7.5" cock with a firestarter attached to it. we don't have to talk if you'd rather just suck it.
My Future Plans
staying alive.
My Talents
i can skin anything in under 5 minutes. i can take apart an UZI and put it back together in the dark. you can't kill me.
and i play guitar.
Favorite Books, Movies, Music, and Food
favorite author: ayn rand favorite movie: snowpiercer favorite band: sisters of mercy favorite food: pork lo mein
My Ideal Partner
warm body (warmth optional) who's dtf 24/7 and doesn't ask stupid questions.
Height
5'11"
Body Type
athletic
Smokes
constantly
Drinks
constantly
Drugs
frequently
Sign
capricorn
Education
homeschooled
Occupation
data broker
Income
not your problem
Children
not your problem
Pets
crusher (dog)
Hobbies
activism, drinking, sex
[Dodger answers easily by pinning Alan's legs open, sliding a knee between them. As soon as he gets his pants open and shoved out of the way he takes both of their cocks in one hand, stroking them in tandem.
Those words need an answer, though, and Dodger gives it by biting down on Alan's throat. Hard enough to break through the skin, actively seeking out the taste of blood in his mouth.]
[ The moment starts out extremely well, from Alan's perspective: Dodger's knee comes down on his thigh, spreading him out, and that hot, rough grip closes around his cock, forcing him to harden.
And then pain -- real, sharp, wet pain -- shoots through his neck. Alan yells, shocked. ]
Dodger! Fuck, stop!
[ Is he bleeding? Is that just spit? Is it just hot because Dodger's mouth is hot? Is he bleeding? ]
[There's a moment when the taste of blood enters his mouth, where nothing else seems to register. Like a feral animal chasing a meal, Dodger's instincts lock in, reminding him that he could bite down harder, twist his head, taste more of this--
That thought grinds to a halt at the same moment he hears the word red, and he sits up with a look of quiet shock on his face. He licks his lips, swallows, just to get some of the red out of his mouth before he speaks.]
Fuck- sorry. Sorry. Are you- fuck...
[Those thoughts are still flickering at the edges of his mind, making his hands shake while he tugs off one of his wrist bandages and presses the gauze against Alan's neck.]
Am I bleeding? [ Alan asks, eyes wide. ] Is it bleeding?
[ He can't seem to think of anything else to ask, or do. It fucking hurts, throbbing and sharp. There's a hollow ringing in his ears that he vaguely recognizes from other times he's been hurt. Lost fights as a kid. The knife in his hand. The time Emilio dropped a box on Alanzo's foot and broke a toe. The sound pain makes before the tears start. ]
[Fuck... it hadn't actually occurred to him that Alan wouldn't be used to getting hurt. He's slept with other humans here, and a few back home, and... maybe he's taken it for granted, how masochistic they tend to be. Even Henry, who he tends to think of as fragile no matter how many times he's corrected.]
Yeah. You're bleeding. Focus on me, take deep breaths.
[His hand applies even pressure to the wound, and he guides Alan into sitting up, propping him up as much as he needs.]
It'll close up in a minute or two. The pain'll fade, too. Don't panic.
[ He brings a shaky hand up to press against Dodger's. The advice to take deep breaths penetrates, even though it's hard to follow: he manages to slow down for a couple of inhales and exhales, then gulps the next breath and has to try again.
He is, at least, not pulling away. He's felt worse pain, but the sheer shock of it has rattled him. Dodger's ability to offer any kind of next step is a much-needed handhold while his own mind keeps going blank. ]
[He'd say it whether it was or not. And as far as he can tell, it's... medium. He shouldn't have bitten that hard, that close to Alan's windpipe. But Alan is still breathing and speaking without issues, so they probably don't need a visit to Broken Wing.]
You're gonna be fine, alright? I'm not gonna leave you twisting in the wind.
[Just to drive his point home, he presses his lips briefly to Alan's brow, and then switches to Italian.]
Deep breaths. In, and out. Close your eyes if you want to, but keep listening to my voice.
[ At the sound of his home language, it feels like something shifts abruptly inside him, like a stone block finally sliding after you've been straining to push it aside, and then settles. Alan does close his eyes. ]
All right, [ he replies, also in Italian. In, and out. In, and out. Steadier now. ] Holy Mary, that hurt.
[Dodger relaxes in turn, settling into... something familiar. It's been a long time since he was really a caretaker for anyone except Esikko, and this really does bring him back to helping Tony patch himself up after fights.]
I'm sorry. For biting you. I didn't know it was going t-... I'm sorry.
When you said you wanted to hurt me I didn't know you meant like that.
[ His voice wavers a little as the next phase starts: the come-down from the adrenaline, the release of registering safety. He swallows and clears his throat. ]
Fuck, Dodger, I don't know, I thought you were going to pull my hair or fuck me until I cried or something!
