Cherubplay

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Though he was well aware Spades Slick wouldn't try to purposely hurt him, especially in this setting, it still served to soothe Doc Scratch when he began to think over it. Reaffirmation of the fact the latter was safe was always more than welcome, as he found it provided him with not only assurance but the sense Slick was at least trying to be sweet, on some level. And it did feel somewhat gratifying he wouldn't (or couldn't) harm Scratch, considering what a dangerous individual he was under normal circumstances. It made him feel a bit privileged, gave him a sense of satisfaction, in all truth. That was neither here nor there, however, and no matter how much Scratch craved affection, he wouldn't let Slick on to that secret sort of smugness he provided, for his own reasons. It might've been he didn't want to seem like the jealous sort, but he didn't want to act as if he were disinterested either. Perhaps it was true he was the jealous sort, but not in the conventional way most were in romance; in the more divine way, the way a god might have been. He did not envy others, but he would expect faithfulness from the other and to be the exclusive object of his affections. If Scratch bore any properties of a deity it was that, that exclusively divine brand of jealousy reserved for the higher pantheons.

But the rest of him was decidedly less wholesome than whatever god or goddess was out there, especially now, pinned to a table by a man who was arguably the most wanted in the entire city. Scratch wanted him too, of course, but in a different way, that much was obvious. Though now that he considered it, it'd be all too easy for him to subtly arrange some scene in which a heist went just awry enough for Spades Slick to be taken into custody. But that wasn't conductive to his current interests, not even those that included their romantic involvement. There were too many variables for his taste- a cop might execute Slick at the scene under perceived threat, he could have been killed in a struggle, and even if he was successfully arrested, he might be sentenced to capital punishment for his crimes. No, it wouldn't do. That being said, if it happened naturally and without Scratch's hand involved... That wasn't something to dwell on, especially right now. Being separated from him due to imprisonment itself was bad enough, from a personal point of view. Scratch was especially reminded of this when Slick kissed him next; at that moment, all activity in his mind seemed to cease and settle comfortably. Scratch kissed him back, matching the other's emotion with his own. His hand slipped down from Slick's hair and to his cheek as they did, cupping it gently with a delicate hand.

Scratch would have to lower his hand entirely when Slick went to hastily relieve then both of their pants, letting it rest at his side. He was now propped up on his elbows, legs spread slifhtly woder watching the taller man at work. He did what he could where his own pants were concerned, but could only observe as Slick unbuckled his belt and let his drop to the floor. Scratch felt exposed again, to a lesser degree, but not uncomfortable. Slick's continued kissing and nipping at his jawline aided Scratch in retaining his jade-colored blush, and as the other pressed his erection between his legs, Scratch caught himself biting his lip again. It wasn't in nervousness, more anticipation and the desire to allow Slick to take him as he pleased. He wasn't going to say that, of course; he wasn't quite articulate enough at the moment, and was reflexively bracing himself for what was to be a much rougher (by contrast) penetration than their first time. Though Slick was impatient as always, Scratch was sure the other man would allow him time to adjust- he knew if he didn't there would be words between them, and Slick certainly wouldn't want that.

2014-10-01 16:00:44
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The only thing that was probably keeping Slick one foot out of the grave was probably his insistent tact to be elusively unstable. There wasn't necessarily one way to elude the law enforcement, and once one did such a thing, it was safer to keep quiet and watch their own step rather then advertise their accomplishment. Hence why he usually stayed in the hatch for a couple weeks or so after the initial heist took place in whatever building the Crew leader had deemed worthy enough. Speaking of which, it was almost time for a new one, however he doubts he'll get anywhere with Droog at the moment considering his tongue lashing earlier. Slick knows where the other is coming from, and knows he has a valid point; Slick should have kept the ring. However, he shouldn't have put it on in the first place, that much Droog had left out and hadn't seemed to care much for the havoc the city was in that day. In fact, he seemed almost disinterested to that certain detail compared to Deuce and Boxcars who seemed a bit worried at the blood staining Slick's clothing. Sure, they've seen their share of the crimson fluid, but that scene was a bit too gory for their taste.

When a familiar hand goes to cup his cheek, Slick practically tilted his head into it, his contentment coming out in light purrs from his lips as he got a nice taste of the other. It was always a sweet tang, one that coated his tongue in some sort of treats that was only relatable to vanilla, though not quite exact. He enjoyed it nonetheless, taking note of the green flush he was able to bring back to the porcelain man's features, and once more, the blush brought out his ember colored eyes, practically reenforcing what he had said earlier about them being absolutely gorgeous. He doesn't comment on them this time however, as much as the words are on the tip of his tongue, he was more intent upon releasing some tension between both of them. He knew well to be careful at this part, having his fare share of scenarios with poor lubrication, and grips Scratch's hip firmly, not hard, just enough so he doesn't flinch (as if he wasn't well aware of what was to come), and guided himself with his other. The immediate feeling was almost overwhelming, just like the first time, a soft sigh of finally getting what he had been craving slipping from his fangs.

Of course, he doesn't start moving quite yet, pausing his antics considering his kissing to the other's neck and throat, just so he could rest his forehead on the Scratch's shoulder for a brief moment. He was gathering his bearings, a small shudder running up his spine in delight, but he suppresses making any other movement then burying his length and getting to a specific point before stopping his hips and allowing the other to get use to the intrusion. It was a bit tighter then formerly experienced, however that wasn't unwelcome, and he certainly didn't complain at such a thing as both his hands rested at the other's hips, holding him gently as Slick shifted his head from its resting point on the white shoulder and lifted himself up to gaze down at the other for a signal to either pull away, or to continue. He wouldn't blame the other if the lack of respectable lubricant made the process too much to handle, but even if they did continue, Slick would keep in mind to be careful and mind his movements.

2014-10-02 12:25:23
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On the Felt's end of things, they had their own set system of evading law enforcement; of all things Doc Scratch was like to brag about this was one. Admittedly, they had a trump card on the Midnight Crew (and consequently the police force) in the form of their various temporal powers. When directed and applied properly (usually by Crowbar), they were incredibly beneficial. Through the use of future trails, any attempts made by the responding policemen were rendered pointless before they even arrived on the scene. In all reality, the Felt considered law enforcement a joke that never got old. Doc Scratch remained vigilant, as he had to be, aware that carelessness was chief among what could be their downfalls in the future. He chose their jobs, and was careful to pick ones that would glean minimal losses while maximizing the potential gain. At times things were stressful, but he wasn't about to gamble with lives for monetary gain. They might have had a respectable number of members, but that did not make anyone expendable. They knew the rules, at any rate; they never drove directly to the Manor with whatever purloined goods had been procured, firstly. Things had to be moved around, and the last thing any of them wanted was law enforcement at their front door. Luckily, a good amount of the police officers themselves were legitimately frightened by some of the Felt. With good reason. Not everyone in the city possessed abilities like they did. Doc Scratch, as the supposed "big bad" of the Felt, found it amusing he never went out on heists and yet there was still talk of him. A name without a mugshot, and he was going to make a point to never come into contact with the police, let alone allow himself to be arrested.

Scratch also found it amusing that while it was common knowledge the members of the Felt and Midnight Crew fought like cats and dogs, he hadn't quite been doing just that with Spades Slick. In fact, the only direct tussle between them was when Slick wasn't in control of himself, and had been transformed by the cursed ring, and even that hadn't thrown their relationship off the tracks. It set Scratch at ease to think he could create this sort of bond with another person after all, for his own reasons. It was almost a form of reassurance, but he would digress from that topic if ever it arose. Scratch felt it would not, largely because it was a more personal sentiment and as close as he and Slick were, as much as he was an exception to many of his behaviors, he knew Slick was not keen on divulging any personal factors. This even extended to the porcelain man's personal space, as he continually proved, though Scratch couldn't find a single complaint to lodge against the other's firm grip on his hip. In fact, he certainly liked being held so tight. He knew it was to keep him from flinching away, which was understandable; Slick was the experienced one, that much was true. Still, Scratch was the only one who could keep himself from uttering a sound as Slick pushed into him; his slow, tense exhale didn't count as much of a noise, as he was trying to keep the other from thinking he was in pain too great to continue. He wasn't, but the penetration wasn't smooth by any means; pain lanced up his abdomen, walls tightening around Slick in some sort of protest that wouldn't do very much for him at all. The other man would likely enjoy it, however. When Slick became still, pausing for him, Scratch was already panting in a hushed but quickened manner.

Scratch was glad Spades Slick had rested his forehead on his shoulder while pausing; it prevented him from seeing the momentary grimace that marred Scratch's features, which he was quick to unravel. He didn't want Slick to feel bad about causing him pain, however long it lasted. Scratch considered this his fault, though it might've been wrong of him to. He considered a lot of things his fault due to his omniscience; it was easy to think you weren't to blame if you didn't know the outcome of your actions, but Scratch had not been allotted that mercy. In all fairness, he hadn't been in the right state of mind then, for whatever reason; things had been uncharacteristically pathetic then, to the point Scratch was almost embarrassed to think of it. He didn't know why he'd felt so hazy then, but the feeling had generally dissipated since then. He wanted to affectionately accredit it to Spades Slick dropping by, but Scratch was sure there was a more logical explanation. Slowly, he began to unwind; he was still half sitting up on the table, Spades Slick leaning over him just enough so he closed that distance, head rested on his shoulder. His dress shirt had become much looser now, unable to be tucked in due to his sudden lack of pants. A very soft, ambiguous whine escaped him as he looked down toward his hips and his own member, almost reluctantly. Things like this had never come very easily to him; partially to combat his current state and to lull himself into a less tense one, he slowly shifted his right hand to wrap around his own erection and slowly stroke. It did help him to unwind a bit, making the intrusion considerably more bearable, but it also made him feel utterly depraved, in all honesty. Slick's opinion on it was up to interpretation, but at the moment Scratch was just trying to make things a little easier for the both of them. When Slick raised his head, Scratch met his gaze, eyes equally hazy and features still flushed.

2014-10-02 17:46:11
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If one were to assume Slick didn't care much for exposing the most inner thoughts of an individual, that person would be semi correct. The only reason being he or she was neither wrong nor right was because Slick did indeed enjoy digging into the most darkest corners of one's mind, and also enjoyed exposing thse thoughts his victim held close. It was a satisfying feeling to watch his opponent practically crumble from the very weight of their own guilt or worries. But, at the same time, he didn't like delving too deep. When instigation wasn't of concern, and instead affection was the topic of conversation, Slick seemed to be a bit less involved. He didn't exactly express his feelings other then the urge to stab the irritating beings beside him in their most vital organs, so anything to do with expressing his opinion upon how deeply he feels for Scratch or how he would feel if a disastrous event occurred, that was entirely out of his hands, between the two of them... He would be able to explain himself well. It would be a mix of stalling and confused grunts for his lack of understanding such emotions that sometimes bubbled up inside of him. Only because, said emotions have been dormant until he had wandered upon this relationship which Doc Scratch provided him.

There wasn't any way, shape, or form of dark tendencies weaved within his being that was solely out to get Scratch, that much was certain. For if he did, he would undoubtedly receive a guilty conscience for that one fiber of his being, and wouldn't be able to cope with it efficiently. It would be much like a teen's mother telling her child no, they may not date that charming teen across the street because they were different. Different in what way would never really be explained by the mother, but what would be understood was that the child would have to listen to the authority of their guardian... Or, become self reliant and go upon those feelings they cherished most. It was complicated, to say the least. Honestly, at times Slick is at the brink of snapping into some insanity coma and go on a bloody massacring rampage. Yet, at other times, like his current one, he couldn't find a single thread of hostile tendencies in his system. Whether that was because Scratch figuratively held some sort of on and off switch for the mobster's violent tendencies, or if he himself was simply too tired by the end of the day to care much about the events falling the entire evening, he couldn't decipher. There wasn't necessarily any true way to tell either, more so he would have to rely upon his own feelings and thoughts and somehow hope he was making the right decision in letting someone from the outside (probably from another galaxy really), in.

