*Content warnings in description*
“Were you Human before?”
Kallum’s lips curled in a sardonic smile. “Ah, that’s a new question.”
Annoyed, Darius turned back to the dart board. “Fine. Then let’s play.”
Thunk! Four. Thunk! Five.
He frowned.
Kallum didn’t say anything, firing off each dart with almost careless ease.
Thunk! Four. Thunk! Five. Thunk! Six.
“My win then?”
Darius grudgingly nodded. “A question.”
Instead of asking immediately, he went to retrieve the darts, taking his time. Darius watched him with rapt attention, entire body coiled tight in anticipation. It couldn’t be that Kallum had difficult questions for him, right? There wasn’t anything interesting for him to ask about, which made the entire prize seem pointless.
What could he want?
“Did you enjoy the pain or pleasure more yesterday?”
Darius’s heart jumped. “That’s what you want to ask?”
Kallum just smiled.
Although the answer immediately presented itself in his mind, putting such feelings into words was mortifying. With a concerted effort, Darius worked his jaw open, throat incrementally relaxing. He looked away, hands clenching and unclenching nervously. “It’s obvious.”
“I need a clear answer,” he drawled, leaning into Darius’s space. He wasn’t touching, but the presence was overwhelming.
Edging away, Darius muttered, “Pleasure.”
“Hm. Is that so?”
His face flushed indignantly. The fight drained away though when he locked eyes with the Ringleader. Darius felt the arm of the couch pressing into the backs of his thighs. A strong body closed in around him, Kallum’s knuckles dragging across his bruised throat.
“You don’t believe me?” Darius accused, but his voice was barely above a whisper.
“I think,” Kallum murmured, ghosting his lips over the deep purple marks, “you want that to be the truth.” His knee brushed between Darius’s legs. “But perhaps it’s quite the opposite?”
With the utmost willpower, he shoved Kallum back. Breathing in unsteadily, he moved back into position. “Let’s keep going.”
Darius took a long minute to calm his heart. Thankfully, his opponent said nothing, merely leaning against on the wall and watching. It was slightly unnerving to have eyes on him, but it was also familiar. Fuck that. He shook off the feelings and launched his first dart.
Thunk! Six. Thunk! Seven. Thunk! Eight.
Kallum matched him, finishing slightly ahead in the sequence at nine.
Without preamble, Darius demanded, “What is this?” He tugged out the glass egg, holding it up to the firelight.
“A singing egg, I suppose?”
“You know what I mean.”
Kallum leaned back against the fireplace. “A courting practice?” he offered, eyeing the glass egg affectionately. “It has a few functions, all of which benefit you more than me.”
Darius’s disbelief was almost palpable.
“It’s true,” he insisted softly but matter-of-factly. “It invites me to your side and guides you to mine.” Kallum was keeping his distance, but even so, the space between them was suffocating. He may as well have been pressed against Darius. “Though beyond practical uses, it’s quite lovely, isn’t it?”
Darius relented, nodding his head. It was hard to claim otherwise. The egg was clearly handcrafted, and the music box was probably painstakingly designed as well. As much as the circus—Delirium—scared him, it also excited him in equal measure. Just as you do.
“It doesn’t break.”
“No. It doesn’t.” Kallum cocked a brow, curious. “You tried?”
“I was tempted.”
He chuckled, nodding toward the darts board. “Your turn.”
Thunk! Nine.
Darius silently cursed the two missed darts, trying not to think about Kallum and his answers. They were providing far less relief than he expected. In fact, it seemed to be making him antsier. What was being said between the lines? What had he signed up for by accepting that egg?
As he settled back, he watched Kallum hit ten and eleven before missing.
“Which one?”
Darius grunted, “Question.”
“Have you been thinking about me?”
He opened his mouth to snap back and then hesitated, remembering how his lies had caused greater embarrassment earlier. It had left him open to being teased. If he thought about it carefully, the Ringleader had a particular penchant for taunting him when he lied. So would he be treated with greater dignity if he was honest?
Running tired fingers through his hair, Darius quietly mumbled, “Who else could I be thinking of?” He laughed harshly. “I hate this.”
