In which Griffin defends his property, and Balakai reminds someone that even pets have teeth.

Word Count: 4954

Content Warning: Violence, Blood, Gore, Alcohol, Inebriation, Oral Sex, Public Sex

Balakai was content to be caged in against the bar by Griffin's arms. He perched himself on the stool there and sprawled his upper body across the bar top, pillowing his cheek on his arm.  He curled his fingers around the glass but didn't immediately drink, just flashed Grif a smile before the witch's attention was pulled away.  He might've pouted at losing the witch's direct attention, but he sipped his drink and didn't fuss.  Couldn't bring himself to, because even as the witch turned away he stayed close enough that Balakai could feel the heat of his body even in the warmth of the club.

It couldn't really be said his mind wandered.  It didn't.  It was just... quiet.  Hyper-aware of the cool, smooth bar top under his cheek.  The way the smoke and sweet of the wine lingered on his tongue and rose into his nose when he sipped it.  Felt like it was stealing his mind away one thought at a time and only leaving the parts of him that felt.  He'd not tried this particular Faerie wine before, but he liked it.  Liked it quite a lot..  

The glass disappearing from his hand spurred a little, petulant whine from him but before he could do more than lift his head to figure out what had become of it, a cold hand brushed his cheek and then curled fingers into the frontmost ring of his collar, pulling him up from his indolent sprawl.  

"Who gave you something like this, pet?  It's clearly too much for you."  Her voice was cool as glacier water and the hair on the back of his neck prickled, skin rising in goose flesh in response.  His lips drew back in a snarl, baring too many sharp teeth and his voice dropping into the bass notes of his anger.

The runes painted on Griffin’s skin that lit in the strange faery light of the club began to flicker like lightning and Lir cleared his throat. 

"Griffin, surely-" he made a choking noise when Griffin flicked his free hand, the full weight of his focus on the cold woman who had her filthy hands on Balakai's collar. There was the sound of a struggle and the other witch fell to the ground before he could be heard gasping for breath. Griffin drew the riding crop from its loop at his belt and with snake-quick reflexes, rapped the vampire on the hand.  

"That belongs to me," he said in a voice that was poison and lightning. His unoccupied hand slid up Balakai's spine possessively and he drew him back into his chest until he met with resistance because she had not let go of the ring.  

"You should take better care of your things then," she almost purred, unimpressed with his display. Her smile flashed her fangs. 

Balakai's growl pitched higher into a snarl when he felt Griffin's hand on his back, drawing him away from the woman except that she refused to let go of his collar.  He snapped, but his teeth clicked on empty air because she held him too close under the chin for him to reach her.

The space around Griffin pulsed with power.  Hunger crawled up his spine and Griffin didn’t attempt to check it.  He opened the door to the dark recesses of power within him.  His skin bleached of color and his veins ran like ink under the paraffin of it.  He turned his hand palm up, crop dangling from his fingers as they curled.  Balakai felt the magic crawling up his skin, the ozone and pressure of Griffin's magic that was becoming so familiar. There was a moment where the woman’s face registered a flicker of confusion before she screamed. When the vampire screamed the demon jerked his head back, breaking free of her loosened grip.  

The cries of crows filled every beat of silence in the music and conversations of the club.  Demon and witch stood at the center of a maelstrom of magic, everything else within five feet shattering and finding itself born into the swirling magic.

This would always be the cost of the life that Griffin had lived and the choices that he had made; that he would give in to the darkness of his devils so very easily.  He would burn the world with him because that was the nature of him.  Balakai, at least for tonight, was his, and for her affront this bitch would suffer.

Balakai lunged for the woman’s throat, regardless of the maelstrom of magic around them.  While she ought to have feared Griffin, she'd also failed to realize that just because the demon wore a collar did not forsake the fact that he was a demon.  The black-green of the arcane sigils scrawled on his skin caught the queer light of the club like malachite inlaid in alabaster.

"Give me carnage," Griffin whispered as he popped the quick release on the collar.  The vampire’s chest erupted with a flurry of black wings as half a dozen crows, full grown and feasting.

There was just a brief moment where the collar tightened as Balakai lunged, like Griffin might try to hold him.  Then the quick release opened, his momentum hardly checked as he threw himself at the vampire.  Caught off guard by Griffin's magic inside and now Balakai's unnatural weight hitting her from the front, she went down under.  

She did not rise.

He ripped her throat out with a flash of teeth.  To look at him was confusion, an overlay of human and hound because he never truly lost control of his shape despite drink and madness.  He rent the flesh and there was the sick crack of bone beneath his teeth as he crushed and tore the spine until the head rolled free of the body.  His hands curled into claws and fabric shredded as he opened her chest.  Ribs cracked under teeth and claws he dug into her corpse. 

