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“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Vinny says, not even bothering to look up from the page of the book he had found. It was a thriller, the first he had seen in the house since becoming stuck in it, and he was just slightly afraid that if he put it down it wouldn’t be there when he looked for it again. Things he enjoyed had a habit of disappearing here.
Habit at first doesn’t respond to the jab with words, instead whipping his head around to glare at him and make some deep guttural angry sound. The grip on his mug becomes almost shatteringly tight. Vinny didn’t know for certain where new mugs kept coming from any time Habit broke one, but the idea of him dish shopping at Target was almost funny enough to be worth the wrath. “Oh, if you knew what I’m-” Habit growls and shakes his head like he’s getting fleas from his hair, “what I could do to you.” His nails scratch against the ceramic and Vinny winces at the sound.
By now Vinny knew Habit pretty well. He had his little routines and behavior patterns that weren’t too hard to pick up. The threats had mostly lost their effectiveness, though Habit still used them as often as he seemingly could. Habit needed him for something, so he could threaten to hack off body parts or tie his guts into balloon animals as often as he pleased, Vinny wasn’t worried. For the most part.
“What were you going to say? ‘If you only knew what I’m’...?” He glances over, then back to his book, but not reading, just waiting.
“I wasn’t going to say anything that’s your business to know.” Habit growls, slamming his mug on the counter.
“But you were going to say something.” Vinny recognizes that he's toeing the line of acceptable questioning, and yet chooses to keep pushing.
“You wouldn’t understand even if I did tell you.”
Vinny can’t help but crack a smile at that one but manages to hold in a laugh. “Sounds about right, you’d probably go on one of your big huge speeches and end with a bow and that stupid fucking grin you always get.”
“For shame.” Habit growls. “But since you simply must know, I’ll try to dumb it down for you. I am experiencing… a setback of unprecedented volume. See when I inhabit a body I act as a sort of polar force, like magnetism. I come in and push everything else down. I don’t feel hunger, I don’t feel pain, I don’t have any of your disgusting little human habits and tendencies. However,” Habit tilts his head, his eyes squinting at Vinny, who is patiently following, his book closed, yet his finger is tucked inside to not lose his page, “you humans are persistent. It’s what made you such great hunters when you were still idiotic cavemen. Food runs that way, gets tired, and rests. And there you are, marching on and on until your food is simply too tired to keep running. That's not just an A-one attitude, no, humans are like that down to their soul. Persistent and dedicated. And since this body is borrowed, that little pretty boy Evan’s soul is still in here somewhere where it doesn’t take up too much space. But you all keep pushing and pushing and it’s so annoying because eventually, it starts to change things. Like a stupid little spot that keeps getting bigger the longer I have to force it down. And the longer I stay in one particular vessel the stronger the influence becomes. It starts with little things like better spatial awareness, and hunger. Which are fine, useful even. Then it’s just all downhill stupid human things like appreciating art and feelings.” he says the last word like it has cooties that he might catch if he’s not careful.
“So you’re… becoming human?”
“Not in the slightest. I’m experiencing an undue amount of influence from Evan’s soul onto mine, and he’s projecting icky little human things onto me.”
“And that’s what’s got your panties in such a twist this morning?”
Habit growls again as he draws his favorite knife from its holster and shoots a mean glare Vinny’s way as he begins to use the tip to pick crud from under his nails. “One more word out of you and I’m going to set you loose somewhere in the forest to watch you run away from me and see who can hunt you down and kill you first, me or the stick in the mud.”
Vinny makes a show of locking his lips and rolls his eyes as he throws away the imaginary key, then opens his book and turns his attention back to the page.
----------
Although Habit claims to be feeling more human emotions, Vinny is having a hard time noticing anything different about him other than his unusually sour attitude. He sits on the opposite edge of the couch, radiating hot, negative energy across the way to Vinny, who is trying to focus on the documentary they’ve put on.
It’s a weird normality, that on rare occasions Habit will do whatever it is to let the TV work and let Vinny watch something. Most of the time Habit puts on something he thinks Vinny will hate, but the documentaries seem to be pleasant for both of them.
“So… if you’re getting more human influence, why are you so mad all the time?” A lion jumps onto a gazelle and brings it to the ground on the TV.
“I don’t like… feeling.” Habit sneers, as if repulsed by even the word.
“Well, what are you feeling that’s so terrible? Human emotions are fine most of the time. A lot of them are pretty good.”
Habit’s arms cross tighter against his body, he’s coiled so tight that Vinny half expects him to jump up and dash off the second he gets overwhelmed. “Content.” And he’s never said anything pleasant with so much contempt in his voice.
Vinny laughs at that. “Seriously dude? That’s what’s got you so pissed off? Why?”
“It’s annoying and uncomfortable.”
“Then by definition, I don't think you’re feeling content. I think that the definition of content is like, the absence of bad emotions.”
“No, I know what I’m feeling. I’m just sitting here, and there’s no feeling of needing to do something else or wasting my time, or anger at your presence, I’m just… here, and it’s okay. And that’s annoying as fuck.”
“Wait, are you usually angry when I’m around? Just like always?” Vinny turns so his body is facing Habit a little more.
“I mean, not right now. But yeah, we’re not friends. Before now I didn’t find contentment in anything so your presence wasn’t content for me.” Habit shrugs.
Vinny stands up to leave. “I don’t know what I really expected from you, but sure, that makes sense.” He runs a hand through his hair and starts walking away.
“You know I don’t care about your widdle feewings, right? You know I don’t give a shit? Yeah?” Habit calls as he leaves. After he’s sure that Vinny is out of earshot he hisses to himself. He doesn’t care about Vinny’s feelings. Why would he? And the weird feeling in the bottom of his stomach means nothing. It feels like he chugged cement. It’s sticking in his throat and hardening in his intestines and it means nothing. He turns his attention back to the TV, where a pride of lions is chasing out an outsider male.
The feeling is uncomfortable, but nothing that Habit can’t deal with. He’s sat with hunger for days before, and he knows that feelings can’t impact the body the way that hunger can. But while he sits he notices that the weird thick feeling in his throat won’t go away. It stays right there as if trying to wait him out. He manages to mostly ignore it through the rest of the documentary, then through part of another, but it just sits persistently, weighing down in his stomach. He fidgets with his knife for a bit, testing the sharpness of the blade, making a note to sharpen it sometime before his next playdate. And again his thoughts turn to Vinny, the way he huffed as he left, clearly Habit upset him with his comment.
But why should he care? It’s not like he’s Vinny’s mother, if he wanted to go sulk, then by all means go sulk. He doesn’t care, he tells himself again. He doesn’t care that he hurt Vinny’s feelings, that he’s upset. He doesn’t-
He slams the knife into the end table beside him, more jumping up than standing. He fluffs up his jacket as he walks down the hall that Vinny disappeared down. “Vinny,” he calls, “come on now.”
There’s no answer, and Habit considers just leaving it, but seeking him out has made the cement feeling wane. He heads towards the lounge room, where Vinny spends most of his time. The door is closed, and a quick handle turn shows that it’s locked as well. Not that that does anything to keep him out, he turns the knob again and this time the door swings open.
Vinny flinches at the sudden unexpected movement. He was lounging on the couch here, book in hand, but quickly moves himself to a sitting position, facing mostly away from Habit at the door. “The door was locked for a reason.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t open it.” Habit shrugs, taking a step into the room.
“Even so, it means that I don’t want you in here. That’s what the point of the lock is.” The room is silent for a moment as they both look away from each other. Habit scratches his head like a dog with fleas.
“Look, I don’t know why you got all mad.”
Vinny gives him an incredulous look. “I am always astounded by how bad you are at being nice. Or even just... decent.”
“Do you expect me to be good at this shit? Cause I can go right back to not giving a fuck and laughing at you when your feelings get hurt instead of-” Habit gestures vaguely to the room.
“Oh?” Vinny laughs, “Are you trying to insinuate that this is, what? An apology? Are you trying to make me feel better?” His voice is thick with sarcasm.
“I don’t know what I’m doing! And you have no idea how frustrating this is! Give me something to fucking work with here!”
“You need a hint? Wanna phone a friend? You apologize, dipshit.”
Habit holds in a snarl, instead straightening his posture and fluffing up his jacket like a preening bird. “I’m going to ignore that foul mouth of yours just this once.”
Vinny rolls his eyes in response, and motions for Habit to keep going.
"I’m… sorry,” Habit says, “That you got all butthurt that I didn’t like spending time with you. I don’t know why it’s such a big issue, I know you don’t like me either and until very recently I physically couldn’t but, y’know, whatever. I’m sorry.”
“I mean… that’s probably the best apology I’m ever going to get from you anyways. Fine. Thank you.” Vinny turns back to his book, his shoulders high around his ears.
Habit just stays standing halfway in the doorway, waiting for Vinny to say something else. If he’s being honest he feels a little… awkward, the broken voice in his head tells him. You’re feeling awkward, Habit. “So, uh…”
“What?”
“Is that it?”
“I mean… I’m still mad, but I’m trying to be understanding that you haven’t felt human emotions before and how that’s affecting you.”
“What do you mean, how it’s affecting me, it’s not. Just because I feel them doesn’t make me any different.” Habit says, crossing his arms defensively.
“I mean… ask yourself, would Habit six months ago follow me after saying something that hurt my feelings? Would Habit six months ago apologize? Especially so easily. I don’t think he would.”
Habit sits there for a minute, wishing suddenly that Vinny wasn’t there so he could sit down without showing him how much the words affected him. Not that he couldn’t tell from the way that his relaxed posture suddenly turns stiff. Still in a relaxed pose, but with no sway as he breathes, just frozen in place. “And so what if it is?” He says, no emotion penetrating his voice.
“You’re still you of course, and I doubt it’ll change you substantially. You’ll just be a little more understanding of human things and have a few more human impulses, like checking in on someone after you’ve hurt their feelings” Vinny shrugs, and believes what he says. The Habit he knows loves the theatrics of his own violence too much to be swayed by human ethics, even if he suddenly understands human ethics.
“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right.” Habit murmurs. The ice in his veins, fear? Not quite, perhaps dread, begins to flow away. He gives himself a shake, like a dog returning from an unwanted shower, before leaning his weight back to put on his usual careless demeanor. “Anyway, if you’re gunna be farting around, reading that stupid book in here I’m leaving.”
“Aw, you don’t want to enjoy my company?” There’s the barest hint of a joke to his voice, one that Habit latches onto to see if Vinny is still mad or not.
“No, fuck you.” He flips Vinny off and sticks his tongue out at him as he slams the door closed behind him.
----------
“You’re being nicer to me.” Habit says in the middle of dinner one night. In the middle of chewing his food, which was gross, but Vinny wasn’t about to school him in manners.
Vinny's fork pauses on its journey, only halfway to his open mouth. He forces his mouth closed, gets this gently puzzled look on his face like he isn’t quite sure what Habit means. “No, I’m not.” He says.
Habit hums, tilting his head in that way that begs to ask “are you sure about that?” He watches Vinny think about it for a second. “You are. I’ve noticed.”
“Name one thing,” Vinny says, stabbing his fork into his pasta. It’s not that he necessarily hasn’t been nicer lately, but if he has it’s been unintentional. Why would he ever consciously try to be nice to him? He simply wouldn’t.