[ He opens his eyes, looking a little hurt but not really angry. And when he catches Dodger's expression, his own becomes embarrassed. Ashamed, even, as his eyes drops to his lap. He knows better. Dodger may be the one with blood in his teeth, but Alan came in wanting to be ravished without saying what that meant. It would be selfish to pretend he had no part in the mistake. ]
I don't know, [ again. ] I should have asked you. I wasn't thinking.
[Dodger ducks his head a bit, looking like a dog being corrected. Sure, that makes sense. That's probably... the sort of pain someone would think of if they weren't used to really getting hurt during sex.
Somehow, he feels like the scars left on him from Bigby's claws are aching.]
It's fine. We can't change it now. [He shrugs awkwardly.] Just... maybe don't tell anyone else about this. I don't... I don't want to give Bloemrose more ammo against me.
[It's not exactly Esikko he's worried about, he's already written him off as a liar. But Scott would take it seriously, Scott would get angry at him again, for some thing he did actually do this time.]
[Dodger bites his lip, and glances up with a startled expression. But- right, right, okay, moping is not helping anyone.]
Sorry.
[He shakes his head, and takes a deep breath of his own.]
Just-... I've been in my head about... still being the person I used to be. When I showed up. It isn't really your problem, it's-... I just don't want to scare you off.
[He checks the bite-mark again... it should be safe to take the gauze away now. And he stuffs it in his pocket, before Alan can see how much blood is on it. At least he sounds a lot more confident when he gives care instructions.]
Be careful for the next few days, don't try and stretch your neck or anything before it scars over.
[ Maybe he shouldn't say this. He says it anyway. ]
I think it's my problem when you want me to keep quiet about it.
[ He squeezes Dodger's knee again, trying to make the words land as a plea, not an accusation. ]
I've got people who'll notice I've got a fuckin' great bandage on my neck. I don't want to make trouble for you, I swear to God, I'll try and keep your name out of it, but I can't pretend it didn't happen.
[Dodger takes another breath, and nods slowly. There's something almost comical about Alan not wanting to make trouble for Dodger, but he appreciates it. Enough that with anyone else he'd want to kiss them to show his appreciation but that's... off the table. So he hesitates, before leaning forward to press a kiss to Alan's forehead instead.]
[ He isn't sure what he wants to do, exactly. He can't remember the last time something shook him or frightened him badly enough to stop sex. Part of him is starting to wonder if he overreacted; part of him is wondering why he's underreacting. And part of him is aware that it's probably incumbent on him, now that the initial panic is past, to guide them through these choppy waters. ]
[Dodger takes a moment to pack himself back into his pants, just for posterity, and pulls his jacket off to wrap around Alan's shoulders. Which has the unintentional side effect of fully revealing the UZIs holstered on his shoulders, but he isn't really thinking about them right now.
He is in fact fully focused on getting up and checking the room for a blanket. Which he finds - something soft, minky and bright red - and works on laying over Alan's lap.]
[It takes Dodger a second to even... remember that the UZIs are there, much less figure out why someone would call attention to them.
Right. This is not normal.]
Got 'em back from home, they're the guns I bought with Augustine's money when he hired me. They don't have bullets in them, they're just... familiar weight, I guess, like keeping your phone and wallet in your pocket.
[Which is definitely something a man from the 1910s would be able to relate to, Dodger, good job.]
They're supposed to have bullets, but... no, they didn't come with any. They've got some magic on them, makes them... set off suit flares. So they're not coming out anywhere near you.
[As much as he would love to pressure Alan into gunplay.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Those words need an answer, though, and Dodger gives it by biting down on Alan's throat. Hard enough to break through the skin, actively seeking out the taste of blood in his mouth.]
cw: rough sex, safeword
And then pain -- real, sharp, wet pain -- shoots through his neck. Alan yells, shocked. ]
Dodger! Fuck, stop!
[ Is he bleeding? Is that just spit? Is it just hot because Dodger's mouth is hot? Is he bleeding? ]
Red!
cw: cannibalism thoughts
That thought grinds to a halt at the same moment he hears the word red, and he sits up with a look of quiet shock on his face. He licks his lips, swallows, just to get some of the red out of his mouth before he speaks.]
Fuck- sorry. Sorry. Are you- fuck...
[Those thoughts are still flickering at the edges of his mind, making his hands shake while he tugs off one of his wrist bandages and presses the gauze against Alan's neck.]
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[ He can't seem to think of anything else to ask, or do. It fucking hurts, throbbing and sharp. There's a hollow ringing in his ears that he vaguely recognizes from other times he's been hurt. Lost fights as a kid. The knife in his hand. The time Emilio dropped a box on Alanzo's foot and broke a toe. The sound pain makes before the tears start. ]
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Yeah. You're bleeding. Focus on me, take deep breaths.
[His hand applies even pressure to the wound, and he guides Alan into sitting up, propping him up as much as he needs.]
It'll close up in a minute or two. The pain'll fade, too. Don't panic.
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[ He brings a shaky hand up to press against Dodger's. The advice to take deep breaths penetrates, even though it's hard to follow: he manages to slow down for a couple of inhales and exhales, then gulps the next breath and has to try again.