Although the admission made him feel small and vulnerable, the resulting quiet was a relief. Darius refused to lift his head, not wanting anyone to see the heat blazing red on his face.
Kallum didn’t approach, but when he finally spoke, his tone was full of approval. “Thank you.”
He soundly ignored his body’s reaction to the voice. Clearing his throat, he moved into position, hitting ten, eleven, and twelve.
Kallum missed all three.
Surprised, Darius turned toward his opponent. “What’s wrong?”
A rather shaky smile met him. Kallum tousled his hair, sure to be blushing if he had blood coursing through his body. “A game of mental stamina,” he replied wryly, “certainly raises the tension, no?”
Not completely sure what to make of that, Darius simply nodded. He couldn’t imagine the Ringleader getting flustered and certainly not from anything they’d discussed that evening, right? “My next question,” Darius stated carefully, “how do you get food?”
“Anonymous donors,” he answered vaguely, “they’re paid quite well for the service.”
“They don’t know, do they?”
Kallum waved his hands lazily. “Some may be aware. Most are probably uninterested.” He chuckled. “It’s not all that exciting.”
That was an understatement to be sure. Darius could name quite a few people who would be extremely interested in the existence of blood sucking monsters. In fact, they might be so interested they’d try to donate blood in hopes of getting closer to the action.
Thunk! Thirteen. Thunk! Fourteen.
Kallum missed his first throw, but expertly followed with twelve and thirteen. Smiling, he nodded at Darius. “Your move.”
“Were you Human before?”
The smile turned wicked.
Darius involuntarily stepped back, bumping into the couch once more. Straightening up, he held himself stiffly under Kallum’s quiet scrutiny. The moment dragged, thickening the air in the room. He glanced down at the liquor, wondering if it could ease his fraying nerves. In reality, it would probably just lower his already awful guard.
“No.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. No?
Thunk! Fifteen.
Thunk! Fourteen. Thunk! Fifteen. Thunk! Sixteen.
“My turn then,” Kallum murmured, waiting expectantly.
Darius was still frazzled, trying to order the pieces in his head. What was a Night Child, if not a former Human? He didn’t even have a clue. Demons? That seemed preposterous. Shaking himself, he peered up at Kallum. “Question.”
“What is your darkest fantasy?”
Maybe choosing Action next time would be better. Darius rubbed his face tiredly. These questions tested his patience. It felt worse than being teased because he knew the way to win was by being honest. But being honest rattled him so badly that the subsequent round of darts would inevitably have at least one miss. On the other hand, lying would put him at the mercy of the Ringleader.
It was a lose-lose.
“Is it a fantasy, if it’s already happened?”
Kallum’s eyes warmed, lips parting. “No.”
Irritated, Darius reached for the crystal decanter heavy with an amber liquid. He opened it without asking permission, pouring just a splash of the strong liquor into a tumbler. “Do you want one?” he asked.
“If you’re offering.”
Darius filled the second glass. Sealing the bottle once more, he passed the drink into Kallum’s waiting hand.
The whiskey burned like fire when Darius downed it. Wiping his mouth with the worn edge of his sleeve, he said, “Your mouth. Tearing into my throat.” He gritted his teeth, nails digging into the empty glass. Hoarsely, he rasped, “Kissing you. Tasting my…blood. And then fucking until I can’t think straight.”
Each admission rolled easier off his burning tongue. They didn’t sound like they were coming from himself. He felt detached despite wanting every single thing he whispered. Darius set the glass down a little too hard and focused back on the dart board. As expected, Kallum said nothing, just smiled and sipped his drink.
Thunk! Sixteen. Thunk! Seventeen.
“Pass.”
Darius blinked, confused. “What?”
Kallum shrugged, swirling the glass in his hand. “I think I’d miss all of my shots anyway.” He smiled. “Your fantasy is distracting me.”
Darius ripped the darts out of the board with little grace, wondering if another glass of whiskey would calm him down. Thinking better of it, he slowly sank down on the arm of the couch. “Why me?”
“You’re my dearest treasure,” Kallum answered easily. He carefully set his drink down, going over to kneel before Darius’s slouched form. Slightly cold hands rested on his thighs, rubbing slow, soothing circles into the tense muscles. “An existence I’ve watched over for a very long time.”