Habit takes a sip of his drink, burping loudly as he sets it down. “You cleaned the kitchen today.”
“I would have done that anyway,” Vinny says quickly.
“No, you wouldn’t’ve. Listen, I know you, and I know you think I don’t notice little shit like that, but I do. You also showered today. I can tell you’re depressed because you haven’t been showering.” Habit lets Vinny sit in silence on that one for a moment before adding. “You take baths, I know because I can hear the water running but I know you don’t wash in the bath because your hair is still greasy when you come out.”
“Okay. One- how is my bathing routine any of your business, and two- how does me showering have anything to do with being nicer to you?”
Habit gives a halfhearted shrug, though his eyes still hold an intensity that has Vinny sitting very still in his seat. There’s always been something about the way that Habit looks at him that makes him freeze like a deer, paralyzed in the cold, unfeeling brightness of a car's headlights. “It doesn’t, I suppose. Though, I could make a separate point about how your mental health seems to be doing better. They go hand in hand. When you’re upset at me or feeling hopeless because of something I did, you stop caring, stop showering, and only make food that takes less than twenty minutes to prepare. I think the only reason you cook at all is that you’re scared that I’ll do something to you if you don’t.” Habit pushes his empty plate towards the middle of the table, looking for all the world as if a conversation is something you win, and he just got first place.
Vinny pushes his plate away too, though he only finished about half of what he put on it. “Not true.” He says indifferently.
“Which part?” Habit smiles, the same smile he gets when he has someone right where he wants them.
“All of it. Why would my mental health have anything to do with you?” He knows he’s getting defensive, and he knows it’s only because Habit has a bit of a point.
“Hmm, let me think.” He says sarcastically. “How about because you know that I control your living situation, because I control what food is available, I control the water and electricity, and I control whether or not these doors open. I control ninety percent of your life and wellbeing and you know it. So you get depressed and shit when something negative happens with me, and you try to maintain my expectations even if you don’t feel like cooking. You’re trying to survive really, and that’s admirable.”
“I didn’t know that dinner came with a side of armchair therapy tonight,” Vinny says dryly, taking both of their plates and standing. He takes a short walk to the sink and dumps them in. He can do them later. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
Habit stands, his chair nearly falling over behind him. Habit walks behind Vinny like a shadow, following him through the hallways. “Now, here’s the interesting thing. If we follow the logic here,” Habit watches as Vinny opens the door to his room and quickly walks through, clearly trying to gain enough distance to close the door on Habit. He pauses though, as he notices that he did not just walk into his bedroom. He’s in the laundry room. He huffs to himself, continuing to walk while Habit follows, a smile creeping onto his face. “You get sad when I do negative shit to you. Easy enough. You do okay when things are okay. As expected. But you’re doing good right now, comparatively at least,” Vinny shoots him an angry look as this door leads to the living room instead of the stairs. “So that begs the question, what am I doing that’s making you do good?”
“I would be doing a lot better if you left me alone,” Vinny says, switching directions and trying to backtrack. Though the door he just came from leads to the bathroom now. Vinny groans in frustration and turns to Habit. “You’re being nicer too, you know.” He says accusingly. He walks into the bathroom and closes the door, with Habit nearly stunned on the other side.
“No, I’m not!” Habit yells, leaning against the door.
Vinny sinks to the floor, his back to the door. Who knows how long Habit was going to keep this conversation going. He’ll come back out when Habit leaves. “You are. You’ve been getting more and more emotionally intelligent. Or at least you’ve been showing it more. Habit six months ago would never have made the conversation you’re making right now. Probably wouldn’t have even thought about it, honestly. Or at least if he knew, he hid it very well.”
“Maybe you just didn’t notice how thoughtful I’ve always been.” Habit says smugly.
This makes Vinny laugh, loud enough for Habit to hear him through the door. He stops when Habit bangs on the door once, a warning. “Yeah, you sure were concerned about my mental health when you disappeared for months and I was running out of food. You really showed you cared when the electricity went off and didn’t come back for a week and a half, and I was just laying comatose on the floor with all the blankets in that fucking apartment when you got back. I could tell you cared because you moved me from the apartment back here, and didn’t give a shit that I was halfway starving and gorged myself on pretty much anything I could find until I started throwing it all back up.”
The other side of the door is quiet for a long time. Vinny takes a deep breath. He’s still angry and has every right to be. But he can feel angry later. “But now,” He says, repositioning himself on the floor, “I’m looking at the tub and I’m noticing that you got me a fresh razer.”
“Who’s says that I got that?” Habit says disinterestedly. Vinny can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s crossed his arms and is tapping his left foot, the dominant one, in that annoyed way that he does.
“You just said that you control ninety percent of my life, and I know that I didn’t go to the store and get it,” Vinny says.
“Fine.” Habit says. It’s the least convincing thing he’s ever said.
“Can I come out now or are you gunna keep following me?”
“I was hoping we could watch TV.”
Vinny scoffs. “Fine.” Vinny stands and pulls the door open, seeing Habit with his arms crossed just like he imagined him. The door still leads straight to the living room, like it usually didn’t. He steps across, trying to see if he feels any weird energy pulls, nothing. He has no idea how Habit does the weird portalling thing, but it was mostly just annoying, especially when he used it to keep chasing Vinny. He brushes past Habit and sits down on the couch with a sigh. “What do you wanna watch?”
----------
Ever since their conversation they had a loose understanding of each other. That was how everything happened in the house, almost no direct communication, just lots of implied and inferred rules that both of them honored even if they didn’t fully understand them, or the scope of them. They got along better and spent more time watching TV together on the couch. Or in the same room, Habit planning in one corner while Vinny tries to ignore him in favor of his book in the other.
Today, Habit’s sitting on the far side of the couch with his legs up on the living room table. “Wanna watch something?” He asks, grabbing the remote and flipping through a few channels. Most of them are filled with static, which would be alarming if Vinny wasn’t used to the fact that they got pretty much zero cable. Most of the time they had old documentaries and westerns, maybe something else if they were lucky. The TV crackles as it flips through channels, stopping on a documentary about dolphins.
Vinny sits down and makes himself comfortable with the blanket that he keeps draped across the back of the couch specifically for times like these. They both sit silently until the commercials come on. “I’m noticing a box set of Bones,” Vinny mentions.
“It’s the seventh season. We don’t have four or six.” Habit says dismissively, ignoring both the tv and Vinny to pick at his nails. Not that there's much to pick at, since he starts biting them a moment later.
“Well, you know they say it’s the thought that counts right?”
Habit grunts.
The room is quiet again except for the sound of the TV, explaining how dolphins hunt in pods. “You know I’ve been wondering about something for a while now.”
“Yeah?” Habit asks, still pretending to be disinterested in Vinny.
“So there’s this theory about how you best receive affection, and how that correlates to the way that you show affection. And it’s called love languages. I was wondering if, since you’re in Evan’s body, you share a love language, or if you have different languages.”
“Different.” Habit says instantly.
“You don’t even know what they are.” Vinny protests.
“I don’t even feel love, so I wouldn’t have one anyway. But we’re not the same. We’re different people. Ergo different love languages.” Habit shakes his hand like even saying the word love makes him feel gross.
“I don’t know,” Vinny says, snuggling the blanket closer around him to keep himself warm. “I think you might not feel love like humans do, but I think you have a language.”
“I don’t,” Habit says, his leg beginning to bounce restlessly.
“How about I just list them and see if any of them sound interesting.” He waits a moment for Habit to protest, but all he receives is a groan and a roll of Habit's eyes. “Okay, let me think. There are words of affirmation, but that doesn’t sound like you. There's acts of service, maybe-”
“No.” Habit cuts him off. “I don’t buy you shit because I give a shit about you or want you to be happy.”
“Then why do you buy me anything besides necessities?”
“Investment.” He says simply.
Vinny keeps his thoughts to himself on that one. “There’s also quality time and physical touch.” He offers. Habit is quiet for a long while. “Come to think of it,” Vinny says, “I can’t recall you ever being casually touched. The only time you touch is when you’re hurting someone, as far as I can remember.”
“So it’s not that.” Habit says.
“Well, you don’t know if you’ve never tried it.”
He levies an unimpressed look towards Vinny. “Do I look like the type of person who likes physical touch?”
“I dunno, have you ever tried it?” Habit rolls his eyes. “Do you want to?” Vinny asks.
“You offering?”
And this makes Vinny pause for a moment. The idea of cuddling up with a killer, especially the one who occasionally made him watch, made something churn in his stomach. But it wasn’t disgust. They do know each other fairly well now, and Habit was growing more “human” by the day it seemed. Surely that had to count for something? “Um, if you want to try it.” Vinny answers.
“Okay.” Habit says hesitantly.
“Okay.” Vinny echos. He thinks for a minute before scooting across the couch, the distance between them evaporating like smoke. Once the distance has shrunk he pauses again, looking at the way Habit is slung across the couch. He slots himself underneath Habits arm hesitantly, draping the blanket across the both of them. He rests his arm across Habits lap, and his head on Habits chest.
Habit goes still as a statue, and Vinny isn’t fully sure that he’s still breathing for a minute. But then he hears Habit let out a little puff of air. “What am I supposed to do?” He asks.
“I mean… You don’t have to do anything, but if you want to you could like, cuddle me back.” Vinny says. “Here,” He moves Habits arm from the back of the couch to around his shoulders. His arm is limp around him. “Okay well,” Vinny thinks for a moment. “Usually people like, grip a little bit.”
“Okay.” Habit says. His head tilts to the side like he’s trying to analyze the weird situation he finds himself in before he tries to slot his body together with Vinny’s. It’s not perfect, but with a little adjustment here and there they both find themselves fairly comfortable. They sit like that for a long, silent minute. Vinny notices that Habit is warm, almost warm enough that he pushes the blanket away. Maybe this is why he always kept the house so cold, he might just happen to run hot.
Habit sits there silently, analyzing every point of contact between the two. He moves his feet down from the table, his breath stopping when Vinny hooks one leg over his. He’s kind of halfway laying on Habit, body angled towards him. Habit tries angling his body back towards Vinny, notices how there’s a moment where they catch before slotting together. It’s almost like a hug while they sit.
He tries to take stock of how he’s feeling, still unused to the whole practice. He feels warm, he feels the running current of his pulse pumping through his veins, his mind is almost delightfully fuzzy.
“How does this feel?” Vinny asks.
Habit breathes in, and he can smell Vinny’s warm scent flooding his palate. It travels up his nostrils into his lungs and makes a home deep inside him. He can’t believe he never noticed the way he smells before. “It feels… warm.” Habit mumbles. “I think I like it.”
“Good.” Vinny chirps. “Me too.”
“And people just… do this?” Habit asks.
“Um, yeah kinda.” Vinny shrugs. “Depends on the people. Evan and I are both really physically affectionate, so…”
“Um, how does it feel for you?”
“Definitely warm. I will admit that I’m a little nervous.” Vinny says, nuzzling his head into Habits chest in an effort to get more comfortable.
“Do I make you nervous?” Habits thumb starts absentmindedly rubbing along Vinny's back. He’s not even aware that he’s doing it.
“Sometimes,” Vinny says, honesty coming as a surprise to himself. “Sometimes when you do what you do, and especially when you make me watch. When you act erratic I get worried that you’re going to lash out at me.” He supposes lying would be useless anyway, but something about being honest to start with catches in his mind.