Griffin felt the wash of someone else's magic against the storm of his own and with a flourish of his hand he sent the murder after the human who ran up.  For what purpose, Griffin cared little.  

The music stopped and the club went silent but for the cries of crows and the wet sounds of shredding flesh and the crack of breaking bone.

"Entertaining as it is to watch you work, Griffin darling, I do think that's enough.  If I let you go on, you'll make more work than I want."  The voice was sultry, silken shadow and power.  "Bring your friend and come join me for a drink."

It took everything in him to heed the request by Pandora.  He knew her voice, knew that it wasn't a request at all.  He was caught in the storm of his own magic and the way it burned through him like fire, gnawed at reason and control.  He could feel how it rebelled against his command of it, threatened to rip him apart and set him free to unleash hell on everything around him.  It felt like dying.  And climax.  It screamed and as always when he let it get the better of him, he was sure that this time, this time it would win.  It would reduce him to nothing and he would end.  Only, he heard Balakai growl, caught the flash of red in his eyes, and it focused him.  

He'd promised.  

Griffin took a deep breath and shivered as he let go of the dark magic that was his domain.  The storm ended, the crows vanished, and his color returned.  With infinite tenderness, he leaned down and reattached the leash.

Balakai ate her heart.  Even as the pressure of the magic eased, he dug teeth into the atrophied muscle.  Tipped back his head to swallow the chunk of flesh.  Somehow with the easing of Griffin's magic, so too bled off his temper.  But it didn't stop him.  He didn't fight the leash, nuzzling back into the body for the rest of the heart.  He was well and truly bloodied when he tipped his head back to swallow the last of it, scarlet painted throat working.  His tongue darted out, licking clean his lips though the rest of his face was as red as his eyes.

Griffin's expression softened, and he gave the demon a sweet smile, reaching out to caress his cheek.  

"God you're so fucking beautiful sometimes," he said quietly, as if they were alone in the room.  He would have leaned in to kiss him, but the vampire blood all over his face and in his mouth would have made him horribly sick if it didn't just kill him right out.  As he was well aware of the consequences of dying by a hand not Balakai's while the demon decided that he was his, he satisfied himself with the caress before turning to the blue-skinned bartender.  

"A wet towel, if you please.  And one all the same if you don't."  They didn't argue, just handed it to him with a raised eyebrow, but no other remark.  Save for the little space around them, the rest of the club turned back to their pleasures as the music came back on.  This was Pandemonium and it never failed to live up to its name. 

 Much like Balakai had washed the dirt from him when he'd risen from the dead a few weeks before, he gently washed the blood from the hound’s face and chest.  "We've been invited to drink with the Lady of the House.  You'll like her."

Balakai said nothing, just nuzzled into Griffin's palm.  He sat back on his heels next to the body and let Griffin clean his face and chest, though the silk was impossibly stained and ruined.  He offered up his hands to be cleaned as well, though he didn't make any effort to do it himself.  Just held his hands palm up and waited patiently.  His tongue worked to clean his lips and teeth of blood and stuck bits of muscle fiber, expression almost meditative.  

"She took my drink." His lower lip trembled just a little and he pouted up to Griffin, not directly responding to his statement.  He rose slowly.  His movements had lost some of their light grace, traded for the kind of rippling strength that accentuated the unnatural definition that showed in all the skin not covered by the diaphanous silk.  He hooked his fingertips onto Griffin's waistband, and leaned into his shoulder.

The quiver in Balakai's chin did him in, sending a flare of heat up Griffin’s spine that almost made his knees weak.  He took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around him to pull him close. There was not a moment of care given for the blood that got on him. 

"We showed her though, didn't we?  Daddy's sorry he let his attention elsewhere so that the horrible vampire dared touch you." He nodded as the bartender fetched a third glass of the nearly black wine, setting it down in front of them with a very skeptical look on their face.  

Griffin nuzzled into the demon curled on his shoulder and if one did not know better it may have seemed tender.  "It's still your night, princess.  No little cunt vampire gets to ruin that.  Let's go up and see Pandora and you can keep my cock warm while we see what she wants."

Balakai looked back at the corpse for a moment, only turning his head just enough to see it, body still pressed against Griffin's and a growl rumbling in his chest, more felt than heard.  

"Shouldn't waste the meat," he murmured, then sighed and nuzzled back into Griffin.  He almost didn't notice the glass, but when he did he took it and nodded against the witch's shoulder even as he cupped the glass in both hands.  

