They'd been smoking for about a day in a devil's den. Pallets laid out, bright cloth draped everywhere, gently billowing for the smokers' delight. Jack inhaled deeply, then turned his head so he could shotgun the smoke to his beloved. "So different from Caritas. For all that its protected space." A random comment after who knows how long.
Sawyer laughs lazily. He's not quite as gone as Jack, although he's pleasurably hazed as he draws in the smoke, letting tendrils of thought and dream wind around the room. He's comfortably lounged, propped up on an elbow and pressed flush against his mate's back. He follows the smoke with a long, dreamy kiss. "Think the place takes its tone from the host. Can't imagine the Host here. Not sequined enough. No Karaoke." Each word is low and slow and falls from his lips like a whispered obscenity.
"No Gloria Gaynor or Sister Sledge," Jack agrees, laughing low in his throat. He rubs himself sinuously against his mate's chest, sighing with contentment between forever long slow kisses. "No leisure suits. No white hats."
Sawyer purrs with liquid contentment. "No white hats. No tall dark and whinings." He rubs back, just as sinuously, legs tangling even more with Jack's. "I like no white hats." Something that is very nearly a giggle.
"Good, because I'm never wearing one," Jack smirks and takes another toke. "Now a black fedora...do they still make fedoras? Always had a thing for Alan Ladd. Too short, but cheekbones and shoulders most amazing." He hazily lazily watches a bit of a commotion on the staircase leading down to the den. His eyes slit with pleasure and his purr deepens. Violence always entertains, even riding the currents of an underground river.
Sawyer watches the aura from the violence roll towards them, and thrusts against Jack lazily when it hits, purr richening to match Jack's. "I'll find you a fedora," Sawyer murmurs, nipping at Jack's ear lazily, then lapping at the faint trickle of blood with a liquid shiver. "Shoulders most amazing," he echoes, hands sliding over Jack's own shoulders, purr silky and slow and very content.
Jack's head falls back, exposing his throat for his mate, moaning softly as he rocks back against Sawyer. His cock’s a heavy weight between his legs, hot but not yet hard. "I'd like that. Black grosgrain band.” A tiny blonde girl and a bald geezer seem to be scanning the recumbent bodies in the den. "Oops. The bouncers lost." But now that they were in the den, the two could do no further violence without it being visited back upon them sevenfold. Or some such mystical mumbo jumbo. "She's bright like the California sun. He's the green of the jungle growing in a cardboard box." Jack takes a small sip of smoke.
Sawyer's hand curls on Jack's cheek turning his childe's face and stealing a taste of the smoke and Jack. "And you're my dark black Jack, burn me like sunshine." Another lazy rub. "California or otherwise." Maybe -- probably -- it's the smoke, but Jack's dark, lush voice has painted vines tangling and twisting around the geezer, and a sunny halo around the girl. Who, after having a brief conversation with the geezer, is bouncing towards them with almost determined perkiness.
"Blood-sweet Sawyer.” Jack catches a fang on his mate's lip, swirling the blood away with his tongue. His purr deepens to a basso rumble the perfect counterpart to his sire's tenor. If it weren't for the blonde bit and the bald bastard heading their way, Jack'd turn in his mate's arms and kiss him into the abyss of moonless pleasure. Instead, he continues tangling his tongue with his beloved for long moments after the sweet young thing has leveled the most accusatory, "You!" at them.
Sawyer waits to acknowledge her until he's good and damn ready, until he's thoroughly licked each corner of Jack's mouth. "Mm, us," he replies, purring at her with sleepy-kitty blinking eyes. "Slayer," he adds thoughtfully. Which means her watcher's the jungle in a box, standing behind her motionless as a statue rotting from the inside.
"Slayer," Jack greets her before taking a long drag from the hookah’s slither-thin mouthpiece. "And watcher." Jack smiles wicked slow, watching tendrils of red death writhe around them. "Red death wraps round you like ribbons."
The blonde bit hrmphs - must've learnt that from her watcher - before she flounces down on the large leather ottoman on the other side of the hookah. "You're Sawyer. And you're Jack. Right? We need to ask you some questions." Demand more like it.