Habit is quiet for a minute. Of course, he knew that his actions had effects and consequences, he just never realized that this was one of them. Didn’t realize that he didn’t want Vinny to be nervous around him, or at least more than was demanded by his own motives. But surely there was a way to get his work done without terrifying Vinny into submission.
Vinny listens vaguely to the TV, though still very much focused on Habit.
“Sorry.” Habit says softly, focusing his gaze anywhere but the man cuddled up with him.
“For what?” Vinny hums. The way Habits thumb is absentmindedly rubbing his back, combined with the warmth radiating off him is making him slowly close his eyes. He’s still a little nervous, but it’s slowly ebbing away and leaving something comfortable in its place. It’s been so long since he got any kind of physical affection, and it feels so good to be cuddling someone, who cares who it is.
“Scaring you, I guess. Being a dick most of the time.”
“Hmm. Well, I know that you haven’t really had the human processing of emotions until recently.” Vinny says. “Not to say I forgive you for the shit you did and do to me, but I can see that something in you is changing for the better. Honestly, I think this is the most sincere apology you’ve ever given me.”
Habit sort of shrugs, but tries his best to not let Vinny get jostled. He doesn’t want to move, wants to just feel Vinny curled up with him and smell his warm scent longer. “I resent that.” He says.
“No, really. I never would have dreamed of… snuggling on the couch before you started changing. You’re like a whole different person.”
Habit grunts. Yeah, sure he was changing, but that doesn’t mean he stopped salivating at the sight of blood. That he doesn’t love the melodic sounds of human suffering. That he doesn’t like hearing the crunch of bone under hammer, under boot heel, between his teeth. “You know I’m still that person though. I’ll still hurt you if I wanted to.” It’s less of a threat and more of a gentle reminder, that even if Habit apologized or did nice things, that he was always, always capable of horrible things.
“Do you want to?” Vinny asks simply.
And Habit feels the need to prove it, to show Vinny that he is a monster first and foremost. The instinct in him to snap and bite and grab and brutalize him is there, building in the muscles of his jaw, building in the scraped and bruised knuckles of his fingers. He takes a deep breath in, the smell of him so close, so warm, is making him salivate. He swallows, trying hard to not imagine how delightful it would be to bite him, to feel him struggle beneath him. Yes, yes, he wants to hurt him, wants to show him how horrible he truly is, and see what he thinks then. He wants to-
“Are you okay?” Vinny asks, his soft voice cutting through Habit's racing thoughts. He’s looking up at him, not quite concerned, but almost. “Your pupils are really big right now.”
Habit rubs at his nose, trying to get the intoxicating smell away. “I’m fine.” He says shortly.
“You don’t have to answer,” Vinny says, and Habit can feel him starting to draw away as if he was about to take his leave. He tries to think of something to say. Something that isn’t a lie, but doesn’t make Vinny get up and leave. “It’s getting late anyway, I think I’m gunna go to bed.”
And to Habit's credit, he manages to keep the growl in his throat down. It’s better if he doesn’t appear to be threatening. “Okay.” He turns off the TV. He stays sitting as Vinny gently moves away and stands up. It’s cold where he was, and Habit readjusts, turning his attention to his fingernails. He notices a hangnail and starts to bite at it.
“Um, goodnight,” Vinny says, voice halfway unsure. And it’s weird because they’ve never told each other goodnight before. They usually tend to give each other space, except for when Vinny senses that Habit needs something or they happen to be in the same room for different purposes. Sure they watch TV, but Vinny usually just leaves when they’re done.
“Goodnight.” Habit finds himself saying back, eyes trailing after Vinny as he walks away. He waits. Waits until he hears Vinny’s door close before he gets up.
----------
He paces around the house, for a while, listening to the floor creek below his steps. His mind swirls with thoughts of hurting, of scaring, and maiming. Etching permanent reminders into skin and watching them heal into jagged scars.
He finds himself at the base of the attic stairs, staking the accent and walking through the attic door like walking into a press conference. He starts moving different furniture around to match the vision in his head. Next time he wanted the table over here, so he could circle it while still watching his play date. One by one he brought his knives up, laying them gently down on the table and ordering them, reordering them, switching them around one more time before he was happy with the placement. He thinks about kicking the kiddie chair across the room but thinks about Vinny and hesitates.
Vinny laying down in his bed. Was he listening to Habit stomp around up here? His feet become lighter, he picks up the kiddie chair and quietly takes it across the room, putting it in the corner. Vinny was probably about ready to nod off by now if the sound of footsteps wasn’t keeping him up.
Habit cracks his neck, cracks his knuckles. He looks at the table, fingers gliding over a few different knives before picking one and grabbing it by the hilt. He walks to the attic door, swinging it open to the cold dark world outside. He steps out into the freezing cold air, gently closing the door behind him. He can see his breath in front of him and makes a mental note to be back before sunrise.
Vinny is laying down in bed. First, he was on one side, then the other side, currently he’s laying on his stomach with his head buried into the sheets. It sounds like Habit is planning his next target. He was stomping around the attic for a while like he usually does, but the house is finally quiet. Vinny usually tries to stay in his room at night, though there’s been a few times where he stays up while Habit sits at the kitchen table, drawing up figures and plans on pieces of scrap paper and whiteboards.
He groans, wondering why he can’t quite seem to get comfortable. He tosses and turns a little more before sitting up in bed with a groan. He feels a slight headache coming on. He throws a shirt on, only doing one button around the middle of the shirt, and pulls his sweat pants up just a tad before he opens his bedroom door.
The house is silent. He makes his way to the bathroom, the sound of his feet being absorbed by the carpet. The bathroom door cries out in protest when he opens it. He flicks the light on, flinching at the brightness. He covers his face with his eyes, trying to rub the tiredness out of them. When he takes his hands away he’s more adjusted to the light, though he still squints as he opens the medicine cabinet. He shakes the bottle of Tylenol.
Half the time when he needed it, it was empty. Habits little way of “suicidal idiot-proofing” the house. But this time when he shakes it, there’s a little rattle. Vinny pops the top open and finds exactly two pills inside. He rolls his eyes, debating on whether or not to tell Habit that if he really wanted to die, he hasn’t taken away his sheets. He decides against it though.
Holding the pills in his hands, he pads downstairs to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. The faucet hisses as he turns it on. And this is when he notices. Yes, the house is quiet. But usually, there was some noise around the house, even if it was just from the tapping of Habits foot. But it’s very nearly silent, especially when Vinny tilts his head back, chugging the glass of water and tossing down the pills.
The dishes from earlier are the only thing out of place. Vinny sighs and turns the water back on to rinse them off. He might as well clean them now that he was up, instead of waiting. Sure, he could put them in the dishwasher, but something about washing by hand made him feel a little less depressed and a little more connected to anything normal. When he’s done he notices the silence again and decides to poke his head around the house to see where Habit has gone.
He trails slowly through the house, almost afraid to break the silence. Surely the next room he walks into, Habit will be sitting there scribbling something down and muttering about the stick in the mud. But there’s nothing but a dark stillness in the next room. And the next, and the next.
Vinny notices a twinge, not fear, but apprehension, building slowly within him. It starts as lightness in his feet, keeping him from breaking the silence of the cold, almost dead house. It builds as a heaviness in his stomach, the anticipation of finding Habit, anticipating the relief he would feel, how he would laugh nervously and tell him not to scare him like that. It peaks as a sharp blade in his mind, highlighting each dark edge and corner of the furniture, each line of the wall as he walks through the hallway. Eventually, there is only one more place to check.
Vinny stands at the door to the attic. Maybe he doesn’t need to know. The attic was never good, no matter what.
But it was also never, ever silent when Habit was in there.
Vinny grabs the doorknob and gently pushes the door open. It’s dark and silent in here as well. And when he flips on the light switch he finds that it’s also completely empty. The smell of blood, overpowered by the smell of bleach he used to clean it up, makes him nauseous, and Vinny quickly backs out of the room and closes the door behind him. Plus, if Habit ever saw him near the attic, especially when his knives were out, he would have a fit. Best for both of them if he just heads back downstairs.
But it was strange, Vinny was positive that he checked every room in the house, bathrooms, basement, even the pantry. And Habit was nowhere to be seen. Habit never left him alone without telling him first, even if he was only leaving for a moment. Instead of apprehension, Vinny feels panic starting to rise in him, and he quickly does another run through the house, this time gently calling for Habit along the way.
No reply, no movement anywhere in the house. As he’s turning around in the living room he hears the front door being kicked open. “Oh, thank god!” He says, making his way to greet Habit. “You scared-” His words are stillborn on his tongue when he rounds the corner to the door.
Habit is standing in the doorway, hunched over like a wild animal. He’s panting like he just finished a hunt and looks like it too. There’s blood on his shoes, his ratty torn-up jeans, and especially on his forearms. Vinny takes notice of the knife he’s still holding, the way it glistens with still fresh blood and drips onto the hardwood floors. And his face. Vinny is frozen in place by the look in his eyes. His pupils are so wide it almost looks as if his eyes were completely black, his jaw slack as he pants, spit and drool spilling from his lips and mixing with the blood on his face. Vinny watches him swallow, raise his non-wielding hand to wipe at his mouth, spreading a heavy smear of blood across his mouth. He looks like a rabid animal, like a predator who is just about to eliminate its prey.
“I should… go. To bed.” Vinny breathes, taking one slow step backward.
He watches as Habits mouth overflows with spit in real-time, watches him spit on the floor, and continues to pant as if he has never heard of breathing before. “I don’t think so.” Habit growls, his voice low in his chest and rumbling in that deep solid way it would when he was really pissed off.
Vinny stands at attention, gently posturing his hands so they’re where Habit can see them, in the way that says “don’t hurt me.” He swallows, though his own mouth is nearly bone dry despite the water he drank just minutes before. “Okay.” He says.
Habit takes a few lumbering steps forward, but graciously gives Vinny a bubble of space as he passes into the kitchen. And the contrast of the silence to now makes everything all that much louder. Habit haphazardly tosses the knife on the table, and it lands with a loud thunk that makes Vinny flinch. The chair complains as Habit pulls it out and basically falls into it.
“Close the door,” Habit says. “Cats’ll get out.”
Vinny is shocked to find the door wide open, to find the actual outside on the other end of it. He wonders if this is a deliberate test to see if he’ll run off, or if Habit is too tired to give a shit about closing the door behind him. He meekly approaches the door, taking one deep breath of the cold air, trying to savor it as much as he can before he pushes the door closed.
He walks into the kitchen where Habit has sat down, standing near the wall. He’s trying to give Habit space, but it feels like he takes up the whole room, his whole mood and feelings splattering on the walls like the streaks of blood across his body.
“Am I scaring you right now?” Habit asks, turning his gaze onto Vinny. His pupils are still massive, and Vinny feels like he’s looking into the face of a shark who’s just had a taste of blood. He wonders if his will be the next to flood the water.
Vinny smiles the most pathetic, lopsided, and hesitant smile. It’s almost an apology in and of itself, as he stands there with his back pressed into the counter. “I, um, can’t say that I'm particularly at ease.”
“Is that what I asked, dipshit?” Habit spits. His head twitches to the side like he just heard a dog whistle go off, and he uses the palm of his hand to hit himself in the head a few times before growling. He stops, takes a deep breath, and then speaks. “That’s not what I asked.” He says slowly like he’s putting all his effort into deliberately trying to say it as calmly as possible.
