Something Akin to Cabin Fever [Bax]

[Obelisk]

Money was good. His home in Silverye was full of luxurious items. He had want of nothing.

Jericho was bored out of his mind.

The usual channels had turned nothing up in way of new business opportunities, and the increasing number of those turning to crime saw a sharp increase in competition. Contracts were harder to come by and there were those with lesser abilities offering their services for significantly lower prices. Jericho was too proud a man to offer his services for anything less than the premium, and as a consequence, had been forced to leave his seedier life behind until something exclusive came his way.

Leewe, the extortionist and criminal, had all but disappeared. Jericho assumed his ‘normal’ persona as socialite and merchant, and had taken to working the upper crowd. He had tired of that game soon enough and was left as a child with no mental stimulation. Without something to engage him, Jericho often fell to destructive behaviors. He’d completely dismantled his automobile under the intent of enhancing its features and had yet (through no small amount of attempts) been able to get the thing working at all.

His contacts in high society often proved completely shallow and incapable of conversation that did not involve gossip in one shape or another. Jericho often found himself stifling the urge to roll his eye and his tolerance for the theatre the nobles presented was all but depleted. His temper grew short. He became a beast stalking the edges of society’s cage waiting for its chance to play the real game again. Jericho had been so desperate as to entertain the thought of marching down to Carden and enlisting himself on the first pirate ship that would have him. His pride came into factor again; Jericho would never put himself into a prolonged position of subservience.

Eventually his restless thoughts drifted to Red Axe. He knew Baxley likely had some sort of business going on; the man always did, after all. To go there without a valid excuse would be admitting just how out of sorts he was. He debated, paced the open floor of his lounge, and settled on a decision. Jericho hated coming off as needy or desperate but the times called for desperate measures. He was going stir crazy. He needed something to occupy him that didn’t involve pandering to nobility or crunching numbers.

It was around dinner time that knuckles rapped against Baxley’s door. Outside stood Jericho garbed as a simple merchant. He was not sure what face to wear and wouldn’t know until after gauging the situation and what offers were presented on the table. For now, he opted to remain as someone that appeared to be in line with the law.

[Baxley]

Baxley was a man of simple tastes for the most part. Barring clothing and his knives, he wasn't the pickiest person when it came to things. Take for example his house. It wasn't anything too spectacular to look at. It was plain and boring, but it was a house. It had everything he needed and then some considering he was living on his own.

When it came to things he was very peculiar about though he could get very testy. Like his knives. All his knives he had were unique and special to him in some way. His favorite skinning knife had a beautifully etched out scenery on the hilt of a forest looking area. The blade was perfect to him, but it was getting a little on the dull side as he had found out his last hunting trip. So, being the picky person he was about his knives, he had set down to sharpen it back up while he let his food cook.

Baxley had taken great care setting out everything he would need for the sharpening. It was has favorite knife, his baby, and it deserved the best of the best and to be spoiled. With that in mind the man had relaxed back into his chair with an evening of sharpening a few of his knives up and a simple meal before maybe going out on a stroll that night.

Then came the rapping on the door just as he was about to start. Those dark green eyes closed tightly shut and he let out a deep breath. Annoyed now that his evening had been ruined by whoever was wanting his attention. Baxley sighed overdramatically and sat his knife to the side before hauling himself out of his chair and scuffling towards the door with an annoyed frown. Who could possibly think it was a good idea to disturb him at this time of day?

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Baxley grumbled through the door, "Who the hell--Jericho?"

Baxley grinned widely at the other man outside his door and stepped back, widening the door to give him room to step inside. No matter the mood he was in, Jericho was always welcome to his home. Even if Jericho annoyed him. Besides, that would just give him an excuse to fuck with the other man again.

Baxley motioned towards the inside and questioned, "What are you doing around these parts, Jericho?"

[Obelisk]

The exasperated voice he heard through the door gave Jericho cause to smile. He had chosen to arrive at this specific time of the day as he’d imagine most men would be off guard around supper. Any extra inconvenience he could mix into his impromptu visit was icing on the cake, as they said, and Jericho was looking forward to a sniping contest. The door swung open, revealing a grinning Baxley, and Jericho’s eye narrowed even as a smirk pulled at his lips.

“Hello Baxley,” He gave a slight incline of his head, stepping inside and brushing past the other man without a moment’s hesitation. This was familiar territory and though Baxley’s nature was not one anyone in their right mind could trust, Jericho allowed himself to drop his guard (if only a little.) He pulled out a chair at the dining table, sat down, and watched Baxley expectantly, waiting for the other man to take a seat.

“I’m here for business reasons. Why else?” His voice took on the condescending tone that Baxley was no doubt familiar with. Jericho took to examining his nails, effecting a bored and detached disposition. “The underground has seen a spike in new blood; it’s hard to compete with people who offer their services for so cheap.” A single, feral green eye flicked to meet Bax’s gaze. “Contractors make the mistake of foregoing skilled help in order to save a few coins.” He shrugged and leaned back in the chair, throwing his booted feet onto Baxley’s table.

His smile turned a tad biting, as if he was daring Baxley to correct his grievous crime against social tact. Those boots weren’t exactly clean. “And so I’m here looking for leads.” Jericho would never admit that he considered Baxley the closest thing he had to a friend. It figured said ‘friend’ would end up being a murderous bastard with a penchant for knives. “So. Can you spare any information?”

[Baxley]

Baxley waited until Jericho had entered his kitchen to return to his living room and fetch his knife and tools. The other man had seen him using his knives plenty of times so he felt no need to hide them from him. Besides if Jericho got nervous about it then that was just a bonus. Doubtful though, but Baxley could always hope. With a sly smirk tugging his lips he took his seat at the table and set to work with a quiet humming of some obscure tune he heard from somewhere in his life.

"Ah, business, yes, of course," Baxley rolled his eyes at the reply, reading through the lines as always whenever Jericho brought up these surprise 'business' trips to him. Green eyes glance up at him for a moment before returning to his knife with a low hum. If anyone could understand it was Baxley. His entire life lived off the black market and his activities there. Luckily for him though, not to many tried to take his place.