“But why?” he snapped, legs trembling under the familiar touch.
“My kind,” he explained carefully, “are collectors of things. Our lives are long and hobbies fleeting. But the things we cherish, we take with us. Is there a rhyme or reason behind desire?” The Ringleader slid strong fingers up to his hips, skimming the hem of his loose shirt. “You approached me first,” he reminded softly, almost teasingly. “Shouldn’t you ask yourself what reasons you have for desiring me?”
Darius flinched, pushing the exploratory hands away. I’m a sick freak. I’m infatuated. Seduced. Bored. You made me like this. None of the words would come out though.
He wasn’t even sure he believed half of them.
All he really knew was that he felt irrevocably attracted to the world Delirium’s Ringleader had imagined for him as a child. And then as an adult, he had been entranced once more by Kallum, a man that brought color into a dull, foggy life.
“Whatever you wish, I’m at your service,” Kallum’s voice dipped against his ear, a cold kiss resting against his cheek.
Darius brushed him off, feeling nowhere near alert enough to finish the game.
Thunk! Eighteen.
Thunk! Seventeen. Thunk! Eighteen.
Sighing, he peered back at Kallum. “An action.”
“Play the music box.”
Darius frowned, taking the glass egg out of his pocket with trepidation. He had only ever wound it once, and if memory served, he had thrown himself out of a window right afterwards. Would something similarly terrifying happen? Warily, he cranked the metal key and tapped the top of the egg.
It popped open silently and the glass Big Top twirled to the tune of silver bells. Darius felt warmth wash over him and then a rush of cool air as Kallum cupped his face. Craning his neck, he saw the man gazing at him reverently. His expression was too serious. Too scrutinizing. Too much.
“Why did you want me to play it?” Darius cleared his throat.
Silver bells pranced through the room, accompanied by the crackling of an increasingly too warm fire. Darius felt his shoulders relax incrementally. It was a song that stoked his annoyance, but also reminded him of too many things now.
“For fun,” Kallum chuckled, hands sliding down to gently caress his throat.
Darius’s breath hitched, pulse jumping.
It wasn’t missed. Smiling, Kallum removed his hands. “Should we continue?”
Shutting the egg, Darius hastily replaced it and picked up his darts. It didn’t really feel like any of them would hit, but better to risk it than to give up immediately. Besides, he hardly wanted to give that smug leech any more fodder to tease him with.
Those were his thoughts, at least, until he missed every shot.
Thunk! Nineteen. Thunk! Twenty. Thunk! Bullseye.
Kallum tilted Darius’s face up. “Which one?”
“Action.”
Pleasure radiated off of him. “My treasure,” he whispered, “what action do you desire?”
Darius licked his lips, throat painfully dry. “You pick.”
“Anything?” Kallum tilted his head, eyes lowering.
A nod.
“Warm me up.”
Darius bit his lip, shame welling up as a thrill coursed through him. He slipped his sweater off slowly, baring his throat.
The pain of teeth breaking his flesh made him shout, but the pleasure that chased it away was worth everything. He clung tightly to the Ringleader’s back, choking on a small sob as the cold hands gliding under his shirt rapidly warmed. A swear burst past his lips as Kallum sank deeper into him.
His knees gave way, falling back to the couch. Above him, Kallum never let go, cradling him close as their bodies tangled together. Darius could distinctly feel every hard line and curve of the man on top of him, shuddering at the delirious, indescribable sensation of being devoured.
With a squelch, Kallum retracted, sealing the wound soundly. He bore a deep flush that ran far past his open collar. Gleaming red eyes took in Darius’s panting form, memorizing each shaky breath and aroused whine.
“Beautiful.”
Darius cried out as Kallum ground their hips together. The rough scrape of denim against silk had him seeing stars. He reached up, gripping Kallum’s arms but not sure of what he wanted exactly.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” the Ringleader hushed gently, easily tearing open Darius’s shirt. The material split like water, slipping away. “I’ll fulfill every last fantasy.” He leaned down, hot breath washing over Darius’s lips as he kissed him.
It tasted of fire and blood and whiskey.
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