~City Lands, new home~
About a year had passed—a long time since Oxzy and Pierce had "settled down." It wasn't that easy, but the pair did end up sticking together in some weird way.
Together, they found an apartment, small but comforting for both of them. The hero had found a job as a security guard close to home, while the villain worked at a bar. He learned how to make drinks and became the best bartender there.
As for the pair's relationship...
Well, it was very complicated. To anyone else, they appeared to be dating.
Since they had moved into the city to start anew, they hadn't made much progress.
Oxzy ignored the man, talking and dealing with him only as much as necessary to get his life started. Pierce, meanwhile, yearned for the hero. He wanted desperately to touch him, to feel him close, but he held back his desires for Oxzy's sake.
He knew he was moving too fast, overstepping boundaries, since he was the one who had followed the hero here. Oxzy called most of the shots, if not all. Still, Pierce kept up his end, acting human, holding down a job, and refraining from using his powers since Oxzy had ordered him not to.
It was a hassle—a cruel thing that deprived them both of their natural urges. Oxzy handled it well; Pierce struggled. But Oxzy did as he was told.
Almost two years had passed since the pair started their new life. They carried on with normal human routines, blending in through their jobs and slowly getting to know their neighbors. Yet they grew equally frustrated with one another, and eventually a fight broke out between them.
It was bad enough that Pierce stormed off to his bar and started work early, something he never did. Oxzy stayed home, running a hand through his messy hair as he questioned the words he'd thrown at the villain.
He couldn't stop the guilt crashing down on him. It frustrated him, how rude he'd become. This wasn't him—he wasn't someone who pushed people away, who wanted to be alone.
He was alone now, and he didn't like it.
So, against his better judgment, Oxzy went to find Pierce at the bar. Why he did it, he couldn't quite say—maybe just to start another fight. Whatever the reason, he was bored, and staying home felt suffocating. At least if he found Pierce, he wouldn't be alone; the hero had grown so close to him that he was slowly growing used to the villain's presence.
So there he found himself, walking into the dark, crowded room. It was large enough to house a sprawling dance floor and a bar that circled the middle, allowing drinks to be passed around efficiently. But Oxzy hadn't come for the drinks. He looked around, using his height to peer over the crowd.
He knew who he was looking for, and as soon as he spotted the flare of fiery red hair, the hero gulped and moved toward the man. He pushed past people in barely any clothing and torn fishnets, feeling out of place despite his modest attire. In his hoodie and tight jeans, of course he didn't belong.
He honestly didn't.
Oxzy pushed the thought aside and made his way to where he'd spotted Pierce. The villain wasn't alone—he was surrounded by a group dressed far too provocatively. They passed around a bottle of liquor and cigarettes, laughing loudly while a few girls clung to them.
Oxzy scrunched up his face as the smell of alcohol and beer filled his nose. It was disgusting, and the thought that Pierce would come home reeking of it pissed him off enough to step forward into the group.
"Pierce, what are you doing?" Oxzy didn't know how else to start, so he said the first thing that came to mind. He already knew why the man was here.
Pierce looked up at him, a smile curling on his lips. Before he could answer, one of his friends—a man with a girl perched on his lap—spoke up instead. "Is that your little boyfriend, Pierce?"
They all laughed, looking the hero up and down with judgmental eyes. One of the girls draped over Pierce whined and clung tighter to his shoulder, shooting Oxzy a glare. Oxzy avoided her gaze, focusing only on Pierce.
The sight of her hand gripping the villain's shoulder set the hero's teeth on edge. He sucked in a breath, waiting for Pierce to speak. The villain finally did, smirking as he caught the hero's jealous glare. He slid his hand around the girl's waist, pulling her closer with a calm, challenging expression.
"Nope, never met him." With that, he laughed and turned back to his friends, who hollered and ignored the fuming hero before them.
Oxzy didn't know what to do—he was beyond furious. He knew Pierce was doing this on purpose, to spite him over their earlier fight. The villain had no real interest in the girl.
So the hero found himself downing shot after shot in an angry fury. He told himself not to drink—the smell was awful, the taste worse—but he needed to control himself. If his anger spiraled, he might lose himself entirely, make a scene, reveal who he truly was.
So instead of letting the anger take hold, he drowned it in the toxic liquid. It didn't dull his senses or his abilities, only numbed him, spreading a slow, easy haze through his body. Still, he couldn't shake the fury of watching the villain touch that woman so tenderly.
He hissed under his breath, downing his sixth shot. It still wasn't enough. He felt numb, but not weak.
A hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. He couldn't make out her face, but her voice was soothing, almost taunting. "Hey, you've had enough, eh?" She laughed, pulling him up. "Come dance, big boy."
He could have easily resisted, but he didn't. He was tired of fighting—tired of fighting everyone, especially Pierce. So he rose to his full height and let himself be led into the crowd, pushed and squeezed between sweaty, half-bare bodies until he stood numbly at the center, confused, as the woman took the lead.
Her body slid down his front, her back arching and rolling as her head tossed with the rhythm. She laughed when she noticed him staring, red-faced and bewildered.
"Oh, come on, sweetheart," she laughed, guiding his limp hands to follow her lead.