"Well it all depends on what kind of work you're looking to do," Baxley held up his knife and turned it from side to side to examine it with a frown. Still not sharp enough for his tastes. The thunking sound of boots connecting with his wooden table gave him pause and he glared at them halfheartedly.

Deciding not to give Jericho the pleasure of him commenting on that (though his tail did fluff the slightest bit show his displeasure at it) and instead continuing on with, "Of course if one knows the right person... I might have something. Working with me that is during my business trips. I've been getting a few requests from customers for some of them young and alive. You know I don't touch the kits. They're too small to do anything with really. You, however, I figured might be able to do something with them. They're wanting to train them or something. Not sure, wasn't really interested at the time. I know you're pretty good picking out the ones that would be good for that sort of thing."

Baxley shrugged his shoulders indifferently and finally glared hard at the dirtied boots on his table. With a sly smirk he took his mostly finished knife and checked it over a few times, then turned it on Jericho's boots. Prodding at the offending things while his tail twitched deviously behind him. How long would it take for Jericho to get the message? Move the damn boots or Baxley would be ever so glad to cut them off for him.

[Obelisk]

Well it all depends on what kind of work you're looking to do.

True, Jericho thought in response, but did not give light to the fact he had no idea what he was looking for It wasn’t like him to go into something unprepared, or without a mental image outlining the goals and specifics points to be met during an encounter. He hated wasted effort but this visit was not entirely one of rigid business; the nature of Jericho’s occupation saw friends as a luxury hardly visited or made in the first place. There was too much possibility of betrayal and as Baxley gathered his knives, Jericho was reminded of the back-stabbing nature of his associates. The glint of artificial light on the metal of Baxley’s blades did nothing to perturb Jericho. He understood that Baxley, too, hated wasted effort and, if he recalled correctly, unnecessary messes(which was why he had thrown his boots onto the table).

Though Baxley kept his annoyance hidden well, Jericho had learned what to watch and that was Baxley’s tail. It was the best indication into Baxley’s mood, as if directly wired into the man’s thoughts and emotions. When the red fur jostled just a little and just enough, Jericho’s lips pulled into the slightest of smirks. He remembered then why visits to Baxley always proved entertaining. ”Hn. Kits. With their whining and their doleful, trusting eyes and snotty noses.” He sounded less than enthused, head rolling back as he drew in a deep breath threw his nostrils. For a moment there, Jericho looked as bored as he felt.

“I don’t think I’m willing to play the pied piper for a while.” He hummed thoughtfully and rested his cheek against the back of his fingers. His elbow was propped on the chair arm. “I was hoping for something, I don’t know,” His free hand made vague gestures in the air as he fished for the appropriate word. “Adventurous.” Jericho followed Baxley’s gaze to where his boots sat happily on the tabletop. A smooth chuckle slithered out from his chest and Jericho finally obliged, moving his feet back to the ground in what was a decidedly fluid motion. “Terrible host you are, refusing to allow your guest his comforts.”

He was willing to forgo pressing Baxley for more information for the time being. Jericho’s time ran freely now with no obligations to keep him bounded, and the duration of his stay in Red Axe depended solely on how long his interests in the city lasted.
“The least you could do would be to offer me something to drink.” Jericho drawled, wholly unimpressed. This, of course, was a show and Baxley likely knew it, but Jericho would have his fun. “Honestly, where is your tact?” Scoffed the man who, moments earlier, had tossed soiled boots onto a clean table.

[Baxley]

"Yes, very annoying I know." Baxley sneered at just even the mentioning of the young vermin brats. It was the main reason he detested doing hunts that might involve the younger ones within the houses he visited in the night or the camps he plundered. They were always so loud and annoying whenever they caught him in the act, dead parents at his feet and blood on his hands. Crying and slobbering all over the place with their snotty noses, dripping their tears and snot on his clothes as they pleaded for their mommy and daddy to live again. It disgusted him more than their race as a whole did.

It took him a few moments to realize Jericho was speaking again, and apparently had been for at least a few seconds. He could guess what Jericho's response was though and absently nodded, muttering, "However, the offer still stands if you feel up to it. It wouldn't be just the kits, by the way. You'd be working with me on the adults as well. They can get rather vicious when they want to be."

Baxley openly rolled his eyes over Jericho little act though his mood considerably lightened now that the boots had been removed from his table. He really did hate messes no matter the scale they came in. It still irked him terribly to be spoke to that way, but even as Jericho rubbed it in with the drawling voice of his a plan was forming within the man's head. A little payback for being a bastard to him and amusement all in one. A single red eyebrow cocked playfully at the man while a sly, devious smirk tugging at his lips. Oh yes, payback was in order tonight and Baxley knew just what to do.

The man sighed as if it was the most annoying idea in the world to fetch Jericho something to drink. "Fine, fine, a drink it is then." Moving towards his cabinets and pulling down a couple of matching glasses while he thought and planned out a quick idea. Already running any and all possible reactions to what he was going to do through his mind. No way he would be able to flat out hand Jericho liquor. The man was as freakishly obsessed about not drinking as Baxley was about keeping his knives sharpened and cleaned, or it related that way in Baxley's mind. So, he'd have to spike a drink. Fun times. Hadn't done this in a rather long time.

Tail twitching slightly as he got their drinks and added a splash of something extra to Jericho's drink while out of sight of the man. Not enough to stir suspicion when drinking, but it certainly wouldn't taste like normal tea either. He'd blame it on a new mixture if Jericho bothered to ask. Baxley's smirk turned smug. Oh how would the mighty Jericho act under the affect of alcohol? If it was as bad as Jericho's reactions towards being offered a drink... Baxley's smirk threatened to turn into a full fledge grin.

He quickly smothered his grin as he approached Jericho's side. Putting on a mask of haughty help, offering the man his drink and drawling in a bored tone. "Will that be all then, or do you require a massage as well, sir?" Baxley cocked an eyebrow at Jericho, daring him to answer that either way, and returned to his seat. Sipping his tea, splashed with liquor as well since that seemed to be the way to go tonight, and watching him with a bored expression hiding his inner glee. Your move, Jericho.

