[Rhys, honestly, isn't holding out much hope for the attic to be less creepy than the rest of Betelgeuse's cabin? But if it's drastically worse he's pretty sure they can make the coffin work, chains and empty food wrappers and all.
Still, he follows the demon up the stairs preparing his mature acceptance face for the worst.]
[Prepare to be pleasantly surprised, Rhys. The attic remains untouched since Adam and Barbara Maitland died. There is a LOT of boxed-up junk and unfinished projects up here, including a model of the town the house sits over, and a chalk outline of a door.
BJ specifically ignores all of these and plops down on the couch with the dust cover on it. Sadly, no bounce.]
Have I mentioned how much I hate these boring middle-class white suburbanites? Save me from Yuppieville.
Can't believe you get turned on surrounded by the Pottery Barn rejects.
[He nudges Rhys with said knee, scooting closer to him and wrapping an arm around Rhys' shoulders to start kissing his neck, making a plan to put one possessive hickey on him for sure]
Function over form, dude. If you wanted this to go down in your haunted house place downstairs, you should've-- uh-- you should've...
[Oh hey what do you know, it's kind of hard to make witty banter when you have someone's mouth against your pulse.
Rhys gives up on that sentence, and lets out a sigh instead, tipping back his head and sinking down into the couch, to give the other man easier access.]
--That feels really nice.
[Scratchy stubble plus soft lips is a pretty instant win.]
[BJ rakes his teeth gently over that pulse, pausing to consider making a joke about vampires but deciding against it. He hisses low, reaching up under that hideous Hyperion sweater to drag fingers up Rhys' side]
[Rhys drops his face to nuzzle his nose against Betelgeuse's temple, breathing in the coconut and death stench, voice low and close against the shell of his ear.]
I don't know about levitation. I'm pretty excited for you to get on top of me, might not be the same if you were weightless.
[His sweater rides up over Betelgeuse's wrist, and Rhys follows the other man's lead, pushing under the collar of his jacket, nudging it back.]
You wanna lose a couple of layers? Or is keeping the suit on a thing for you?
[oh well now. Fully engrossed in getting Rhys' sweater off of him, he almost misses the question entirely. He nips along Rhys' neck but has to cut himself off from kissing too much because that sweater's coming off one way or the other.
He straddles Rhys, but gives a small, not-so-pleasant shiver when Rhys' hands catch around the rope scar around his neck underneath the jacket collar.]
If you're going to get grossed out by a little dislocation, better keep the shirt on. I've got a lot of nasty secrets going on under the surface, babes.
[The lights are starting to act up again. A dim reddish tint comes up through the floorboards as the overhead lighting goes off entirely, to be replaced by the stringbulbs all along the attic walls.]
Uh fuck; shirt and tie stay on, pants off. Can't really get at you with those in the way.
[Hello morbid curiosity my old friend, what have you got under your shirt... Rhys is tempted to ask, but they've had enough false starts already without him needing to vet whether he's capable of stomaching whatever Betelgeuse is hiding under the hood.]
Okay-- we'll put that down under maybe one day. Along with levitation and STI tests.
[He squirms under Betelgeuse, finally disentangling enough to put his arms up to ease the shedding of the sweater, letting the other inmate see the tattoo that covers his arm and chest.]
[He sits up a bit on his knees to let Rhys wriggle around, tilting his head curiously to watch him work]
Oh hello.
[his fingernails begin to trace the tattoo, curling around Rhys' nipple before starting to inch towards his pants. He's getting excited all over again and starts unbuttoning Rhys' pants, falling far behind on the undressing himself portion of the show]
Tribal tattoos, Rhys? Didn't figure you were the type but they are strangely doing it for me. You are an asymmetrical treat.
[Rhys has a face full of sweater as Betelgeuse inspects his tattoo, meaning that the only answer that he immediately gets is somewhat muffled.]
It's more-- ancient alien themed, where I come from? I don't know if there's a tribe involved.
[And then he feels those fingers trail down to the buttons of his pants, and Rhys is absolutely not wearing anything under those ducky pajamas. He shoves the jumper the rest of the way over his head and down the back of the couch, before reaching for the other inmate's face, fingers sliding just under his jaw to tip back his head and demand his attention.]
Hey-- just to be clear, if getting me naked while you're still fully dressed was like-- the plan, then I'm cool with that? But otherwise--
[Just gonna slide his hands under the Jacket. The shirt's staying, but the Jacket's gotta be getting uncomfortable at this point, right? It's the middle of the night...]
[Oddly enough, BJ immediately complies with Rhys' hands, tilting his head into them and giving him a slithery sort of gaze, breathing hard. Up close, his hairline is easy to see where it breaks from the skull, and where the roots are starting to shimmer in that chameleon-like glow.