If he had been aware of the fact the other held some sort of satisfaction in knowing he was a large exception to a lot of the Crew leader's rules, he would have undeniably laughed. Not because he found it necessarily amusing, but because he would find it ironic in the sense that he wasn't sure if having a weakness for the pale man was good in every which way. There were many factors that played upon their relationship, and countless downfalls if anyone were to found out about said relationship and had devious intentions towards it. Slick, undoubtedly, would become very frustrated and maybe a bit protective... Or, majorly protective. He tried not to think of what he would do to someone if they actually attempted to hurt Doc, getting a very hot feeling from just the figurative thought, and soon pushed it down without much of hesitation.

He couldn't tell if the other's panting was from the sudden pain he was surely feeling, or if it was something else a bit more sensual, but either way it earned a slight furrow of his brows before the look was quickly wiped away from his features. He could only hear such a thing from Doc though, but once he had lifted his head and studied the other, he soon assumed he should continue his antics, and do it diligently. The other's expression almost triggered some sort of chain reaction in the taller man, though he couldn't quite tell what it was; some sort of mix between adoration and fascination, though some words popped into his head that almost made the hairs on his neck prickle in sudden shock at himself. It was at that point he knew he did enjoy when the other got hot and bothered.

At first, he didn't even notice the other had began stroking himself, and once he did realize it, it didn't hit him that the other was doing it to distract himself from the needles of pain Slick was providing him with. However, once he gets a respectable grip on the edge of the table so it doesn't move and a sturdy hold on Scratch's hip, he began shifting his hips back, making sure not to move too quickly, and then rolled them forward, a sort of noise between an exhale and opening of his windpipe occurring in sync. Shortly, he builds up a pace, and decides to move in tandem with Scratch's stroking, his own breathing coming in a bit raggedy as he merely tried to relax and focus solely upon the delight of pleasure coursing hotly through his system. He found himself moving to give the other another kiss, but right before he was able to touch his lips, a warm exhale huffs out from him and against the paler's lips, a respectable shiver running up his back and over his shoulders in sync. It was then he let a curse slip from himself, having not been aware he really did need to loosen up a bit, and had somehow ended up giving a slip of the tongue when a pleased groan escaped him as he brushed up against the other's prostate.

2014-10-03 07:05:04
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Similarly to Spades Slick, Doc Scratch was not used to sharing or even giving much regard at all to his more intimate feelings. There was a reason for this and, put briefly, it was because no one had ever really expressed interest in them. And since they didn't quite matter in his more professional activities, he tended to just shelve them. In a way, it closely mirrored bottling one's feelings, and while he was well aware that was unhealthy, he didn't quite stop himself from doing it. It hadn't been as bad recently as in the past, but that was always subject to change. Spades Slick really was the last person he wanted to bother with any of his more deeply-rooted thought patterns, however concerning they may or may not have been to the other man, and disregarding however he felt about them. Though Slick might have felt from time to time that he would essentially "snap" into a violent and destructive state of being, Scratch felt the opposite; that the weight of his conscience and the outcome of his actions would drag him deep into some dark place, either mentally or physically, from which there was no return. Scratch knew it wasn't the proper action to take, but whenever he began to feel that way, he was sure to seclude himself from others. The last thing he needed was someone seeing weakness in him, and perhaps using it as an excuse to call for his replacement or immediate removal. It tied into his pride again- it seemed there was too much of it to be swallowed, as the expression went, and Scratch was as likely to attempt it as Spades Slick would be trying to curb his greedy tendencies. That was, not at all likely to, under most realistic circumstances. Scratch figured if it came down to the correct dire circumstance, Slick was more likely to let go of his greed than Scratch was his pride. Scratch was always able to come out on top, no matter how long it took, so the chances he'd have cause to quit his pridefulness were next to nonexistent.

When Slick began to pull out, he simultaneously elicited a deep, however hushed, gasp from his partner, Scratch's lungs filling quickly. The porcelain man bit his lip, luminous eyes half-lidded and locked on Spades Slick. As the other man began to thrust into him, he whined softly; Scratch couldn't afford to be very loud now, not while downstairs. He was a bit more paranoid about being discovered, as anyone would have been, as there were others on the floor. Granted, they were all fast asleep, but Scratch had every right to be wary. Staying silent, however, would prove to be a task he might not have been up to. That depended on how deftly Slick played things on his end, and Scratch was sure he would relish in making him moan and squirm atop the table. The thought sent a mild shudder through the First Guardian, and for a moment he almost cursed himself mentally. Not aloud, of course; Scratch's aversion to coarse language like that was perhaps one of the most major mysteries surrounding him, and he was fairly certain the members of the Felt had a tab running on which he'd say in front of them first. That dissuaded Scratch from doing it even further, simply to innocently spite them for a personal laugh. When Spades Slick did it, however, in that husky tone he had during this sort of engagement, it was absolutely captivating.

After Slick let out his obscenity and then the hot breath of air against his own mouth, Scratch smirked, not even in a shaky manner. It was bolder than that, almost cocky, it seemed. Scratch considered Slick's little reactions to be small victories of a sort, which he would appropriately take as they came. He was also well aware the other needed to unwind a bit. Well, this was certainly a way that could be accomplished. While others would advocate for a massage or hot bath (or, in Slick's case, perhaps a cold drink), this sort of thing would also suffice, Scratch understood, and no one could deny it was mutually gratifying. Judging by Slick's off-guard groan, and Scratch's own that almost seemed to plead for more, it was, anyway. After hearing that, Scratch chuckled softly, the sound marred by his soft panting. He was the one to lean forward and bridge the gap between them with a firm kiss, which he also ended, with a nip to Slick's lower lip. He didn't have to be as careful with his teeth, as they were flat, but Slick never showed much caution in whether or no he'd break skin when he bit Scratch. In fact, it was more often than not his express intention. After he pulled back a bit, he leaned up slightly further to continue the action, along his jawline. Uncharacteristic of him, almost, but it still took place; teeth and lips were applied to his jaw and upper neck almost delicately but not quite, warm breath coming in short bursts that corresponded to Slick's motions, which were in time with Scratch's quickening strokes.

2014-10-03 20:07:54
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Slick has heard the other let out enough small whines and whimpers to know which ones were one of pleasure, and which ones were conveying pain. The one Scratch had currently let out was one that was undoubtedly linked to pleasure, however it was a bit quieter then he had been the first time. The taller already concluded it was because of their new location, but the want to still hear more of the sounds was not dampened even remotely. That should have been a bit worrisome, seeing that if the other was even slightly loud, they may indeed be caught. It wasn't as if Slick wanted him to be obnoxiously loud, though that would have been amusing, he entirely understands that their situation is one that needed caution... Still, that doesn't do much to either slow himself down or shallowly thrust into him. In fact, he finds his hips rolling deeper and a small flush from his antics forming lightly on his cheeks. It wasn't from embarrassment, more so from the overwhelming heat his blood and adrenaline provided in these certain scenarios, much of the opposite of Doc Scratch's verdant flush that splashed a bit of color upon his own porcelain features every now and then.

The smirk, though, wasn't entirely new, but at the same time it was a bit foreign to be occurring during such an intimate engagement. It was nothing less then cocky, no wait, smug. Yes, indeed that smirk Scratch gave at his groan and pant was of undeniable smugness, and as much as it should have rubbed him the wrong way or made him scowl slightly, he can't find it in himself to feel anything other then endearment towards the almost satisfied expression. He could have blamed such unabashed affections upon the heat of the moment, but something tells him he wouldn't have been able to muster up anything other then a slight scoff at the porcelain man in any opposing circumstance. He supposed that what made such an expression a bit better was the fact the shorter had leaned up to continue a brief kiss, and in Slick's opinion, it was much too soon for it to have broken, but then again he was certainly "biting off more then he could chew", in Doc Scratch's words from the former night. For some reason, he thought the other was going to say something when he started to shift a bit, but to Spades Slick's surprise, the other wasn't speaking. Instead, he had nipped his own lower lip, earning a very light but quick inhale of breath, and then proceeded to kiss and nip along his upper then lower jawline before his ministrations continued along his neck. This sort of action came as a bit of a surprise to the mobster, though it was not unwelcome by any means of the word. Scratch was even able to elicit a very pleased and a bit panty purr from him, blue hue hazy and lidded as he almost leaned into the nips and kisses like he had been neglected any affection his entire life.

The fact of the matter was, he has received affections before, unlike his most opposite half pinned upon the table, but this time he was actually craving such a touch rather then receiving it without much thought. It was a very new sense of want, not necessarily a very sensual one, but more so just affections. Either way, the mechanical claws clutching the wood tighten on the furniture, tips of the hazardous metal scrapping against the surface and leaving pale streaks in contrast to the darker colored table. The scratching could actually be heard, and soon after he accidentally did such a thing, the hand on Scratch's hip shifts as well to move from its current grip, to snaking around his waist and press blunt nails at his back before dragging them down his porcelain skin. It wasn't much to leave any abrasions, however it was a simple act in which it's purpose was to elicit shivers. Whether it dies or not, he doesn't take the time to figure out as he's practically melting into Scratch's touch, the sudden urge to do something about the other's own stroking soon coming to mind, however he refused to let go of the table. At the moment, he was sure that if he did, it would scrape against the floor below and create a noise that would undoubtedly wake someone up, and that was the last thing he needed at this particular moment.

2014-10-04 07:54:18
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Doc Scratch had to pause his kisses and bites in order to suppress a moan as Spades Slick rolled his hips deeper inside him. His voice could become embarrassingly high-pitched under these sort of attentions, driving Scratch to almost cringe. Whether it was always that high or not he wasn't exactly aware, but he tended to notice it more now. It was likely because he was being louder than he usually was, for obvious reasons. Still, nothing else he was currently feeling could override or even compare to the pleasure that was coursing through his veins like hot, red rivers. His weren't exactly red, but it was the color he'd choose to associate with the feeling. Slick's skin was almost feverishly warm under his lips and tongue, and Scratch found it delightful. The fact he'd essentially had a hand in causing it was even more enjoyable, and filled him with not only the usual pride but some alien sense of excitement that had him lavishing more kisses on the other. It was almost made difficult, if not repeatedly interrupted, by the pants and whines that continually escaped him, but he didn't drop off. It helped to keep him a bit quieter- not a lot, but some. Scratch didn't spend long in any particular spot on Slick's neck, keenly aware that if he left even one hickey, it would be taken note of and Slick would likely be interrogated over it. What Scratch considered to be the sad part was he'd enjoy that; it would give him a sense of accomplishment, even if the one on Slick's case didn't know who'd given him the markings.