[Obelisk]

“If you need my help you need only ask.” There was his infamous condescending tone again and a dark gleam in his eye that suggested Baxley was the one looking for assistance . “There’s no need to be coy.” Baxley was more than capable of handling a few weasels on his own, but Jericho would not agree to anything that would render him feeling like a side kick of all things. “I’ll consider it.” His gaze lingered on Baxley as he set about making tea, but soon wandered.

A false sense of security was, in their line of work, the equivalent of a signed death contract. Maybe Jericho should have known better than to trust anything Baxley offered him, but their relationship was such that he assumed a mutual respect . He did not partake in alcohol, Baxley knew this, and therefore Jericho’s suspicions were not raised. He took to examining the room as he waited for Baxley to return, wondering what exactly went on within these walls. Jericho did not think that Baxley was one to bring work home with him; again, it was the issue of mess. The smell and color of blood was difficult to remove from most surfaces.

He found himself inhaling, testing the air for anything damning. The iron scent of blood and the foul smell of rot were not easily forgotten, but Jericho noticed nothing unsavory about the home. This only added to his nonchalance, further spurring him to drop his guard. He was relaxed and expectant, assuming Baxley would jump through the necessary hoops to provide entertainment and, eventually, a suitable business proposition.

“Ah, thank you.” The words were genuine and Jericho did not bother investigating the drink. He was wrapped up in the notion that he was untouchable. After the first sip, Jericho’s brows knitted. He looked at Baxley with curiosity. “This is different. I don’t think I’ve ever had it before. Is it imported? Foreign?” Jericho thought little more of it and continued indulging in the beverage as he would any other ‘exclusive’ item. As time went by, Jericho took charge of the conversation, telling story after story involving his exploits and the recent affairs in Silvereye. The further he dove into his cup, the more disjointed those stories became, to the point one would bleed into an entirely unrelated tale.

Jericho lowered an empty cup on the table and wondered why he was feeling flushed. “It’s bloody well hot in here. Mind opening a window?” He mumbled before launching into something else. “You know. I’m thinking. I’m thinking that I. I’ll tell you want I think. Is that what I think.” He paused, looking hopelessly confused for a moment, before speaking again. “I think you should kindly direct me to your restroom.” A splash of cool water on his face would be welcome and a sprig of suspicion was winding at the back of his clouded mind. Something was up.

[Baxley]

"I don't need your help and you damn well know it." Baxley snorted finally after Jericho had started to sip his tea. Replying to the earlier comment he had ignored while preparing their special drinks. Baxley copied him after the other man had taken a few sips later. Even though Baxley understood Jericho's ego enough to know why he was playing it out that way he wouldn't give in to Jericho's games right now. "And yes, it is imported. Figured I would try it out, splurge a little."

It didn't take long at all before Jericho's tight lip demeanor loosened up and soon Baxley was privilege to understand just why Jericho refused to drink. The man couldn't hold alcohol to save his life. As the time stretched longer and their cups drained themselves Jericho grew bolder and took charge, babbling about things Baxley would honestly not remember half of the next day the way this was spinning out of control. During the time he had refilled his drink a good two or three more times to Jericho's one.

This was either going to be the best night ever or the worse, he couldn't tell yet.

Baxley was enjoying himself at the time. With his head propped up on his arm and listening to Jericho ramble on about something or another. Laughing and agreeing where appropriate to his less than sober mind. He was loosing himself to the alcohol as well. With how much he had drank compared to Jericho though there was very little wonder why. Even to his drunk mind he could tell he was on the verge of being completely smashed with the way things were going. The mentioning of being hot stirred him into action. "Mmm? Window, right. Got it. Good idea." It was getting pretty hot in there come to think of it.

It took him a minute to remember how to stand up out of a chair, never mind walking, but once he got up and shuffled his way towards the window he couldn't remember exactly how to stop. Ending up nearly crashing into the wall instead. Just managing to catch himself as he stumbled and propped himself up to try and make his hands work and open the damn thing. Only his hands seemed to have decided to forget how to unlock the tiny lock. Blast.

"I think you know my bathroom. I think. Maybe. You've been here before...?" Baxley, seeming to forget the window and deciding taking off his shirt might be a better idea, started trying to tug the thing off of him. Only it was out against him, too, and got itself stuck on one arm. He turned back around towards Jericho as he spoke, propping himself on the wall while he fought with the difficult fabric seeming bent on making him look like a fool. "It's... down the hall to the... left? Left. Or right. No, no, it's defi-dafi... It's to the right. Left is my bedroom." Speaking wasn't such a good idea right now... or walking, opening windows, or even taking off a damn shirt. This night better damn well be worth all this annoyance.

[Obelisk]

“How could you not know if I know?” Jericho scoffed, rolling his eye as he realized that he, once again, was the dominant intellect in the room. Obviously this was the case. It was always the case. He grinned smugly, ego singing happily in response to his self-admiration. Bracing his hands on the table, Jericho managed to negotiate his way to his feet. He had to pause because the floor felt like it was moving but the feeling ebbed. He looked up in time to see Baxley caught within his own shirt, looking like a toddler unable to undress itself. His snicker broke into an amused chuckle; his shoulders shook.

“You. You’re pathetic. That’s what you are.” Strangely enough, his tone wasn’t insulting, simply amused and warm with intoxication. “Let me. So you don’t end up breaking your neck.” He barked a laugh at that – the image of Baxley dying due to his inability to take off his own goddamned shirt. With some amount of jostling and frustrated words, Jericho managed to get the offending cloth off, tossing it unceremoniously over one of the dining table’s chairs. “There we are,” He stated triumphantly, eye dropping from Baxley’s face to where his hands had somehow ended up pressed against the sides of a bare ribcage. His hands dropped, trailing down to where they rested at Baxley’s hips. “There we are,” He repeated, this time in a thoughtful murmur. He stayed like that long enough for things to get awkward and realizing this, Jericho blinked and stepped away.

“To the right.” Baxley was correct; Jericho had been here before. He found his way to the restroom easily. He looked at his reflection and noted the slight redness to his complexion. He was flushed though not embarrassed or physically exerted. Odd. Turning a knob, Jericho allowed cold water to run into his palms before splashing it against his face. The sensation was enough to knock some of the frozen gears of his brain back into commission.