It's fucked up, but a bit hypnotic]
Uh. Sure thing. Yeah. This is different.
[He holds up his arms so Rhys can get his jacket off. Underneath is the tie and the pit-stained pin-striped shirt, and a pair of suspenders. It's a weird cross between a clown's outfit and a prisoner uniform, complete with patches he clearly did himself]
Careful with the jacket, I have a few pets living in it.
[That coaxes out another laugh, warm and throaty-- and god, it's kind of nice how weird this all is? All the surprises, the jokes, the lighting changes, the un-sexiness of it--]
Yeah, it is pretty different.
[Rhys sits up a little to push the Jacket, off, careful - as instructed - before hanging it over the edge of the couch that they're not currently piled on.
This done, he wraps an arm around the other man's waist, pulling him in close, so that they're chest to chest, and Rhys can reach around to unfasten the suspenders at the small of his back. ]
This okay?
[Just a courtesy check-in for the man who doesn't seem sure about getting undressed.]
[Woof. He presses up against Rhys, getting hard up against him when Rhys goes to unstrap his suspenders. They come off with a slight sprooong]
Like we're dancing cheek to cheek. Fred Astaire? No? Fuck me, I have to figure out what timeline you're in, Rhysball.
[He takes his attention away from the suspenders, more interested in Rhys' hot little body than his own trash heap. If Rhys treats his body like a temple, then this would be the garbage dump beside it, all festering and soft. But he's actually got muscle underneath some of that fat, and uses it to press Rhys up against the armrest of the couch they're on, lavishing both attention and dangerous kisses all down his midsection, before starting to tuck underneath the pants]
Hey, wriggle out of these, would you? I can't get hard to the stare of a million ducks.
[There's a stutter of breath as Betelgeuse moves down his body, then another laugh breaking through his composure at the comment about the ducks.
He does as he's told though, hitching his hips up, and shifting his ass to wriggle out of the soft fabric, and whatever performance anxiety the ducks might have cause Betelgeuse, Rhys has clearly gone uneffected. He's half hard, dick thick and rosy with blood, the tip of it already warm and wet with precum.
He threads his fingers through Betelgeuse's hair, trying uselessly to come up with some-- joke, some bedroom talk or something to say, but he comes up short, just watching the demon's face, tracking his expression, waiting for the reaction.]
[that hair is more loose than you'd think, Rhys, or at least the skull is; don't pull too hard or you'll pop it open.]
He huffs a dark laugh of his own and ducks his head down, disappearing from Rhys' gaze temporarily to let him play with his hair, so that he can wrap that forked tongue around the other inmate's dick]
[Well that gets a response. The sensation is indescribably strange, warm and wet and tight and utterly inhuman, it drags a sharp groan out from the back of Rhys's throat, and his whole body bucks at the contact--]
F--Fuck, what-- what is that?
[His free hand goes to clutch blindly at Betelgeuse's shoulder, misses his shirt, and ends up clutching one of those stray suspenders, like it's the reigns of a horse that he's hoping to get back under control.]
[the scoffing noise of a demon in the middle of a kiler blowjob who is dealing with a mortal human. He glances up, tongue whipping back in like a measuring tape dispenser]
[At least that's when his suspender is grabbed so that when he's jacked back and forth he's at least gently hitting his head against Rhys' stomach and not his entire pelvis]
[Another little sound as the tongue is withdrawn, this time high and whiny, with the hand in his hair giving a rude little shove back down. When he manages to speak, his voice is breathy and rushed.]
I didn't mean stop.
[He gives a little twist under the other man, thrusting his hips just a little. C'mon more weird moves.]
[He rolls his eyes but gets back to what he was doing; namely, wrapping this ridiculous tongue around Rhys' dick.
Meanwhile his hands are preoccupied with trying to cup that ass. Instead of only bobbing his head down, BJ is trying to also bring Rhys' body up to meet him.
Unfortunately that means whatever little gnats were investing in his hair as real estate will start to option vacation houses in Rhys' pubic area]
[God damn it, he is literally going to drag you to the infirmary after this, Rhys is not getting reinfected with nine things every time they fuck.
But at least right now, Rhys is blissfully oblivious. He scrambles for purchase on the couch, tilting his body to follow where he's being pushed, head dropping back as he feels the writhing, coiling warmth surrounding him. It takes about two pushes to get him from half hard, to full mast and aching.]
Fuck, that's so good-- god-- you're so hot for a dead guy.
[He wriggles one leg out from under the Betelgeuse, hooking it around the other man's shoulders to pull him down, keeping him pinned in and close, pressing more firmly, more demandingly into the heat of his mouth.]
