As much as King Cult liked to pretend he hid it, Levi could always tell when Cain’s blood pumped heroin by the way he laughed.

Drunk, almost; a giddy, high-pitched laughter that tumbled from curved lips. Ella had admitted to him once that she hated it. That when Cain laughed like that, all she could see was that faceless white mask with the splitting grin.

And she was completely right. Crimson hangings draped the back room of their club, and the lamplight cast their echo into Cain’s skin like the rosy memory of blood. Cain sprawled out in the armchair with his head rested on idle fingers, that skewed laughter spilling from his lips.

Draped across the vast desk at the back of the room, Levi chewed his lip. Cain looked like a villain, and oh, it was like rapture seeing it again.

The man with the squashed face sitting on the sofa opposite him didn’t seem to appreciate the laugh quite so much as Levi did. He shuddered and rubbed his tattooed head as he stumbled through answers to Cain’s delightfully incisive questions while Cain giggled at him like a man unhinged.

Understandable, really. He was nothing but a nobody Levi had plucked off the club floor to lure Cain from the house. Cain had bought it line and sinker – some goon poking around in the bank roll who probably came from Grandma, the kingpin holed up in Triple Thirteen the other side of town.

Levi’s eyes trailed to the vast mirror coating the wall of the room behind Cain’s armchair, softened by the edges of silk hangings that trembled in the throbbing bass. It infiltrated every inch of the room, deep and low beneath hearing and as Levi pressed his skull back into the desk, it vibrated through the clench of his teeth.

Grinning, Levi winked at his reflection, black lashes shuttering over ice blue. He traced the way the slick purple leather of his jeans clung between the idle spread of his legs and ran his tongue over his lower lip.

Maybe Cain was doped up enough to fuck him.

“Levi?”

Levi let his head roll to the side, arm dangling off the side of the table. “Yes, King?”

And if the laughter wasn’t enough to tell, Cain’s snort at the moniker cinched it. Usually his face would go taut, grinding teeth and pursed lips, but sky-high, Cain only tapped his long fingers against his temple, slow, one-by-one, like the insipid crawl of spider legs over the edge of a glass.

“Care to tell me why you’ve bothered to call me out of bed to interrogate one of your customers for no good reason, darling?”

Laughing, Levi slithered off the desk, and the throbbing bass shivered through the soles of his shoes the moment they touched the polished wood.

Not so hook and sinker after all. He really was delightfully good, although it was a little boring he didn’t take advantage of the violence offered to him on a platter. Cain of the apocalypse would have, just in case. Certainly, Cain of before – Cain of dark power and a savage grin while veins drizzled from his lips – would have winked at Levi and pulled out a knife.

Ah, a man could dream.

Levi ran his fingers through the thick black of his hair as he strode across the room, smoothing the loose locks into place, and clapped his hands together, twice, sharp, their meeting echoed by thunder and cracks of static in the air. The door opened, leaking a miasma of smoke and filthy guitar strains into the room, and one of the doormen poked his head into the room.

“I’m done with him. Give him a drink and a girl for the trouble, would you? Or anything else he likes. I don’t care.” Levi flung himself on the sofa, and it welcomed him with a cough of feathers and unfamiliar perfume. He poked the man’s thigh with his shoe, grinning at the little quiver. “Go on. I’m busy.”

The ill-fated customer did not, of course, waste a second. The door slammed behind him, and Levi licked his lips as he pulled his cigarettes free of his leather jacket. Delightful. A room full of nothing but pretty things.

And Cain, watching Levi from the armchair with hooded eyes and a cruel curl to his lips – he was the prettiest thing of all of them.

“You do look dashing tonight, King.” Levi flicked a cigarette out the box and placed it precisely between his lips. “Did I interrupt an occasion?”

Cain’s expression didn’t falter, and his voice still dripped black silk. “You know very well you woke me up.”