It had been quite some time since Jericho had felt like this. If he thought about it, and he was, he hadn’t experienced these symptoms since….

He slammed the water off then gripped the sides of the sink hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. His reflection glared back at him and in that single eye, unmitigated rage. A strong jaw clenched, muscles skipping under tan skin, and Jericho wheeled around, storming outside the bathroom and straight towards Baxley.

In his inebriated state, Baxley would likely be unable to avoid Jericho’s physical ‘hello.’ He checked the man into the wall, slamming his back hard enough into the structure to send whatever was hanging there clattering. If he could manage it, Jericho would press his forearm against Baxley’s neck, providing enough pressure to make breathing an issue. The tension in his muscles sung of menace and the expression on Jericho’s face clearly said that this was no longer a game.

Face close enough to Baxley’s that he smelled the man’s breath, Jericho demanded an explanation. “What the hell did you put in my drink?” At this point he’d increase the pressure against Baxley’s neck. “Answer me, you fucking rat.” His voice was low and steeped in venom, mind streaming violent thoughts directly into his conscious.

[Baxley]

"Yeah, well, I'd like to see you do better. Fuck. " Baxley let out a growl as the shirt hung on him again, then huffed and decided it could rot there for all he could care. Only instead of being forever stuck with a shirt hung on him,, Jericho came to his rescue. Between the two of them the shirt was removed and Baxley could breathe freely and enjoy the much cooler air on his body.... or he could notice just how close Jericho was to him. The other man's presence near him cause him to swallow. "What you do--?"

The heat of the hands on his chest gave him pause. Blinking in a confused manner and staring down at them like he had never seen anything like them in the world. Suddenly the heat didn't matter so much and those hands felt pleasant instead of annoying as they should have been on his already hot body. He heard Jericho speaking but paid no attention to the worlds. Just twitched his tail and shivered as those hands slid down his body to his hips, resting there like they belong there. Jericho spoke again and Baxley blinked and turned his gaze back up to the man looking so confused. Then he moved away. Broke whatever spell it was he had on Baxley.

He kept his eyes on Jericho the entire time until he could no longer see the man. Leaning back against the wall again he intelligently summed it all up in one word. "Fuck." This wasn't going at all how he had planned. Get Jericho shit faced, have a few laughs, dodge a few punches in the morning once Jericho figured out what happened. Thinking while drunk wasn't such a good idea. Baxley closed his eyes and breathed out heavily. "Fuck. "

Unaware of his impending doom and caught completely unaware, Jericho's body slammed into him. Jerking his head back with a painful crack against the wall that made him gasp out in pain and see stars behind his eyelids. "Jericho? What the fuu--" Baxley wheezed hard and swallowed, raising an arm up to tug at the arm cutting off his air supply.

Baxley attempted to focus on Jericho's face but between the alcohol, cracking his head, and the arm currently robbing him of the precious air he needed to live, focusing was difficult. He heard the words though and once they registered, slowly, in his mind Baxley froze up tight and stared at Jericho with something akin to horror appearing on his face. "Wh-whiskey, " It was painful to wheeze out. Even more so with the extra pressure against his throat. "L-Loosen you up so s-stop being ass. Fuckcan'tbreathe. "

Baxley braced himself against the wall and shoved with all his weight against Jericho, pushing at the arm blocking his breathing and pushing at the other man's chest. Trying to shove him off so he could fucking breathe again. He'd rather have to drunken dodge Jericho that not be able to breathe at all.

[Obelisk]

“Whiskey.” His voice was low and accusatory, and dripping with the malicious intent thrumming in every tendon and muscle of his body. A life marked by a series of betrayals meant that Jericho did not take even the smallest of infractions lightly. The act of strangling Baxley to death was all too tempting. Just the thought of it sent something warm curling in Jericho’s gut with wicked satisfaction. Before he could make good on that dangerous thought, Baxley retaliated and Jericho stumbled back far enough to allow him escape.

Anger may have lifted much of the fog, but his ability to react was still slowed by the alcohol lacing his veins. He shook his head, like a predator recovering from an unexpected attack, then fixed an irate gaze squarely onto Baxley’s. There was no evidence that this man was Jericho, the clever brigand who was all charisma and devious attitude. All that had been replaced by a dark and dangerous intent. This was Leewe, the man that slit throats and suffocated men without a second thought. “You’re a dead man.” The words were no more than a rumbling whisper.

Jericho lunged forward, aiming over power Baxley, using what strength and leverage he could manage to attempt to throw the man to the floor. Should this prove successful, Jericho would plant a knee straight onto Baxley’s sternum, using his weight to hold the man firmly in place. Calloused hands would grip Baxley’s neck, thumbs pressing harshly into the bottom of his chin. His palms were surprisingly lax, and would make no attempt in stealing the man’s breath – yet.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears and Jericho froze, taking on the appearance of an animal unsure as to what to do now that it had cornered its prey. That single, feral eye was unblinking and wild as it ran over Baxley’s features. “Not so funny now, is it?” His voice wavered and hitched, grip flexing around a prone throat. Teeth grit and he relaxed his hold, moving to run his thumbs down Baxley’s sideburns, watching the action with intense fascination. It was a silent moment, one of odd contemplation; it broke soon enough.

His gaze flicked up, met Baxley’s, and then Jericho’s face contorted into an ugly look of disgust.

Jericho’s hand pulled back and then snapped forward, striking against the man’s face. He was intent on drawing blood. “Here I thought you were supposed to be smart. But no, you’re a goddamned idiot.” He swallowed roughly, trying to negotiate around the boiling indignation that sat in his throat. “And now I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

People did not cross Jericho without paying the price.

[Baxley]

The haze of alcohol was still clouding his mind. A dangerous combination between that and being faced by the extremely pissed Jericho who was out for his blood. Jericho's lunge shoved him to the floor and his head cracked back, again, and Baxley cursed out loudly as he felt the thick heat of blood tickling on the back of his head. Then even before he could say anything he stole that ability away from him leaving him with his only option to be glaring sullenly up at the man pining him.

