Work Text:
There Morgan was, walking down the street. All his thoughts focused on his problem with his parents; he'd been kidnapped and held against his will. Things were bad, and nothing was going right. It was clear to see on his face his eyebrows scrunched down, and he looked a little upset. His poker face had fallen as he thought on these things.
He thought he should get Alex involved in the situation when he heard his name being called.
"Morgan," a cool crisp voice called out from a nearby alleyway.
Morgan paused, turning his head to face the opening of an alley. Chills ran down his back.
As far as the eye could see, there was no sign of life; Morgan was almost willing to believe that he'd been hallucinating this.
Morgan shook his head and took a step forward; he had some heist plans to look over and needed to gather his courage and call Alex. There were some hints he had to leave behind for Barnaby.
This little break wouldn't do him any good. At the feeling of something cold touching his ear, he froze. (not literally)
It felt like ice was beginning to form on the tip of his ear. Then a firm hand settled on his right shoulder, and he could feel the chill through his shirt.
He shivered in reaction, and then a finger began to caress his jaw, and eventually, it prompted him to turn his head to face the stranger.
The stranger had silky, black velvety hair that draped down his shoulders and fell below his waist. He wore a black shirt, a vest, and a nice blazer jacket, but all were unbuttoned and showing off skin. Ashen and white-ish skin. And his eyes were a void of white.
Morgan stared; his mind felt blank, and words didn't quite form as he stared.
"Hello, love," his voice held a very thick British accent.
Morgan knew his tongue had been loosed all at once, and he could freely speak. He also noticed how hot the guy was, almost radiating S-Tier rank. Though for a dead guy, that seemed very unlikely.
"What do you want?" Morgan asked; he hadn't stepped into the alley yet, only observing the man.
The man took a step back into the alley that started to mist. "Come and find out," he spoke as he held his arms out to the alleyway.
Morgan hesitated; he didn't need to go in there, but some kind of curiosity nagged him to follow the stranger in.
"I'm not going to kill you,"
Morgan hummed; while that was not an issue, it still was nice that a stranger had no intention of killing him. "I don't even know your name," he said as he followed the stranger into the dark alley.
A mist began to spring up. As the stranger replied. "Achilles, and all you need to know, is that I'm starving,"
Achilles latched onto Morgan's wrist and pulled him against him; then, he hit the wall of a building rather roughly.
The air in Morgan's lungs spilled from his lips, and he grunted at the manhandle treatment; it wasn't unwholly unwelcome, just surprising. Morgan leaned against the wall letting Achilys feel his body up.
Morgan clicked his tongue against his teeth. "So what's your whole interest in me anyway?"
Achilles chuckled. "I feed off death and misery. And you are always so well stocked. It's a hard meal to pass up,"
Morgan nodded. "Right, is this gonna take long? I am a villain and have things to handle,"
Achilles listened to Morgan while he asked. "Darling, be quiet," and then he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Morgan's.
Morgan drew a sharp breath of air through his nose, Achilles lips were as cold as stone or ice. And he found he shivered after the initial contact. Some kind of chemical was loosed, and Morgan wasn't fully in control of himself as he found he wanted more of whatever was happening between them.
Morgan's head hit the brick wall, and Achilles' mouth followed Morgan's; their teeth clinked together, and Morgan could feel just how desperate Achilys actually was. To lock lips with a stranger in a public place.
It was rough; Achilys grabbed onto Morgan's wrists or his clothes. Morgan pulled closer as he admitted through body language just how touch-starved he was. Ever since Alex got that stupid space heater, he'd lost a lot of the touch he needed.
Achilles let go of the clothing or wrists and let his hand rest on Morgan's throat or, in simpler terms, his jugular. Slightly caressing those features.
Morgan doesn't remember much of what happened, only that one minute he'd been talking, and the next they were making out, he jumped as if he hadn't been chasing after
Achilys himself. Though he didn't get very far, Achilles was very demanding; his lips curled, and his cool tongue slid across Morgan's lower lip before pressing against it and enjoying Morgan's reaction.
If anyone looked at the scene and looked hard enough, they would see something grey flowing from Morgan to Achilles. It was very much, most likely, pain and misery, but that was speculated.
With every touch and every display of affection, Achilles felt less hungry. And more filled. Filled with what? Pain and misery, but again it's very much speculated.
Morgan leaned forward, grasping onto Achilles, desperate enough for... whatever it was seemed to be lost on him, but he knew he wanted something from the stranger.
That caused Achilys to hum, though it might have been a suppressed chuckle due to their mouths being locked together.
Then Achilles was pulling away from Morgan's, leaving him breathless in a way and much too high, like he'd gotten high or some kind of drug. Morgan couldn't help the smile that overtook his lips.
A trail of saliva connected the two of them, that is, until Achilles wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He stared down at his handy work. Morgan slumped against the wall, his eyes holding that drugged look as he came down from his high.
Achilles pulled out a cigarette, lit one stuck it in his mouth, and enjoyed the drag.
Morgan glared at him as he grunted and pulled himself off the wall. The remnants of the drug fade.
"Unhappy with my work?"
Morgan scowled. "What work?" he, too, wiped the saliva off his lips, he felt light-headed, and his problems didn't feel like such a big deal anymore.
Achilles offered him a cigarette, and despite Morgan's dislike of the death stick, he accepted, taking a drag of the cancer-producing nicotine death stick. He let the air out as he stared straight ahead. "I gotta get back. Alex is waiting for me,"
"Hmm,"
Morgan glanced back. "What?"
Achilles grinned finishing up the cigarette. "I'll be seeing you," and then he started walking toward the exit of the alley, and faded into the mist that seemed to engulf the whole alley.
Morgan stared after him, putting out his own. "Oh, my stars, Alex. Shit, what the hell even happened?" That drugged feeling still made him feel fuzzy but it wasn't the ecstasy feeling he'd had earlier. What the hell had happened?