there's heat at all. Quinn hasn't been able to really talk to Connor, not in anything more then quick passing and that's been short and blunt as it is. Quinn hasn't been ready to talk. There's been a struggle with that, and it's all he can do not to lash out in some way. He's refrained so far. But that can only last so long, and today it seemed as if that conversation he'd asked for would finally play out.

He was on his second cigarette in a row, and that was already down pretty far, nearly done as it was when he caught sight of Connor. Didn't look like the male was in any good condition -- when was he? -- but it was worse then normal, Quinn would figure. Doesn't change anything. Doesn't make a lick of difference to him. And so Quinn slinks along the wall in a determined, fluid way; stopping two feet or so from Connor. "If I talk to you, are you awake enough to remember it tomorrow?" The words are blunt, but Quinn needs to know this before he says anything more. He's only going to say it once.

clothes

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor's steps faltered as he saw Quinn approach, and he staggered to an unsteady stop. He felt ready to drop dead. Quite literally. Connor didn't want to talk about things anymore. He wanted to be alone. But he knew that they would never be on the same page for the conversation he could only guess was coming, so he just nodded. "Y-yeah.."

Fingers pressed to his aching stomach. It hurt to move, everything around him a dizzy blur. His body was shutting down with lack of food and his continued drug use on top of already being weak with sickness. It was probably only a matter of days before it would be over, before he couldn't move. He shivered, lifeless blue eyes studying the male before him, one he had found a reason to smile for. Even if not through romance, at least friendship. But with how possessive this Makism was, he doubted even friendship was an option. So again Connor found himself down to nothing, saw no point in trying. Their tests would kill him in his condition. He couldn't hand anymore needles just as he couldn't handle anymore rejection or heartbreak.

He was ready to collapse, it was that simple. Faint, hoarse breaths passed his lips and he lowered his gaze. Connor couldn't decide if he should feel ashamed. He didn't think so. Quinn didn't need him anymore, so he felt he didn't have to worry about that. Nobody here would miss him. Ashley could find another room mate. It was a struggle to even breathe, he could barely get out of bed this morning. He was walking a tight rope here, so near to falling it wasn't even funny anymore.

[tarquin finley ellis]

Quinn couldn't honestly say he wanted to talk about things, but it had to be done. Sooner then later, considering that Connor was deteriating at a fast pace. Saving the male from suicide was only buying a little more time, and that was something Quinn had already accepted. This conversation still had to be gotten over with, no matter what reservations about it either of them had. Quinn knows where he stands at this point, it was all too obvious when Connor tried to drown in front of him. Terribly fucked up, that. And actually, probably the breaking point itself. No one had ever tried to kill themselves to get away from him before. Until now.

When Connor responded, Quinn dropped the last bit of his cigarette and crushed it with his foot, looking at the male for a few seconds in silence. He was trying to manage this through everything, through all the cold, through the pain that he could still feel and the fact that this wasn't going to be very welcome. That part he could barely care about, but the first two issues were the main things about it. When Connor lowered his gaze, Quinn took a breath and forced his own features to soften. Then he reached out, lifting the male's chin up, fingers moving along Connor's jawline, a little over the male's cheek.

And leaned in, lips finding Connor's gently, sweetly and full of unspoken emotion. There was quite a bit that Quinn put into that kiss, and when he pulled away his gaze darted away for a moment, then back. He straightened, lips now pressing into a thin line with a little quirk at one corner. "I only kiss people I love on the lips, and I can't stand unfinished business bouncing around my system." A pause and a shrug. "So you can go die now or whatever." The words were listless and blunt, but they were there and it was the last of the good parts that Quinn was going to give. It wasn't like Quinn wanted to fix what was broken anymore.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor went rigid at the touch when his chin was lifted. If only Quinn could see exactly how many bruises he had. They had resorted to physical punishment for him not eating, trying to off himself, being an ass to all the staff lately. He grimaced, trying to pull away, and reached a shaking hand to push Quinn's finger from the bruise along his jaw, carefully guarding his ribs with an arm now that his wings had unfurled a bit from around himself.

The kiss however, threw him off. And he met it in desperation and confusion, the cry of a lone wolf. When Quinn pulled away and spoke, Connor could only bite his lip, drop his gaze again, and reach to rub at his now aching jaw. "I-I haven't tried since.." He mumbled. It was quite honest. Since trying to drown himself, Connor hadn't bothered. He had just..given up. He was nothing but a shell. Maybe he had died in that pool that day and this was all Quinn had brought back up. No, he didn't have a will to live, a will to protect himself from the punishment and testing. It was exactly like with his father, that submission. Except this time he wasn't trying to kill himself. The loneliness was doing the job on its own.