He remained dazed and numb, his vision swaying as the music scrambled his thoughts. He suddenly lost track of where he was, what surrounded him—the music grew distant, his senses fading into a blur.
Why was he even trying to fight it? It felt like too much effort. So he closed his eyes instead and let himself relax, right there in the middle of the dance floor. Soon, he began to move on his own. The woman laughed loudly, sliding her hands to his hips to match his rhythm.
"That's it, my boy!" she shouted, tossing her head back, fingers raking through her hair.
It felt nice—freeing. He was letting go, no longer controlled or guided by anyone. Instead of pulling away, he let himself drift further. He didn't follow when the woman stepped back into the arms of another man who caught her by the hips. He moved as he pleased, no longer following anyone's lead, hands tangled in his own hair, body angled to move freely. It was hot, uncomfortable—but he no longer cared.
He felt free, indifferent to everything around him. Because of that, his senses dulled further. He didn't even register the hand sliding onto his hips at first—then another hand slipping beneath his hoodie, finding his bare chest. He felt it, but he didn't care. The touch was warm, gentle. It felt like Pierce. The villain stood behind him, holding his body the same way he had that night.
The villain pushed free from the group; he'd had his fun with pissing off the hero, and now he was just bored. He moved away from them, and the group started to holler and laugh loudly at seeing him disappear. Pierce ignored them, feeling their eyes watch him as he traveled to the bar.
He was tempted to grab a drink, but he held himself back. He was looking around for the hero. The man wasn't so hard to find; he was wearing a dark red hoodie and jeans, while the rest of the bar was filled with half-naked people. Because of that, Pierce's eyes landed on the hero, who was casually dancing in the middle of the room.
The villain watched in shock as the man freely danced to the club-like music. His body rocked and moved with his hand in his hair. But that wasn't what pulled the villain's attention away. It was the hand groping his chest, another on his hip, swaying with his movements. Pierce couldn't see the owner of the hand; he just watched it move along the hero's bare chest from under the hoodie. The hero's body was exposed, moving and almost leaning into the touch of the stranger.
Pierce watched, feeling enraged, red fumes pulsating from his skin. He was slightly glad he was no longer touching anyone, or else they would burst into flames. He was losing his composure, watching the way Oxzy let the man touch him. Jealousy and rage consumed his vision as he stepped forward.
He pushed past the bodies and the desperate humans, making his way in front of the hero. Without a second's hesitation, he pulled the man away from the hand. The hero crashed into the villain's chest, flinching first at the harsh and possessive grab. But he soon relaxed, breathing in the villain's masculine scent.
The villain held Oxzy close, moving his eyes to the man who had been touching him. He glared dangerously, his body growing hot. He wanted to kill him—burn the man alive and watch him scream in pain. He shouldn't; he couldn't give himself away just to kill a man who had no purpose in his life. But he was so close. He could light a small fire, and the man would be no more...
"Pierce..." The hero breathed out against his chest, the heat overflowing from the villain. Still, Oxzy held tightly onto his shoulders, pulling the villain close and nuzzling his neck in desperation for the warmth.
The villain could smell the alcohol, the overpowering scent filling his senses. He sneered in anger. The hero didn't usually drink this much; he didn't like feeling vulnerable and weak. He'd been assaulted the first time drugs entered his system. The villain knew Oxzy could still use his abilities, but the alcohol still weakened him—obviously, given how his body hung limp in Pierce's grasp.
Pierce could handle alcohol well; he'd drunk almost every day back in Whitedail. So it didn't affect him nearly as much as it affected Oxzy. The villain was forced to turn away from the stranger as he felt Oxzy slip against him. Pierce pulled the hero up, hanging him over his shoulder before carrying him out of the bar. He knew others watched them leave, staring in shock as the villain carried a half-conscious man out without breaking a sweat.
The hero wasn't even that heavy to him; Pierce carried him all the way back to their apartment within minutes.
He didn't know what to expect when he set the hero down and held him by the waist while unlocking the door. But he certainly didn't expect the hero to pounce on him the moment the door closed.
Oxzy's arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling their lips together. He sucked on Pierce's lips, licking and biting for entrance. Pierce obliged quickly, wrapping his own arms around the hero's waist for a deeper kiss.
Oxzy tasted strong, the shots of whatever alcoholic beverage he'd had still intoxicating. It began making Pierce feel hazy, lightheaded, but he couldn't stop himself from being pulled into it. It had been months since he'd last kissed Oxzy; he'd been deprived of the hero's taste for too long.
Now here the man was, clinging to him in desperation—hot, boiling to the touch.
Pierce stripped the man of his hoodie, tossing it to the floor by the door. He ran his hand along the places where the stranger had groped him, claiming them gently at first. When Oxzy pushed his head closer into the kiss, sucking harder, wanting more, Pierce grew more possessive in his exploration of the man's chest.
He tugged and twisted the bare skin, sliding his hands down to more intimate places.
"Fah-!"
Oxzy whined into the kiss, tugging at the villain's hair. Pierce listened to the encouraging sounds, running his other hand to the hero's pants and stripping him bare.