The sound of Spades Slick's metal claws on the wood of the table's edge recalled memories of their first meeting, where he'd stormed out, dragging his mechanical digits against the green wall and stripping wood and paint from the surface and leaving black scorch marks in its place. Prior to that, he'd even massacred the wooden arm of the seat he was in, which spoke of how tense and aggravated he had been during their meeting. He was always that way, Doc Scratch could gather, and it was a miracle the other man hasn't assaulted him outright. But the urge to throw Scratch off of his proverbial high horse had preceded that, apparently, and when Slick had tried to do that he hasn't exactly failed or succeeded. Had Scratch, for a moment, lost his usual calm demeanor? Not on the outside. But on the inside he'd been sent reeling more than any physical blow could have ever caused him. The remainder of that day had been spent in rumination, over that occurrence specifically. Scratch hadn't wanted to dwell on it as much as he had, and wouldn't even admit to doing it to the extent that he actually had. He was sure Slick would get a right kick out of it, the sort that was at Scratch's expense. Scratch knew he was only teasing, however, and didn't mean any harm by his various forms of pestering. In fact, Scratch (while not the sort of man to engage in that sort of behavior) would be willing to wager that if he expressed displeasure with one of Slick's attempts at annoying him, the Crew leader would curtail them almost immediately. Scratch was capable of putting up with then, however, as long as Slick was willing to do some of the same.

All things considered, Scratch was not at all the sort to indulge in seemingly immature forms of irritation, but he supposed it was Spades Slick who brought that out in him. Sometimes it was... Relieving, if he had to be honest. A brief period of time in which Scratch was not obligated to be strict and professional with another, and could unwind a slight bit. This meant he trusted Slick, in his own form of language; trusted him and thought rather well of him, as strange as that was in regards to the man who had been menacing his subordinates. And this, what they were doing at that very moment, was not professional either. Scratch wished he had some word for it that didn't make it sound like something heinous or criminal. But he was enjoying it, undoubtedly. This time it had been a bit rough at first, but the knots had since ironed out in him, and it was smoother. Scratch lifted his hips slightly, angling to get more of the other man in him as he was reduced to just pressing his forehead to Slick's shoulder, shuddering as the other man scraped down his lower back. The louder whine he responded with could've either been one that pleaded for him or one that was trying to tell him not to tease, but Scratch wasn't using words to specify at the moment. Whichever interpretation Slick chose, however, Scratch knew he'd savor the sound.

2014-10-04 21:11:41
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Slick had been so lost in the sensation of the other's mouth upon his skin to really notice the heat upon his face or breath. All he was aware of was the fact Scratch must have taken notes upon the actions Slick provided him, the last of the bite marks fading away from the angle he has of the other's neck. The monster never knew how entranced he could become just from the simple nip or kiss upon his warm flesh, but at least he wouldn't be admitting anytime soon to the fact the other might very well hold an ace in his hand now, though Slick wasn't sure as to what the rest of his cards hid, there was definitely something interesting in his hand. As much as Spades Slick was a hard headed one, and often boasted a mighty talk, he does indeed feel that there is a bit more to Doc Scratch then he puts on. Obviously, there had been quite a bit Slick wasn't aware of when they first met, thinking he was just a measly opponent who could be done away with at any day, but upon getting to know him more, he's come upon the assumption that there was something undeniably different about the porcelain man. Regardless of his outer appearance; Slick seemed like a very violent and homicidal maniac, and to most that case is true, but to Scratch... Well, that was skimming the surface.

When the affection to his skin had started to slow, then stop all together, Slick almost chuckled. The only reason being that he could hear the other man panting heatedly and the whimpers string from his lips like that of a canary. There honestly was no reason for him to be muffling himself, seeing that the taller would enjoy any and all sorts of noises from the shorter, but he does not make a move to earn a louder noise then he is currently receiving. When the man's hips shift so that a new angle is provided, Slick takes full advantage of it. The hand clutching the table then shifts, snaking around the other's pale waist and hooking in a manner to hold Scratch close to himself. Because he doesn't wish to make any unneeded or unwanted noises, he slows his hips down, nuzzling into the other's pale locks as he buried his face into his own shoulder. The arm holding Scratch puts a bit of pressure upon the surface of the furniture he was on, just so it stays in place as he keeps a very steady and, deep pace of his thrusts. There wasn't necessarily any stopping to his sudden tipping over the peak of pleasure, even with his slow pace, he found that he was starting to ride out his orgasm soon enough.

Like the first time, there wasn't much of a warning other then a sudden clench of his jaw, blunt nails digging into the other's lower back, and the sudden stuttering of his hips before a long, satisfied growl escapes him. He hadn't buried his fangs into pale flesh towards the end this time; he didn't need to. Slick figured he had done enough respectable damage in the beginning, and the swift switch of actions that turned aggression into a more passionate expression was an almost silent way of apologizing for such harsh treatment. He wasn't one for verbally apologizing, and such an occurrence was a rarity if it ever did happen, that is. Earlier that day, when Slick had apologized to Scratch for his shenanigans (to put it lightly) with the ring, that was more then likely a word that would become almost legendary between them. It wasn't something he would utter after every mistake he would make, and fate was certain to throw low balls right his way, but when he did say something as significant as 'sorry', he meant it. Yes, he was a lair, and a grand thief, but he did have boundaries... However minimal they were, and they could literally be counted off on one hand.

2014-10-05 04:08:37
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Scratch couldn't bring himself to resume his work at Spades Slick's neck even after he slowed his thrusts, still panting and focusing on the feeling of the muscles in his abdomen winding tighter. On some level the slower motions were appreciated, and still managed to draw deep pants and slightly-quieted moans from the smaller man. This pace, which Scratch's hand slowed its motions to match and keep up with, seemed more loving to him than a faster, harder one would; though sometimes the latter was what was desired, Scratch found this to make him feel as if Slick was trying to be genuinely affectionate and tender with him in wake of the night's events and (perhaps) those regrettable thoughts from earlier. Slick's arm being wound tightly around his hip resulted in Scratch letting out a stuttering gasp. He liked that feeling- sensation of arms around him firmly, holding him closely. Even in this setting, it warmed Scratch almost incomprehensibly. He craved that feeling of soft physical intimacy like Spades Slick would the taste of vanilla that laced Scratch's ivory skin. That sort of thing wasn't what anyone would expect Spades Slick to condone or even deign to indulge in. That being said, not a lot of people would think Doc Scratch enjoyed that either. Though Slick had many layers that Scratch had bore more witness to than most (if not all) others, the pale man still had to wonder if Slick really did enjoy that sort of affection, or if he found it to be pointless and he had no cause to bother with them. If that was the case, Scratch supposed he could deal with that, but he had reason to believe Slick felt otherwise.

The stilling of Slick's hips was the only warning Scratch received before he felt the other man release into him, resulting in a soft cry from the First Guardian. Though it was almost painfully lascivious to even think, Doc Scratch considered that to be a very pleasurable sensation as well, and it was not likely he would chastise Slick for coming inside even without asking. Slick's low growl seemed to sink into his core, and moments after the other had finished, Scratch did as well, letting out a low moan that ended in, unsurprisingly to himself, his partner's name. Scratch offhandedly wondered if the opposite would ever occur. What followed were slowly-evening breaths as he wound down, rather satisfied. His head still rested on Slick's shoulder, and since the other had pressed into his hair, he was unlikely to move it. His eyes had closed lightly, but dark green still adorned his features, heavy in his cheeks. He almost grimaced when he finally took note of the damp warmth on his hand. Scratch was relieved that, this time at least, he hadn't gotten any of his fluids on Spades Slick- that was far beyond embarrassing to him, no matter what the other man thought of it. Thankfully there was a sink only a few feet away, and Scratch could remove his dress shirt, which was now torn and a bit bloodied. For such an unconventional place to have sex, it was kitted out well enough for afterwards.

Scratch would, however, wait until the other man moved, and pulled himself out. Afterwards, Scratch would be sure to retrieve the ring's black and white checkered box and fetch the man his jacket. Though satisfied with their antics, Doc Scratch wasn't exactly tired- tiring someone such as him out was another undertaking all in its own, and a rather monolithic one at that. He would always recover rather quick, even from orgasm, unless there were something to prevent that. Of course, there was very little anywhere that could hope to accomplish such a feat, and such things he was sure Spades Slick either did not have access to or would not utilize, because more likely than not they would hurt Scratch. As degenerate as people would make the Crew leader out to be, he was surprisingly decent to Scratch. He appreciated the kind treatment, it wasn't something he received every day and from someone such as Slick it was made doubly enjoyable. It almost made Scratch feel exclusive in some way, and he was. Exclusive to Slick, in more personal ways than he'd ever been. Scratch expected the same sort of behavior in return, and though he wasn't suspicious or paranoid, hoped Slick kept in mind the fact saw all things as it was- and Slick with another person while in the duration of their relationship was not one he was keen on witnessing.

2014-10-05 20:58:25
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Scratch's gasping stutter didn't go unnoticed, but he neglected to acknowledge it as he was entranced by the sudden bliss his system racked through when he had finally released. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and almost had him reeling had he not been clutching onto Scratch's waist and holding him close. Such a close proximity practically wrapped and bound both of their heat together as one, making Slick almost feel as if he were radiating some unnatural warmth that would be close to that of a worrisome fever. Though, there was nothing to worry about, and in a way, he sort of welcomed the warmth. His ears were ringing something fierce though, either from his sudden euphoria, or because of the small cry from Scratch being close to his ear. It wasn't as if such a sound was loud, but more so it was a pleasant surprise, and the word of his name slipping past breathless lips had him wishing he could keep such a word for himself, and only himself, to hear. He doesn't think he could ever stand that same breath exclaiming someone else's name, nor those pants being from anyone else's actions, regardless of who the person was in class or stature, Slick would have none of that. A part of him felt some hint of jealousy, if not resentment, at the thought of another holding the pale man as close as Slick was at the moment.

He couldn't be focusing upon such negative feelings though, instead he shoved those thoughts down and away to some dark corner of his mind to ponder over later, and shifted slightly where he stood, chest heaving a bit as he panted and tried to keep himself from falling over where he stood. Scratch may not tire much at all in these cases, but after Slick comes down from his high, he always felt quite exhausted. Not necessarily a bad thing, seeing that he needed to loosen up a bit, but in a more satisfied, pleasant way like one would feel whilst drinking hot chocolate and reading a good book. Or, in Spades' case, a cold beer and a good card game.

As he pulls out, he still holds the other, making sure that he wouldn't teeter on the table, and also so he wouldn't collapse himself. As usual, he didn't at all feel exposed in his current state, even with his pants around his ankles and his defenses down. As he was now retracting his arms from around Scratch and fully catching his breath, one hand still placed upon the table to use it for leverage, he was slightly amazed by the fact the other was able to get up and retrieve the box and his black jacket from the floor with little brace from the falling events.

Once the taller was able to gather himself, mainly at least, he started to pull his pants back up, finding himself teetering slightly just once, then gained his balance as he was buckling his belt and finally, it hit him. He had just had sex with Scratch... On the table. Out of all things he's ever done, which he has screwed someone in a much more skeptical area and surface, he has never wanted to laugh so hard in his life. It wasn't at Scratch, nor was it with him. It was more so at himself, seeing that one, he would have never thought he'd do such a thing with the proclaimed 'enemy' (far from that now), nor would he have ever assumed that Doc Scratch would allow him to such a thing. In fact, he was surprised he hadn't been chastised the entire time. Or, maybe, Scratch would indeed bring up this fact and give Slick a thorough scorn, which the mobster solely wished didn't happen. It wasn't as if he had planned it all to happen as it had, in fact he still felt quite regrettable towards the beginning and the fact he had thought quite the morally questionable thoughts in his head. Really, if the porcelain man asked for an apology, Slick would not hesitate to deliver one, nor would he be disappointed that it was asked of him since he was rightfully in the wrong.