"Bossy sprite," Sawyer laughs, watching her hair and strands of golden sunshine twist and writhe around her like little sprites with sharp smiles and sharper teeth. "What'll you give us if we answer?" A sly, sideways smile.
The watcher looks infuriatingly calm, although not as infuriating as Sawyer's smirk. "You've been around a long time. And you have a great deal of accumulated knowledge between you. Seems to me you'd want to pass that on."
Sawyer laughs lazily. "That hunger for mysticism's gonna strangle you, watcher." He laps at Jack's neck slowly.
Jack's eyes slit almost closed as Sawyer licks his neck. He rocks against his mate, fully hard now, he'll need to adjust his cock in the soft leather of his trousers soon. For now he enjoys the discomfort, almost as much as he enjoys the scent of frustration and adrenaline coming from the wisp in front of them. "We do pass it on. To others of our kind. Not others of your kind."
The girl pouts briefly, no doubt a holdover from before her calling, because she quickly steals herself to keep going. "Look. There's a Big Bad coming. Like forest tearing, earth splitting, sun blocking, city smiting Big Bad. And word has it you know something about it."
Sawyer laughs, richly happy. What a sweet little pout the sweet little one has. "Maybe." Another devilishly sly smile, then a delicately sharp nip to Jack's earlobe, savoring the drops of blood like the sweetest unholy wine. "We're going to have to move planet again, love." Because yes, he likes the universe existing. But earth is getting so boring. Wait. "Sun blocking you say?" Such an expression of innocence that it almost can't be believed.
"That's right, James," this from the watcher, looking implacable. The watcher's diaries have information on these two back to before they were turned, and he hopes to use that to his advantage.
Jack snarls, an inhuman warning for the watcher to back away. No one, but no one gets to call Sawyer James - except maybe Drusilla, but that's another story - and Jack doesn't even call Sawyer James, he calls him Jamie. "A world's death matters little. Merely another neighborhood change."
"Does if we've taken out your FTL drive and put a ban on your leaving port." The girls bright blue eyes gleam in triumph.
Jack would roll his eyes if he weren't so high he felt the clouds in the sky. Instead, he purrs with the dark assurance of a pure predator. "We take what we need." Jack turns his head so he can kiss Sawyer briefly but deeply, "don't we, darling." He turns back to their visitors, then rubs himself with inhuman grace against his mate. Looking the geezer right in the eyes, he murmurs just loud enough for them all to hear. "Adjust me, my sweet sire. All this talk of death's turning me on.
The flash of annoyance, the same kind of annoyance you have for a loud fly, that flashes when geezer calls him James is instantly replaced by hot, dark lust. Fuck he loves when Jack does that. "Bossy sprite," he murmurs again when the slip of a girl acts so hoity toity. "Course we do..." He slides his hand down, curling around Jack's cock through the indecently thin leather, but not adjusting, not yet. "Say please." Such a wicked little smirk.
Even though the Geezer tries not to react, he flushes, looking away. "You're going to have a hard time taking much of anything, and an even harder time getting out." He's more than a little discomfited and though he tries not to show it, it's painfully obvious to all of them, as is the flash of disgust in his eyes.
The girl's eyes fly to Jack's crotch, then she blushes a shocked crimson when Sawyer wraps his hand around his childe's cock. She can't believe that they're so blatant - even taking the drugs into account. Stuttering, she tries to regain her composure. "Look. This is not a game of one-upmanship. I'm sure you could find a ship to steal. I'm sure you could find a way through port protocols. You haven't survived this long without having a few tricks up your sleeves." And no she's not looking at her watcher, because she'll just start getting all uncomfortable again, and that goes triple for looking at Jack and Sawyer anywhere below the neck - er make that chin.
"But we think that this goddess for lack of a better word will spread her presence like the plague. The more she devours, the more power she gets, the more she destroys, cities first, planet next, then solar system, galaxy, etc. But if we stop her now that won't happen."
Jack's amused by the girl and the geezer's reaction, so he plays it up, thrusting his hips, rubbing himself against Sawyer's hand, not stopping even after he said please in his sultriest voice. But despite the display, he's listening. The spitfire's cute, being all authoritative, cards-on-the-table, straight-shooting.