Vinny’s instinct to run is blaring sirens in his mind, telling him to get away, get away, get away from Habit. But another part of his mind is telling him that if he blinks wrong Habit is going to kill him on the spot. “Yes.” Vinny answers. “You’re scaring me right now.”
Habit nods to himself. “Do you regret trusting me? Do you still think I’m not going to hurt you?”
Vinny leads with honesty. “No.” And even though his voice is weak, he means it. “I think,” he takes a moment to remember to breathe, “that you definitely could, I know you could. But I don’t think you want to.”
Habit slowly stands back up, unequivocally terrifying despite being shorter than Vinny. His boots make loud stomping noises on the tile of the kitchen as he lumbers over to Vinny, coming closer and closer until Vinny is almost crawling onto the counter. Habit has him completely pinned, despite not laying a hand on him, and Vinny can feel his hot breath on his face.
“What if I told you that I want you to submit to me? If I said I wanted that from you, do you think I wouldn’t take what I wanted by force?” And that strange look is back, the one that Vinny can’t quite figure out. Habit's eyes are wild, almost in the way they got wild when he was about to have a playdate, but his eyebrows are furrowed like he doesn’t quite understand something.
Vinny can feel himself shaking, but he hopes it doesn’t show. He’s confused by the questions and doesn't know what exactly Habit is trying to get at. Habits eyes bore holes in Vinny's thoughts, unraveling them at the seams like they were held together with bad glue. Something in his head switches over, and without thinking he can feel himself shakily sliding to the ground until he rests on his knees in front of Habit. His pulse is pounding in his ears, the blood rushing so fast he feels lightheaded. He tilts his head up to catch Habit's intense stare.
Habit almost doubles over, one hand bracing himself on the counter behind Vinny. His other hand wipes at his mouth again, and he swallows, but his mouth is still watering so hard that drops of spit drip down his chin.
“I don’t think you want to hurt me.” Vinny breathes, like a promise, like a plea, like a prayer.
Habit grimaces, bringing one bloody hand to cup at Vinny’s chin. “I want something achievable by hurting you.” His voice is a low growl. “But I want your trust too. And you won't trust me if I hurt you.”
“Look at where you have me,” Vinny says gently, his hands shaking in his lap. “I still have some… reservations, but I do trust you... to a certain extent. More than I think I reasonably should, knowing what you’ve done.”
Habit crouches just enough to be at eye level with Vinny. His hand slides to cup at Vinny’s cheek before slipping down and resting on his neck. It’s a chokehold, Vinny would know, but there’s no pressure behind the grip. He’s really just resting his hand there, though if it’s a threat or just a familiar resting place, Vinny can’t say. “I want to prove that you shouldn’t trust me. I want you to know that there will always be nights where I come home covered in blood. I am never going to be something domestic.” He promises.
Vinny does his best to maintain eye contact. “I know.” He watches as Habits eyes dip down, staring at the gentle hold around his neck before slowly sliding down even further, eyes devouring the sight of Vinny’s half-exposed chest. He swallows nervously, wondering if he should move his hands to fix more of the buttons.
Habits nostrils flare before he suddenly stands up and takes a step back, fingers falling from Vinny's neck. “As long as you know.” Habit says dismissively, turning away and shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
Habit leaves Vinny sitting on the floor, and disappears deeper into the house. Vinny sits there for a moment, waiting for him to come back. Then, when it’s clear that he’s not coming back, he waits for the fog in his head to clear. He laughs to himself, a soft sarcastic chuckle underneath his breath as he stands up on shaky limbs. This was going to have consequences of some kind. Kneeling to Habit? When he was clearly just on some murder bender, fucking up other people's lives? He was going to have an inflated ego in the morning at least, that’s for sure.
He makes his way to his bedroom, not seeing Habit on the way, and closes the door behind him. It’s dark and warm in his room, and he sinks into the mattress, letting out a loud sigh of relief. It’s when he lays down that he realizes. He can feel his face turn red as he notices the slickness between his legs. He pulls the pillow over his face and groans into it in embarrassment, hoping to god that Habit didn’t notice whatever arousal he felt in the kitchen. Who was he kidding, he probably did. How embarrassing, Habit was going to hold that over him for the next forever.
He sighs in defeat, putting the pillow under his head and pushing his sweats and underwear down. He grabs the base of his dick between his fingers, his breath hitching at the contact. He can’t remember the last time he jerked off. Doesn’t matter. He starts giving slow, gentle pumps, letting his legs relax and fall to the sides. His head sinks into the pillow as he speeds up, fingers dipping down to collect the wetness and spread it over his dick.
He tries to think of something sexy, but his mind keeps wandering to Habit. The way he was looking him up and down. The warmth of his body when they were snuggled on the couch earlier. Vinny always had a bit of a thing for Evan's body, and seeing Habit in that body, staring down at him and salivating at the sight of him… He felt desirable. He tried to shake the thoughts out of his head, but they kept returning.
Eventually, he lets his mind wander where it likes, thinking about how it would feel to have Habit on top of him, in a non-aggressive manner. Sure he’s experienced being pinned down and bitten and grabbed by him before, but the thought of Habit doing it for pleasure instead of pain made him ache to be filled.
Vinny tries to keep the sound of his moans down, turning his head and pushing his face into the pillow. He feels his orgasm building, rubbing at the sensitive head, and lets out a loud groan. When he finishes it’s like a punch to the gut, he slows down his strokes a little but continues until he shivers from overstimulation. He grabs a handful of tissues from the nightstand and wipes himself off before sliding under the covers.
He feels a heady haze, trying not to focus too hard on how much he liked the idea of something sexual with Habit. He can think about that later, for now, he’s much more content to let the darkness of the room lull him into a nice, deep sleep.
----------
When he wakes up in the morning there’s an odd energy in the house. Vinny never used to believe in energy, or mojo, or any particular vibes. But since he started cohabitating with Habit (ha!), he can tell when something is up by just the way the air feels.
He changes into a new pair of clothes before heading downstairs to the kitchen. There’s a smell in the air, the unmistakable smell of bacon and pancakes. As he rounds the corner to the kitchen he nearly laughs at the sight, Habit at the stove, taking the last of the bacon off and setting it to a plate on the side. There’s a stack of pancakes next to it as well. Vinny almost expects him to be wearing some cheesy apron when he turns around.
“Good morning.” He says, somewhat confused.
Habit mutters a greeting, flipping the stove off and fixing himself a plate of food. Vinny watches him fall into his chair, grabbing the bottle of syrup on the table to begin drowning his pancakes in.
A tiny smile graces Vinny’s face. It’s an unexpected surprise for breakfast to be ready. He quickly makes himself a plate before sitting down for breakfast with Habit.
“You smell different,” Habit says, apropos of nothing.
Vinny’s hand pauses for just a moment before continuing to cut into his pancakes. “Okay? I mean, I use the same deodorant every day so I don’t know what you mean.” He takes a bite of his pancakes, realizes that they aren’t half bad, and takes another hasty bite.
“No, like, your pheromones.”
Vinny laughs. “Okay, yeah, I don’t think you can smell pheromones.”
Habit shrugs. “I can. Takes a long time to understand them though. It’s not as simple as smelling food, and seeing food, and knowing they’re the same by association. You don’t walk around saying exactly what you mean when you smell different.”
Vinny hums, taking another bite of his pancakes.
Habit continues. “Sometimes it’s pretty easy to learn. That sickly sweet scent on your breath when you’re depressed isn’t just from not brushing your teeth for the past week. But you smell sweeter right now, like honey. You smell warm.”
Vinny, who’s still certain that Habit is bullshitting him, hides his chuckle with a cough. There’s no way he smells any pheromones on him, especially any weird new sweet ones. Even if that was how pheromones worked he jerked off once, several hours ago. He totally wouldn’t smell like he has any sort of feelings for Habit. It’s just not possible.
Habit gives him a look that he can’t quite decipher before taking another pointed bite of his own food. “Anyways.” He takes a sip of his orange juice. “You weren’t supposed to see me come home.”
It’s closer to an apology than a statement, and Vinny can tell that he is sorry, he just doesn’t want to say it. And that’s okay, he knows how hard it is for Habit to apologize for things. “Unless I’m mistaken you’ve never left me alone without telling me first.” He leaves off the part where sometimes Habit doesn’t say when he’ll be coming back. Or if he’ll be coming back at all.
“You were asleep.” Habit says, looking at the fridge behind Vinny’s head. He’s chewing with his mouth open again.
“Hasn’t stopped you before.” Vinny half huffs, half laughs.
Habit bites a piece of bacon angrily. “I don’t have to answer to you.” And he wants to bring up Vinny kneeling to him, to really push him down and make him shut up, but he doesn’t. Wants to tell him that his head is still spinning with fog and weird feelings he doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t. Wants to tell him that even after eating there’s an empty space inside him that is still hungry, starving really, and he doesn’t know what it is or how to feed it, but he doesn’t.
“Never said that you did. Just said that you usually say something.”
Habit huffs, kicking his feet up and leaning way back in his chair. He doesn’t know how to bring up what happened, doesn’t know how to tell Vinny that he didn’t want him to see him like that. Except for the parts of him that did want him to see. It was confusing because he did and didn’t at the same time.
“Am I allowed to ask what happened?”
“Nothing you’d want to know about.”
“You’re the one that brought it up.” Vinny shrugs. “Thank you for breakfast.” He changes the subject.
“Don’t wanna talk about that either.” Habit says.
Vinny tries not to roll his eyes. “Okay, well, in that case, I’m going to go take a shower.” He stands up, picking up both of their empty plates to drop in the sink. Vinny can tell that Habit wants to say something, it’s the nervous way he’s cracking his knuckles, his eyes following Vinny when he moves.
“Are you scared of me right now?”
Vinny pauses before turning the water in the sink on to do the dishes, allowing himself time to explain. “No. I’m a little… confused by what happened. You came home looking like you single-handedly inspired slasher moves for the next five years, and then you turned on me. I was genuinely scared that you were going to hurt me. And don’t get me wrong,” he says, turning away from the sink to throw a glance back to Habit, “I was being honest when I said I didn’t think you wanted to hurt me. I just thought you might do it anyway, to teach me a lesson. But you didn’t. I mean, the worst thing that happened was you drooled on me a little bit.” Vinny turns the sink off, their dishes now clean and set on the drying rack. “But yeah, um, I guess I’m just confused on where you’re at sorta… emotionally, but I know that it’s hard for you so I don’t expect answers.”
“Oh, fuck you, you think it’s so easy.”
“I don’t think it’s easy, but obviously it’s a sore subject and I’m making you mad when I bring it up. So I can drop it, and go take my shower.”
“I wouldn’t be mad if any of it made sense! It’s all stupid nonsense and I don’t get it!”
“And because you don’t want to be vulnerable and talk through it with me,” Vinny says with an offhanded shrug. From the way Habit straightens up in his chair and the wide, angry look in his eyes, Vinny can tell he should have kept his mouth shut.
“Oh fuck you.” Habit stands up. “You think you’re such a hotshot, huh? How about you get on your fucking knees again and tell me how that makes you feel.” He’s standing over him now, hand raised like he’s about to push him down to the floor.