2014-10-06 14:50:22
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Doc Scratch sounded a very quiet whimper when the other man pulled out and away from him, and followed it up with slowly-quieting pants. He felt much the same as Slick, and nuzzled briefly into him, before he pulled away. His face still flushed, Scratch did not wish to stand either, though not out of fatigue. He still felt embarrassment from his exposure, and still needed to clean himself up, but he'd have to wait until the other man let him up. In his mind it would always be infinitely awkward, and he felt fairly certain Spades Slick wouldn't vocalize the opposite opinion. Hopefully he wouldn't mind too much while in his nebulous state of afterglow, which appeared to be slowly segueing into fatigue. Scratch honestly thought that was cute and would have no issue informing the other, unafraid of what he might react with; Scratch could foresee grumbling and angry denial, but nothing that wouldn't make him chuckle and smirk at the taller. Scratch actually liked the fact Slick would be the jealous type. It appealed to him on some mortifyingly base level, one Scratch sometimes thought he didn't possess. Slick did have every right to feel the way he did, looking at it rationally; Doc Scratch was a handsome-looking man, polite and refined, who lived in a large mansion home to fourteen other men and one woman. Slick did not spend all his time fully aware of Scratch's engagements or current activity, and even then the porcelain man could exercise some control over the faculties of the mind. If he were to cheat on Slick, it was more than likely he could get away with it and Slick would be none the wiser.

Doc Scratch was not the sort of man to do that to anyone. He was keenly attuned to other people's thoughts and feelings, and not just because of his omniscient standing. He wouldn't want to hurt anyone that way, least of all Spades Slick. Even if the Midnight Crew leader did something to harm him, Scratch would not subject him to that as a form of revenge. He could be spiteful, yes, but to that degree... Scratch wasn't sure he could manage it. The thought didn't sit quite well with him; then again, the thought of Spades Slick betraying him somehow at all didn't appeal to Scratch in any way, shape, or form. He was sure the sentiment was shared between them, at any rate. And to some degree, in some areas of his life, Scratch enjoyed control being exerted over him. The sort of jealousy Slick displayed was fully welcome, while subjugation was not. First Guardians were not meant to be told what to do, this much Scratch knew. But there wasn't much he could do about his own situation, so he decided to simply keep quiet about the entire thing. It wasn't something Scratch wanted to delve into at the moment. He had more pressing issues to deal with, and by pressing he meant cleaning up. It was easy enough to crouch down in order to hand Slick his jacket up and fetch the ring box (both with his clean hand, of course) but somehow walking the few feet to the sink was difficult. Largely because he knew he didn't have to look in order to know about the trail of off-white fluid sliding down his thigh- he could feel it. It made his face burn with embarrassment and after thoroughly washing his hands he made sure to throw Slick an annoyed glance and a "you know why I'm annoyed" glance in one over his shoulder. He didn't mean any harm by it, but to a man as clean-cut as Scratch, this was a bit much.

After that, Doc Scratch was quick to retrieve his undergarments and dress pants, quickly putting them on and moving to unbutton his green shirt and remove it. He simply hung it over his arm as he leaned back against the table, not too far from Slick. Scratch regarded the other man silently, taking in his tired countenance. It was hard not to grin; he had to be the only one who thought of Spades Slick as cute. Then again, he had to be one of the only ones who had ever seen Slick as anything but a dangerous man with a quick temper and sharp objects concealed on his person. The fact he could be affectionate aided Scratch in seeing him as worthy of the same. The pale man crossed his slender arms over the long green stains on his undershirt, where Slick had clawed him open. The tears in the fabric revealed alabaster flesh already healed and back to its usual state- devoid of any scars or marring otherwise. Scratch had more undershirts, it was true, but this one would have to be done away with. As much havoc as Slick had wrought that night, one might've thought he could spare Scratch's clothing of the massacre. Sadly that hadn't been true, but Scratch had no intentions to gain revenge of the same kind. Though he could easily tear clothing, he wouldn't do that to Slick- he was a bit too proper, still. Whether or not that would regress over time remained to be seen.

2014-10-06 20:55:18
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Carefully, Slick accepted his jacket, not bothering to pay it off of any dust particles or whatever degree was upon the floor, and carelessly tossed it upon the table near where he stood, leaning against the furniture still. He grimaced slightly then, only because the other didn't have to retrieve his jacket, in fact he wouldn't care if it was left upon the floor and someone stumbled upon it. He could just imagine how the conversation as to why the Crew leader's suit jacket was located on Felt territory, let alone in a pantry like area. Seeing such a slightly embarrassed and a bit reluctant Scratch try and explain the situation... In almost made Slick wish to chuckle, however when he was shot a curt scowl over the other's shoulder, he swallowed such an amused noise. It took a moment for him to realize the scorn wasn't from his thoughts, but from the mess that was dripping between the other's thighs, the Crew leader biting his lower lip and allowing what sounded like a hint of a snicker to slip from his throat. Quickly, he had to swallow that noise too, reaching up to rub the back of his neck and give a slightly apologetic and also embarrassed expression. He wasn't really embarrassed for himself, but for the other really, but then again he shouldn't have been since the green flush upon the man's cheeks was evidence enough to tell the Crew leader he was a bit self conscious.

Slick didn't need to wash himself off, and as soon as Scratch was done washing his hand and redressing himself, though stripping of his shirt since it was in tatters, via Slick's claws, the taller had finally caught his breath as he contemplated sitting down. He could indeed do so, but the only thing he was uneasy about was falling asleep, and he knew if he relaxed in his current state, he would more then likely knock out for a couple hours or so, without a doubt. When the shorter man stood promptly, leaning a bit against the edge of the furniture their evening seemed to be centered around, he shifted just slightly to gently caress his cheek, knowing for some odd reason that there was something amusing the other man was thinking about; some sort of smile was being smothered, and Slick knew because the corners of Scratch's mouth curled in a certain manner Slick didn't even know he had grown familiar of. After a comfortably quiet second or so, he gave a brief nuzzle back in return for Scratch's earlier one, but also added a light and affectionate kiss to the man's temple, silently smirking afterward as he pulled back to be able to look the shorter over. Even after all the clawing, biting, and marking, he had still come out unscathed in the end, though there was a smear of jade blood here and there, it didn't compare to the earlier gore Slick had allowed to occur. In a way, the mobster now enjoyed the fact the marks healed up; not because he could make more, though that was a plus too, but he still felt slightly regrettable towards his actions (and thoughts) earlier.

As he runs over his actions a bit, he self consciously reaches out to brush fingertips over the other's collarbone, tilting his head slightly to the side and not at all minding whether or not his guard was still down currently, which it was, and wasn't at all what something a man like him should do. At all times, his guard should be up and on point; he could be dead within a precise aim of a gun or flick of the wrist with a knife against his jugular. The fact of the matter was, inevitably, in the end, his survival rate will indeed drop to zero, as did any mortal, and there wasn't necessarily anything he could do about it. He's come to terms with this already, and didn't fear it, more so accepted it, but didn't worship it like it was all life was meant for. You do the things you want, do shit and try not to get caught (things that are probably morally questionable and law breaking, for instance), and above all, make himself satisfied. He didn't want to die without his name being known though, that was the only thing he found intimidating... Another figure with another name and another tombstone. That's not what he wanted. He didn't want an anticlimactic death, or for people to not know who he was, only that he was a dead carcass in a havoc induced scenario. He wants a name to his face, something the city would remember... Well, the earlier events of the day was certainly something to remember, but then again they didn't really know it was Slick who had caused such a hell. Oh well, for now he supposed he'd focus upon making some history with the man he was currently looking in fascination over. Almost with a satisfied smirk, he says,

"At least ya ain't cold anymore."

2014-10-07 01:43:27
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Scratch allowed a light, contented sigh to escape him as Slick kissed his temple; he did not bear any ill feelings toward the other man whatsoever, for anything that had transpired. It was hard for him to try to do that when the other mobster expressed genuine remorse for it, even if he hadn't explicitly apologized with words. Scratch knew the other man's policies, and he thought it only right he allowed him to abide by them when they were together. If anything bothered him, it was that snicker Spades Slick had let out when he'd seen the mess on Scratch's thighs. The porcelain man figured if anybody had the right to get a laugh out of it, it was the man who'd caused it. And Scratch was hardly even bothered, per se- just a bit worked up, flustered, like Slick always managed to get him. Altogether, it wasn't an unwelcome feeling, and faded swiftly at the other man's touch. He enjoyed the casual way Slick stroked his cheek, the light kisses, and affectionate contact, the way it all lacked any sense of urgency or direness, as if nothing was being expected from him. Doc Scratch appreciated that. Of all things people would expect, let alone appreciate, from Spades Slick, gentle displays of affection had to be the last on the list. Scratch would label himself pleasantly surprised as a result of his treatment. Their first kiss certainly hadn't been an accurate portrayal of how the rest of their relationship would play out.

Doc Scratch let his eyes flick upward as Slick pulled back to look him over. He knew he was examining the way he'd healed back up, but didn't seem to be self-conscious under his gaze. Scratch had to be more used to being considered an oddity than most, which likely attributed to that, and made the fact he felt embarrassed when lacking any clothing a bit weird. His physical composure had to be the most (if not only) human thing about him, which he shared with generally everyone else. It didn't exactly stand to reason why he was embarrassed of it then; occasionally Scratch thought he should enjoy his physical form while it still technically belonged to him, but the so-called desires of the flesh had never came very easily to the man. That being said, he had the impression that when Slick looked at him it wasn't with disdain, or even confusion, it was something else. Occasionally something like curiosity, but the domineering quality had to be fascination. It wasn't the sort one would display when the subject was a complex chemical reaction or some new species of animal in the wild; Scratch didn't know what to call it. It was Slick looking at him like he was a someone, not a something. It almost seemed like a pointless fact, but to Scratch it was invaluable in every conceivable way. It seemed some sort of bitter irony that Slick, purported nemesis of the Felt and all it claimed to stand for, could treat him with more respect than some members of his own organization.

"At least ya ain't cold anymore."

Doc Scratch refocused on the other man, having a hard time trying not to frown at him as if teased. That smirk he wore always made Scratch feel that way, but to almost no ill effect. It was a jocular sort of pestering that the both of them were guilty of indulging in, and Scratch had half a mind to tease him right back. But there wasn't much he could do to that effect, not this time; Slick was right, and there was no way Scratch could argue it. He had warmed up considerably, even though there was still a touch of coolness in his extremities. The heat of Slick's skin and the friction that had passed between them was not forgotten, however, and Scratch recalled it even as the other man touched his collarbone.

"Yes, I suppose you have a point." Doc Scratch said with a mocking sort of weariness in his voice, as if he were reluctant to admit Spades Slick was right about something. This wasn't the case, but it was all he had to get back at Slick with. Even this was lost as he smiled warmly to the other after speaking, head cocking a bit to the side. He didn't speak out against the guilty thoughts Slick was currently experiencing, but he did happen to think the other man shouldn't have felt bad about it. It had been an adverse reaction triggered by the paler man and not one that made Slick into an irredeemable figure in anyone's eyes. Not even the events that had transpired after he put on the ring could make Scratch feel Slick was that way, and certainly wouldn't cause his opinion of him to sour, or his memories. Scratch was not the sort to forget anything at all, and even if Slick were to expire before Scratch did (which, in dismal reality, was incredibly likely), the memories would not follow suit. If only one person were to remember Spades Slick, it would be him.