Geezer shoots his Slayer a sharp look, noting the high color on her cheeks. Someone's going to be training extra hard for a fair while. "If she keeps gaining strength, you won't be able to keep outrunning her." There's something very hard, and also disparaging in his eyes.
Sawyer chuckles. What a darling little thing. Sassy. Interrupting a very pleasurable day, but sassy. Sawyer gropes and squirms against his childe for her benefit – mostly because he wants to, but to put on a show too. "You know, I think I met her once at a party. She was a real funny drunk." Actually he knows of a half-dozen 'goddesses' that fall into the categories the little one's describing.
Jack moans obscenely, back arching, eyes fluttering closed. The hookah mouthpiece falls from his hand. When he opens his eyes, they're black with desire. Never shifting his gaze from Sawyer's face, he rasps, "We're going to be fucking very, very soon. So either make your offer now, or you'll have to wait until we're done."
The Slayer watches shocked
Sawyer doesn't even pause. "Too late." He jerks his chin at one of the attendants scattered around the room, looking up at the curtains, and they're immediately tugged shut. Not that he waits before he's moving them around so that he's laying over Jack, kissing him with ferocious intensity, high making him fucking fly.
"We could-..." Before the Watcher can make an offer, the curtains are closed and the sounds of soft growls and groans - and then not so soft growls and groans fill the room. The other clients don't seem to mind, or smile dreamily as though it's only enhancing their experience. "We wait." Very sternly to his Slayer.
The Slayer looks away as Sawyer rolls on top of Jack but not so far that they move out of her peripheral vision. Biting her lip, she sits on her hands. She won't bite her nails. She won't. She won't give her Watcher the satisfaction of chiding her when she regress back into her bad habit. Fuck. But the sounds they're making.
Jack grins up at his beloved. Threading his fingers in Sawyer's hair, he cups his head, holding him close so they can keep kissing long after humans would have to quit. But its not enough. Never enough until Sawyer's cock's inside him. Sliding his hand between their bodies, Jack tears open their trousers, growling with pleasure when he can thrust up for the sweet electric surge of ecstasy.
Sawyer has a little bit of slick in his pocket, a very little bit, and he uses it on his hands, pushing three fingers into Jack hard and just once, then drawing his childe's hand to his mouth, sinking fang into palm. "Slick my cock." A soft growl, but he's watching the blood well on Jack's hand with fascinated eyes, the dark red sparkling with magic and glitter from the drugs and just because.
The Watcher looks at the girl, frowning, expecting her to bite her nails, the fact that she's fighting against it not particularly impressing him. He knows she wants to. He crosses his arms over his chest and waits impassively. This was the girl's idea, coming to the two of them, looking through the watcher diaries on her own, deciding that these two would have the knowledge. And while he couldn't fault her reasoning - wanted other things they knew, and for his own reasons - the whole situation sat wrong with him. The pair of them were so - his thoughts are interrupted by a particularly loud cry.
Jack slicks Sawyer's cock, adding a special twist at the end, then he's raising his hips high, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," he orders, rocking onto Sawyer's fingers.
Sometimes the Slayer really hates her watcher. Sanctimonious dick. She shudders as the sounds become more animalistic. Or, if she's being honest with herself more demonic. She wonders if the rumors that vampires shift into game face at the moment of orgasm are true. She stops that line of thought. Turning to her watcher, she whispers, "so what can we offer them - other than not killing them." Then there's the fact that the goddess is actually in another solar system. A week's trip away. Could they really convince the vampires to join them. And what if they did join them? Could they really survive two weeks in close quarter with such...monsters.
Sawyer doesn't hesitate. Fingers out, slam in, instantly drowning in pulling black, like the Black, like home. Sawyer makes a low roar, pulls back, and starts up a hard, deep rhythm, each thrust sending black shadows dancing around them.
The Watcher notes his girl's shudder, but doesn't comment. "Somehow I think just not killing them won't be enough." And they don't really have a better nature to appeal to. It isn't as though they can't defend themselves, haven't killed a slayer before. Foolish girl. Long before his time of course. "That will require very careful negotiation." Perhaps an ongoing no-kill truce. Giving him the opportunity to come back later, find out the things he wants to know.