"If it pleases, daddy." He took most of his weight on his own feet again rather than leaning into the taller man, leaving him free to lead the way without worrying Balakai might topple.  He stole glances back at the vampire, eyes still sullen red and throat working occasionally to swallow the saliva that pooled in his mouth at the knowledge of how her flesh tasted.

Griffin understood that the hound was just under the surface, felt the tension in muscles that were inhuman.  He was lucky that he hadn't eaten him when he'd killed him that first time, really.  He didn't correct Balakai's want.  As long as he followed, that would be enough.  

There were plenty of eyes on them and when he bothered to see if Lir was still around, the witch had vanished.  It was no loss, really.  Griffin was known for his temper.  He led Balakai towards the stairs leading to the loft.

A short, broad man covered in tattoos with curling silvery horns stood in his way and Griffin just raised an eyebrow, tapping the crop against his knee impatiently.  

"You're the one they call Crow?"

"That is my Emperor, D'kalic.  You don't get to ask him questions."  The voice came from the shadows at the top of a baroque carved, black lacquer staircase just behind the horned man.  Pandora's voice was always the same volume anywhere in the club, though her presence so near added silk and depth to it.  

"And the mutt?"

There was the sound of Pandora sighing and the tell-tale pressure change of Griffin's magic as his hand lashed out. This time the crows did not burst from his chest, but the shape of them moving about in his chest cavity could be clearly seen through his tight, gray shirt.  The faery-touched man fell to his knees, blood running from his mouth as he turned his eyes up the stairs for help. Griffin just stepped around him as if he weren't even there.  

Balakai lingered when Griffin began to walk again, eyes fixed to the dead man, head canted at a curious angle.  It was only when the leash went a little taut that he recalled himself and trailed after.

"When will people learn?"  There was little sympathy and a touch of exasperation in her voice as the impression of Pandora retreated back toward her throne of darkness and glass.  It was still impossible to make out her form through the swirling shadows that kept her veiled. 

"Never," Griffin said darkly.  He took a seat at her right hand and patted his lap for Balakai to have a seat.  The demon paid Pandora not one wit of attention- for all he cared she might not have existed.  

He studied Griffin's lap for perhaps too long a moment, then instead nudged between his legs.  He sank to the ground in a slow, controlled fall, glass of wine still held between both his hands.  Settled comfortably on his knees, he sipped and then snuggled his face in against Griffin's thigh, looking up at him as if to check that the seat he'd chosen instead was ok, because he knew it wasn't what Griffin had asked.

The witch watched him move, enjoyed the dark of the blood on the pale of the ruined garments.  He'd cleaned up a fair amount of the blood, but there were still spots and streaks of it here and there.  It did nothing to cool his desire nor to ruin the pretty line of the demon who seemed more himself now.  Civility didn't really suit him any more than it did Griffin.  They were both monsters, in a place meant for monsters.

It had been a while since he'd been here and it seemed people had forgotten to have care with him.  They would be reminded now and even if he had to pay for the extravagant magic use later, it was worth it.  

As they sat the fog of obscuring shadow fell away to reveal a woman of dark beauty seated on her throne of glass.  Her skin was velvet black and her eyes were like the night's sky, star scattered and endless.  Black hair streaked with white was piled in braids and curls atop her head like a crown, precious stones and charms catching the queer light around them.  Her dress was black and shimmering silk that draped and clung perfectly to show off the sensual artistry of her.  A goddess of night- at least, here.  The look she cast on Griffin was fond.

"Is this where you've been keeping yourself?  It's been so quiet, I worried for you."  

He ran a hand through Balakai's hair and studied him thoughtfully, not actually looking at her.  "You could say that."

Balakai closed his eyes and tilted his head into the caress, and gave a soft sort of groan that was just the edge of a growl.  But it wasn't anger or upset that spurred it.  Rather he was utterly content, muscles gone to water as he just leaned against Griffin's leg, face not quite buried in his crotch but it wouldn't have taken far to get there.  Glass of wine just sipped resting on his lap, cupped between hands gone mostly lax.

"Don't stop, please," he sighed, and nuzzled against Griffin's thigh again.  His jaws and throat occasionally moved a little, and he couldn't quite shake the desire to have his teeth in something.  His gums practically itched for it, but between the wine and so much else he was... content.  For the moment.  There were other things working in the back of his mind, desires he'd not yet formed into words.  Things he might ask, if they came to fruition before the night was out.  Right now though he was in no hurry to scrounge for coherent thought.  He liked much more this.  This being able to float and feel and not have to track the words being spoken over his head or what was going on around them.  He couldn't even smell the rest of the club anymore really, just overwhelming the scent of Griffin because his nose was pressed so close.  And he could smell the arousal of him, and it stirred his own again.