He knew what the man wanted—the same thing he wanted. To be touched in the places left alone for so long, craving more and more of the lasting touch that brought them together.
"Mgh- Pierce..." Oxzy moaned, pulling away from the kiss to rest his head on the villain's shoulder. He leaned into his ear, whispering with want. "Please... do it, mh..."
"Do what?" Pierce smiled, his hand running along Oxzy's backside. "What do you want, Ox?"
"Fuhg!" Oxzy groaned, feeling Pierce tease his entrance. Pierce knew exactly what Oxzy wanted; he was simply teasing him.
Did he want the hero to beg for more? To beg for it?
"Just... do it...!"
"Very vague, Ox," Pierce said with a laugh, though he gave in to what the man wanted anyway. He entered him with one finger at first, feeling the man tighten around him.
It was hot, wet, and tight. Oxzy grabbed at his neck, holding on tightly while Pierce began working him open.
His mind grew foggy; he couldn't feel anything besides the hot rush building inside him. It grew bigger and bigger until he realized Pierce was now working him with three fingers.
His whole body felt on fire, drool dripping loosely down his bare chest. His knuckles went white from how hard he gripped the villain, tightening with each thrust.
"Ahg!" Oxzy dug his nails into the man's neck.
"Fuh," Pierce bit his lip, feeling his body rush with sudden heat at the pain. It felt good—the hero tightening around him.
He felt hard and ready, almost painfully so. Pierce pulled the hero's leg up, holding it as he positioned himself at the entrance, liquid dripping between them while they both panted with excitement.
Before the villain made another move, he turned his face to Oxzy's ear, breathing out in a deep, slow voice filled with desire. "Remember to breathe."
Oxzy couldn't have responded even if he'd wanted to. His face pressed into the villain's neck as he felt himself filled roughly.
"Gfh!" The hero muffled his cries against the man's neck, his standing leg shaking along with the rest of his body.
Pierce positioned himself for a better angle, thrusting in and out at a slow pace, reaching deep inside the hero. He grunted, gripping Oxzy's thigh with one hand while cradling his head with the other.
Oxzy was losing his strength, arms locked around the villain's neck, nails digging into his skin. He held on tightly, crying out in pleasure as his mind flooded with a dozen emotions.
As his strength faded, he began sliding down the wall, but Pierce only pressed deeper into him, pulling him back up and gripping both of his now sore, reddened thighs, spreading him wide against the wall. He grinned, watching himself slide in and out of the man.
"I've missed this..." he sighed.
Oxzy moaned in response, burying his head in the man's neck. Pierce groaned at the gesture, leaning in closer and pushing deeper inside him, nearly pressing him into the wall as he moved faster.
"Pierce-ah!" Oxzy held tighter. "I'm gonna—"
Pierce didn't let him finish, forcing a cry from the man as he spilled deep inside him with a satisfied, low groan, holding him close to the wall.
"Let's do it together..." He kissed the man's cheek near his lips, leaning his head close to where Oxzy's face was buried against his neck.
The hero gasped as a rush of pressure filled him. His eyes rolled back, all his energy draining out of him as release flooded from his entrance and down his thighs.
"Mgh-!"
Pierce chuckled, breathing out lightly as the hero released a tight, exhausted breath. He felt relieved, happy, and still wanting more.
He was tired, a hangover looming just out of reach, yet he still craved more. It was too good—the villain giving him all his love and attention. The aggression and gentleness mixed together made the hero want more still.
Oxzy ran his hand through Pierce's damp hair, down to his neck. In a low, lust-filled voice, he spoke close to his ear. "Let's go... go to the bed..."
Pierce looked at him, a small smile reaching his eyes. He leaned his head to the hero's, kissing his cheek with affection. "Whatever you want, Ox."
Oxzy turned to press his lips to Pierce's, feeling even more energized, wanting nothing more than to do it all again. He held tightly onto the villain's neck as Pierce pulled his legs up around his hips. Oxzy tightened around him as the man carried him to the bed, their kiss unbroken the whole way—through doors, onto the mattress, nothing could separate the pair.
They continued through the night into the morning. The hero was completely drained, the alcohol leaving his system seeming to bring him back to his senses as he woke to the villain holding him close, both of them completely bare.
Oxzy buried his face into the villain's chest, quietly cursing himself for the night before. He'd lost himself, letting sexual desire take over them both. Probably the worst part was that he'd enjoyed it—he wanted to do it again and again with the villain. They'd gone at it until morning, missing work entirely as a result.
The high had faded, but all Oxzy could think about was the pleasure and pain the villain had given him the night before. It was both blood-boiling and heart-pounding.
He didn't want to admit that what he felt for the villain resembled love. He shouldn't. Their relationship was toxic enough...
But here he was, in Pierce's arms well into the day, sinking into the warmth like a little puppy.
Pierce ran his hands through the black curls, smirking into his hair—something he always seemed to enjoy. He pressed a kiss to the hero's forehead, another thing he enjoyed.
Oxzy looked up at him, eyes rimmed red from the night's excess.
Pierce met the look with a small smile and a dusting of red on his cheeks.
"Morning, Ox."
~The end