Jack screams. Perfect, beautiful, violent mate. Black bond pulses around them. Meeting thrust for thrust. Golden desire joins the black. Jack groans baring his throat. My mate, my mate, my mate. Pleasure sparks the brain. So brilliantly hard. "Sawyer....." need you, need you!
The slayer just manages to keep her nails from her mouth. Biting her lip again, the looks away. She's not going to let the bald ass intimidate her. Meeting her Watcher's eyes straight on, she states firmly, "we need their help. We've exhausted all our other sources."
Sawyer knows, and he groans out Jack's name, then mate, a sharp hiss. He's fucking Jack hard and deep, and slices his fangs on his own palm, then nuzzles Jack's neck. He presses his hand to his mate's mouth the same instant he bites down. The bond, always tangible, explodes around them, dancing black and unearthly...JackJackJack...Sawyer's orgasm makes him feel like he's touching the clouds, the sun, the night, all while being utterly one with his mate.
Mate's blood and Mate's fangs. Jack shatters. Crying out, he comes. Golden pleasure pulsing, Red blood tying, Bond uniting. No ending. No beginning. Just them. Mated. Bound.
The watcher nods slowly. "We have at that." It takes nerves of utter steel, but he doesn't react – visibly - to the orgasmic, violent cries. "I think I have something we might be able to offer them." He gives his Slayer a hard look. "But it comes at a high cost. Do you think you're ready to live with that, Slayer?"
But the Slayer's having trouble answering because of the maelstrom of magic released by the vampire's orgasm. She swallows hard, holding herself tense so tense so she doesn't fall over from its sheer force. And then she feels a rush of exhilaration. "They're mated." She turns to her Watcher, eyes shining. "They're mated," she repeats. "I could feel their bond."
The Watcher startles and startles badly. He felt nothing, and he looks at the girl sharply. "You're sure? The council's suspected for years, but..."
She nods emphatically, triumphantly even. "Yes. I'm sure." They could do the spell. They really could. As long as the vampires agreed. "What are you planning to offer, John?" Because even if he hedged aloud, she knew he'd already made his decision.
Coming down from dizzying highs, Jack nuzzles Sawyer's palm, then licks it slowly, smiling with smug satisfaction. "Mate," he whispers inhumanly quiet. He wriggles beneath his beloved, moaning at the cascading pleasures of glowing sensation. "Do you think the Watcher would agree if we demanded the Slayer in our bed?"
Sawyer laughs with bright-glowing happiness, echoing the wriggles, shivering and purring with silken pleasure. "No. But the Sprite would." Just as quiet, with devilish dimples. "Mate." No sound at all behind the words, a fondly happy smile and a sweet purr.
"Let's find out." But first another long slow kiss and a deep rumbling purr. Then a quick clean up – just enough to pull pants back on and partially rebutton shirts. Jack leaves Sawyer to pull the drapes back. He's tempted to request a relight for their hookah, just to annoy the watcher, but they'll be better able to mindfuck the creepy geezer and his spitfire surfing their current wave of sex and drugs.
John’s about to answer when the curtain opens, and Sawyer blinks at them with a smug, dimpling smile, eyes kitty lazy, talons scratching lightly on Jack's chest. "What's your offer?" He's not deaf after all.
The Watcher regards them steadily. "The Council gave me permission for an order of non-interference. One hasn't been granted in a thousand years. But if you don't try to take over the world... destroy it... and keep yourselves at least somewhat discreet, you'll be left alone by this Slayer and all that follows, and the council themselves."
"I think I like our idea better... but maybe we'll take both." A nibbling lick for Jack's ear. "Tell them, love."
Jack's rubbing himself against Sawyer, purring loud enough even for the Slayer and Watcher to hear. Smiling smugly at the two, he says, "We want the Slayer in our bed for the duration of our deal. We won't kill her or turn her or even coerce her into having sex, but she must stay with us in our quarters."
The Slayer gapes. She expected - well she expected anything BUT that. Still they need their help if they're going to defeat the goddess. And she'll be damned to a soulless husk before she looks at Locke to get his pimp's approval to whore herself out. Snapping her jaw shut, she says, "Deal. But no feeding from humans for the duration of our trip."