He is, at least, not pulling away. He's felt worse pain, but the sheer shock of it has rattled him. Dodger's ability to offer any kind of next step is a much-needed handhold while his own mind keeps going blank. ]
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[He'd say it whether it was or not. And as far as he can tell, it's... medium. He shouldn't have bitten that hard, that close to Alan's windpipe. But Alan is still breathing and speaking without issues, so they probably don't need a visit to Broken Wing.]
You're gonna be fine, alright? I'm not gonna leave you twisting in the wind.
[Just to drive his point home, he presses his lips briefly to Alan's brow, and then switches to Italian.]
Deep breaths. In, and out. Close your eyes if you want to, but keep listening to my voice.
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All right, [ he replies, also in Italian. In, and out. In, and out. Steadier now. ] Holy Mary, that hurt.
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[Dodger relaxes in turn, settling into... something familiar. It's been a long time since he was really a caretaker for anyone except Esikko, and this really does bring him back to helping Tony patch himself up after fights.]
I'm sorry. For biting you. I didn't know it was going t-... I'm sorry.
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[ His voice wavers a little as the next phase starts: the come-down from the adrenaline, the release of registering safety. He swallows and clears his throat. ]
I should have asked. Fuck.
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[He pulls back the gauze briefly to check on it - still bleeding, but it's slowed down. Dodger lets out a soft sigh.]
Are we done after you're patched up or do you want to do something... easier?
[He's mostly expecting to get rejected. But it can't hurt to check.]
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[ He opens his eyes, looking a little hurt but not really angry. And when he catches Dodger's expression, his own becomes embarrassed. Ashamed, even, as his eyes drops to his lap. He knows better. Dodger may be the one with blood in his teeth, but Alan came in wanting to be ravished without saying what that meant. It would be selfish to pretend he had no part in the mistake. ]
I don't know, [ again. ] I should have asked you. I wasn't thinking.
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Somehow, he feels like the scars left on him from Bigby's claws are aching.]
It's fine. We can't change it now. [He shrugs awkwardly.] Just... maybe don't tell anyone else about this. I don't... I don't want to give Bloemrose more ammo against me.
[It's not exactly Esikko he's worried about, he's already written him off as a liar. But Scott would take it seriously, Scott would get angry at him again, for some thing he did actually do this time.]
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[ He reaches down to put a hand on Dodger's knee, squeezing it. ]
Watching you look like I'm kicking you doesn't make me feel better, for Christ's sake. I'm not your fuckin' boss, sono il tuo dannato amico.
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Sorry.
[He shakes his head, and takes a deep breath of his own.]
Just-... I've been in my head about... still being the person I used to be. When I showed up. It isn't really your problem, it's-... I just don't want to scare you off.
[He checks the bite-mark again... it should be safe to take the gauze away now. And he stuffs it in his pocket, before Alan can see how much blood is on it. At least he sounds a lot more confident when he gives care instructions.]
Be careful for the next few days, don't try and stretch your neck or anything before it scars over.
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[ Maybe he shouldn't say this. He says it anyway. ]
I think it's my problem when you want me to keep quiet about it.
[ He squeezes Dodger's knee again, trying to make the words land as a plea, not an accusation. ]
I've got people who'll notice I've got a fuckin' great bandage on my neck. I don't want to make trouble for you, I swear to God, I'll try and keep your name out of it, but I can't pretend it didn't happen.
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That's fine. That's plenty.
[A pause.]
Do you want me to grab your clothes...?
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[ He isn't sure what he wants to do, exactly. He can't remember the last time something shook him or frightened him badly enough to stop sex. Part of him is starting to wonder if he overreacted; part of him is wondering why he's underreacting. And part of him is aware that it's probably incumbent on him, now that the initial panic is past, to guide them through these choppy waters. ]
Is there a blanket?
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[Dodger takes a moment to pack himself back into his pants, just for posterity, and pulls his jacket off to wrap around Alan's shoulders. Which has the unintentional side effect of fully revealing the UZIs holstered on his shoulders, but he isn't really thinking about them right now.
He is in fact fully focused on getting up and checking the room for a blanket. Which he finds - something soft, minky and bright red - and works on laying over Alan's lap.]
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[ AND WHY DID HE BRING THEM TO A HOOK-UP ]
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Right. This is not normal.]
Got 'em back from home, they're the guns I bought with Augustine's money when he hired me. They don't have bullets in them, they're just... familiar weight, I guess, like keeping your phone and wallet in your pocket.
[Which is definitely something a man from the 1910s would be able to relate to, Dodger, good job.]
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They're supposed to have bullets, but... no, they didn't come with any. They've got some magic on them, makes them... set off suit flares. So they're not coming out anywhere near you.
[As much as he would love to pressure Alan into gunplay.]
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[He grimaces, and takes off the holster to set it down on the floor, just to make it completely clear Alan is safe.]
Still nice to have them back, though. I've pretty much got all of my earthly possessions here.
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