2014-10-07 17:06:10
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He would, now and probably for the rest of his natural born life, annoy the shorter and much paler man. It wasn't debatable, there was no if's, and's, or but's in the matter. Slick enjoyed it, not just because he got a small kick out of irritating the man, but because Scratch didn't simply lie down and take such teasing. He instead threw some sarcasm or snarky comments back, either earning a scoff of amusement or impressed expression from the mobster in return. It was a very playful game between them, though they hadn't conversed about the limits or what was the point of such a 'game'. Instead, they both understood silently what was respectively allowed and what wasn't, the point being to merely entertain one another and be, well, affectionate, even in this snarky manner. Even as Scratch gave a hint of a frown, it being a bit obvious he was attempting to suppress it, Slick knew he hadn't caused any real harm with his teasing words and smug smirk. In fact, as the opposing man paused to retort against the mobster, his smirk never faltered for a second... Of course, until he had finally responded to Slick, which in turn has his smirk twisting into something along the lines of distaste. It wasn't a long moment until he gave a shirt at the other's charismatic smile, exposing that he meant no ill harm in his words.

"Smug bastard, ya know damn well it did. I ought't'a..." He trailed off gently on his empty threat, the hand on Scratch's collarbone stilling before reaching up to tap under the man's chin, and before he could really be stopped, he stole a swift kiss, smirking into it. He knew he would never grow tired of attempting (and failing) to irritate Doc Scratch, and for some reasons, he felt the other held the same opinion. Maybe it was something leaders just did, because of their knowledge and wariness of others, the fact they always had to be one step ahead of the game all the time and make a name of their subordinates... It could be stressful, that was without a doubt, but with the Feld leader? As much as one would automatically assume he'd be tense and on edge, that was not the case; unless he was alone in the Manor, then that was a different story. But, with the porcelain-like man, Slick couldn't be more relaxed, regardless of whether they had sex or not, that certainly didn't matter to him; though, it was always a plus on his side. He just enjoyed the fact Scratch didn't seem to care much about his rugged actions and appearance, nor did he seem very intimidated, if at all, by his reputation to be quite the blood thirsty man. Instead he just saw him as another being, maybe like that of a large, vicious beast who could be tamed with the right care. Well, he didn't necessarily treat him like an animal, but Slick can understand how he himself can relate to one, but the shorter just... Brings out the human in him, so to speak.

After he had stolen his kiss, he paused, contemplating his own thoughts for a moment before finally settling upon an option that could undeniably be amusing to the two. It wasn't something that would jeopardize either of them, that is, if they were careful. Though, considering all the shenanigans they've gone through together so far, it would be a bit ironical if they were to get caught now when they seemed to be deep into the relationship they somehow managed to keep sewed together. It was a wonder how Scratch could have enough patience for Slick, and it was a miracle Slick hadn't gone haywire after staying one night in the Felt Manor, one of the most hated places on his list of 'To Burn'.

"Y'know what we should do?" He started slowly, as if tasting the words in his mouth to make sure they were coming out right. "I think we should go out 'gain, not t'a the park though, that can be for another time, prolly." He shrugged, half smiling as he straightened up and started to shoulder on his black blazer, not at all worried about the time to be back of the hatch since he'd be leaving soon anyway, if Scratch had no objections, of course. "The city's pretty banged up right now, so there ain't a lot't'a places we could go, but't'a-" he patted his pocket to make sure he had his keys, "-there's this place, 's not the most rugged of places 'n' there's only a few crooks who go there since it's kinda on the down-low, but did ya wanna, I dunno, go to this... Restaurant? It's like a restaurant, but there's dancin', 'n' I know ya don't get out much, but I think it'll be entertainin'; shit if I know." Some part of himself felt like he was rambling, and another part of himself felt odd since, this is what you were suppose to do when asking someone out, who is kind of already technically his partner, right? Hopefully.

2014-10-08 01:20:31
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Though Spades Slick might have thought he'd stolen the kiss, Doc Scratch was able to return it when it did occur. That was one of the upsides to knowing when something would happen- Scratch was always able to react accordingly, without hesitation as to what his actions would result in, and with ample time to neutralize whatever threats could arise. Scratch was the paragon of strategists, it was true, though sometimes he had next to no use for it whatsoever, aside from in his daily mundane life. He was naturally intelligent, omniscience aside, and could use that enough to his advantage over others. Sometimes it was made far too easy for him. That way, next to nothing presented an intellectual challenge toward the man, and very few things could stand up and pose one in the physical arena. Really his largest concern was the safety of others where his First Guardian abilities were concerned- there was potential for injury and, just like prolonged exposure to any sun, regardless of coloration, cancer was a very real possibility. Highly unlikely in anyone, but still real. Scratch did not want to be responsible for that- it was one of the things he opposed most about his existence in general. Simply being around him or in contact with him posed no danger, but it was the energy manifest that caused problems. It was why he was perfectly careful, and took precautions some did not even perceive. No one was wrong when they said Doc Scratch was dangerous, but there was no cause at all for him to recklessly endanger others.

He supposed, in that regard, he and Spades Slick leveled each other out. The other man had a tendency to make rash decisions and essentially to go with them and make the most of his results, whatever they turned out to be. While it couldn't be said that Slick completely lacked intellect, it was true he focused more on instinct, and his gut feeling. Scratch couldn't say he was fond of doing that- he followed what he knew, and when that was next to everything, what cause did he have to follow such feelings, which had the possibility to turn rather sour if they happened to be wrong. But lately he'd found he was going a bit against the use of strict knowledge- he knew he shouldn't sneak around with Slick behind others' backs, but, for whatever reason... He wanted to. So he did. For once, Scratch did what /he/ wanted. And nothing had really happened. No one had died, as yet. No one had magically known. It was with a very strange and sudden sense of disbelief Scratch realized he had the freedom to do these things, as long as he disregarded the rules. He felt no guilt for it. He did not even feel as if he were cheating someone, or really deceiving them at all. And in an even more baffling turn of events, Scratch had found he was actually happy- it had cheered him, in all honesty. Never had he felt so, well, adored by a person before. It gave him that feeling, however clichéd it sounded, the warmth inside that had no discernible source save the other, his words or his actions.

After Spades Slick asked if Scratch knew what they should do, to which the latter responded with "No, what?", he adopted a pleasant, however quiet, countenance, smiling lightly to himself and watching the other with amused eyes. It wasn't amusement exactly, it was a subdued sense of Scratch's plain liking of him, the sort of expression one would wear as a well-loved friend told an old story or perhaps a new one and grew excited. Scratch already knew what the answer he was to receive would be, and now he simply waited on it. Spades Slick's description, though it was in regards to a place Scratch knew of, still left him with a few questions. What sort of dancing, was one of them. He could've asked in order to expose Slick's true intent, which varied greatly depending on just where he had in mind. One place could indicate some very unwholesome notions, and another the exact opposite. But Scratch was not truly curious as to where he meant, and found that no matter where Slick wanted to take him, he figured he might as well go. It would make the other man happy, and that was something he liked to see. And it wouldn't hurt him to get out a little more, at least- and with Slick, as backward as it sounded, he knew he'd be in good company.

"I can't quite find it in me to turn you down. I have no real reason not to." Scratch said mildly, giving the slightest shrug of his shoulders. "It sounds as if it would be entertaining, as you say, in the very least. Though I do hope this time you'll at least tell me how I ought to dress." The last part was a bit teasing of him to say, and delivered in that tone. But if Slick had the intent to take him to some club or something of the shadier variety, Scratch didn't want to be stuck in his usual attire. The same was true for the opposite circumstances more upscale places- contrary to popular belief, yes, Scratch could dress nicer than he did normally.

2014-10-08 16:57:17
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He didn't notice it at first, but when he had finished his blathering, he noted the other's expression was that as if looking upon something he was fond of, expressing contentment and maybe even amusement. Did Slick really earn such an expression? Well, maybe, but, did he deserve it was the next question. Some very small part of him, the part of himself that would never vanquish and would insist he was the rightful boss of the town, thought 'Yes, I deserve it without a doubt', but it wasn't in an affectionate, shy way; no, it was more so cocky, full of himself, and though Slick couldn't tell often when he was being such a thing, now he understands that those thoughts are not his own and were of a ruthless man who fought tooth and nail to get what he wanted and thought he solely deserved. Maybe, in a way, he did deserve anything he wanted. He grew up from being street trash, to being one of the most feared men in Midnight City. That was more then anyone of his standard could have asked for, and not only did he somehow conjure up the courage to cause such anarchy in the city, but now he was stumbling upon maddened territory by allowing himself to persue this relationship between himself and the Felt leader. Not only is he the 'rival' and partner in one, (really, keeping his friends close and his enemies closer hadn't necessarily held this sort of predicament in mind), but Scratch was not of the mortal race. Now, this should have been something that would have grown the taller man off and caused some bafflement, however he had handled the situation quite well in his own words. In fact, he didn't often think of the regeneration to be odd, maybe foreign, but certainly not odd or bad, even in the slightest. It was just something the paler had the capability of doing.

Maybe that was another unknown characteristic of Spades Slick; he honestly didn't see the oddities of people. He took them as characteristics, like that one would take when considering the alphabet and the way each letter has a specific niché or role. The way a vowel curls around the tongue, or could be harshly pronounced when said quickly, or how the letter 'd' looked close to that of the letter 'b' , but the two served entirely two different purposes. It was just something he had grown up to live with, though the law enforcement holds some very colorful language from his lacking vocabulary, he still sees each man as their own, regardless of what 'difficiences' or unusual characteristics they own. Hell, if Slick went around merely picking off which brutes he disliked merely upon appearance, he would have been disgusted with his own physic. Well, he was a bit touchy about the whole mechanical arm scenario, however that didn't arise in any topics of conversation since many feared his reaction, with good reason too. He had gone through quite the upsetting state when he had first gotten injured, not a very depressed one, however he was a bit more aggressive then he could be now (surprisingly). Droog had helped get him the new appendage he has now, though he still could,not exactly feel anything upon the cool metal of his palm, it was efficient and worked properly enough. With a bit of practicing with it and time, he had grown accustomed to having a numb feeling in his left arm, minus the pins and needles when he would move it about as a response of a limb 'falling asleep'.

All that aside, the main point was he mainly felt like he shouldn't deserve such an expression, nor did he think he deserved Scratch, his peculiarities or not. When the mentioned man then verbally mentioned his allowance to accompany Slick to a restaurant, the taller couldn't suppressed the relief that relaxed his shoulders. He hadn't even noticed how tense he had been when awaiting an answer, but now he was giving a contemplative look at the last few words. The teasing tone wasn't overlooked, earning an amused smirk, but he looks almost... Reluctant, really. Not because he was suddenly dissuaded by the agreement to go out, but because, well, Scratch had a point. Slick should mention as to what to wear for such an occasion, but the topic wasn't one he was acquainted well with.

"Well... I guess I could do that." The way he spoke of the matter was almost as if it were an afterthought, not precisely nonchalant, seeing that his gaze was averted to the side in an almost hesitant way. "It's a ball, really. The only fuckin' reason I know of it is cause Droog goes there sometimes, says it's nice, 'n' in his definitions, if it's 'nice', it's prolly great." He shrugs one shoulder. "Not jus' anyone can go in there, it's a, well, kinda like a speakeasy really, but't'a, fancier--with less crooks too." He quickly added in the last part, not wanting it to seem like it was like that of the slums when it was actually a pretty respectable place. It had fine dining, ball room dancing, friendly chatter, and only every once in awhile did one get their throat slit for mouthing off to a finely dressed criminal. Maybe it wasn't perfect, of course, but it was fanciful to most anyone's standards.