[tarquin finley ellis]

It didn't even make him pause when Connor went rigid. If he could see the bruises, then honestly Quinn probably wouldn't have even cared too much anymore. Maybe there was still something there in the desire to possess that would make him lash out at those who had done the bruising, but for the wounds themselves Quinn can't feel much else. That's gone. He doesn't even let Connor push him away, though he lets up just a little at the male's jaw after Connor's shaking hand had tried to move Quinn's fingers. There was enough there getting to the kiss to allow that little bit of reluctance.

Quinn had given so much in that kiss, and he'd needed to. But gentle had left when the kiss ended. The reply from Connor didn't matter too much, Quinn wasn't going to bother with words about it. The male would probably end up with more reasons to do it around Quinn now anyway. He doesn't know what parts of Connor might have been left in that pool when he dragged the male out. He knows that he left something there, so it's not one sided. Perhaps they would learn of these changes from each other today. Maybe not. But it wasn't over, Quinn wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

He moves closer to Connor now, aiming to press the male snuggly between himself and the wall. "You may have thrown me and my love for you away, but here's the catch: I'm not done with you. As far as I'm concerned, you're still mine." The words were low, like silken venom. Quinn wasn't looking to play nice anymore. He doesn't like when people throw him away. And now he just wants to make them suffer.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor could tell something about Quinn was different, and something in his head screamed /run/. But he didn't, couldn't. Perhaps it was that addiction to being possessed, punished, that kept him from trying. Maybe he had simply been mistreated for so long that he found something in it. That desperation for somebody to even look his way. That submission, the fear of being in the wrong even if he was mistreated.

Connor gagged in pain as his thin body was pressed back up against the wall. It pinned his wings, his bony shoulders. He wouldn't have had the strength to push away if he tried. Dead eyes met Quinn's own, just staring as the other male spoke. Let him do as he please. Connor might struggls, but he wouldn't put up much of a fight. He couldn't have, anyway. Not in his current state. Unlike Quinn's temporary claims before along his neck, Connor had faint burns over both wrists now. Pinned to the wall like this, the bruising over protruding ribs was clear. They hadn' broken them, which would have been fairly easy. He coughed ruggedly, but otherwise did not move.

[tarquin finley ellis]

Running would only make him chase. Even if Connor could have, it wouldn't have made any difference. Quinn would seek the male out, and he'd find Connor soonor or later. Probably sooner, considering the condition the winged male was in. But Quinn didn't expect much of a struggle, or for Connor to run. Not that he'd mind those things, he simply didn't figure the male would understand how bad it could really get. Or maybe he felt that Connor wouldn't care enough to fight back if he did understand. Either way, Quinn doesn't think much on it. He's bigger and far stronger and he'll get what he wants in the end. That or Connor would finally be dead. Whichever.

Quinn stared back at Connor, something just as vacant in the gaze. And hunger. Yes, Quinn took a moment to look over the thin, sickly creature he'd pinned there. He noted the bruising absently, the jutting ribs just like so many bones Connor had that had skin stretched far too tightly over them. Nothing, Quinn felt nothing. He just... wanted. It was no longer about asking, about caring how Connor felt about it. Quinn was going to take, because the male couldn't do much about it. He stepped back just enough; "Face the wall." It was a sharp command, followed by his hands pushing at Connor to make it so. Then he leaned closer again, lips at the male's neck. "Can you be hurt enough to scream still, do you think?" The words were a dangerous purr at Connor's ear.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor barely had time to react before hands were pushing at him and he had his chest to the wall instead. Panic flared, memories, experience. He quirmed, pushing back helplessly. But he was far too weak to get far in his squirming. Palms rested against the wall, his breaths passing his lips ruggedly. Connor knew he could still behurt enough to scream, but also knew it had come so often with his father that he had become numb to most things.

It didn't mean Quinn couldn't shatter already broken pieces though. He still seemed to have yet found the key, anyway. Maybe there was none, that was too muchto care about.

[tarquin finley ellis]

The friction of the squirming only made Quinn's want grow, and there was a low rumble in his throat as his teeth found the flesh of Connor's neck. Angry little bites and tugging at the skin; an overly vicious sort of marking this time, nothing soothing to be found here. No answer to his question, so Quinn figured that he would have to find out for himself if he could make Connor scream. There were a few different things he could do that most minds wouldn't even jump to. But Quinn did not have most minds. He barely had much of what he did before. It was true, wasn't it? Saving grace or destruction.