Long fingers that showed the signs of having been broken many times and scarred with the faint white crisscross of fine scars trailed through the blonde hair, nails just adding pressure to elicit pleasure and no pain.  Griffin watched the hell hound with an unusual amount of attention.  He was fascinated by the look of near content that rested almost easily on Balakai's face, an expression that he wasn't sure that he'd ever seen there before.  He could never quite look human, and the red of new spilled blood remained in his eyes, slit just so, but Balakai looked closer to it in this moment than he'd noticed of him before.  

He kept up the caress and let himself relax a little.  Magic still hummed in his bones, just under the surface and ready to be called at need, but no one would dare disturb Pandora so he need not have such care here and if she decided to end him there was nothing he could do anyway.  

"If I didn't know better, I'd almost say you look content, my pretty crow.  Is that even possible?"  Her rich voice was low and velvet, all desire and power.  Her dark eyes watched the witch with amused interest while she sipped a glass of wine of her own.

"I am, relatively speaking."

"A dangerous sentiment coming from you."  

He had known the immortal keeper of the Garnet Prince's club for many hundreds of years.  She had been like anyone else once.  A deal with the Faery power had given her endless life and tremendous power, with a catch; she couldn't leave.  So long as she remained within the pocket of out of time space that was Pandemonium she was deathless and nearly all powerful.  Beyond it... time would catch up with her and she would die.  To his knowledge, she had never regretted her deal.  He would have.  Being stuck in one place, no matter how lovely and debauched, would have driven him mad.

Very quietly she said, "Careful, Griffin.  Contentment is forbidden to you. That was the deal you made."

"I know," he sighed, maybe a little tired, but mostly just because the warm and the weight of the demon there was nice and he wasn't interested in her warnings.  He knew better than anyone the cost of the power for which he had traded.  It was carved on his bones and threaded through the being of him.  "I'm going to finally kill Julian."  

She peaked a dark eyebrow.  "Are you now?  A tall order.  He's been collecting power.  He might rival you in some ways." 

He made a rude noise.  

"Deathless you might be, but you are an artful hand of magic and have learned how to carry the cost of it.  That little witch drank too deeply, too often, too fast of wells that are not meant for the likes of you lot. Do not underestimate him.  And keeping a pet demon may not even the odds for you."

"He's only my pet tonight," Griffin replied offhandedly, purposely misunderstanding her implication.  "He got the drop on me the other night, but I won't be surprised again."

"You said that last time," she reminded him with a shake of her head.  "You let yourself have feelings Griffin.  That weakness will be your undoing with Rhodes if you do not have care.  For all you pretend to have burned away your soul, you remain painfully human in the ways that matter."

Now he looked over at her and there was a sour look on his face.  "Enough.  I don't need you to remind me."

"Don't you?" She asked with a smug look on her face.  "You make a pretty picture there, though.  I always enjoy the disaster you bring with you when you stop in for a visit."

Balakai lifted his head from Griffin's thigh only to drink deeply of his wine, then set the near empty cup aside. When he laid his head back, he nuzzled a little deeper between Griffin's legs.  Nudged his nose up against the witch's fly and looked up at him, eyes still deep rust red.  He mouthed lightly at the fabric there, breathing in long, deep draws.  Wallowing in the scent and heat of him.  Distracting from whatever too heavy matters weighing down the shadowy air. Drawing his attention back where it properly belonged.  On him.

The witch turned back to the leashed demon and his lips curled quietly as he unbelted his pants and loosened the laces, not about to let anything stand in the way.  He wasn't here to entertain Pandora; he was here to play and be seen.  The weight of the demon against his skin was nice and the color of his eyes was pretty.  He liked the aesthetic of it all and it never failed to capture his attention when something was lovely thus.  He had this one night to simply admire the demon, to revel in hedonistic delight, and he wasn't going to take it for granted.  

"If you tell me where Rhodes is holed up, I'll let you watch."  He didn't look over at her, his eyes only on Balakai.

"As if you weren't going to do as you like regardless of me sitting here?"

"Quid pro quo."

She chuckled low in her throat.  "We'll see."

The music was just loud enough here, the mix of strange light and shadow comfortable.  Griffin ran his hands through Balakai's hair and shifted in the chair to make himself more accessible.  Only the demon had his focus, though, and he had all of it.