2014-10-09 14:50:59
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One thing Doc Scratch was profoundly grateful for to Spades Slick was the fact that he did not assume that since Scratch was almost fully omniscient, he did not need to discuss or explain whatever plans or events were on the table. Scratch had known more than a few people like that in his long lifetime, and completely despised that sort of treatment. He felt downright patronized when others employed that tactic, thinking they were clever for it, and then had the gall to act surprised when Scratch became complacent and stubborn in revealing his own information and didn't quite play along the way they liked. If there were anything that gave Doc Scratch, in all his collected elegance and polished manners, the urge to turn into something more reminiscent of Slick, coarse and ill-tempered, it was that sort of treatment. Thankfully for the both of them, Slick hadn't said anything like "Well you already know where and when it is, so why can't you just answer me", or else he would've been treated to a much more strict and thoroughly unamused visage of the shorter man. Neither of them wanted that, so Scratch hoped Slick stayed on such good behavior. He wasn't going to go about praising the other man just for being halfway decent with himself, but Scratch would admit the treatment he'd received from Slick was unprecedented coming from the other's reputation. Every Felt member and even those outside both criminal gangs would swiftly assume Spades Slick would rather bite Scratch's throat out than kiss him gently. Likewise most would say the Felt's leader would be much more likely to down acid than be in a relationship with Slick. It seemed they were both a bit misconceived, Scratch thought, but perhaps it was for their better.

In some ways, Scratch could catch himself admiring the other man for a number of reasons. Many deplorable things could be said of Spades Slick and not be so far off-base, but he could not be called slovenly- he had worked hard in order to achieve his current position in the city's underworld and then maintaining it since then. This was a man who had fought tooth and nail in order to pull himself out of where he'd been, and in the context of making a name for himself, no, nobody could call Spades Slick lazy and get away with it. He had put a great deal of effort into it all and if Slick ever told Scratch he felt as if he didn't deserve him, Scratch would contest the point. In a humorously vain way, Scratch could've told him that he deserved a few good things in his life. (Assuming Scratch was a good thing, that was. Considering Slick's treatment of him, he had to be.) Though the Crew leader had never told Scratch very much about his own life, if he had at all, Scratch still knew how he'd developed. His upbringing and environment, the drive he'd possessed to claw his way up- Scratch was witness to it, as he was to everyone else's. He considered it prying a bit, yes, but he knew what the other man had gone through. It almost gave Scratch a strange twinge of envy- Slick had context, he had weight and intent, a purpose behind his constant criminal activities. He'd grown in that environment and thrived and capitalized on it- Doc Scratch had been set in there and told to get to work. And, like the machine he was, he had. That was it. In ways, Scratch felt bad for getting in Slick's way. Someone had just come into his territory with a group of mismatched troublemakers and was challenging his- oh. Scratch understood the reason Slick hated the Felt farther than he'd originally thought.

Doc Scratch took quick notice of Slick's sudden but apparent discomfort at the topic of what sort of dress would be appropriate for their meeting, tilting his head to the right very slightly. He quickly was informed why; Spades Slick had the intent to invite him to a much more highbrow setting than he was traditionally familiar with. Scratch took in this unfamiliar, hesitant countenance and felt his heart pound in his chest potently. Scratch blinked, as if he hadn't heard the other man correctly, but they both knew he had. Why Scratch considered that such a damned sweet notion, he had no next to no clue, but it was. Scratch found even the dodgy way Slick regarded the so-called "ball" to be adorable. And it wasn't as if he'd never heard of the place- Scratch had always thought of it as more suited to the others, however. Sawbuck, Snowman, perhaps Clover even were more likely to make an appearance there, and who was to say they hadn't? Scratch did not unnecessarily proctor their comings and goings unless one of them was plotting some form of betrayal against the Felt. Then a bit of restriction might be in order, but not usually. Nonetheless, Slick's explanation drew a smile from Scratch.

"That sounds delightful." Scratch said softly. It sounded a bit harsh on himself, but Scratch was surprised Slick wanted to be seen in public with him. "I think I would enjoy going somewhere like that with you. If you'd have me, of course." And he meant that, too.

2014-10-09 20:12:03
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Half the time, Slick honestly let the thought of Scratch and his omniscience slip right past his mind. Only sometimes would it hit him that, oh, the Felt leader has the capability of looking into the future, present, and past. The last part was a bit iffy, seeing that Slick would only consider the past being a probable capability since the paler knew more about it then Spades himself. Also, he didn't bring up the popular topic of telling Scratch he should be telling the mobster of what was to happen since, honestly, he didn't expect that out of him. Even if the paler was capable of seeing what was to come, he did a spectacular job of reacting surprised, shocked, or even amused at times. Or, maybe, it wasn't an act at all, and he was legitimately as he acted to be. Either way, Slick doesn't mind it, and honestly can't find an opportunity where he would really find it in himself to ask the shorter what would happen in the future, or if anything were to befall them. That may indeed be a major worry for the mobster; if their relationship were to go up in flames and come out in black ashes to merely be blown off by some merciless gust of wind. Something tells him that wasn't what was going to happen, or else Scratch wouldn't have gotten so involved with him, but that thought was relentlessly nagging the back of his mind. He, of course, would never verbally bring it up, not because he was intimidated by asking something so personal, but because he was, well, almost terrified, to say the least. He didn't want to know, and sometimes staying in the dark of things was the best of situations. Though, he practically lived in the darkness literally and figuratively already, so that wasn't anything foreign to him.

When the other had agreed to his offer, Slick gave a delighted half smile,more livened really. He still felt that he had blathered, and honestly he could still see himself blathering even now, but he kept in mind to watch his words.

"The hell ya mean, 'if you'd have me'? 'Course I want ya t'a go, else I wouldn't have asked." Well, that was rather blunt, but it was true. If he didn't wish for someone to go with him to a certain event or party, more then likely he wouldn't ask. Unless it was someone his job required him to go on a meeting with, Slick would refuse to go to any putting with any aggravating person, Droog being a rare exception. The tempered man was part of the Crew, and was a formidable subordinate. He kept the team on their tracks when Slick would have an episode of either violence or down right stupidity, and was respectable in billiards as well. Really, Droog was probably the complete opposite of Slick, besides their temper, he was quite the gentleman to ladies, where Slick wished to carve Snowman's throat out, regardless of her being a female, and the subordinate also minded his manners. Slick wouldn't go as far as to say he was like Doc Scratch, seeing that their personalities, by his observations at least, were entirely different. Doc was sincere and polite in a gentle manner, whilst Diamonds was polite and mannered in a more stern, 'do what I say because I said so' sort of way. The Crew respect both individuals, however it seemed he favored one over the other by the turn of events. In a way, Slick was moderately surprised. Some part of him had somehow assumed him and Droog would have a rising relationship that was something that went beyond the bedroom. It was no secret him and the finely dressed man had something going on, the other two Crew members having had the hunch for awhile now, but instead of furthering the relationship, Slick has found something more appealing, something he thinks deserves his attention and affection both, and has the capabilities to turn the mobster into a glob of affection.

"What are ya gonna be doin' tomorrow? If you're free, we can do it then, but if ya got shit t'a do, I can get a reservation for another day." He paused then, tasting the word 'reservation' in his mouth, and finding he didn't necessarily like it. He's heard others use such a term when associating with calling the restaurant to keep a table reserved for whoever had called first for it. Slick didn't do that often, and really, if he had a choice, he'd simply knock over anyone who was sitting at a table he wished to have and would have no problem earning it the only way he knew how; in a violent, merciless way, but that sort of action wasn't called for for their... Date. There was no other word for it, and since their relationship has progressed so much, the word doesn't feel as foreign as it should. This would only be their second date, and compared to the other 'dates' he's been present in, it wasn't as intimidating as the one he knew he would soon be involved in. Another thing that soon occurs to him is that, holy shit he's going to a ball. That automatically means his current attire would be questionable at best, but maybe he could get away with it. Well, no, maybe not. He wanted this to be a nice outing; it wasn't everyday he could simply go out and enjoy a nice dance with the paler man, and such a thought almost has him smiling self consciously, but he's able to get a wrap of his expression before the smile becomes too prominent.

2014-10-10 17:56:36
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Spades Slick was correct in assuming that Doc Scratch wouldn't have allowed their relationship to go as far as it had if they were only to crash and burn. That was not what Scratch sought exactly- he did not want a relationship that would fall apart for any reason involving the neglect of the two participants. They were both giving and taking properly and things functioned well; if either of them were to cease that, strain would begin to surface. Scratch would not have agreed to seeing Slick if he knew that was the result of it, on the latter's end. His omniscience came in handy that way, too. Scratch really wasn't the sort to wantonly engage in flings or even relationships- he happened to think that a sort of reservation in this aspect was necessary. He didn't give his affections to just anyone, and was proud of his own exclusivity. He'd once been called, in a more appropriate term, prudish, by someone, who had gone on to say no one would want him because of it. Scratch had done a good job of not caring for their words, and his current relationship had further put his mind at ease. In some ways, at least. There were a few things that pulled at him unnecessarily and made him a bit more anxious than they should have. Most wouldn't want to believe that- someone who knew everything, anxious? True, Scratch was omniscient, but his mind had been made to emulate a human's, and doubt came with that design, much to Scratch's utter dismay.

Doc Scratch knew he shouldn't have felt the way he did, and that it'd help neither of them, but he couldn't help it. To him, it was like his guts twisted and his heart was bitten into with an icy blade whenever he thought about Spades Slick's prior relationship with Diamonds Droog, however far it had or hadn't gone. It wasn't the fact that they'd had one in the first place, even. It wasn't that Diamonds Droog was some threat to the relationship that he and Slick currently had going on, either. It was the notion that, due to that union which had preceded Scratch's, he would always be the lesser option, the second choice Spades Slick had been given. That was not what Scratch wanted to be, not at all; what he wanted was not specific, but he knew that wasn't it by any means. Scratch wanted an exception made, not a path taken. It was almost harsh on Slick to think this way, but he also feared the other had chosen to be with him because he had broached the topic of a relationship before Droog had. Essentially, like he'd come around to the idea first and that was why Scratch figured he'd go with him. Understandably, the notion upset Scratch; the thought of always being after someone else, of being the one Slick had /settled/ for, was distressing. Part of him knew it wasn't true, and that was evidenced by Slick treating him like he never had Droog. All the affection, the meetings, they weren't something Slick had indulged Droog. That and the fact the latter man had struck Slick, basically beaten him in a fit of fury. That was something Scratch would not do, for many reasons, among them being he was in better control of his temper and knew it would solve nothing. Scratch's conscience was a vicious beast, however, and it would tear into him whenever he let his guard down. But now he was determined to fend it off through whatever means necessary.

The present was what Scratch made himself focus on now, as it was more important and defining than any past event that hadn't even transpired between the two of them.

"Tomorrow," Scratch hummed. How did he say 'I essentially have no social life whatsoever, so you may pick and choose the date as you like?' in a fashion that did not make him seem deplorably pathetic? He couldn't really.

"I fear my schedule is infinitely flexible, so whenever fits you best would be the same for me." He said dismissively. "Undoubtedly, I will be ready whenever you decide the time is appropriate. It... Sounds like something I would absolutely hate to miss." He smiled encouragingly; though Slick was doing well to contain his own broad grin, Scratch still knew how deep it went. He was glad for this, too, under the opinion it would be a rather enjoyable time. It wasn't often he was able to indulge in things such as this, and he would be sure to be grateful for the opportunity.