This wasn't how he had planned things, but Jericho was either too drunk to remember or really was foolish enough to not remember Baxley was always, always a step ahead of the normal gang. That and letting your guard down around him, even for a second, could be disastrous for your health and sanity. He might not have planned for this, but even drunk he could come up with some form of retaliation against the frenzied man.

It took only Jericho to release where his thumbs had been pressing against for his mind to kick start. The furious burning need to fight or flee pumping adrenaline through his body and tensing him up as he waited for Jericho's next mood. Not long and Baxley was grunting from Jericho's fist meeting his cheek. "That hurt you bastard." Nerver mind that it was supposed to hurt.

"Oh no you aren't, asshole." Baxley snarled up at him and jumped into action. Pushing his legs up and shifting to wrap them around Jericho's body. Grabbing at the hands on his neck to snatch them away. If all went smoothly, or even the slightest bit smoothly, he'd pull back with his feet and surge forward to reverse their positions.

"You're such a fucking ass. If I meant you harm by it you would already be dead. I wouldn't have gotten myself drunk." Baxley snarled again and leaned his head towards Jericho's own. Snarl morphing into a sly smirk and he chuckled softly at the flustered man. "I must admit though. Most fun I've had in a long while."

Even staring his possible death in the face, Baxley wasn't stirred. He really was having fun despite the situation being gravely serious. Whether that was due to his own nature or being drunk, or a combination of the two, he wasn't sure nor would it be entirely clear. Jericho might be out for his blood, but Baxley was still out to cause Jericho hell.

[Obelisk]

“Good.” He seethed between clenched teeth, ready to lash out again. His mind was a frenzy of activity that he could make little sense of. Part of this was due to his anger but alcohol was mostly the culprit. Jericho’s greatest vice was the assumption he was in control, a belief that Baxley soon shattered via a quick and unexpected retaliation.

His skull met against the wood of the floor, sending his vision into a swimming mess. The fog cleared and Jericho was perplexed to see their roles reversed. This was not how he had planned things. Hell, he didn’t even have a plan, but if he did, this wouldn’t have been it. His anger gave way to confusion and he desperately worked to gather his wits, a process that proved only marginally successful.

“There are rules, Baxley. Expressed or otherwise. Rules that are there for a reason. Rules that are not to be broken.” For all of his rage-induced yelling earlier, Jericho sounded oddly coherent, as if hitting his head had knocked loose the murderous intent driving his actions moments before. His eye wandered over Baxley’s features, fingers twitching at his sides. “Lines that are not…” He exhaled, nostrils flaring. “That are not…” The knob in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, hands moving to press the flats of his palms against Baxley’s abdomen. Fingers tentatively moved over exposed skin and somewhere at the back of Jericho’s mind a small voice sing-songed, and this is why you don’t drink.

Intent went topsy-turvy, he had difficulty navigating a mire of violent thoughts that he often misconstrued as something else, and visa-versa. He could over think things. He tended to do so. Unwritten rules were the creed he lived by.

“That are not to be crossed.”

And then he thought, fuck it, and brought his mouth crashing against Baxley’s. It was all teeth, no grace; he’d bite hard enough to draw blood if he managed to capture Baxley’s lower lip.

[Baxley]

"Rules are meant to be broken and you damn well know it." Baxley breathed hard against Jericho's skin while trying to simulations catch his breath and keep Jericho pinned down. Not that that was much of a chore right now seeing as he wasn't fighting back for the time being. Baxley didn't trust him though. Not with how dangerous he knew Jericho could be.

"I allow your little rules just as we both allow societies, but we turn around and twist them when our needs do not follow said rules." Baxley slowly released his leg grip and straightened his legs out, straddling Jericho to efficiently keep him pinned down. "I murder to live, you do what you have to. We follow no rules but our own and you damn know well it. We allow them and play with them as we feel like it, but we never really follow them. If we did, both of us wouldn't be here today."

Cautiously he released Jericho's arms and planted his hands above the other man's head, propping him up to stare into Jericho's one good eye. If he was honest with himself he really hadn't meant to upset the other man. Not like this. Baxley knew Jericho had his rules he followed and probably for good reason. Baxley never said he would follow them though. Baxley had his own that he followed and he didn't expect Jericho to follow them either.

"Lines... You really are drun--" Teeth crashed into his and admittedly it took for Jericho to latch viciously onto his bottom lip, drawing blood and causing pain throughout his lip, to realize what had just happened. Instead of shoving him away or hitting him like he would have had he been in his right state of mind, he kissed back. Just has hard and demanding as Jericho. Perhaps more so considering their current roles. Biting back in return at Jericho's lips with a deep rumbling growl and his tail twitching rapidly behind him.

Baxley shifted on top of Jericho's body then. Stretching out across his body and pressing himself against the other man to keep him where he was. One hand snaking under Jericho's neck and pulling at the hair of his nape with another low growl. Still keeping himself propped up somewhat with his other hand. He might not have expected the kiss to happen or any of this but that didn't mean he'd let Jericho dominate him.

[Obelisk]

In his right mind, Jericho would have argued the fact that rules were meant to be followed and never broken. With a warm, solid body above him, however, Jericho was willing to let the debate slide in favor of other activities. He’d considered this before; adding Baxley to a decidedly long list of conquests but the man had proved too much of a business asset to risk it. Later Jericho would convince himself that this whole debacle was simply him satisfying a lingering curiosity. For now, Jericho concentrated on satisfying his curiosity.

When his fervent kiss was met with equal brutality, Jericho surprised himself by moaning appreciatively. He angled his head to allow better access, slipping his tongue out to lap at the blood gathered on Baxley’s chin. It sent a sick thrill through him, further spurring his ill-advised course of action. Baxley’s weight became something very real that tested Jericho’s patience and so he tested it in return, pushing against that weight to see if it budged. When it didn’t, his anger flared, turning his intent once again.

