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Within days of being forced into an employment contract with Jade, Sunday seemed to have already shut down completely. This was no fun to Aventurine, who took it as a challenge to get a reaction.
“You know, this is pretty pathetic of you,” he taunted the man curled up on his couch. “Sore loser much?” The other didn’t respond. He was a grey lump with feathers sucking any and all energy the room had, thoroughly polluting the vibes of Aventurine’s studio apartment.
With a sigh, he leaned over Sunday and patted him on the cheek. “You alive in there? Just so you know, when they say death and taxes and all that it’s only half true. Not even Death in Penacony wasn’t a valid excuse to not come into work, but I’m sure we could think of something…” He trailed a finger up Sunday’s shoulder, hoping he’d flinch but even that did nothing. Geez. And he was normally so clingy too.
He brushed the hair away from the side of Sunday’s face and planted a kiss right below his ear. Flailing commenced and a sharp jab was delivered to his abdomen, causing him to drop to his knees and clutch at his side. For a moment, he could only gag in lieu of forming words. “Jesus Christ Sunday! Haven’t you hurt me enough?”
Sunday was turned around, staring in horror now. He shot off the bed, his hands immediately reaching for where Aventurine was clutching at before thinking better of it. “I—I’m so—” All the Halovian could do was crumple further, arms and back going limp as he took a fetal position. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Sorry, sorry.”
“… Oh whatever, you’re lucky you’re too cute to be mad at.” He ruffled his stupid wolf cut until it was suitably mussed. It was oddly adorable to see Sunday so panicked, and on his behalf nonetheless. “I bet you’re not sorry at all, right? You’re just trying to appease me.”
Sunday stared at him incredulously. “I suppose politeness has no place among the IPC. Fine, I’m not sorry. I hope it feels worse.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Aventurine leaned in slightly, every movement precise and in view so as not to startle the other again. His wings trembled a moment before he reciprocated the gesture. Their noses bumped, and then they kissed.
They held that motionless kiss until Aventurine tried his luck and put some movement into it, transforming into what could only be described as “face sucking”. Sunday drew back immediately with his face wrinkled up.
“Ugh, if you’re going to drag this out I’d rather you just fuck me. Don’t make it any grosser than it needs to be.” The gambler couldn’t help but laugh a little. Ever since being dumped on his couch, the fallen Family head had all but begged to have another go at their hate filled tryst and Aventurine, very amused, was all too eager to indulge him. This time around, Sunday had been surprisingly willing to beg for even a scrap of attention, but he had specific lines that couldn’t be crossed. Anything that violated his standards of “too gross” or “too squelchy of a sound” got him to clamp right up and scowl.
Willing to indulge him, Aventurine wasted no time in laying himself on top of Sunday on the couch, hips meeting as he began to undo the buttons of his pants. By the way his wings jerked instinctively, this clearly pleased Sunday. He was undeservedly demanding and picky about everything they did for someone who had just gotten out of prison. Never before had Aventurine met someone seemingly repulsed by every aspect of sex and yet still so thirsty. Whatever. He’d had enough of psychoanalyzing Sunday for the rest his entire life, this was just about getting his kicks. And hey, the angel had offered.
After helping Sunday shuffle off his pants, he grabbed his wrists and pushed them above his head. “Alright, you know what to do.” He couldn’t help the smirk that came across his face at the words.
Relenting surprisingly quickly, Sunday squeezed his eyes shut and looked to be concentrating until a wreath of golden thorns shackled his wrists together. Aventurine whistled appreciatively, causing Sunday to grimace, face red. “You should’ve gotten my shirt off beforehand, it’ll be harder now.”
“Maybe, but it’s kinda hot, right? Fully at my mercy and all,” he splayed a hand out on Sunday’s chest, fingertips pushing into his collarbone that peaked out from his sweater collar. The curves and angles of the human body really are something. All that skin for him to appreciate. He would make this man squirm .
His hands traveled upwards and found themselves around that slender swan neck. He felt Sunday gulp. “I never did punish you for all that happened in Penacony,” he teased, though he meant every word.
Sunday stiffened slightly, rotating his head and neck in his captor’s grasp. “…I wonder if you know what it could’ve been like.” His voice was far away now, even hopeful. “I lied, you know. In seventeen hours, the dream would’ve been realized. You would be the furthest thing from death you could imagine.” A light giggle left him.
Not this shit again. “This is exactly what I was talking about, y’know. I don’t want to hear it.”
“I could show you,” his voice grew soft, barely a whisper. Then there was a tugging at the back of Aventurine’s mind. His thoughts began to wander, slipping from the grasp of his concentration and into the subject of Sunday’s fantasy land. Cold fear washed over him as he finally recognized the sound of Harmony’s static in his head.
Immediately, his hands sunk into the delicate flesh of Sunday’s neck. He couldn’t say he was surprised, but already his face was burning. Fear and disbelief melded together under the banner of anger, making every part of his body race with adrenaline. The bastard himself said nothing, not that he could with Aventurine’s thumbs pressed right into the center of his throat, but the sick, vacant smile on his face inspired even more rage. “Wow, you really are asking for it, huh?”