Vinny braces himself, there’s no way in hell he’s going to fucking kneel to Habit, especially when he’s acting like this. Last night meant nothing, a fear response that won’t be repeated. “Fuck you.” He spits.
“Yeah, I bet you want to, you little bitch. If only you could see yourself last night, looking up at me like you wanted my cock down your throat.”
“Why would I ever want to fuck you?” He hisses. He starts slowly backing away, keeping his defense up. If Habit lets him walk away he’ll gladly take it, but if Habit is determined to hit him he’s not going to let him get a free shot in.
“Are you embarrassed?” Habit crows. “You’re getting all soft on me. First, you start snuggling up with me like one of the cats, and then I have you on your knees looking up at me with those wide eyes of yours like you’re just begging for it. How humiliating. I bet you started jerking off the second you got in bed, huh? How good was that orgasm, champ?” Habit stalks him down the hall as he speaks, shoulders hunched up and hackles raised.
“If anyone's getting soft it’s you, talking about “I want your trust.” You’re the one who started drooling on me, might I remind you.” Vinny keeps taking steps backward, he’s almost to his room, and once he’s there he might be able to push the door closed behind him.
“You think I’m getting soft?” Habit says, his half-smile twisting into a snarl. “You think I’m not capable of tearing you limb by limb? I’ll cut your legs off first, that way you’re always looking up at me, you stupid bitch.” Habit sees the door behind Vinny swing open, and he tries to body slam the door into staying open when Vinny ducks inside and shoves it closed behind him. But he’s a moment too late, as the door shuts and locks with him on the wrong side.
He knows that he could break the lock, or just twist the door and it would open for him. But instead, he hisses, banging his fist against the door. “You think you’re hot shit?” Habit yells. “I will be here when you’re hungry, when you have to pee, when you get so tired of being locked in your room that you risk coming out. And I’m going to make you fucking beg for forgiveness, and maybe if you give me those pretty little eyes then I’ll consider not breaking your legs.” He pounds on the door again, hearing a tiny peep from inside. “That’s right,” he growls, “don’t forget who runs this fucking place.”
----------
A few weeks go by, with Habit and Vinny learning to live with not mentioning that whole kneeling thing, Vinny as to not inflate Habits ego, and Habit as to not admit that spit and drool still pools in his mouth at the thought, and a deep aching hunger rises in him. Vinny has gotten a reprieve from Habit's hellish behavior, and Habit has found that Vinny was right when he said most human emotions are fine enough. It’s mostly evened out, and for once both of them are content, if not happy.
But although Habit had mellowed out, doesn’t mean he didn't have business to pursue. Business always made both of them testy, though for different reasons. Habit liked to have everything laid out perfectly for his play date, the knives arranged in such a way that your eyes got bigger and bigger as your view swept across the table. He loves the process of setting up, of planning how to get his target to the desired play floor. The torturing is all a spur of the moment, but he likes to imagine things he could do to them, things he could say to make them whimper and cry out.
Vinny on the other hand hates the ravenous energy that Habit exudes, hates the way he gets giddy and jumpy. His fuse gets shorter the closer to a “play date” he is, and it makes Vinny feel like he has to walk on eggshells. He doesn’t dare to hide out. If he doesn’t have enough of a presence in the house then Habit will drag him out of whatever room he’s holed up in and punish him, but too much of a presence, and he’s punished for being in Habit’s way. It’s infuriating, exhausting, and a mess to clean up after because god forbid Habit ever clean up his own mess.
And Vinny doesn’t always know when Habit is going to drag some poor fucker into the attic, sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of dull thuds followed by sharp screams. Those are often the worst, when his peaceful, well as peaceful as it can get when he knows Habit is still roaming the house, slumber is so suddenly ended, and he has to spend the rest of the night listening and waiting for it to end. But this time Habit is clear with exactly when it will be, which strikes him as odd.
This time it seems somehow… easier. Habit is still weirdly reactive and jumpy, but he goes about his business without flaunting it like he usually does. He has Vinny help set things up, a ring light in this corner, the table set up somewhere over there. Of course, he can’t touch anything on the table. Hell, Habit barely lets him use a knife when he's serving rotisserie chicken, there’s no way he would be allowed to touch the foot and a half long machete that Habit cradles like a baby. But after making sure that Habit is satisfied, he is free to disappear to whatever corner of the house is mostly quiet for the rest of the evening.
And when Habit summons him, holding the camera out like a crown he's about to adorn Vinny with, it comes as little surprise. As they’re walking to the attic, he imagines Habit holding a leash, the other end wrapped around his throat, tight and constricting. The thought leaves his stomach in knots, and he sighs as Habit opens the door, gesturing him inside.
As soon as he walks in he can feel his mental state change as tangibly as putting his head underwater. Yes, he can see, but it’s as if the things he sees are in snapshots. The world is no longer one long-flowing piece of film, but rather a flipbook of jagged pieces cut from the film. He takes a few steps forward, trusting his feet to know where things are, and a few moments later the world snaps into place, table on the left, the main attraction in front of him, where Habit wants it to be for the camera footage. He tries to raise the camera, to make sure that it isn’t pointed at the floor, but it takes a moment for his arms to remember how to move. His fingers twitch around the body of the camera, it feels warm, it feels sharp, it feels like it’s a hundred pounds and he has to concentrate on finding a place that feels comfortable to hold it, that still has a view. His elbows creak as he adjusts and the feeling reverberates through his whole body. He can’t feel his own breathing or his own heartbeat, and can barely find the mental strength to worry about it. He can’t tell if he’s improving, he used to be so panicked doing this that he felt like he was going to pass out, but now he feels like someone filled the room with anesthetics. He concentrates very hard, can feel himself breathing in, he imagines the drugs flowing into the membranes of his lungs, traveling through his blood, to his brain. He breathes out, and feels his senses dull until even the sounds of the screaming, when did that start again, seems like rain on the roof.
He can’t tell how long the whole affair goes on, and can only feel himself start approaching consciousness when Habit makes any move for Vinny. It’s mostly gesturing at the camera, but if it truly is something that Habit is telling Vinny then he needs to be awake, needs to comprehend what he’s being told. One moment he’s trying to keep his head from lulling, and just a moment after that he’s suddenly completely sober, his heartbeat, which he couldn’t feel at all before, suddenly pounding everywhere, thrumming in his legs, his ears, making his head pound. He flinches, hard, and tries not to make any noise as Habits hands close around both of his shoulders. The feeling of his hands on him is like the sudden unexpected bite of a shark, snapping him completely out of the daze he was in.
And for the first time possibly ever, it seems like Habit recognizes this internal extreme reaction. Whatever he was saying trails off, his hands slowly slip off of Vinny’s shoulders, and he spends one long moment just watching him. It’s the eyes of some huge predator, scanning over his face, the handprints of blood on Vinny’s clothes from Habits hands, the few splatters of it elsewhere, the pool of blood below him, soaking into his socks, as Habit had rushed him in without giving him a chance to find shoes.
“You’re done now.” He says, tension coiled in his body in a way that Vinny can’t make sense of. Habit is like kinesthetic perpetual motion. There is no tension without a planned release, a strike or a bite, or something, but he’s wound up like a coil with no hint of motion and Vinny has to wonder when the tension will be released.
“Wh- what? I-” Vinny doesn’t even know what to say, the camera, if it was a hundred pounds before, suddenly feels like a thousand. His arms fall to the side, the camera freely pointing at the floor.
“Don’t worry your stupid little head about it. You’re done. Go wash up and make something, I’m hungry.” And Habits eyes dart away from Vinny, but keep him in the peripheral.
Vinny moves as quickly as his delayed limbs will allow, trying to follow Habit's order. He sets the camera down on the table with a thud, tries to ignore the doubled-over mass breathing raggedly as he walks out the door. It closes behind him, and he can hear Habit pacing and a low growl. Not wanting to hear more, Vinny quickly makes his way to the shower. He turns the water on cold and quickly steps in with all his clothes on.
The water from the showerhead seeps into his shirt and soaks his socks near instantly. The cold is making him shiver, or perhaps that's the comedown of whatever state he was in when he was in the attic, but at least the water running down the drain is carrying most of the blood he got on him. Once most of the blood is washed off he takes the clothes off, balling them up and throwing them on the other side of the shower for now. Once he's done he’ll wring them out, and see if they’ll be salvageable or not. His hopes for the socks are low, but the shirt was dark to begin with, so it should survive. He turns the temperature up to scalding then starts scrubbing. His hair, which leaves strands stuck between his fingers, his face, his neck, his chest, down to his feet. He feels ridiculous, sitting on his ass in the shower, water getting in his eyes as he scrubs his feet until they’re red and raw. But once he’s satisfied that there’s no blood on him he feels much better, like he can breathe again.
He turns off the water and wrings out his clothes before draping them over the curtain rod to dry. After drying off and changing into a new pair of clothes he heads to the kitchen. He can hear the vague sounds of Habit yelling, and a loud thud now and then, and thinks that it should be almost over. If Habit is hungry then he should find something to cook that’s fast and won’t take too much effort. He’ll still have to clean up once Habit is done, so he should save his mental energy for that.
The fridge is woefully bare, but Vinny manages to find some cheese next to a jar of homemade pesto he made earlier in the week, bread, and a can of tomato soup. He starts cooking, buttering the bread, and putting pesto on the inside with some cheese. The soup just needs to be warmed up on the stove, so he barely even has to think about it. He cooks enough grilled cheese for the both of them, but puts his to the side, knowing that he likely won’t get to eat until much later.
Habit comes down the stairs only a moment after Vinny has put the food on the table. He sits with a flourish and watches as Vinny takes the mop from the pantry and starts filling the bucket with water from the sink.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Habit says flatly.
Vinny is silent for a second. “I mean… yeah, but-”
“And you didn't make anything for yourself?” A smear of blood on his face highlights his jawline.
Vinny can’t tell what he’s getting at. “No, I did, I just set it aside so I could eat it when I’m done.”
“But you’re hungry, no? It can wait.”
Vinny stands in silent disbelief for a moment, then another, then another.
“Well?” Habit waves his hand, “God, I tell the man to eat if he’s hungry and he stares at me like he’s gooned out, jaw on the floor, I don’t even know why I bother.” He tells his grilled cheese before taking a ravenous bite from it. “It’s good, you should have some.”
“Okay?” Vinny sets the bucket down, careful not to splash water on the floor, and grabs the food he had set aside a minute earlier. He sits opposite from Habit at the table, quickly glancing at him again to make sure he’s not breaking some weird unspoken rule. They’ve eaten together before, and honestly do for most meals, but not for nights when Habit has company. Habit has made it clear that Vinny doesn’t eat with him on these nights, and always sends him to clean before he can eat. It was never explicitly stated as a rule, but it felt like one nonetheless. Which was fine for Vinny honestly, it’s not like he wants to be around Habit after a session anyways, dripping blood all over the house, smelling like sweat and iron, with that maniacal self-satisfied grin. Though he doesn’t have that smile today.
Instead, Habit stares him down while he eats, raising his food to his lips without looking. He would look vaguely disinterested if it weren’t for the way his pupils dart around, detecting each small movement Vinny makes.