He was not content to lay there prone. He was not content to allow Baxley to take control. With the kiss providing ample distraction, Jericho suddenly canted upwards, attempting to toss Baxley off balance. Once free, Jericho rose to unsteady feet, stumbling once before managing. It should have occurred to him at that point that he should end what was undoubtedly going to destroy their working relationship, but it didn’t. He shot Baxley a sharp, demanding look before wordlessly turning on his heel. As he made his way to the bedroom, his fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, of which he shrugged off and allowed to fall where it would.

Jericho was confident Baxley would follow, if only to satisfy a curiosity of his own. The instant the man crossed the threshold into his room, he’d find himself pressed between a wall and a solid body. Any words of rebuttal would be swallowed when Jericho’s mouth settled over his. The kiss was no less insistent but languid this time, exploratory. If he was to satisfy his curiosity, he would do so at his own pace, Baxley’s wants or needs be damned.

[Baxley]

Baxley was grateful that Jericho let it slide for now as their current activities were much more enjoyable for the both of them. It helped to even dull the pain in his cheek where Jericho had slugged him. It would bruise that much was for sure, but right now he couldn't even feel it. Jericho's lips and tongue were too tempting to pull away from and when Jericho moaned and angled to give Baxley better access, he groaned appreciatively in return and smirked into the kiss.

Jericho caught him off guard though when he tried to dislodge Baxley and he ended up rolling off of Jericho's body with a pained grunt as his head hit the floor again. Green eyes stared up in a daze at Jericho as the man stood up and stared at him before moving away. Baxley thought about protesting about Jericho leaving like that, but the look had shut him up and the shirt being shed from his body had the man scrambling to his feet as fast as his drunken mind would allow before protesting.

Baxley stumbled drunkenly through his hallway using the wall as support to keep him from falling completely down once more and possibly breaking what was already bleeding on his head. It didn't help his sense of balance that the moment he stepped into the doorway Jericho was on him. He wasn't about to complain about it. That would be silly. However, it still didn't help the fact Baxley wasn't sure he was even standing on ground anymore.

All thoughts flew from his mind though the very second Jericho's lips met his own again. It was a curiosity he had never let himself toy with before. Not because he was afraid of disrupting business plans, but because Jericho had never really given any indication that he wanted to try anything. Now though that Jericho was very thoroughly exploring his mouth Baxley felt is safe to say that Jericho very much was curious about him to.

He moaned softly into the kiss and raised his hands up to Jericho's hips and grabbed them. Pulling the man closer so that their hips aligned and pressed pleasantly against each other. He wasn't passive though with the kiss. While Jericho explored him, he explored back. Darting his tongue into Jericho's mouth and clashing with the man's tongue in a battle of dominance Baxley was dead set on winning.

[Obelisk]

Jericho recognized the defiance in Baxley’s responses; it was impossible to miss. That defiance only served to stoke his desire to control the encounter. Where Baxley was concerned, Jericho was especially competitive. When Baxley pressed, Jericho pressed back harder. When Baxley’s tongue clashed against his, Jericho forced the kiss into a whole different level of insistence. It was a constant struggle to one-up one another that left Jericho breathless to the point he was forced to pull away, lest his oxygen-starved shut down completely. He ignored Baxley’s tempting lips and took to his neck, licking, sucking and biting a path that would leave the flesh bruised and red in the morning.

Hands pressed flat against Baxley’s lower abdomen and his thumbs worked slow circles into the muscle, teasing and enticing. He forced a knee between Baxley’s legs and moved his thigh against the other man, supplying a deliberately slow friction. His tongue left a cooling trail of saliva along the line of Baxley’s throat that concluded with a short, invasive kiss. Jericho pulled back, tongue wetting across his bottom lip, and turned a hazed eye onto Baxley.

“Standing’s getting a little old. Time to get better acquainted.” The words came as a growl, heavy with every sinful thing he was implying and more. Jericho knew what he wanted and he expected Baxley to oblige. He was egotistical enough to consider this encounter a gift to Baxley, a one-time thrill the other man would have to work for. His knee dropped and Jericho moved away; the loss of body heat made the room feel colder than it actually was.

He sat on the edge of the bed and turned an expectant look onto Baxley. “Well, are you going to stand there gaping like a fish or are we doing this?” Impatience was evident in his tone. “I can think of better things you can do with your mouth.” Jericho was nothing remotely close to a prince but he certainly gave the impression of someone expecting his every beck and call to be answered. His idea of dominance extended into mental facets as well as physical. Testing the waters, as it were, with the confidence of a man who knew how to swim.

[Baxley]

With each push to his shove Jericho was slowly driving Baxley to the brink of insanity and back. Conceding for now that Jericho was going to set the pace at which they went and relaxing back to enjoy it. That didn't mean he was passive under Jericho's ministrations and never would be. While Jericho pushed him he pressed back in his own ways. Sinking a hand into Jericho's hair and gripping it tightly. Running a hand down the other man's back and scratching harshly at it. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to be uncomfortable. Little things that would add up in the end to drive them both wild with lust.

As egotistical as Jericho could be sober, it seem amplified while drunk, or maybe it was only that way to Baxley's foggy mind. Whatever. Right now that didn't matter one bit to his mind. What did matter was the fact that Jericho had moved away. Baxley opened up his green eyes and blinked them. Not really sure at what point he had closed them to enjoy the kissing and teasing. The words registered and Baxley was pushing himself off the way and prowling closer to Jericho like a hungry predator cornering its next meal.

"Jericho..." Baxley's voice was heavy with desire and lust as he pushed himself onto Jericho's body. Shoving the man against the bed and fitting himself between his legs. "Shut your bloody mouth up for once." Jericho would then find his mouth covered by Baxley's own and his mouth dominated by an insistent tongue wanting to explore without the threat of the other's trying to fight him. Poor little Jericho would just have to understand that tonight he was just not going to win this fight.

If Jericho thought Baxley was just going to roll over and allow Jericho to take the reigns then he was in for a nasty surprise. Already within his mind Baxley's gears were turning. Cataloguing everything he was most likely going to need and where it was within his room. How he could pull it off without Jericho fighting him to much, or trying to leave. Because that was one thing Baxley would not allow the man to do. Not now, not when he started this. He'd tie Jericho's damn ass to the bed if he had to and with the way things were working out he probably would have to do so.