[he gives a very low, gutteral growl at the compliment. Rhys tastes clean, and it's always nice to have a warm, wriggling body beneath him, especially one that hasn't begun to age just yet. He ignores the leg for the most part except to drive Rhys further into him.
The hand holding Rhys close is exploring; wandering, even. BJ lifts back to take a breath, popping a finger into his mouth and going back down to slip it into Rhys' ass]
[The growl was good when it was happening through kisses, but god damn does it feel good vibrating right through his cock. His body jolts, thrusting up until he can feel the other man's lips against his pubic hair, precome leaking out of him hot and wet.
He's very slightly too tense for the finger that pushes up between his ass cheeks, the spit leaves him slightly too dry and too tight for comfort, so there's an immediate yelp, and a tightening of his hand in Betelgeuse's hair.]
Wait-- wait, wait, wait-- go slow, okay? I need a minute--
[His chest is heaving with every breath, trying to adjust to the heat and the sudden, stretch of pressure between his legs.]
[He lifts up his head, withdrawing his hand and breaking free of Rhys' grip on his hair to eye him up and down. He leans his head against the other inmate's upper thigh, waiting. Betelgeuse's eyes are yellowish, but whether that's gangrene or the light reflecting back is difficult to say.]
You just made the most beautiful sound. But? Sure.
[He drums his fingers, backing off from that avenue, instead snaking that offending hand down towards his own pants. He's intent on taking care of himself, since Rhys is a little far out of reach while in this position]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Let’s go!
[he starts heading up the stairs to the attic]
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Still, he follows the demon up the stairs preparing his mature acceptance face for the worst.]
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BJ specifically ignores all of these and plops down on the couch with the dust cover on it. Sadly, no bounce.]
Have I mentioned how much I hate these boring middle-class white suburbanites? Save me from Yuppieville.
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[Rhys suggests, sinking down onto the couch beside Betelgeuse, dropping a hand to linger on the demon's knee.]
So uh-- where were we? Before the headbutting and the condom finding and the handcuffing yourself to a coffin?
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[He eyes that hand, then Rhys' face, smirking]
Can't believe you get turned on surrounded by the Pottery Barn rejects.
[He nudges Rhys with said knee, scooting closer to him and wrapping an arm around Rhys' shoulders to start kissing his neck, making a plan to put one possessive hickey on him for sure]
Suppose it takes all kinds.
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[Oh hey what do you know, it's kind of hard to make witty banter when you have someone's mouth against your pulse.
Rhys gives up on that sentence, and lets out a sigh instead, tipping back his head and sinking down into the couch, to give the other man easier access.]
--That feels really nice.
[Scratchy stubble plus soft lips is a pretty instant win.]
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Good, Stringbean. It's meant to.
Shame we can't levitate but this'll have to do.
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I don't know about levitation. I'm pretty excited for you to get on top of me, might not be the same if you were weightless.
[His sweater rides up over Betelgeuse's wrist, and Rhys follows the other man's lead, pushing under the collar of his jacket, nudging it back.]
You wanna lose a couple of layers? Or is keeping the suit on a thing for you?
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He straddles Rhys, but gives a small, not-so-pleasant shiver when Rhys' hands catch around the rope scar around his neck underneath the jacket collar.]
If you're going to get grossed out by a little dislocation, better keep the shirt on. I've got a lot of nasty secrets going on under the surface, babes.
[The lights are starting to act up again. A dim reddish tint comes up through the floorboards as the overhead lighting goes off entirely, to be replaced by the stringbulbs all along the attic walls.]
Uh fuck; shirt and tie stay on, pants off. Can't really get at you with those in the way.
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Okay-- we'll put that down under maybe one day. Along with levitation and STI tests.
[He squirms under Betelgeuse, finally disentangling enough to put his arms up to ease the shedding of the sweater, letting the other inmate see the tattoo that covers his arm and chest.]
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[He sits up a bit on his knees to let Rhys wriggle around, tilting his head curiously to watch him work]
Oh hello.
[his fingernails begin to trace the tattoo, curling around Rhys' nipple before starting to inch towards his pants. He's getting excited all over again and starts unbuttoning Rhys' pants, falling far behind on the undressing himself portion of the show]
Tribal tattoos, Rhys? Didn't figure you were the type but they are strangely doing it for me. You are an asymmetrical treat.
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It's more-- ancient alien themed, where I come from? I don't know if there's a tribe involved.
[And then he feels those fingers trail down to the buttons of his pants, and Rhys is absolutely not wearing anything under those ducky pajamas. He shoves the jumper the rest of the way over his head and down the back of the couch, before reaching for the other inmate's face, fingers sliding just under his jaw to tip back his head and demand his attention.]