The food is good, aside from being watched like a hawk while he eats. He doesn’t know what’s wrong and it makes him feel on edge, he’s waiting for Habit to snap at him about something, about why he kicked him out of the room, anything about why he’s acting so weird tonight. But no, they share their meal in silence, and when Vinny is done he stays seated, waiting for Habit to tell him what to do next.
Habit shakes his head as if trying to clear the thoughts from his head. “Nevermind. I’m done, you can go now.” He pulls the knife from his waist holster. It’s still covered in blood, and Habit swipes his thumb across it to get some of it off, he glances up at Vinny while licking the blood off. It’s a quick glance, just to check if he’s going to move or not.
Vinny wastes no time taking their dishes from the table and putting them in the sink. He can come back when he’s done and wash them off. With the blood, he’d rather get that up as soon as he can so it doesn’t soak into the floor and cause mildew or mold down the line. He grabs the mop and bucket, the white vinegar, and a rag that's already so stained with blood that it should be thrown out. With all his supplies in hand, he starts making his way to the attic.
When he gets up the stairs he pauses outside the door to take a moment to breathe. Then he pushes the door open and sets his supplies down. He takes a quick look around the room. Lots of blood around the now empty chair that Habits victim occupied, no surprise there. Blood trailing to the table of supplies, and splattered on the walls. The interesting thing is that the body is nowhere to be found. Vinny resolves not to think about it.
He gets started without much more delay, mopping up the biggest pools of blood first. He’s given up on wearing any sort of protective gear, he can’t even find gloves in the house anyways. But at least he has shoes on now, so the blood doesn’t ruin another pair of socks. He mostly tunes out when he’s cleaning, just zoning out until the work is done. It’s not the same as when he’s holding the camera though, that’s much more intense.
Once he finishes mopping he sprays everything in vinegar and gets on his hands and knees to start scrubbing. He knows that the stains won't come out completely, but he tries to get as much out as he can. It’s while he’s busy scrubbing, the door swings open. Vinny jumps a bit and looks over at Habit in the doorway. He isn’t quite looking at Vinny, instead, he walts’ in, picks up one of the blood-covered knives on the table, and makes his way over to Vinny who’s still on his hands and knees, stopping when he’s standing directly over him.
When Habit does finally look at him, his nonchalant, disinterested look falls away. His eyes widen and his grip on the knife goes slack. He doesn’t drop it, but it looks like it’ll fall if his grip loosens any more.
“Yes?” Vinny says, his voice soft. Something is up with Habit and it puts him on edge.
“You’re kneeling again.” Habit breathes.
“Yeah, not for you.” Vinny rolls his eyes. “I’m cleaning your mess, how am I supposed to do that without getting on the floor?”
“It’s… I’m feeling something.”
“And what did you come up here for again?”
Habit can’t seem to tear his eyes away from him. “I was going to say I’m… sorry, for making you hold the camera. I could tell you were uncomfortable and not… all there, and that’s why I had you leave.”
“Oh,” Vinny says, blinking, “thank you?” After a moment he reaches out slowly as if asking for permission before touching Habit's leg. He can hear Habits breathing hitch and he’s tempted to take his hand away, but something tells him to keep his hand still. It’s a weird moment for both of them. “Are you okay? You seem really weird right now.”
Habit readjusts his grip on the knife, trying to keep it in his grasp. It feels like a lifeline like it’s the only thing keeping him from spinning out of control, especially with the way that Vinny is touching him. He doesn’t understand it, or why the feeling of his warm hand has made his heart rate pick up even more. “It feels really hot, kind of everywhere. You have blood on your,” he gestures to his face.
Vinny reaches up and wipes at his face, trying to get the blood off. “It feels hot?” Vinny hums. “Anything else?”
“I want something, but I don’t know what. It’s really hot in my stomach and my face.” And now that he mentions it, Vinny notices that Habits face has been growing slowly redder and redder as this strange conversation goes on. “I think it’s um, the way that you’re looking at me.” Habit gestures between them, calling attention to the way that he’s standing over Vinny.
“I mean... like I said. You did come in while I was cleaning, so… Did you want me to stand?”
Habit doesn’t know what to say for once. He knows things that he wants to say, he wants to tell Vinny that he does want him to stand, or maybe no, he wants him to keep looking up at him with blood still smeared on his cheek. But he doesn't say either of those, mind racing through things to say, still distracted by the way that Vinny is looking up at him, on his knees, and fuck, he’s never felt like this before. He’s had people in similar positions before, begging for their life, and he’s always gotten a rush of adrenaline and satisfaction from knowing that no matter how much they beg they’re still going to end up dead. But that’s not what he feels now at all, he doesn’t want Vinny dead, part of him wishes that he would reach out and touch him again, wishes that-
“Ow, fuck.” Vinny hisses, snapping Habit out of his racing thoughts.
“Oh, shit,” Habit says, realizing that the knife he was holding finally slipped from his hand, falling onto Vinny below him and sticking his thigh. “Are you okay?”
Vinny puts his hand over the wound and pushes down hard. “I mean, no, you just accidentally dropped your fucking knife on me.”
“Listen, it’s not like I did it on purpose, god. Just- just stay here, let me get you something.” Habit starts backing up.
“No, it’s fine.” Vinny carefully stands up, wincing in pain. He takes his hand off and looks at the wound. “I mean… it would be worse, I should be okay,” Vinny says. The blood is already starting to drip down and soak into his jeans now that he’s removed the pressure. “I’ll definitely need a big bandaid, and to clean it up, but it’s fine.” He starts walking to the door, wincing when he puts his weight on the injured leg.
“Really, you can stay here, and I’ll get something,” Habit says, picking up his pace and following directly behind.
“No offense, Habit, but I don’t think that fixing injuries is your thing.” But Habit stays trailing behind him through the stairs and hallways until they get to the bathroom. Vinny sits down on the edge of the tub. “I’m gunna have to take my pants off.” He says, waiting for Habit to take the hint and leave, but he stays, grabbing a hand towel from the cabinet and wetting it in the sink. Vinny sighs and accepts that he’s not getting Habit out of here. He slips his pants off, taking care not to aggravate the wound more than necessary. Once they’re off Habit turns the water off and wrings out most of the moisture from the towel before turning back to Vinny.
He has another moment of pausing, not knowing what to say, or what he wants, and why seeing Vinny with his pants off, looking expectantly at him gives him this heavy warm feeling in his groin.
Vinny blinks and waves his hand in front of Habit. “Hello? Can I have that?” He reaches for the towel.
“I want to… Can I help?” Habit manages to get out.
Vinny sits with the words for a moment. “You know, that’s not only the first time you’ve ever wanted to help me, but the first time you’ve ever asked permission to do something. ”
Habit scowls but moves forward to crouch at Vinny’s level and gently starts wiping away the blood. Vinny does his best to stay still, trying to understand this strange change of character. He watches as Habit slowly warms up, moving from sitting as far away as he can still reach, to inching closer and closer until he’s basically between Vinny's legs. He absentmindedly wraps his free hand around the back of Vinny's leg to keep it still.
And suddenly it’s Vinny’s turn to be the flustered one. It was so much easier to hate Habit when he was always a dick, when he didn’t do weird thoughtful things like sending him away when he can’t handle being in the attic or gently and attentively taking care of his wound. He started warming up to him when he noticed the emotional changes, eventually, the enjoyment of spending time together was mutual, and he stopped being as rude and aggressive as he used to be. He let Vinny have more alone time when he wanted it, and he noticed that there were more books in the house than before. He assumes that Habit brought them in just for him because he’s never seen Habit willingly read.
And now he can feel a very pivotal change in his feelings. If Habit has the capacity to be gentle, to help instead of hurt, then perhaps he isn’t human, but he’s something other than the pure evil he previously thought. And Vinny thinks back to that night when he first kneeled to Habit, the rush of endorphins and excitement that ran through his veins when he slipped into bed and took care of his dick, creating a wet mess in the sheets. He can’t believe he wants to fuck Habit but he can’t deny that the thought of it makes his dick twitch even now.
Habit suddenly moves away, catching Vinny’s attention. And he realizes in that instant that he wants Habit to keep touching him, oh fuck he hasn’t felt like this in so long. His wish is quickly granted, as Habit stands to pull some Neosporin from the cabinet, then saddles right back in between Vinny's legs with the tube in hand.
“This is gunna sting.” Habit says.
“I know.” But the wound doesn’t seem as bad as he thought now that the blood is mostly cleaned up. When Habit does smear the Neosporin on with his finger he flinches and hisses softly.
“Oh fuck.” Habit breathes.
“What? Is it still bleeding?”
“No,” Habit says, leaning forward a little. “It’s nothing.”
“You've been acting so weird today, man.”
“I don’t… know what to do about what I’m feeling. It’s kind of frustrating.” Habit focuses on smearing the Neosporin around.
Vinny takes a moment to assess if his next words will make Habit turn on him or not. With the weird intimacy they have, and the fact that Habit's been growing more and more feelings, he thinks it’s an okay risk. “That’s a really vulnerable position.” He waits for the sudden rush of anger and denial, but it doesn’t come. Just another brief moment of wishing his rough hands would return before a large rectangular band-aid is being firmly pressed onto the wound. “Thank you.” He breathes.
“I don’t want to hurt you. And I’m sorry… for dropping the knife on you.”
Vinny doesn’t know what to say. That’s such a big step for Habit, and mostly unexpected. “Do you… wanna talk about it?” He ventures.
“Fine, sure.” Habit says. “Let me grab my knives, to clean them.”
“That’s fair, I’ll be on the couch?” Vinny has noticed that Habit usually likes to have something to fiddle with while he talks. Habit nods and leaves the room, leaving Vinny free to pull his pants back on. He stands for a moment, alone in the bathroom with his head reeling. When Habit was touching him it felt… good. God, he doesn’t even want to think about how long it’s been since he’s been touched period, not to mention how long it’s been sexually. But enough about that, he shakes his head to clear the thoughts of Habit touching him, sliding his hands further up his thighs-
In any case, he’s sure that Habit has collected his knives and is waiting for him by now. He makes his way to the living room and settles down across the couch from where Habit is sitting, with his machete in his lap, and a wet rag that he’s slowly and methodically wiping it down with.
He doesn’t have to sit there for long before Habit clears his throat and starts speaking without looking up. “I feel the need to hurt something, to prove that I haven’t changed, and it would make sense to want to hurt you because you’re the only person who ever sees me but I don’t. I specifically don’t want to hurt you or hurt someone while you’re there because there’s a little voice in the back of my head that cares what you think and that’s so… stupid because I don’t care what you think. I don’t.” His grip on the handle of the knife tightens.
“That’s um… really insightful…”
“Yeah, well look at me, the big winner over here.” Habit huffs, rolling his eyes.
“I mean, there are places we can go from here. Like, maybe thinking about why you want to prove you haven’t changed. It sounds like if you don’t want me there, maybe you want to prove it to yourself?”
“I know I have. And it’s stupid because it’s all Evan's fault. If I was in any other vessel that didn’t care about you to begin with then I wouldn’t- This is why humans are so stupid, you little shits run around your entire life caring about other people and caring about what they think and want and-”
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Vinny says. “I mean, it sounds like you’re not really happy to be talking about it.”
“I’m not! But I want- it’s so frustrating because I don’t know how to say what I want without- I don’t know.” Habit stabs the now clean knife into the wooden table and picks up the next one, spitting on it with contempt before aggressively wiping it with the towel.