Locke frowns deeply, looking at the girl with censorious disapproval. "Nor would you hurt her at all."
Sawyer flashes dimples, then winks at Sprite. "Not in anyway she doesn't want us to." And then he purrs sweetly, rocking against Jack a little. "I don't know... no feeding on humans...you think we can live clean for the pleasure of the lady's company?" He scritches his talons again on Jack's chest, delicately.
Still purring a deep counterpart to Sawyer's sweet tenor, Jack puts on his earnest mask, the one that fooled even the most paranoid prey. Adding a bit of forehead wrinkle, he looks up his mate, "It'll be a trial, but I think we can manage." Staying within the rules will add a little extra fun to the game.
The Slayer ignores her Watcher’s look. She's surprised to hear the vampires purring. She'd heard the rumors, but never heard the sound. It thrills her, even as her slayer senses tell her now's a good time to kill. Pushing her instincts aside, she says, "we need to go to the Regent's system. It's a week long trip. We'll go by the Watcher's ship and we'll leave after the second moon rises." She looks at her watch. "That'll give you seven hours to pack and settle up affairs."
Sawyer chuckles richly. "Bossy sprite." And then he looks nearly as sincere as Jack. A little bit wicked, because that's just him, but not teasing too hard. "Now, just to clarify, can we feed on willingly donated blood. A wicked look for both watcher and slayer. "Pre-packed of course. We loose strength feeding on pigs and rats."
"Fair enough," Locke says before his Slayer can answer. "I suppose that's--"
"And one more thing." Like he's asking for a cup of tea. "No Watcher ship. It's slow, it's clumsy, and it's ugly. We'll travel in style. On our ship." He might be smiling, but it's the smile of an irresistible force that will not be swayed.
Still playing earnest, Jack adds, "we've a mostly human crew, so there's a well-stocked, working galley."
Fuck. Once again, they strayed from the script. The Slayer looks at her Watcher, but before he can make any suggestions, she says, "Fine, but we stick to the same schedule."
"And our FTL drive?" Jack asks oh so sweetly.
The girl blushes, "um, that was a bluff."
Sawyer laughs, a full warm, belly chuckle. "Oh I like her." A sweet nip for Jack's earlobe. "We'll send word that you're coming. The crew can show you to our quarters, Sprite." A pleased smile. "We can give you the tour when we arrive." And yes, it's going to be an unpleasant shock with the watcher is confined to his rather less luxurious quarters until they arrive. Spritelet can have free run of any areas they don't mind being public of course. Escorted of course. This is shaping up to be a very interesting week, all things considered. "Docking bay 94." He waves a hand towards the door. They don't have a great deal to do to get ready, pack a few of their favorite things, make sure the crew has fresh flowers... stargazer lilies, Sawyer thinks, waiting in their quarters for the girl, but the ship's quite well stocked, ready for a voyage.
The watcher frowns, but nods. "Docking bay 94," he echoes, then offers his hand to shake, “John Locke,” nodding at his Slayer to do the same.
Sawyer just looks at the watcher, but he reaches around for the girl's hand, breathing delicately on her fingertips. "And your name, Spitfire?"
"Claire." She shivers at Sawyer's blatant seduction, eyes flicking to Jack's face. She's surprised to see such heat in his eyes and she snatches her hand back. "Right, then. We've got a deal. See you in a couple of hours." She turns on her heel and marches out of the resin den, not waiting to see if John follows her.
Jack watches with amusement. There's no way, he's shaking the Watcher's hand. Languidly picking up the hookah's abandon mouthpiece, he smirks at the man. "Run along, John. You've got a ship to catch. And a Slayer to protect."
Sawyer watches the watcher storm out, trying to catch up with a very flustered sprite and laughs again, rich and happy, rolling Jack so that they're facing, and then kissing his mate deep and dark and sweet. And then he steals the mouthpiece, takes a large hit and shotguns the smoke to his mate, scritching and snuggling close, moaning at the renewed drug and the perfect pleasure of his Jack.
Jack grins at Sawyer before kissing him long and hard, tangling tightly. They're going to have so much fun. But first, a few more hours of smoke, swirling dream ribbons, and fantastical flights, all shared wtih his beloved, his mate, his Sawyer.