PSL - NSFW, approach with caution

[primordialice]

- If you're looking to make an appointment to speak with the Administrator, please speak with Ms. Marette at the front desk.
- If you're looking to schedule a boxing match with the Administrator, please speak with Mr. Roussimoff in the Pankration Ring.
- If you have a really, really urgent matter that desperately needs the Administrator's attention right now, please find a senior guard and relay your information to them.
- If you have a new tea variety you'd like the Administrator to try, please leave it with Ms. Marette at the front desk or knock to the rhythm of the first movement of Furina's Benevolence and he will be with you shortly.

All other matters are first come, first served.

Comments

[primordialice]

"Oh, feel free to try." Wriothesley grunts as he's pushed, then laughs. "Five it is. Good boy, let's have some fun."

A massive crystal of primordial ice shoots up around him, forcing Scar's hand away. There's a shifting form inside it - but not for long, as a huge three-headed wolf bursts of it, the shards all flying toward Scar as the black and grey beast approaches.

[theblacklamb]

Scar growls low in his chest when Brighella calls him good. He doesn’t have long to focus on it, though, as the ice forces his grip away, and then he’s whirling fire around him to block the shards of ice, eyes lighting up in interest at the wolf that isn’t made of ice this time. “Is that you, Brigi? Have you decided to play with me properly now?”

[primordialice]

The wolf pants with one mouth and snarls with the other two as it drops into what is almost a play bow before it lunges with no other warning, aiming for Scar's throat with the central mouth and his arms with the other, aiming to bite and debilitate but not actually rip off (he knows most people don't grow theirs back as easily as he does). His breath is icy cold and so are his claws as he tries to rip into him.

[theblacklamb]

Scar slashes his legs against the wolf’s stomach, slicing it open with his hooves, and laughs. Fire rises from his skin, licking at the mouths of the wolf, chasing back their chill with searing heat.

[primordialice]

The wolf heals as quickly as Wriothesley does, though the flashes of light are less visible from under the fur. He chases his advantage, continuing to bite and claw relentlessly - the truth is that he can't sustain a form this large for long, so he needs to end this fast before it exhausts itself. Though he still focuses on injury rather than killing, he is trying to hurt him as much as possible.

[theblacklamb]

Scar isn’t used to fighting things as big as he is, especially not ones that heal themselves, and he’s steadily starting to flag from the accumulated injuries. He doesn’t stop struggling, though, clawing and kicking at the wolf on top of him despite the obvious futility of it, until his injuries seem to reach a tipping point. With a discordant screech, he shrinks into himself, until he is human shaped and human sized again, lying on the floor with an arm bent the wrong way, bloody and laughing.

[primordialice]

Wriothesley stops himself short of one more bite as Scar shifts back to his human form and licks his face before shifting back to his own adult shape. He's breathing hard, sweat staining the remnants of his clothing, but that's the only visible sign of injury on him. He stays where he is on top of Scar, one hand on his chest. "You... you need practice." He has a lot to say about how Scar fights, but that can wait for a bit. "Good enough for you?"

[theblacklamb]

Scar grins up at him, an incongruously light expression of genuine happiness. “Absolutely worth a week of good behavior. You’re fun, Brigi.”

He may not be able to hurt the man in any lasting way, but Brighella still looks wrecked, with his clothes shredded and drenched in sweat. It looks very good on him.

[primordialice]

"Glad you enjoyed it, Mezzo." He's still a little light-headed - hah - from the adrenaline rush of being decapitated, which is definitely why he's not standing up yet. Not because he's enjoying the way Mezzetino looks like this, ecstatic and broken. "You want me to set that arm for you?" It'll hurt even more, but oh, he bets Scar would look like an angel while it does.

[theblacklamb]

“Oh, yes.” He’s sure Brighella won’t be all delicate about it. “Hard to do one-handed.” He rakes his eyes over the other man, taking in the rents in his clothes from where his claws found purchase for a moment. There’s a lot more skin on display than he’s ever seen from the Tenth before.

[primordialice]

"How fast do you heal?" He hadn't noticed any particularly rapid healing during the fight, which means it's slower than Wriothesley's... but so is pretty much everyone. He just wants to know if Scar will need a sling or if he'll be good to go once the bones are back in their places. He takes off his jacket to prepare for a sling if needed - if Scar wants to keep looking, he's more than welcome. His shirt is soaked with sweat, the remains clinging to his body.

[theblacklamb]

Scar shrugs, the movement pulling a sharp inhale when it jars the broken arm. “Fast enough. Once my Abyssal energy regenerates I’ll be fine.” He grins slyly up at Brighella. “Never been used up by just one person before.” The view of the shredded shirt clinging to the other man’s skin with sweat is very welcome. “You’re so pretty, Brigi. Glow so pretty…”

[primordialice]

"Perfect." He chuckles, patting Scar's cheek lightly. "You're not so bad yourself, Mezzo. Such pretty eyes..." Sure, he'd tried to stab them out with icicles, but that was the game, after all. "All right, let's see about this arm."

