Fic: Two Lions In The Ring
Title: Two Lions In The Ring
Pairings: Critic/Michaud, lots of Chick/Critic and Chick/Michaud mentioned.
Word Count: 650
Disclaimer: The verse and story is mine, Michaud and Critic really aren't.
A/N: Well, this is my comeback after weeks of a writing lapse and it's the expansion of a drabble I've already written. Yay? Anyway, I hope this lives up to expectations and that I actually got Michaud right like freya and rach did.
Michaud didn't like people. There were few who he trusted and even fewer who he had any kind of affection for. The bar hadn't really helped in that regard, the pathetic scum that came through here would have killed anyone's barely remaining faith in humanity.
But the Chick... he couldn't get the image of her bleeding out of his mind and he couldn't fucking stand it.
She'd convinced him to let a whore in, to let her own someone like they were something shiny to show off. She'd done it in her usual way, with mini-skirts and pretty words, sucking on skin and leaving bruises that he didn't want to fade.
But that didn't mean he was going to make it easy on this guy. He looked him - Critic - over with a disdainful smirk. He looked like he could fit in well, Michaud had to admit that, a kind of messy pretty that men liked fucking around with and girls giggled over. The thought of the Chick paying him that kind of attention made him feel sick.
"So!" he said, mock-jovially, sitting on his desk. "Why should you be here?"
The man beamed sarcastically, still leaning against the wall. "'Cos I'm such a good worker, sir!"
He had enough snark from Chick and Ellis, he didn't need anymore. "Would you rather be out on your own again? Answer the question."
Critic sighed, looking down at the floor. "Because the woman said I could."
"She's not the boss here." Her blood on his hands, her eyes glazed over... how could she do this to him?
Her toy growled, the bitchiness coming back. "I think I fucking know that."
He could easily break him. But instead he pushed the bile down and gave him another chance. "I'll do a deal, okay? You somehow convinced her to like you..."
A smug grin appeared on the Critic's face. "I guess I'm just that good."
"... so convince me too."
Within seconds, a rough mouth was on his and he was being pinned to his desk. He grinned, regaining his composure and pulled the tie, yanking the slut off-balance. "Don't even think about trying to top me."
Critic laughed with distaste as he yanked the shirt over Michaud's head. "I'm not usually that keen on bald guys."
He said nothing, instead he focused on undressing, scratching, biting, tearing this man apart. He was like a new canvass he could explore, find out everything that led to this moment, break him apart and absorb all the knowledge that made him vulnerable.
...fucking hell, he sounded like Ellis.
He was taken out of his reverie when the skin on his shoulder broke because of the Critic biting down and blood bubbled to the surface. Chick came slithering back into his mind again, lying in her hospital bed with no life and her hair hanging limp over her pale face.
"What the fuck was that for, you cunthole?" He'd just slapped him. A light backhand, really. He was sure he'd had worse.
He bared his teeth in a grimacing smile and slammed him down on the desk. "What? Can't handle it?"
Critic scowled and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down for a violent kiss while keeping his hands tight (but loose enough) around his neck. "I fucking hate you."
"Do you hate her?" He hadn't meant to say it, it just slipped out when his mouth was free.
The other man's face suddenly went completely open and his eyes were wide. Take away the hints of grey and blue, and they would have been hers. "What do you want me to say?"
He didn't know. He hated her sometimes. He hated Ellis occasionally too. He definitely hated this whore and he was sure that the feeling was mutual. But he still... needed them. "Just agree to starting next week and get out."
"Gladly."
Pairings: Critic/Michaud, lots of Chick/Critic and Chick/Michaud mentioned.
Word Count: 650
Disclaimer: The verse and story is mine, Michaud and Critic really aren't.
A/N: Well, this is my comeback after weeks of a writing lapse and it's the expansion of a drabble I've already written. Yay? Anyway, I hope this lives up to expectations and that I actually got Michaud right like freya and rach did.
Michaud didn't like people. There were few who he trusted and even fewer who he had any kind of affection for. The bar hadn't really helped in that regard, the pathetic scum that came through here would have killed anyone's barely remaining faith in humanity.
But the Chick... he couldn't get the image of her bleeding out of his mind and he couldn't fucking stand it.
She'd convinced him to let a whore in, to let her own someone like they were something shiny to show off. She'd done it in her usual way, with mini-skirts and pretty words, sucking on skin and leaving bruises that he didn't want to fade.
But that didn't mean he was going to make it easy on this guy. He looked him - Critic - over with a disdainful smirk. He looked like he could fit in well, Michaud had to admit that, a kind of messy pretty that men liked fucking around with and girls giggled over. The thought of the Chick paying him that kind of attention made him feel sick.
"So!" he said, mock-jovially, sitting on his desk. "Why should you be here?"
The man beamed sarcastically, still leaning against the wall. "'Cos I'm such a good worker, sir!"
He had enough snark from Chick and Ellis, he didn't need anymore. "Would you rather be out on your own again? Answer the question."
Critic sighed, looking down at the floor. "Because the woman said I could."
"She's not the boss here." Her blood on his hands, her eyes glazed over... how could she do this to him?
Her toy growled, the bitchiness coming back. "I think I fucking know that."
He could easily break him. But instead he pushed the bile down and gave him another chance. "I'll do a deal, okay? You somehow convinced her to like you..."
A smug grin appeared on the Critic's face. "I guess I'm just that good."
"... so convince me too."
Within seconds, a rough mouth was on his and he was being pinned to his desk. He grinned, regaining his composure and pulled the tie, yanking the slut off-balance. "Don't even think about trying to top me."
Critic laughed with distaste as he yanked the shirt over Michaud's head. "I'm not usually that keen on bald guys."
He said nothing, instead he focused on undressing, scratching, biting, tearing this man apart. He was like a new canvass he could explore, find out everything that led to this moment, break him apart and absorb all the knowledge that made him vulnerable.
...fucking hell, he sounded like Ellis.
He was taken out of his reverie when the skin on his shoulder broke because of the Critic biting down and blood bubbled to the surface. Chick came slithering back into his mind again, lying in her hospital bed with no life and her hair hanging limp over her pale face.
"What the fuck was that for, you cunthole?" He'd just slapped him. A light backhand, really. He was sure he'd had worse.
He bared his teeth in a grimacing smile and slammed him down on the desk. "What? Can't handle it?"
Critic scowled and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down for a violent kiss while keeping his hands tight (but loose enough) around his neck. "I fucking hate you."
"Do you hate her?" He hadn't meant to say it, it just slipped out when his mouth was free.
The other man's face suddenly went completely open and his eyes were wide. Take away the hints of grey and blue, and they would have been hers. "What do you want me to say?"
He didn't know. He hated her sometimes. He hated Ellis occasionally too. He definitely hated this whore and he was sure that the feeling was mutual. But he still... needed them. "Just agree to starting next week and get out."
"Gladly."