Hey-- just to be clear, if getting me naked while you're still fully dressed was like-- the plan, then I'm cool with that? But otherwise--
[Just gonna slide his hands under the Jacket. The shirt's staying, but the Jacket's gotta be getting uncomfortable at this point, right? It's the middle of the night...]
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It's fucked up, but a bit hypnotic]
Uh. Sure thing. Yeah. This is different.
[He holds up his arms so Rhys can get his jacket off. Underneath is the tie and the pit-stained pin-striped shirt, and a pair of suspenders. It's a weird cross between a clown's outfit and a prisoner uniform, complete with patches he clearly did himself]
Careful with the jacket, I have a few pets living in it.
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Yeah, it is pretty different.
[Rhys sits up a little to push the Jacket, off, careful - as instructed - before hanging it over the edge of the couch that they're not currently piled on.
This done, he wraps an arm around the other man's waist, pulling him in close, so that they're chest to chest, and Rhys can reach around to unfasten the suspenders at the small of his back. ]
This okay?
[Just a courtesy check-in for the man who doesn't seem sure about getting undressed.]
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Like we're dancing cheek to cheek. Fred Astaire? No? Fuck me, I have to figure out what timeline you're in, Rhysball.
[He takes his attention away from the suspenders, more interested in Rhys' hot little body than his own trash heap. If Rhys treats his body like a temple, then this would be the garbage dump beside it, all festering and soft. But he's actually got muscle underneath some of that fat, and uses it to press Rhys up against the armrest of the couch they're on, lavishing both attention and dangerous kisses all down his midsection, before starting to tuck underneath the pants]
Hey, wriggle out of these, would you? I can't get hard to the stare of a million ducks.
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He does as he's told though, hitching his hips up, and shifting his ass to wriggle out of the soft fabric, and whatever performance anxiety the ducks might have cause Betelgeuse, Rhys has clearly gone uneffected. He's half hard, dick thick and rosy with blood, the tip of it already warm and wet with precum.
He threads his fingers through Betelgeuse's hair, trying uselessly to come up with some-- joke, some bedroom talk or something to say, but he comes up short, just watching the demon's face, tracking his expression, waiting for the reaction.]
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He huffs a dark laugh of his own and ducks his head down, disappearing from Rhys' gaze temporarily to let him play with his hair, so that he can wrap that forked tongue around the other inmate's dick]
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F--Fuck, what-- what is that?
[His free hand goes to clutch blindly at Betelgeuse's shoulder, misses his shirt, and ends up clutching one of those stray suspenders, like it's the reigns of a horse that he's hoping to get back under control.]
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[At least that's when his suspender is grabbed so that when he's jacked back and forth he's at least gently hitting his head against Rhys' stomach and not his entire pelvis]
Cripes, kind of in the middle of something here!
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I didn't mean stop.
[He gives a little twist under the other man, thrusting his hips just a little. C'mon more weird moves.]
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Meanwhile his hands are preoccupied with trying to cup that ass. Instead of only bobbing his head down, BJ is trying to also bring Rhys' body up to meet him.
Unfortunately that means whatever little gnats were investing in his hair as real estate will start to option vacation houses in Rhys' pubic area]
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But at least right now, Rhys is blissfully oblivious. He scrambles for purchase on the couch, tilting his body to follow where he's being pushed, head dropping back as he feels the writhing, coiling warmth surrounding him. It takes about two pushes to get him from half hard, to full mast and aching.]
Fuck, that's so good-- god-- you're so hot for a dead guy.
[He wriggles one leg out from under the Betelgeuse, hooking it around the other man's shoulders to pull him down, keeping him pinned in and close, pressing more firmly, more demandingly into the heat of his mouth.]
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The hand holding Rhys close is exploring; wandering, even. BJ lifts back to take a breath, popping a finger into his mouth and going back down to slip it into Rhys' ass]
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He's very slightly too tense for the finger that pushes up between his ass cheeks, the spit leaves him slightly too dry and too tight for comfort, so there's an immediate yelp, and a tightening of his hand in Betelgeuse's hair.]
Wait-- wait, wait, wait-- go slow, okay? I need a minute--
[His chest is heaving with every breath, trying to adjust to the heat and the sudden, stretch of pressure between his legs.]
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You just made the most beautiful sound. But? Sure.
[He drums his fingers, backing off from that avenue, instead snaking that offending hand down towards his own pants. He's intent on taking care of himself, since Rhys is a little far out of reach while in this position]
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cw; grossness. why are you here if you don't have to be
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