He slides off Mezzetino - somewhat reluctantly - to move over to the side with the bad arm, prodding along its length to see where the break is. He's not very gentle - after all, Scar's just lovely when he's hurting.

[theblacklamb]

Scar’s breath comes harshly with the jolts of pain as Brighella prods at his arm, his pupils blown wide. “Don’t be shy, Brigi,” he pants. The loss of the other man’s weight on top of him is a pity. “I’m at your mercy now, after all.”

[primordialice]

"That's true, isn't it? You're all used up, after all." He takes Scar's wrist and pulls, dragging the bone back into place with force, having to judge by sensation when it's in relatively the right place. Hopefully Scar's Abyssal healing will take care of the rest. He licks his lips, his own pupils just as dark. "Now, what uses could I possibly have for a used-up beast like you?"

[theblacklamb]

Scar’s rough cry turns into a long groan after Brighella sets his arm. The pain of it is bright, burning, beautiful. He flexes it, feeling the bone grind in place. “Have to repay you, for a favor like that,” he says, too breathless for his coy tone to come across. “You could take anything, didn’t even tire you out… could do anything to me and I couldn’t stop you like this.”

[primordialice]

"Couldn't stop me? You're practically begging me, Mezzo." He shifts back onto him, letting him feel his bulk as he holds him down. He slides a hand up his chest to rest on his throat, slowly wrapping his fingers around to squeeze. "Ask for it, beast. Say, 'Please, Lord Brighella, use me like you want to.'"

[theblacklamb]

Scar groans, arching up into the weight of the other man. He grins, eyes alight, revelling in the hand on his throat. “Please, Lord Brighella. Use me like you want to.” He’s breathless and hoarse from the pressure slowly choking him.

[primordialice]

"There we go, I knew you knew how to ask nicely. Good boy." He gets a stronger squeeze as a reward before Wriothesley pulls his hand away, eyes lingering on the marks his fingers left behind. "Let's see what I'm working with."

He rips off Scar's shirt, being none too gentle with his broken arm, and gets started on his pants as well - he might leave those mostly intact so Scar doesn't have to go back to the hub in the nude, but... well, he can decide later. That might be amusing.

[theblacklamb]

Scar growls again when he’s called a good boy, eyes flashing yellow. “Only if it’s worth it.”

His breath comes harshly as his arm is jarred, and he laughs. “Like what you see, Brigi? Do I meet your standards?” He reaches up and squeezes the bicep of Brighella’s bare arm, the one he tore off. “You were delicious…”

[primordialice]

"I'll make it worth it, Mezzo." He's definitely seeing advantages to training his subordinate Harbinger to accept his leash. Especially if their training sessions end like this.

"My standards are pretty high... but you're easy enough on the eyes." He squeezes one side of Scar's chest, digging his nails in with a chuckle. "I didn't know you were such a humanitarian. What'd I taste like?"

[theblacklamb]

“Have to prove it,” Scar says, breath ragged. “Prove it’s worth me coming to heel.” Dottore can smack him down effortlessly, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Mezzetino doesn’t care about pain and punishment. He wants fun.

“Delicious,” Scar repeats. “Salt and life and pain.” He bares his teeth, lengthening them into fangs. “Such a sweet mouthful.”

[primordialice]

"Of course. We both get what we want." Dottore doesn't care about anything but his damned research and that's why Brighella never got caught up in his experiments - there hadn't been any benefit for him on the other end of it. To be a good master, you have to give - though never quite as much as you take. Just enough that the servant doesn't care how uneven the scales are.

Brighella laughs delightedly, pushing Scar's lip back to get a good look at those fangs. "Oh, those are lovely aren't they... sharp, too?" He presses his thumb up against one of the longest, piercing the skin. Though there's very little blood, there's also the strange salt taste of the Primordial Sea. Wriothesley makes a small, pleased noise at the bright spot of pain. "Perfect."

[theblacklamb]

“And what do you want, Lord Brighella?” Scar’s eyes are fever-bright with anticipation. “What will you do?”

“I could get bored, just lying here,” he says, and lunges up, snapping his teeth around Brighella’s thumb. He grins through his mouthful of flesh, before he chews a few times and swallows. “Delicious.”

[primordialice]

Wriothesley grunts when he bites off his thumb, waiting for the digit to grow back before he slaps him lightly on the cheek. "You have absolutely no patience, Mezzo. Dogs who bite without permission get muzzled, you know." He sounds amusedly tolerant, like it's some silly antic Mezzetino is pulling rather than eating parts of him.

"What I want..." He licks his lips. "I want to fuck you until I'm satisfied. Whether you come or not depends on you. If you want it, you'll have to earn it." He shifts off of him. "Roll over. On your knees, hands behind your back." It would be a painful position to hold with that broken arm, but Brighella felt that Mezzetino had earned that at this point.