2014-10-10 20:49:22
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When the other had simply mimicked the word 'tomorrow' and trailed off with a contemplative hum, Slick honestly thought that he may be busy or the following day. If that was indeed the case, he certainly wouldn't have made it a nothing relatable to a big deal, planning to shrug it off and add a curt, "maybe another day, then?" with a very genuine smile. It wasn't often he would be understanding, and, well, he wouldn't have asked if the other could accompany him to the ball or not if he honestly didn't care for his schedule or opinion. If anything, he would have dragged him along anyway, like he does the Crew when they are needed for a meeting with someone who was willing to make a contract with them. Or, if they were meeting with another gang to somehow come to an agreement upon the opposing gang leaving the city, and the Crew allowing them to leave unscathed (for the right price, of course). The Crew at times would groan and moan complaints about not wanting to go get their deeds done, saying that having a cold one and relaxing on the couch sounded much better then watching Slick snarl promising threats at men who, every once in awhile, attempted to defy him. There was always that one gang that would try and ruffle the Crew leader's feathers, try to dig under his skin and get him to snap. They didn't understand the raven haired man had a very short temper, nor did they understand how violent and volatile he could be either, until the fanged man had a serrated blade pressing snugly against their jugular. That would be the point where even the most stubborn of men would come to an agreement, however there was one or two who didn't, and, well... Slick never said things for show.

That aside, he seemed to be thinking a bit too deeply as, when Scratch finally spoke of his flexible schedule, Slick had looked to the shorter in an almost dazed state before his words sunk in. The paler man's smile was what really snapped him out of it, the taller giving a minute cock of his head before half smiling.

"'Infinitely flexible'? For some reason, I'm gonna take that as a 'I ain't got a very busy schedule', then. Good, it'll be somethin' we'll both enjoy, I think." The last two words weren't really added as an afterthought, and it wasn't as if he were unsure of himself either. He knew the two of the. would have a delightful time, and Slick could maybe do a dance or two with the shorter as well. Slick wasn't at all embarrassed about being seen with him in public either, regardless of his questionable features which would be the only thing to draw attention from others. Slick was sure, Heidegger, once Scratch showed how mannered he was and that he wasn't like most of the crooks in the ball, no one would bother them. Even if they did, Slick wasn't too intimidated to get a bit physical, but he had the feeling that he would be wanting to act on his best behavior during their date. He couldn't go about threatening everyone in the restaurant, nor could he go straight to the bar, slap someone he knew on the back and have a cold alcohol beverage with them. He'd have to, really, be on his toes and (dear deity) mind his manners, for once. Sure, he was gentle with Doc Scratch, affectionate in ways he didn't know was possible, but manners and the capability of being polite was still a bit difficult for him. Not to mention, some would look at him oddly for being so... Well behaved.

If it earns a few raised brows, fine, he could deal with that. It wasn't as if they would say it straight to his face, nor would there be a vast amount of talk about it. It sounded ridiculous, but he really did have a reputation to keep. If someone said the Midnight Crew leader was getting soft, one could bet that the people who were paying him to keep their store, restaurant, or bar free of any trouble would be rethinking their figurative and literal contract. That didn't mean Slick didn't want to go out with Scratch, nor did it mean she didn't want to treat him the way he think he deserved out in public. It was just the fact other's would talk, but he supposed he could make them keep their traps shut if he really needed to. It wasn't as if anyone and everyone conversed with the Crew, and the only one who really went to the ball was Droog, who didn't converse with really anyone there. Honestly, there was no real way he could get caught in going through with the date.

Before he would be leaving for the night, he'd caress the other's cheek once more with his knuckles, grin, and say, "I'd hate for ya to miss out on a good time." It was then he tilted his head to the side slightly, looking the other over to make sure he was physically fine and hadn't been permanently scarred by his own actions, and once he was satisfied, looked back upon the other's verdant hues.

"Ya gonna be all right if I leave now?" He wouldn't come right out and say, "do you want me to stay a little longer?", but would at least hint at it, holding no ill opinion if he was asked to stay.

2014-10-12 00:48:33
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Scratch was never really the one to meet with anybody the Felt needed to deal with, whether they were a "client" or member of another gang. In fact, he handled very little of that, if any at all. Crowbar's social skills normally would more than suffice for what was needed, and so Scratch would remain at his regular post. And next to no one dared walk up to the Manor for an appointment- it was more intimidating to some than Doc Scratch tended to recognize. He realized it was large, sprawling, and concealed many none-too-friendly faces, but he'd never considered it as anything more than a hub for their activities, really. After so long he supposed he'd gotten used to the shock value of the place. Even so, every now and then a certain opponent of theirs, whether it be some other gangster or a private investigator, would need taken down to the boiler room and disposed of. That was the only part of it all Doc Scratch himself had much of a hand in; if someone had it out for him and was perceived as too much of a direct threat, or some detective displayed keen interest in him especially, they would undoubtedly meet Scratch in the end. None of them left to tell their tales, however. Scratch excelled in making people disappear, and if ever it was found necessary by he and the other Felt members, they would arrange it. It had briefly been discussed giving Spades Slick this sort of treatment- ambush, capture, execution. There was a third, optional step in there, but Scratch did not often exercise it when he directed such undertakings. It wasn't that he had no stomach for torture, no; he just found the process time consuming and not quite worth it. There was the occasional man who would spit in his face, and so Scratch would make an exception to his good behavior much as Slick would.

That was not something Slick needed to know about, however; Scratch was sure the Crew leader had done his fair share of grizzly work, but his own he liked to keep behind closed doors. Scratch honestly thought that Slick wouldn't think any less of him if he did know, but, as per usual, preferred to keep his professional and personal lives separate. That being said, which to be displayed on their next little outing was up to debate. No one would recognize his face, that was certain, and if his name got out there would be those who didn't believe it. Not only would someone dismiss it, well aware that the leader of the Felt would never go on a date with his arch rival, but Scratch simply didn't /seem/ to be a mob boss. The figure he cut wasn't one that seemed to match with the underworld. He appeared to be more of an intellectual if anything, some well-to-do social science advocate. And, to some degree, Scratch preferred that. When someone thought his appearance nonthreatening and wasn't aware of the power he truly possessed, they saw no reason to be on their guard around him, and thus lowered it. That was Scratch's first victory. It let him more easily break into the minds of others in that subtle way he had, and better play them to his advantage. As for someone seeing Spades Slick and thinking he'd softened somehow by treating Scratch with affection, well... The most Scratch could offer him was the same form of mass mind control he'd exercised when out grocery shopping for their dinner. It would be easy to make any bystanders quickly forget all they've seen. If Slick behaved well enough, it would be as if they'd never even been there. Even so, letting himself be seen just made Scratch feel... Not exposed, not quite, simply present and having an effect on the environment as a whole. Again, Slick had put him in an exciting position.

Doc Scratch didn't find anything at all wrong with that crooked smile Spades Slick gave him after bringing up Scratch's admittedly void schedule. He knew he wasn't being made fun of, and that Slick really did think it was a good thing. It would help him make future plans, at any rate. When Slick said he thought they'd both enjoy it, Scratch allowed a quiet smile and nodded without a word being said. He dearly hoped he would enjoy it, after all; if not, he certainly wouldn't hold that fact against Slick. To some degree he might feel bad for not enjoying it after all. But he felt confident that wouldn't be the case.

When Slick brushed his knuckles against Scratch's pale cheek, he reflexively leaned in to nuzzle the other's hand gently. He knew the taller man was inspecting him in a way, ensuring no lasting damage had been done to the white marble of his flesh. There hadn't been, of course, save a few stray smears of dark green blood. Scratch would clean those off soon, after Slick departed for his own hideout. So he offered the man a small smile, looking up at him.

"No, I don't think I will detain you any longer." Scratch said contentedly. He was only teasing about the detainment part, aware the other man didn't consider their meetings a retention of any sort.

"You are free to go, of course. But please do be cautious as you return home, I don't wish to be responsible for your endangerment or arrest." It was a cheeky sort of display he cared, but one nonetheless. Scratch reinforced it by leaning up to press a brief, sweet kiss to the other man's lips. Another smile, one more of satisfaction, quirked on his own lips afterward.

2014-10-12 15:28:03
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Everyone has a secret. Whether it be a personal, or group associated one, not everyone knew of each other's pasts and how many times one had been shoved into a corner, forced to do something they normally wouldn't. It was those sort of secrets Slick didn't mind telling others. Why? Because in most situations in which that sort of predicament occurs, he came out victorious and could be caught holding his head a bit higher then normal. There certainly were a few things he didn't feel so proud about; his eye and arm for one thing. Those were both touchy subjects, and he would refuse to talk about them if confronted. The this he liked to converse about were indeed some dirty deeds, but whose to say someone else hadn't done such a thing as well? There were plenty of others who may have gone through the same scenario as the Crew leader; the rest of the Crew was a prime example, but only Droog was as open about what he did as well. Deuce refused to talk about any harm he had caused upon someone, merely giving a shy smile and an embarrassed look before swiftly changing the topic of conversation. Boxcars was indifferent; if someone asked, he'd contemplate telling, and depending upon his mood, he'd give some glimpse into his past. All and all, Slick was the most open about his past then others. It doesn't take one to twist his arm to confess to some sort of scandals, unless it affected such a plan and ruined it. So law enforcement and rival gangs were completely against protocol, except for Scratch, of course. He seemed to be the loophole.

Slick gave an understanding dip of his head at the other's words, giving a small scoff at the analogy, knowing well enough about the paler man to conclude he was teasing. The taller held some sort of content satisfaction from the other briefly nuzzling his hand, adoring such a simple action as that, but refuses to verbally point out such a thing. It was then he was going to say something that related to a farewell, however he was pleasantly interrupted by a sweet kiss from the paler. Though as brief as it was, it had certainly caught him off guard and Scratch was able to earn a vaguely surprised expression and an almost roses tinge to the taller's features. It was a subtle blush, but one nonetheless, which all too plainly gave away his sudden realization that, holy shit he's too enamoring and smug for his own good. The smirk Doc provided afterward only further confirmed his thoughts, making the mobster scoff since it seemed he had just had a kiss stolen from himself. Apparently the opposing man was full of surprises, an minimal as they were.

"Well, if ya say I can go, I guess I'll take my damned leave." He settled, not able to smother the pleased smile on his lips as he gentle retracted his hand from the other's cheek and slid it into his blazer pocket. "Ya be careful yourself." He added as he was backing away, turning, and giving a dismissive wave of his hand over his shoulder. It was a good thing the room they were in wasn't located in the center of the Manor, Slick would have been more then a bit tired trying to remember the path he had taken and which way to go. He left the checkered box with Scratch, seeing that it had more use for him then himself, and was soon slinking out and away from the Felt Manor like a sleek cat.

His Cadillac was still unharmed and awaiting him at the same spot he had parked it; so no one had the stupidity to attempt breaking into it, nor did law enforcement ticket him for parking where he had. For an unbelievably horrid day, it had turned out pretty pleasant eventually. It went a hell of a lot better then he had originally planned at least, and as he slid into his car, he had to automatically take out the cartridge of cigarettes in his glovebox, sticking one between his lips and then tossing the rest of the pack back form whence it came. He didn't bother with a lighter, snapping his fingers at the opposing end of the cig and letting the sparks from his purple flames ignite and burn it to a vibrant velvet color. Afterward, he gave the green Manor one last glance before jamming his key into the ignition and rolled down his window in sync. He didn't want to get ashes in his car, and was soon making a U-turn before heading back to his own hideout. The city itself had been cleaned up, just a bit, which meant the rubble was pushed off of the road so people could drive, here was no more smoke or fire, and the chaos seemed to have dissipated into an almost eerie silence. It was a tense night, but at the same time, Slick found himself overly relaxed as he parked his car in its rightful spot a block away from the hatch, and snuck back into the hideout.