For now however he was content to just explore Jericho's body under his own. Releasing him from the oxygen draining kiss to return the bruising that would form on Baxley's neck. He would kiss a sloppy line down towards Jericho's neck and bite down on it and suck, hard. Letting it go when he was sure it would leave a mark to kiss and lick at it as if apologetically.

[Obelisk]

Jericho remained blissfully unaware to the schemes formulating in Baxley’s mind. Maybe it was the whiskey, but his sense of caution and propriety were all but dead. Those rules he so coveted were being broken one after the other. Despite being pressed into the bed with Baxley looming over him, Jericho was still under the illusion that he was in control. His hands were confident as they explored the plane of Baxley’s chest, reveling in the strength he knew existed beneath that tanned, if scarred skin.

He was prepared to go on the offensive, to switch their positions again in what was becoming a hopelessly carnal wrestling match, when Baxley started to assault his neck. Jericho froze, muscles tensing and hands stilling where they rested against Baxley’s hips. It appeared at that point that the game was up, that Jericho was prepared to call an end to their ill-advised encounter. Instead, he all but melted, head lolling back to allow Baxley full access to his throat. A sound that could be likened to a guttural purr rumbled in his chest and Jericho spread his knees, allowing Baxley closer. His thighs pressed against Baxley’s sides, cradling him, keeping him there.

For a good while, Jericho was content to allow Baxley full reign, but the slightest pause against the attention paid to his neck would break his complacency. An embarrassed anger seized him and he’d attempt to throw Baxley off, and if successful, would scramble on top of the other man, grappling to hold his wrists above a head of dark red hair.

Leering down at Baxley with an expression that read as if he either wanted to ravage or murder the other man, Jericho spoke, velvet-smooth voice deliberate and tone leaving no room for argument.

“Give up Baxley.” His patience was wearing thin; need overtook curiosity. Jericho was determined to see the bastard beneath him comply.

[Baxley]

Baxley smirked smugly against the skin of Jericho's neck at the purring sound erupting from the other man suddenly. He redoubled his activities on Jericho's neck, glad for the chance presented before him by Jericho unconsciously giving him more room to work. Before Baxley was through Jericho's neck would be littered with angry red bite marks from his teeth showing just who was in control tonight. Jericho was going to kill him for this whenever the spell of alcohol completely broke.

His hand roamed over Jericho's broad shoulders and down his chest and stomach. Scratching and massaging their way down and back up, teasingly getting lower with each pass but never fully touching the hem of the man's pants. He would save that for a while later. Right now he was hell bent on torturing the man into a pleasured mess begging to be touched. All it took was a pause though of his mouth and Jericho had tossed him off and onto the bed. Once again reversing their positions.

Baxley stared defiantly up at Jericho at his words and toyed briefly with the idea of telling Jericho just where he could shove his commands. Instead of following through with that train of thought, no matter how amusing it might have been, his face fell into a mask of begging desire for Jericho. Leaning up against the hold on his wrists and the awkward position he was in to place a sloppy kiss on Jericho's jaw. Practically purring out, "Let me worship you. Please Jeri... Let me show you everything you deserve. Please..."

Above his head he flexed his hands and tested out the grip Jericho held on his wrists. Too tight to break unless he relaxed the iron grip on his hands, which Baxley knew wouldn't happen unless Jericho dropped his guard. Joyful. this was going to take some convincing on his part. Better to start now before Jericho got any other wild ideas. Green eyes flickered up to Jericho's one eye and adopted a helplessly in lust look to them as he opened his mouth, begging silently for another kiss.

Jericho was an egotistical maniac on his good days and having Baxley, his current desire, begging to be allowed to please the man would surely drive him to lowering his guard again. Between them his tail twitched at his devious plan even as he stretched his leg out to ease the bottom drawer open of his nightstand. If Jericho fell for his little plot then this was going to be a long, fun night. For the both of them even if Jericho wouldn't admit it. All Baxley needed was the right opportunity to go through with his plot.

[Obelisk]

Baxley left a trail of heat and sensation everywhere he touched, and it was all Jericho could do not to shiver. The fierce grip around Baxley’s wrists turned cruel, finger nails digging into flesh as Jericho battled for inner control. He wanted to feel those wicked teeth against his neck but he was not willing to explore the implications of that desire. Swallowing, the blood-roar in his ears died down enough for him to catch Baxley’s words. Honest surprise worked its way into the lust clouding his eye and Jericho stared down at Baxley.

Slowly but surely, a smug smirk formed on bruised lips.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” The single most gaping hole in Jericho’s defense was his ego. For all his skills in manipulation, he easily fell for Baxley’s little act. Parted lips served as a distraction and Jericho leaned down, tilting his head to slide his tongue into Baxley’s mouth, engaging him in a slow, sloppy kiss. He meant it as a reward for Baxley’s compliance and as incentive to continue behaving.

The hand holding Baxley’s firmly in place vanished and Jericho no longer barred his escape. Baxley was free to move because Jericho honestly thought he’d won. He would look back on this later and brood over just how mistaken he’d been but for now, he was at the mercy of Baxley’s game.

“I want to see you on your knees.” Spoken with all the command and authority he didn’t possess, and perhaps never had.

[Baxley]

Perfect, Baxley thought as that smug smirk worked its way onto Jericho's tempting lips. Baxley was very familiar with that look having been around Jericho for a while now and seeing him work his charm on people. He thought he had won this round and that Baxley was following and obeying him. Baxley almost couldn't hide the devilish smirk that threatened to take over his face. Jericho's kiss helped that though by giving him something to concentrate on other than the fact that Jericho was walking straight into his trap. If anything, he was very predictable when he thought he won.

He moaned into the kiss helplessly and once his hands were free from Jericho's grip he placed them on those broad shoulders and held on for dear life. There was no doubt in his mind now that Jericho was one hell of a good kisser. It very nearly made him want to change his plans and let Jericho do whatever the hell he please. Those next words spoken when Jericho pulled away shocked him back into his right state of mind. No way in hell was Jericho taken control this time.