Humming, Levi hooked his foot over one knee. He snapped his fingers beneath the end of the cigarette, drinking up a thick breath of smoke as the tip flared. Another snap, high in the air and for utterly nothing but dramatic effect, and the speaker system cloistered in the walls seethed to life.

The music was slick and filthy with a strain that dragged its tongue underneath his balls, and Levi had listened to this song a hundred times this week, masturbated for at least twelve of those, and thought about it during the rest.

As the music lit the air, Cain sat up, twisting in his seat to blink around the room. “An electrical current?”

“Dear little Cassie hooked an overload switch up for Jack before some…” Levi flicked his eyes over Cain’s lithe body as he took a drag on his cigarette, a drift of ash tumbling to the floor, “deplorable scoundrel put that lovely looking cut over his lips.”

Not even a flicker. Levi drummed his fingers against the back of the sofa, Cain slung one leg over the arm of the chair, and Levi traced the fresh tautness of his trousers. The loose strands of Cain’s hair clung to the rich fabric as he settled his head back into the nook, static.

Too early to make a judgement on that. Too early by far with nothing like enough evidence besides Jack’s paranoia.

Time to move on then. Levi let out a loud sigh, stretching his arms above his head. “No, I just hadn’t expected you to look so delicious after wallowing in your dope-sick misery just because my sweet sister would rather listen to Jack cry about Casper for the thousandth time rather than spend time with you. I bet you text her—”

Cain’s jaw tightened. Finally. Levi licked his lips and took a drag on the cigarette, his eyes not leaving Cain’s for a breath. “Did you tell her how much you want to fuck her—”

“Shut up, Levi, before I make you shut up.”

Laughter burst from Levi’s lips and he rolled his hips, sinking further down into the sofa. The promise of murder saturated that cold tone, and it put knots at the base of his cock like nothing else. Biting his lip, Levi batted his lashes at Cain and laid his palm over the swell in his jeans. “You can if you really want to, King.”

Another spasm went through Cain’s jaw and his eyes slid away.

It really was a weakness how easily sex cut back his guard, no matter how much he pretended otherwise. Boring. Levi laughed, flinging his arms over the back of the sofa and planting his legs wide.

“Should’ve guessed you don’t have the balls since she neutered you, King. That’s not what I’m here for anyway – I've been in more of a...” Levi teased the word over his tongue, holding Cain’s glazed eyes as he curled his lips around it, savouring Cain’s flinch, “masturbatory mood lately. There’s nothing you can’t do when it’s in your own head.”

“Spit it out, Levi, before I get bored and piss off.”

Boring. Levi waggled the cigarette packet at Cain. “Want one?”

“Go on.”

“Do you like my outfit?”

Laughter bubbled past Cain’s lips, that delightfully unhinged sound, and his eyes lit up as they dissected Levi’s clothes. “You look like a cheap hooker picked it out and the sight of so much of your chest makes me vaguely nauseous, but the colour scheme might be appealing to a toddler. Give me a bloody cigarette. God knows you’d make a saint need one.”

A flicker of delight curled low in Levi’s stomach. Now he was playing. Levi placed both his and Cain's cigarette's between his lips. Cold sorcery sliced against Levi's jaw - a clumsy search for a grip on the cigarette that flowed loose against the bare sliver of his chest, and Levi chased it away with a little flare of static, shaking his head.

He eased off the sofa. The creak of his leather eased seamlessly into the distorted moans grinding out the speakers as his fingers sunk into the thick pile of the rug.

Crimson edged his vision as he crawled toward Cain, and it suited Cain so luxuriously when he grinned.

“I hope you don’t expect that to put me in a better mood. And don't come closer—”

Cain pressed his finger against Levi’s forehead, halting him short of climbing into Cain’s lap. It was nothing but a touch, but Cain didn't need a thing more. The sheer command radiating from Cain’s cold grin and wide-planted feet — oh, it worked like a charm.

“You know you’ve always made me sick, scum. So spit it out. Why am I here?”

Levi grinned. Finally. “I have a proposition, Killer darling.”