Hands roamed over Connor's body, and there was a strange lull, that brief moment one takes before jumping off the cliff. Quinn's hands stilled at the male's waist. "Why couldn't you love me? I tried to be good enough..." Just an echo of a lost soul, hurting. And just as quickly as that moment came, it was gone and Quinn's fingers were pulling, prying at Connor's pants. He bit down on the male's shoulder; he was usually quite vocal in taking his pleasure, but this time he'd rather muffle that to hear the pain, the screaming if he could manage it. And with skin that could get fire hot, Quinn was pretty confident he could find a way to manage it.

[connor crayze sykes]

"I-I tried..I wanted t-t-to," Connor slurred brokenly. It was the truth. All he had wanted. And it hurt that this other male had come back into the picture, had turned everything upside down.
Connor bit down on his lip at the viscious nips. He'd had worse done before though. Hands tugged at his jeans, teeth sank imto his shoulder, and brief tears sprang to his eyes. He didn't want this Quinn, he wanted the other one. Bht he doubted he would get it. This Quinn wanted nothing bht possession and to punish him for giving up. He thought he had been doing the right thing..giving him back to Makism. Thought they could be happier together.

[tarquin finley ellis]

The words didn't do anything to help, to slow him down. It was far too late for pretty much everything at this point. And Quinn blames Connor for more then that. There's blame for the fact that the male had activly tried to force Quinn to go in a direction he did not want to go. Quinn couldn't be 'given back' to anyone if that wasn't what he wanted. It was more of a 'take this, I don't want it anymore' type of slap to the face that Quinn wasn't just going to forget. Several actual slaps to the face were perferred. Even a broken nose or jaw.... but that? No. Too much. Quinn had held out a damaged heart just to watch it be tossed away.

Wasn't the most obvious response shattering? And here it was, those pieces that Quinn wanted to shove back at Connor now that they were broken and razor-sharp. There's much worse that Quinn could do, but there's something unsatisfactory about pressing a dead creature to the wall that makes him hold back. He wants to savor this, prolong it. Doesn't even take long for Quinn to get situated, to be as rough as he dared to keep life in Connor as things faded to black. When the haze cleared, he pulled away, licking blood from his lips and fixing his shorts. Quinn didn't care who had seen it; no one had stopped it, and that was enough.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor clawed at the wall helplessly as he was freed of his jeans. "Pl-lease..." He slurred brokenly. "Quinn give m-me a chance..don't do-" Connor sobbed. Too late.

---

Blood trickled from his shoulder, body even more battered and hurting than before as he collapsed. Trembling fingers reached for his jeans but he was shaking too bad to do anything with them, tears falling down thin cheeks. He gagged, dark feathers fluttering along the grass from his struggle. Connor tried to stand, tried to run before Quinn decided what to do with him. He tried to escape while he still had proof of being sexually abused. But he couldn't. He was too starved and weak, could barely even move. He was just a toy waiting to be used now. And nobody seemed to be around to care. Not about the sico winged freak..

[tarquin finley ellis]

Quinn watched with dull eyes as Connor collapsed, making no move as the male tried to pull his jeans, as Connor's tears fell. Quinn simply stood there looking with that haunted, hollow look on his face. It was obvious that the male couldn't flee now, couldn't even pull up his own jeans, Connor was that weak. It was just another possessive thing to win out as Quinn moved, reached out to drag the jeans back over the male's thin hips and zip them up. Then he collected Connor in his arms, starting to carry the male back to his dorm-room. Might as well, Quinn wasn't sure just what else to do with him.

"Mine, mine, mine..." It was a low undertone as he moved along, eyes challenging anyone who came too close. No one did. Maybe they heard him, maybe they didn't care, maybe they thought he was trying to help. Didn't matter why, just as long as Quinn wasn't stopped, because at this point something was bound to die bloody. He shuffled to open the door to his dorm, shutting and locking it behind him before bringing Connor to his bed and laying him out there. He probably should have left Connor in his own dormroom in the mutation ward instead of bringing him here, but oh well.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor's eyes closed as hr was lifted into Quinn's arms. He didn't date struggle, aware of the damage that could be done if he was dropped. Body limp, head tilting with each movement, wings dragging on the ground, the only thing that said he was still alive were his struggles to breathe more evenly than he had been. And them a door closed and latched and Connor tensed in panic.

The bed that he was met with was welcome however, even if it wasn't his own. He curled up feebly, shivering as he his his face, tears falling down his cheeks and soaking into the bed spread, his thin fingers curling tightly around it for comfort.