“That’s fine,” Vinny says, looking away from Habit and picking at his nails.
“Do I still scare you?” Habit says suddenly, head snapping to the side to look at Vinny. His eyes are intense, and Vinny can’t hope to understand what the feeling behind them is, but freezes anyways, trying to swallow but his mouth is suddenly dry.
“Sometimes.” He breathes.
Habit stands up to his full height, looming over Vinny who stays sitting, wishing that the couch would swallow him whole. Habit switches his grip on the knife, still halfway dirty, to wield it properly. There’s a low growl in the back of his throat and his eyes roam over Vinny’s body, consuming him in ravenous strokes. He leans in close enough that Vinny can feel his warm breath on his face. He feels a strong groinal response and mentally tells himself it’s just that, a natural response to being scared, not anything else, definitely not some weird turn-on.
“Am I scaring you right now?” He breathes.
Vinny keeps his eyes locked on Habit's face for any change of expression, trying to see if this is some kind of fucked up joke. He said he didn’t want to hurt Vinny, that he cares what he thinks, or at least implied as much. “A little bit.” He says just as softly.
“Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”
Vinny tries to keep his breathing steady as he feels Habit's free hand come to rest on his arm, radiating heat into his ice-cold body. Should he take solace in the touch, or is it a setup to grab his hands to keep him from fighting back? “I don’t know.” He says honestly. “Do you want to?”
“I want…” Habit’s eyes flash for just a moment, and he slowly and deliberately sets the knife down on the couch. “No, I don’t want to hurt you.” But he makes no move to back up, instead, his other hand, now void of the knife, comes to rest on Vinny's other arm.
“You’re boxing me in right now.”
“I know,” Habit says, before taking a deep breath in. “I can smell you.” And if Vinny looks at him like a wild animal he can see it, the way his pupils have dilated, the way he’s breathing in his scent, the way his fingers are twitching in their grip on his arms. “It’s driving me crazy, you’re driving me crazy.” And he looks crazy, with a smile that’s more of a baring of teeth. He leans in even closer until their faces are just a breath apart. He can feel the hurried puffs of breath from Vinny, breathes it in like if he gets enough of it in his lungs this weird feeling of wanting will dissipate. His fingers twitch again, taking in the feeling of Vinny’s clammy skin. He wants so much, he wants Vinny to touch him back, wants to devour him without devouring, wants to possess every bit of him.
Vinny slowly reaches out, feeling only minimal resistance from Habit's hands, and grabs the front of his shirt collar. “I’m getting a lot of mixed messages here.” He says softly, “But I think..” He finally allows himself one glance at Habit’s lips, to mark his target, before ever so gently pulling Habit close enough to let their lips touch, his eyes fluttering shut. There’s a single moment where Habit doesn’t respond, before all the coiled energy he had been saving springs wholeheartedly towards Vinny. His hands slide first to his shoulders before pushing him roughly into the couch, fingers curling and grabbing, and he kisses back roughly, almost too much so before pulling back just the tiniest amount and groaning loudly. He kisses him like he’s drowning in it like Vinny is his first breath of cold air in the morning.
When he finally pulls back he starts laughing. “That,” He says, eyes laser-focused on Vinny, “is what I want. I want you.” He steps back suddenly, taking a few steps away before jumping and slapping at the table, still laughing like he just got off a roller coaster that spun him around until everything started spinning.
Vinny takes a moment to touch his chest, afraid that his heart might truly burst out if there’s any more adrenaline and excitement. His mind is reeling and he tries to focus on just breathing. And suddenly Habit is right back hovering over him, hand grabbing at the side of his face, tilting his head up.
“Kiss me.” He purrs, taking just a moment before closing the distance between them. And how could Vinny decline, when their lips are already together when his heart flutters and he can feel the heat pooling low in his stomach? He reaches out hesitantly to touch Habit, his fingers connecting with his chest, slowly putting his whole palm so he can feel the way that his heart is pounding too. And Habits hand comes to rest on top of his, pushing it harder, leaning full-bodied into the touch.
They pull away again, each one panting hard. “Wow, I didn’t realize that would go so well,” Vinny says, brushing the hair out of his face with his free hand.
“Yeah.” Habit grins and laughs again, keeping Vinny’s other hand on his chest so he can feel the deep vibration of it. “I want… more. More of that.”
Vinny takes a moment to breathe, to process the whole of what just happened. “Yeah, um, yes, we can do that.” He nods. “Here, let me-” He takes his hand back and stands up, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, at how much he wants this. “Can we move to my room?”
Habit smiles and preens, standing up straight. “If that’s what you want.”
And that stupid smug smile, which used to make Vinny roll his eyes in disgust is suddenly making him desperate for more. “God, it’s stupid how much I want you.” He breathes.
Habit gestures for him to move. “Then you can have me.” He promises.
Vinny nods, quickly leading the way up the stairs to his room and opening the door to let Habit inside. “I like it when you’re… dominating,” Vinny says, closing the door behind them. And with almost no delay he feels Habit press up behind him, with one hand on his hip and the other pulling his face to the side so he can kiss him from behind. He moans softly into the kiss, which Habit takes as a sign he’s getting it right. “Yeah,” He breathes when they pull apart. “You can be rough with me, I’ll let you know when it’s getting to be too much.”
At this, he feels Habit pause, feels his grip loosen. “Are you sure? I don’t… want to hurt you.”
“I can handle quite a bit, and I’ll make sure you know when to stop.”
“Okay.” Habit agrees, letting Vinny wiggle out of his grasp and lead him to the bed. He sits down in the middle and waits for Habit to climb on after him.
“Let’s just take it slow, and we can work our way up.” He hums, shifting his body so that he and Habit are sitting right next to each other. He takes Habit's hand and puts it on his waist. “How does this feel?”
“Here, let me just…” Habits hand disappears for just a moment before it returns on Vinny's face, both of his hands cupping his jaw, he adjusts the way he’s sitting so that his legs slot between Vinny’s. “I’m going to devour you.” He growls, before kissing him roughly again. It’s like no other kiss he’s had before, completely animalistic and overpowering, but not bad. No, it feels insane to think but it feels… good, really good to have Habit's lips on his, he can feel the desire and the hunger in the way that he grabs and the way that Habits tongue slips hastily inside his own once he opens the way. He tries pushing for dominance himself and is met with a bite on the lip, and a deep growl from Habits chest. Before he can react to the way that makes his blood rush south Habit pulls back and moves his hands to Vinny’s chest.
“You were never one for half measures, were you?” Vinny laughs as Habit pushes him down into the mattress and follows him until he’s halfway on top of him.
“And I’m not about to start either.” Habit growls, fingers eagerly reaching for the edge of his shirt, pulling up until Vinny leans up to help him get it off. It’s quickly balled up and discarded after it's pulled off, thrown to the corner of the room to be forgotten until tomorrow morning.
Vinny reaches up to Habit’s shirt, tugging on it gently and looking up at him for confirmation. And Habit grins that stupid and now somehow endearing grin, the one that looks like “I know I’m the hottest thing in the room” is written on his forehead, before pulling the shirt off and similarly throwing it away. And damn his smug look was well deserved because he was hot when he did that. Vinny is so enraptured with eating up the sight of him that he barely even notices when Habit's hands reach for his, or the way that Habit pulls his hands above his head. It’s only when he’s pinned that he realizes. He breathes in sharply, giving an experimental tug on his arms, but they don’t budge.
“Nah-ah-ah.” Habit clicks his tongue. “You’re all mine now, and I’m going to do exactly what I want to do with you.” His voice is a deep rolling thunder that makes Vinny ache with want.
He whines for just a moment until Habits head ducks down to kiss and lick and nip at his chest. Then his whines become soft moans, especially as Habit makes his way to one of Vinny’s nipples, giving an experimental suck with just the barest hint of teeth. He can feel his heart pounding, feel the heat pooling between his legs and the growing slick puddle when he rubs his thighs together. Habit locks eyes with Vinny, mouth still gently sucking, his tongue rubbing on the soft bud of his nipple, and the sight just about makes him melt. Habit makes his way up to Vinny’s neck, and Vinny tilts his head to the side so he has all the room he needs. There’s a single hot buff of breath before Habit sinks his teeth into Vinny, grip tightening on his wrists as Vinny’s breath hitches and he involuntarily shivers.
“You can mark me,” he pants, “if you want to.” And his words are answered with a quick repositioning of his head before sucking hard on the skin of his neck. He gives the skin a little nip when he’s done, before moving down and marking his collarbone as well. Vinny can feel the heat rising throughout his body, can feel a deep ache to be filled. And this is when Habit releases his hands in favor of trailing down his body, stopping at his pants. He gives a single inquisitive look up as if to ask if he can, before hooking his fingers under the waistband of his jeans and beginning to pull them down.
Habit can feel his desperation rising the more clothes he sheds from Vinny. If he listens to his borrowed body he can feel the strong and fast heartbeat pounding in his chest, can feel the pulse of blood throughout his extremities, can feel his cock starting to throb. He simply wants to devour him. His mouth starts to drool at the sight of his strong thighs, and he can't help but bend down and bite him again. Not too high up, not yet at least. He knows with a little self-restraint he can probably have Vinny begging for him, but god he was never any good at self-control. And with his face so close to Vinny’s dick, his overpowered sense of smell is drowning in the scent of him.
Vinny hooks his leg over Habit’s shoulder, encouraging him to bite and suck as much as he wants. Habits hand comes to rest on Vinny’s other leg, pushing it down into the bed to keep his legs wide and open for him. Vinny surrenders himself to the delightful feeling of Habits lips and tongue making every inch of him feel like it's on fire. Habit nudges closer and closer to the edge of Vinny's boxers, before deciding to just pull those off as well. He unhooks Vinny’s leg from his shoulder, and, to make things a little fairer, he pulls his pants off, leaving just his underwear. But before he throws them away he reaches into the pocket and pulls out a bottle of lube, throwing it up the bed towards Vinny.
“What the- how long has this been in your pants?” He asks, hands finally coming down from where Habit positioned them to pick up the bottle and inspect it. It’s a simple water-based lube, with unassuming packaging.
“Oh, it wasn’t actually in my pants. I can pull shit out when I need it. Don’t worry about it.” Habit waves, tossing the pants out of the way before setting his hands on Vinny’s waistband. He waits a moment for any protest before pulling them off and similarly discarding them. “Oh shit, bonus hole! Do I get to use that?” Habit asks, his fingers hovering over Vinny’s hole, waiting for the go-ahead to touch.
“Oh my god,” Vinny says mortified, his legs snapping shut. “I thought you knew already.”
Habit swallows the drool pooling in his mouth, forcing his head back up to look at Vinny’s face. “How would I know?” He says incredulously. “It’s not like I watch you get dressed and shit.”
“I don’t know, I mean Evan knows so I thought you would know.” He starts to sit up, wishing that Habit hadn’t flung his clothes so far away.
“Hey, hey, hey, I don’t care, I just didn’t know. If you don’t use it then that's fine. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Habit holds his hands open where Vinny can see them. He can tell that Vinny is still slightly uncomfortable, but as the moments drag on he seems to calm back down, and eventually, his legs unfold. Habit resists the urge to look and instead maintains eye contact until Vinny has fully relaxed. “It’s okay,” he breathes.