A wheezy gasp was all that came from him. His eyes were vacant and squinty, glazed over with what Aventurine could only describe as mania. One of his hands came up and caressed Aventurine’s arm from shoulder to elbow, the pads of his fingers lightly gliding yet electrifying.
Aventurine had been prepared to tolerate a lot from Sunday during these last few days. He expected everything from Sunday’s past actions to his privileged upbringing to show themselves in small and large ways. He’d even run back the memory of Harmony’s brand over and over, readying himself for any potential pain or discomfort. And yet, Sunday had done little but complain, look sad, and thrust himself onto Aventurine’s dick at every opportunity. It was pathetic. He could even say he was a bit disappointed.
Fluids began to leak from nearly every hole in Sunday’s face as he let out a croak of a laugh. His eyes were watering and shiny with pain, nose running, spittle dripping from the corner of his mouth. The overhead light reflected on his face and in that moment, Aventurine felt like he could call Sunday beautiful and truly mean it. He was so still save for the fluttering and twitching of his throat and head, his face smeared with shimmering silver.
Desire flooded through him and he squeezed just a bit harder, causing Sunday to gag on air. Ah, maybe Sunday had been onto something after all. If he could memorize this face and perfect the image he could bring that vision with him into the dreamscape every night.
Sunday’s hand weakly thumped against his face before falling back down. Aventurine stared back at this flushed expression for a moment, considered what would happen if Sunday was found dead on his couch, then gave one last light squeeze and drew away. He immediately gasped for air, wings fluttering wildly and thumping against the cushion behind him.
Uncertainty grabbed Aventurine as he shifted and leaned back on his knees. It wasn’t exactly guilt , but he knew in his gut he shouldn’t have done that. Out of all the ways he’d had to kill someone before, choking was new. It was slow, and far too intimate, and now the shape of his fingers was darkened on Sunday’s neck, a sickening brown and blue. Aventurine had firsthand experience with the Strategic Investment Department’s HR team, enough to know there’s absolutely no way his career would suffer actual consequences if Sunday reported it. Jade would likely find it amusing and give him a light scolding. No one would care about the fate of an indentured criminal, least of all Sunday himself, his mouth a vacant smile, the area between his legs swamped.
“Wow,” he remarked. “You sure did like that. Was this all just a play to get me to be rough with you?”
A feeble hiccup was all that left Sunday. Then a sniffle. “No, I really did want to show you…” And gods his voice was devastatingly tender that even Aventurine could believe him. He wasn’t sure whether his treachery or his earnestness was more unnerving. “I think you, of all people, would’ve deserved a paradise like that.”
Scoffing, he pulled away completely and brought his legs over the edge of the couch. “Well, it’s not gonna make me fuck you. Get yourself off if you’re that desperate.”
Sunday let out an honest to god whine. Aventurine did not turn around for this, letting his feet bring him towards the kitchen. He fetched an ice pack from the freezer and returned to find Sunday had regained enough awareness to sit up and sulk, one hand splayed on the inside of his thighs as he glared downward. Brat .
Aventurine thrust the ice pack in front of him. “Hold it to your neck. If you’re good, maybe I’ll still eat you out later.”
The glare Sunday gave him probably would have incinerated a lesser man, but he took the pack rather quickly all the same. Holding it up to his skin, he winced at the first contact. “You didn’t need to do this. They’ll heal overtime regardless.”
“Don’t care. I wanted to do this. Don’t force your help onto others if you can’t accept it yourself.”
“...Sorry. Won’t do it again” Sunday drew his knees into his chest. The visage of the pathetic person before Aventurine utterly fascinated him. Even besides the clear masochism, he couldn’t reconcile this person with the man he’d met in Penacony. Had he always been this much of a hot mess deep down? Despite every self preservation instinct, Aventurine wanted to keep watching him and probing until he understood. He could never fathom how people who grew up with money and security became such wrecks, so perhaps that’s why he couldn’t get along with many of his coworkers.
It occurred to him as Sunday lay there, injured and vulnerable, that he really would just let Aventurine do this to him. What if he hadn’t stopped then? Sunday would’ve died with barely a struggle, probably gladly too. Experiencing both the big and little death at once while securing a sort of freedom from the IPC sounded tempting for a selfish martyr like him.
“…I won’t be doing that again. So don’t ask me to do it for sex reasons next time.” Even knowing a bit about how to choke safely, the indignation of knowing Sunday enjoyed what he meant as a genuine threat was too great. Once again, he’d played right into that man’s hands.
Sunday took this news quietly, tilting his head thoughtfully. Then he asked, “Can we still do hair pulling?”
“Sure?”
A smile emerged on his long angelic face. “Then I’m satisfied. Uh, are you still willing to…” he reached for Aventurine’s hand and hooked their fingers together, tugging on it needily. “That is to say, that is, would you still… you know.”
Aventurine rolled his eyes. “Eat you out? If you’re good and keep holding that ice down while I do it.”
Sunday’s expression changed to one of eager determination as he tightened his grip on the pack, parting his legs slightly.
What a beautiful, desperate fool he was. Despite everything, Aventurine still leaned in and pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh, knowing he’d never be able to turn away from this taste.