2014-10-12 18:40:36
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Spades Slick could growl and hiss all he liked, brag on or take pride in his dirty deeds and unethical achievements to the full extent of his desires, and Doc Scratch wouldn't even care to stop him. The fact still stood that after he'd stolen that kiss, Slick had blushed (however lightly it may have been, Scratch could not help but notice) and couldn't help his own smile. This was something that the porcelain man was just noticing and just now allowing himself to take some sort of pride in. The fact he could make Spades Slick affectionate was something he didn't accredit to himself enough; it was one of those things that most people would find incredibly difficult, then he came along and did it with ease, and even seemed confused when others said they weren't able to manage it. For the most part it was less pride and more pleasure- it made him happy to know that, even at the end of such a day as Spades Slick had just had, it was Scratch himself who had brought such a gentle and affectionate smile to the other man's features. Scratch was glad to do such a thing. It took the entire edge off of Slick's appearance and even helped to relax Scratch a bit. Seeing that smile was soothing on some levels, and set the usually high-strung man to ease. There was little that could claim the same, but Slick seemed to prove repeatedly he was capable of it. Scratch admired that, as he did the man himself.

After the other man bid him farewell, Doc Scratch watched him take his leave rather placidly, still leaning against the table's edge with a half-concealed smile on his face. After Slick had found his way safely out and to his car, Scratch started his way back to his apartments. He almost wanted to shower again, but it hadn't even been three hours since his last, embarrassing as it was. A quick wash might've been in order, but another shower wouldn't exactly be necessary. Doc Scratch was incredibly careful with his personal hygiene, as was obvious by now. He felt no need to explain himself in this area, as it was simply his preference. But he would have to dispose of the shirt he carried over his arm now; not only would it require strenuous cleaning and mending to be considered decent again, the sight of it seemed to bring rather licentious notions to Scratch's mind. He couldn't go about any sort of work like that. Even more so, being in the same room as that table would always bring some secretive smile to him. Though incredibly content, Doc Scratch found himself growing wearier and wearier as he ascended the two flights of stairs to his apartments. He would have loved to chalk that up to Spades Slick and their earlier antics, combined with the day's mental stress, and was very tempted to. He couldn't find any other obvious source of it, so that was what he settled rather reluctantly on.

It was only when he felt his hand clench around it Doc Scratch recalled he was carrying the checkered ring box Spades Slick had brought him. That seemed to bring the cursed accessory back into mind, where Scratch wasn't quite sure he wanted it in the first place. He hadn't felt this uneasy when he was fighting Slick while he wore it, strangely enough, but the moment it was taken off the ring felt like hot metal in his palm and sandpaper against his nerves. He felt the latter sensation again now, and knew it was because of the ring. He didn't like any of the vibes he had been getting and knew something had to be done about it. If anyone knew where to put the thing where no one would ever find it, Doc Scratch was the one. He'd left the ring on his nightstand and was quick to find his way back there. It sat there unassumingly (if not gloatingly, in Scratch's humble opinion) as he looked down at it. With a sigh he popped the ring box open and reached for the ring belonging inside. He let out a sharp cry as the metal touched his fingertips, hand jerking away and ring falling from his grasp, clinking against the hardwood floor. Scratch frowned, blinking away bright stars in his vision. The ring had been hotter than an iron brand, though there was no burn mark on Scratch's hand. He narrowed his eyes at the thing, then stooped to retrieve it. This time he was more careful, and received only a brief scalding before he managed to fish the ring into its place in the box. After he clapped it shut, he sighed in relief- he could feel himself relieved from its effects already.

2014-10-14 23:54:59
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Slick, for some odd reason, felt like he was forgetting something. He couldn't particularly put his finger on it, however there was something amiss, as if something had been over looked or maybe even forgotten. He knew that that couldn't be the fact, however he still couldn't shake off the feeling as he ashes out his cigerette in an ash tray located in the kitchen, and started to light a new one. Every now and then after a meeting or intervourse, he always had some nagging craving for nicotine; whether it was to calm his nerves and wake himself up a bit, he couldn't tell. At least the rest of the Crew had been asleep when he'd come back, and Boxcars wasn't even perched upon the futon in a snoring mess like he usually was. The only thing on currently was the kitchen light, the living room empty of life since a couple noise like that of snores could be heard from two rooms, but not the third. It came of no surprise; Droog didn't snore. He did, however, have the tendency to be quite nosey and arrogant. It rubbed Slick the wrong way when the two had argued over the ring and the Felt leader's contribution considering it. So what if Slick had 'given' the ring to Scratch? It wasn't of any of their concern anymore, and Slick knew he wouldn't be able to steal it back without desiring to put it back on.

He supposed Droog did support a point that Scratch could use it against the Crew, though Slick knew he wouldn't, the rest of his gang did not. Deuce and Boxcars had seemed more so concerned about Slick himself rather then the ring though, which wasn't much of a surprise either. In the morning, or as soon as Droog woke up that is, he'd have to converse with him about the ring in as calmly a manner as he could. More then likely his calm demeanor wouldn't last long, and once more the two would be in a heated argument, but something like that has ben unavoidable as of late. They butt heads more often then not now, and Slick is aware why, but he's already had a talk with Droog about it; said talk had not gone too well, but it roughly smoothed a thing or two over.

Regardless of the two's verbal and physical fights, by the end of the day, he was able to be soothed over by Doc. It wasn't as if he said anything, or did anything that brought up Slick's inner conflicts, however him just simply standing there like some sort of close companion that listened to Slick's silent worries was just... Comforting. Not to mention he yet to see Scratch pissed at the Crew leader. Well, there was earlier that day, but he can't really categorize that as being infuriated; more so under the protective category, but he supposed he wouldn't know for sure unless he asked.

That wasn't going to happen. Spades Slick was nosey, very much so that even the Midnight Crew had their own privacy invade by him at times. Though, as has become accosted to him by now, Scratch was one of the only exceptions to that unbreakable habit. In fact, the only time he can recall when he had tried prying into the other's thoughts was when they first met; after that, it'd been a downward spiral of Slick's usually insistent shenanigans. He knew he was getting a bit too comfortable now; being so close to the Felt leader now had him starting to, dare he say it, feel comfortable in the Felt Manor. Now, if he were alone or had more pressing matters for being there, as in a scuffle with another Felt member, he'd be on his toes, tossing out his affectionate characteristic and bringing out his usual, more aggressive side. But, when he didn't need to be in such a way, and the situation easily called for it, he became very lax and calm around Scratch. Even his expression was that of a man who had no worries, which he was the opposite of any time, and time seemed to stop. Even now, he's grown accustomed to a specified time that he leaves, the urge to leave coming naturally at such a moment, then he does. He can't tell if this is a bad or good sign, however he supposes he'll end up finding out.

2014-10-17 21:16:35
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Doc Scratch decided to settle on stowing the cursed ring away in his office, not the bedroom or parlor portions of his apartments. He figured it was far away enough not to bother him, but just close enough he could keep close track of it. No one came into his office without his permission; Scratch was sure to lock the door whenever he left for too long (which was hardly ever) so all three rooms were inaccessible, even though he knew no one dared to break in for any malicious purpose. The ring would be hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk, which locked as well. The box itself was laid under a case of fountain pens. Scratch had a certain fondness for writing with inks when the situation called; it was quicker than his typewriter and he enjoyed making long strokes and the look of his own handwriting. One would be surprised to find it was not entirely uniform and compact as one might expect from someone of Doc Scratch's mien, but a much more natural and sometimes even hasty-looking slant to it. The letter he'd delivered to Spades Slick requesting an audience had been typed, yes, but Scratch mused that any further written correspondence should and would be done by hand. It felt a bit more personal to him, and he was fairly certain Spades Slick would agree. With the ring effectively concealed and locked into a drawer, Scratch could relax a bit more- the more walls and solid objects between he and the item, the better, in his humble opinion. He had no desire to keep it this close, but he wouldn't put it somewhere where another person could be tempted into putting it on. If that happened to a Felt member... Scratch didn't enjoy thinking about what he'd have to do. Necessity had driven him to fight Slick off, but he wasn't keen on doing the same with one of his subordinates.

That set Scratch to thinking as he dressed down to his nightclothes; it would be the best and wisest course of action for the two of them to conduct whatever meetings they had in the future outside of Felt Manor. He didn't want to risk Spades Slick being caught by either of their respective factions; no matter how much caution they exercised in tandem, the chance of discovery was always present. Though it was true Scratch wasn't very used to being in public, it was better for them, and presented more opportunities. And it wasn't as if they could just swap positions- that was, Scratch visiting the Midnight Crew's hideout. Though he'd like to go there on invitation sometime, it was a foolish idea to just go there, just as it was Felt Manor, only much worse. Spades Slick's headquarters was much smaller and housed foes who would just as readily gut Doc Scratch as look at him. He couldn't say he blamed them, really. They were sworn enemies, after all, and he would expect nothing less. Still, Scratch did not desire conflict with any of them whatsoever. In fact, unless provoked, it was likely he would leave them be entirely. Scratch was not the sort to go around picking pointless fights, even if he knew he could win. And if the Midnight Crew were smart, they would do the same with him. He'd sent back a message that day which had been delivered by their leader himself; Scratch was powerful enough to stop the hugely destructive force Slick had become with the ring on and send him back home without it. If that didn't intimidate them at least a bit, they were simply idiots of the highest calibre. Scratch didn't think they would overlook it, but whether or not it affected their behavior was up to interpretation. Scratch hoped they'd back off a bit, figuring if the Felt and Midnight Crew just avoided each other things would boil down, but knew that was unlikely. Slick's greed extended to his gang's control over the city; he wanted it in the palm of his hand, and didn't want to have to deal with incursions on what he considered to be his property. Scratch could understand that, and would try to behave accordingly.

That didn't make him any less excited to attend the formal ball Spades Slick had brought up, however. Scratch was actually looking greatly forward to it, and had a rather positive feeling about the upcoming situation. If someone thought Scratch would be wearing his everyday attire to it, they would be proven sadly wrong; the man could, in fact, dress nicer than he always did. He didn't keep those sorts of garments in his own quarters, however- they were kept downstairs, in Stitch's workshop. That seemed the appropriate place for them, and the First Guardian would retrieve them when he saw they were necessary. Which was very, very rarely, Doc Scratch would be sad to say. Slick already knew of his reclusive nature, but it seemed he disregarded it in order to slowly draw him from it, with outings to the park and now a ball. He honestly thought the other was being too good to him, but then again, Scratch wasn't the most high-maintenance romantic partner there was. He still wasn't sure what entirely he desired in that venue aside from fidelity; affection, especially as displayed by Slick, was always appreciated. In many ways Scratch found the way the other man demonstrated such tendencies to be rather endearing; at times things seemed to come across as difficult for him to grasp, and at others he lavished the porcelain man with affection the likes of which he'd never been exposed to before. And for that reason, Doc Scratch was grateful to Slick. He hoped he was an acceptable partner as well; he didn't want to let his lack of experience in this particular area hinder his development in it. But he could not deny the fact- whenever he was with Slick, everything seemed to fade out until the only thing that was the two of them, and even as Scratch laid his head down to rest, he could not deny the fact it made him feel incredibly important to the other man.

2014-10-19 04:13:52