Balakai didn't raise his hands to help.  Left them curled quietly in his lap, all his weight leaned into the chair and into Griffin's leg.  He whined softly in pleased anticipation when the witch opened his fly, shifting back just enough to let him move to be more accessible.  Then he nuzzled back in, nosing in against Griffin's skin and hair, breathing in deeply, almost huffing in his scent.  His lips moved slowly, a slow and languid exploration as his eyes slid mostly closed again.

His tongue flicked out, the tip probing, sliding down the witch's slit.  He didn't delve deep though, just drew Grifin’s small cock between his lips and suckled it.  A low, contented groan vibrated up from his chest.

Griffin let his eyes drift closed.  He was not fussed by the woman sitting next to them, nor that they were in full view of anyone across the way. Let them see and envy.  Let them ache for Balakai.  And let them watch, their own need driving them to make delightfully regrettable choices as all should do in a place like this.  The violence and the dancing and the lingering sweet and smoke of the priceless faery wine lingered on his tongue and he wanted.  The gnawing dark of him that could never really be satisfied for long that rose up as he felt the demon's tongue caress him, calling for him to drink deep of all life had to give and more.  

He let time slip, as he had done before, let his connection to anything but his physical self in the demon's hands fade into a background about which he could not possibly have cared any less.  He moaned and moved slowly, the pleasure of it making it near impossible to sit still. 

Faerie did that.  Stole time away, or let you give it away.  Balakai was in no hurry.  There was no urgency to the way he sucked and licked and tasted.  No haste or even roughness.  All languid, mostly soft.  As though it was more for the shear and simple pleasure of the taste of Griffin and the feel of him in his mouth than for any actual end.  He certainly didn't strive the way he sometimes did, push to pull louder reactions from the witch.  

The rest of the club vanished, for the unique magic of it left Griffin's moans clear to his ears and between scent and taste and touch his world narrowed to the witch's body and his own and seemed to extend no farther than that.  He could distinctly feel the slip of the light, diaphanous silk, the sway of the weight of the beads.  His pulse steady and slow.  The rush of blood in Griffin's femoral artery, mingling with his moans and Balakai's breath to create a quiet music unique to them that overwhelmed the background drone of the club.  The sweet smoke of the wine still lingering on the back of his tongue and in his nose, pushing the parts of his mind that were concerned with the future, that reasoned and planned, down.  Letting the base, primal instinct of him take over, leaving him to the whim of sensation and emotion.

It did not take him long, so pressing was his need and so attentive was the demon.  It was soft and slow and the sweet rise of his climax was a lovely build that let him just gently slip over the edge and enjoy the way he could simply cede control of his reactions to his body that twitched and rolled in absolute pleasure.  His breath was a stuttering sigh and his cry was quiet.  It could have been very easy to imagine them completely alone.  It was a contrast to the sharpness with which they usually engaged the world.  

Griffin ran a hand down Balakai's jaw and caressed his cheek, a lazy smile on his lips and his odd eyes clear.  

Pandora's dark eyes watched them and her smile was edged with secrets.  

"What would you like, my pretty one?"  Griffin’s attention was only for Balakai.  He did not care that such questions were dangerous.  He did not care what the cost.  This was near perfection and he would pay whatever price for it.

Balakai seemed ill-inclined to stop even after Griffin cried out, but reluctantly allowed his face to be drawn up by the hand on his jaw.  He blinked hazily, swaying into Griffin's hand like he might not be able to balance if he were entirely without support.  It took him a while to seem to understand the question.  Longer still to divine an answer as he turned his face in against Griffin's hand, getting distracted by his skin, lips moving against his palm.  His eyes fluttered closed for a moment and it was only with great effort that he recalled that an answer had been asked of him.

"Ruin me," he breathed dreamily.

Griffin felt a chill run up his spine and a wave of want that was like fire in his blood.  The magic in the air and that sang in him screamed, the way the demon looked at him as if he alone tethered him to existence was almost choking it was so heavy.  Even though he had just been released, he was almost instantly hard again and he gave a little huff of sound.

He did not second guess, did not ask.  He understood.  

The witch laced up his pants and did his buckle, then leaned down to kiss Balakai ever-so-sweetly, index finger hooking into the ring at the front of his collar to reclaim it from the memory of the bitch who had dared to touch it.  "I will.  I promise."

He rose with infinite grace and drew Balakai up after him.  "Gotta cut this short, your Ladyship.  I'm on a date.  And I'm borrowing your room."

"Quid pro quo," she echoed back at him with a sweet laugh.  

Griffin paused mid step, pondered for a moment, and shrugged.  "Done.”