“Okay, yeah,” Vinny nods. “Can we dial it back for a minute? I’m still up to have sex, that just kinda snapped me out of it for a second.” He leans back on his elbows and watches Habit come back up, hand ghosting just above his skin.
“Yeah, yeah. Do you wanna just kiss for a while?”
Vinny nods, closing his eyes as Habit leans in to kiss him again. He’s more gentle this time, taking his time playing with Vinny’s lips, swirling their tongues together and panting softly into his mouth. Vinny hums, kissing a little bit harder in hopes that Habit will follow suit. He does gain a hand wrapped around his side, helping to support him, but not a rougher kiss like he wants. He reaches up to bite Habit's bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it slightly before he hears the growl from deep in Habit's throat and he gets what he wants. Habit kisses him back bruisingly hard, and his fingers twitch, holding Vinny tighter in his grasp.
“That’s what I wanted.” He groans when they break away from each other, Habit tilting his head to reach Vinny’s neck, biting at the side he had neglected before. He can feel Vinny growing pliant in his arms again, and gently places him down on the bed before looking up at his blissed-out expression.
“Can I touch? Down here?” He asks.
Vinny pauses for just a moment before nodding. “I do, um, use the bonus hole.” He says. “I usually just call it my hole, and this is my dick, cock, t-cock, growth, y’know?” He runs his finger down the length of his t-cock, letting out a soft groan as he touches the bundle of nerves.
“Vinny, I know what a dick looks like. I just need to know what to call it, which we’ve covered, and if I can suck it.”
“Always so tactical,” Vinny says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Yes, you can suck my dick, and I like getting fingered too.”
“That’s all I needed to know.” Habit says with his shit-eating grin. Then he readjusts so that his face is back between Vinny’s soft, pliant thighs. He leaves a little trail of bites along the insides of his thighs before nestling his head right in front of Vinny’s dick. It’s actually kind of cute, and he can see it twitch when his hot breath ghosts over it. He finally dips his head down and gives it a gentle lick to gauge Vinny’s reaction. He sighs gently, hands finding their way to Habit's hair.
“Is this okay?” He asks, giving Habit’s hair a gentle tug.
Habit hums an affirmative. “You can grab it, I just don’t like it being yanked on too much.”
Vinny nods, settling his hands into Habit’s feathery hair. Habit dips back down and gently takes Vinnys little cock in his mouth, closing his lips around it and sucking gently. This earns him a nice groan, and he starts to work his tongue along the length of it, which quickly amplifies the volume of Vinny’s moans.
One of his hands roams the length of Vinny’s thigh, squeezing gently at the flesh there, kneading it. He edges his hand up until his fingers meet the place where his thigh connects to his hip. While his tongue is circling Vinny’s cock, his fingers ghost over Vinny’s skin until they’re probing his wet folds and coming to rest at his entrance. He can feel the slick wetness already and can feel the heat radiating from him. He presses gently with just a single finger, testing the waters. Vinny’s hips bucking up into his mouth, and rubbing against his finger seems like a good sign. He pushes his finger in just to the first knuckle, feeling his dick twitch at the way he seems to pull his finger in deeper. He pulls back for just a moment, hot breath over the sheen of spit making Vinny shiver.
“God, I can’t wait to be inside you,” Habit growls, pushing his finger in deeper to punctuate his words. “Can’t wait until I have you riding my dick, begging for more.” He laps at Vinny’s hole, moaning when the sweet taste of his juices hits his tongue. He starts a slow and steady rhythm with his hand, adding a second finger when Vinny starts to whine. His mouth returns to Vinny’s t-cock, tongue flicking the head and making Vinny buck his hips. He tries to keep his volume low, would be embarrassed by how lost in the feeling he is if it didn’t feel so damn good to have Habits mouth on him.
Vinny can’t remember the last time he’s felt this good. He can feel the beginning of a tremble in his thighs, and the rolling boil of an onset orgasm at the way Habit’s sucking his dick. The barest hint of teeth makes his knees jolt, and Habit uses his free hand to pin one of his legs down. He’s scissoring his fingers inside of him, getting ready to add a third finger when Vinny’s voice breaks on a moan. The sound makes the want in his stomach boil over into need, fuck does he need to be inside of him already.
He slides his fingers out, taking a moment to make sure that Vinny is watching him before putting the wet digits in his mouth and sucking the slick from them. He hums softly at the taste, wondering if he’s ever tasted anything as divine. And once his fingers are sufficiently cleaned he reaches down to palm at his dick, feeling himself growing wetter by the minute. He didn’t even realize that he could do that.
Vinny watches with eager eyes, his mouth beginning to water. He swallows heavily, wondering what Habits cock would taste like, how it would feel in his mouth.
As if he can read his mind, Habit grins and shakes his head. “Next time for sure, but right now I need to fuck you so bad.”
And, god above, there was going to be a next time? The thought makes Vinny’s world spin and he nods hastily, watching as Habit pulls the waistband down, his happy trail catching Vinny’s eyes and dragging them down to the mound where Habits dick rests, poking out slightly. After he pulls his boxers off he throws them on the floor, same as the rest of the clothes they’ve shed. He leans back, purposefully giving Vinny the prizewinning view of his body, arching his back. He smirks as he watches Vinny’s eyes trail up and down his body, admiring the lean smooth lines of his muscles, the way his chest puffs up with pride at the way Vinny looks at him.
“Enough showing off,” He says, a smile creeping into his tone, “You’re only doing it because you know how much I want you right now.”
“Damn right I am.” Habit sticks his tongue out at Vinny.
“I’m assuming you want to like, fuck me fuck me. I have a strap if you want but I’m down with whatever.”
Habit laughs. “You assume I’m gunna do all the work too?”
“Not if you don’t want to,” Vinny says, leaning over and pulling the strap on from the nightstand. “I can wear it if you’d prefer.”
“No, no, I’ll wear it.” Habit grabs it from Vinny’s hands, looking it over for a moment before figuring out which way to put it on. It’s pretty straightforward, it looks like a pair of underwear, with an o-ring in the front that the dildo fits through. Habit wraps his hand around the dildo, giving it an experimental pump before looking back up at Vinny, who’s laying on his back and looking up at him with those eyes that make his mouth water. He moves closer until he’s on his knees between Vinny’s legs, picking up the discarded lube from earlier and popping the top to put a generous amount in his palm. He spreads the lube across his dick, making sure to coat the whole thing.
Vinny hooks his legs around Habits hips, drawing him in until the head of his cock pushes against his entrance. A soft laugh passes through his lips and he takes the cock in hand again, rubbing it up and down through Vinny’s wet folds, and against his t-cock. He loves the reactions that Vinny is giving him, a soft gentle moan here, a full-body shiver there. He watches Vinny’s face as he pushes the tip of his cock against his entrance.
It just about drives Vinny up the wall to feel the tip of his cock just barely pushing in, he bucks his hips up and whines, letting his head fall back. Habit takes full advantage of his exposed neck, leaning down to bite at his exposed throat before rocking his hips forward and sliding into Vinny’s hole. One of his hands comes up and pins Vinny’s head to the side so he has more room to suck at his neck and leave more of the marks that are already blooming across the skin there. He hears a satisfied groan make its way from Vinny’s lips and pulls out before sliding back in, drowning in how good it feels.
Habit finds a good rhythm, focusing on drawing out more of those sweet moans that Vinny is making. His hands roam on their own, one tracing the now barely there scars along Vinny’s chest and the other sliding down his side until it reaches his hips, then sliding in to rub at Vinny’s dick.
The sounds that he’s letting out make Habits mouth water, he swallows and tries not to let it show how crazy it’s making him. Habit can feel his dick throbbing, and it’s rubbing against the strap in a way that gives him little jolts of pleasure when he fucks into Vinny below him. “God, you make me wish I had a dick to cum inside you with.” Habit groans.
“Such a mess,” Vinny huffs, “but if you want I can suck your dick and you can cum in my mouth.” And he looks up at Habit with his best puppy dog eyes, watching him groan as his hips stutter.
Habit grabs Vinny by the chin, leaning down close to him and struggling to maintain eye contact. “When you look at me like that you’re asking to be fucked into the sheets.” He punctuates his words by starting his hips back up, giving strong thrusts into him. “Is that what you want?”
Vinny whimpers, lifting one leg and letting Habit grab it so that his thrusts hit him just where he wants them to. “Yes.” He admits, handing himself over to Habit to consume as he sees fit. “I want you to fuck me so hard. Want you to choke me too.” He admits with a moan.
“Yeah?” Habit asks, free hand sliding around Vinny’s throat. “I think I can do that.” And he’s got that grin that used to give such a worried feeling in Vinny’s stomach but is giving him butterflies now. “You can tap out if you want me to stop.” Vinny barely has the chance to nod before Habits hand clamps down, cutting off his circulation.
The feeling of choking is familiar, but combined with the feeling of Habit pounding into him is a brand new experience. The sensation of his mind going blank is less panic-inducing and more of an endorphin rush. The safety of knowing he can tap out makes it fun. He enjoys the feeling of gasping for air, feeling like he’s drowning and falling and- when Habit lets go he can feel the blood rushing madly through his veins, can feel the parts of his mind that went dim light back up one by one. He can hear Habit saying something, straining to hear what he’s saying through the ringing in his ears and his head spinning.
“You’re so fucking hot like this, taking my dick so good. Does it feel good?”
Vinny nods, barely trusting his voice to squeak out a yes.
“Do you wanna cum for me?”
Vinny nods again, grabbing Habit’s hand and leading it down to his dick. Habit takes his t-cock in hand and starts to jerk him off while he thrusts into him. Vinny moans in pleasure, head falling back onto the sheets and eyes drifting closed. “Fuck yeah, that feels good.” He sighs. “Just like that.”
Habit focuses on rubbing Vinny’s dick in ways that make his breath hitch and his back arch. Vinny does his best to relax and let the pleasure consume him. It starts slowly but rises fast like high tide, wave after wave bringing him closer and closer to orgasm. And he can feel himself being brought mercilessly closer to the edge as Habt pounds into him. He tries to hold on, to enjoy the feeling just a little while longer, but his orgasm crashes into him, leaving his skin feeling electrified and staticy. He can feel his legs trembling as he rides the waves of intense pulsing pleasure, intoxicating bursts of ecstasy hitting him when Habit rubs the head of his cock under his thumb.
His legs continue to tremble even as Habit slows down and stops trusting, gently pulling out and taking off the strap on. Vinny reaches up for Habit, pulling him down to lay on the bed beside him when Habit confusedly puts his hand in Vinny’s.
“What are you doing?”
“Laying down with you? Cause I’m tired and want to cuddle for a little bit before I make you feel good.”
Habit is weirdly tense as if he had never heard of the concept of laying down together before. “Oh, um. You don’t have to," he waves his hands, "reciprocate right now. Next time.” He says, eyes tracing where Vinny’s hand is tracing little shapes into his chest.
Vinny looks at him for a moment before humming a soft note. “Okay, if that’s what you want. But can we still lay down for a little while?”
Habit tilts his head but relaxes into the sheets of Vinny’s bed ever so slightly. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He sniffs. They lay in silence for a moment before Habit adjusts like he’s trying to get comfortable, repositioning himself so that he’s more cuddled into Vinny’s side than just laying down. Vinny smiles softly and rests his head on his shoulder before closing his eyes.