"Yesss," Half lidded eyes stared hungrily up at Jericho then allowed his gaze to wander downwards over his chest and stomach to the hem of Jericho's pants. Baxley licked his lips and pushed Jericho gently over onto his back and urged him to stretch out. "Anything, want to taste you so bad."

With Jericho off of him it took little effort to tug the rope he kept in his bedside drawer out and onto the floor, looped loosely around his foot to pull it up when he needed it. From there he would run his hands reverently down Jericho's chest. Light touches combined with a look of lust and desire to hide his plan he was setting into motion even now. Keeping the rope out of site as he turned around and kneeled upon the bed, keeping the foot with the rope still on the ground, by Jericho's side, lowering his head to lick at the man's chest with a moan, one eye peaking out under his lashes waiting.

Once Jericho was in a state where he would close his eye Baxley would pounce. Pulling his leg up and the rope from where he had looped around his foot. Acting fast because he was sure Jericho was going to start the moment Baxley moved strangely. Dazed by lust and alcohol or not, Jericho was still a dangerous man if given the chance. Baxley wasn't about to let that happen. He'd force the mans hands up and over his head and straddle his chest to keep him from moving. Quickly and efficiently tying his hands to the bedpost and then settling back to smile smugly at Jericho.

Bax would lean down then and kiss Jericho hard, mimicking the earlier kiss with all teeth and biting before pulling back to whisper harshly, "You're so predictable, Jeri. Stroke your ego and you overlook the simplest of things. Like never trusting me." Baxely: 1, Jericho: 0.

[Obelisk]

Jericho was wrapped comfortably in a false sense of control. For the first time since their little engagement started, he felt as if he was standing on solid ground, instead of sinking into an all-too compelling quicksand of sin and vice. He wouldn’t let his desire rule him; he prized control above all else and having Baxley pliant beneath his commands would supply him with the validation his machismo needed.

“You’ve thought about this before,” Jericho mused, confident that he spoke the truth. His ego was delighted, fueled by his own sense of importance and Baxley’s evident interest. He reclined back, dropping his guard completely and relaxing into the mattress. With strong, masculine hands roaming over his body, Jericho found no more reason to protest. “I can’t say I blame you.” His sense of self-importance was outrageous. “You’re a lucky man.” A grin broke over his face just as his eye slid shut, allowing him to focus on the sensations running hot through his veins.

He was trained, in his physical prime, but so was Baxley. Jericho’s ultimate downfall was giving the bastard any allowance at all. Though he reacted quickly, the result was a very angry, perplexed, and seething assassin tied to a murderer’s bed. He writhed and yanked against the restraints, spitting obscenities all the while. He only managed to do damage to himself when the ropes bit into his flesh. Shaking with fury he had no means of releasing, Jericho turned a wild eye onto Baxley.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Despite it proving hopeless, he continued to try and work his way free from the bonds. Drunk, angry, and more than a little embarrassed, Jericho found it difficult to think clearly. Escape really wasn’t an option. “Release me. Baxley, I swear –“ Teeth clenched and he yanked violently, hissing when the friction of the ropes began to burn. “—Baxley. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” The threat sounded ominous even though Jericho was in no position to make them.

[Baxley]

"Calm down you bastard," Baxleyed teased him gently and propped himself over Jericho's face with his hands. A decidedly smug and amused smirk planting itself firmly on his lips as the man's words spit and cursed him. The threats meant nothing to him now that he had Jericho just where he wanted him. Which was tied up and helpless to whatever fancy struck the man.

The smirk stretched dangerously into a grin and he chuckled deeply at him. "I really do want to worship you... Just not on your terms, dear Jeri." Baxley scooted backwards on the man to give his hands room to play and ended up straddling Jericho's thighs instead of his chest. Hungry green eyes looked the helplessly tied up man up and down and he found himself licking his lips again, not sure where he should begin because he wanted it all.

Eventually he decided to let his hands find themselves their own path and smirked wickedly at Jericho as he rubbed his hands up and down his sides teasingly. "You're going to love this, but your pride is going to hate it." With those words said Baxley bent his head down and returned to his much earlier activities of kissing Jericho's abused neck flesh, careful to avoid being bitten by the seething man. His hands however decided to take it further and slowly started to inch their way downwards across the man's stomach.

"Relax, you'll enjoy this. Once you accept you're not topping it'll be much more pleasurable." Heavy voice purred against the skin before biting down. He wanted to hear those noises Jericho had given to him earlier on. Wanted to have Jericho begging and screaming for it by the time he was ready to give it to the man. Baxley would break Jericho down one way or another tonight.

[Obelisk]

“And what if I said I didn’t want this? What then, Baxley? Are you willing to risk it?” Words were one of his greatest weapons and Jericho was attempting logic, as if that would work when whiskey was rendering logic impossible. Though the promise of being worshipped tempted his surrender, Jericho’s pride held him back by a single, but strong thread. It was difficult to continue the argument when Baxley straddled his thighs, supplying a delightful heat that melted straight through his body. He breathed in a sharp breath, held it, and backed into the head frame, affording what meager distance he could manage to put between himself and Baxley.

Anger gave way to a deluge of hunger when Baxley assaulted his neck. The sudden change in emotion hit Jericho like a punch to his gut, forcing him to exhale loudly --a sound that ended in a low groan. He fought it, that desire burning hot and furious in his veins, but found his head tilting to the side a little, then a little more, until he’d allowed Baxley complete access. His eye clenched shut, as if doing so would blind him from the shame that had settled over him in a light flush to his skin. It was an oddly appealing emotion, both horrible and wonderful at the same time.

Part of him wanted to rip Baxley’s throat out, the other, more prevalent part said, to the hell with it, let the man play his game.

That guttural purr worked its way from deep within his chest and Jericho’s tense shoulders slumped in defeat. Teeth pressed against the chain of his throat and that single thread that was holding him back snapped. His chest heaved in short breaths as he grappled for that receding line of control, but it was lost to him. “Get on with it.” He barked out from behind grit teeth, canting his hips upwards in obvious suggestion. Even at Baxley’s mercy, Jericho still found it within himself to make demands.