Fic: Green Eyed (Count Cain, Cain/Crehador)
Title: Green Eyed
Fandom: Count Cain/Godchild
Pairing: Cain/Crehador, with mentions of Cain/Riff and Crehador/Sheila
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2350
Warnings: Drunken sex
Spoilers: For Godchild volume six
Summary: Cain enjoys the influence of the Green Fairy, while Crehador finds himself caught by an entirely different shade of green.
A/N: The Green Fairy is another name for absinthe. (As anyone who's seen Moulin Rouge will know.) This was written for
kink_bingo for the prompt: "drugs/alcohol."
Crehador scowled as he stomped down the dirty streets of London. Where was that thrice damned earl? Really, Crehador should have expected this. Cain would never let an opportunity to be infuriating pass him by.
Splitting up had been Cain's idea. It was clear that Delilah would be putting their grand plan into action very soon, which meant that they had very little time to figure out the specifics of that plan, and, even more importantly, how to stop it. Cain decided that they could cover more ground across London's underworld if they separated. Also, he had pointed out, they would be less conspicuous if they weren't together. Crehador had replied that he wasn't sure that it was possible for Cain to be inconspicuous. Cain had just smiled like the arrogant prat he was.
Truthfully, Crehador wasn't sure how much help Cain would be. He was sharp, yes, but he didn't have Crehador's underworld contacts. On the other hand, he did possess that devilish charisma. People might very well tell him things without fully understanding why they were doing so.
Of course, none of that hypothetical information would be of any use if Crehador couldn't find Cain. He hadn't shown up at their agreed rendezvous spot, even after Crehador had waited a full hour. Finally, exasperated, he had given up waiting and went looking. Currently, it felt like he had been to half of the opium dens and brothels in the city.
It wasn't as if he was worried. He couldn't be bothered with such sentiment, and even if he could, he'd be more concerned for whatever fool might attempt to molest Cain. It was merely impatience that quickened his steps.
He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or furious when he opened the door to a seedy bar and found Cain surrounded by adoring beauties, both male and female, and a glass of green liquid in his hand. From the look in his eyes, it was not his first.
Fury won out. Crehador stalked up. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "We're supposed to be gathering information. I waited for you for over an hour, and here I find you flirting and drinking absinthe."
Cain grinned. "I am gathering information." He gestured to the people around him. "These are my lovely informants." His so-called informants tittered. He took a swallow of his drink, then peered at it, swirling the liquid around in the glass. "I don't have a good explanation for this, but I'll think of something."
Crehador grabbed Cain roughly by the arm, causing the glass to fall from the earl's hand. "We're leaving," Crehador spat out.
"Wait a minute," the greasy barkeep cried. "The kid hasn't paid his tab."
Crehador took some bills from his pocket and threw them to the floor. "Keep the change. You're paying me back," he growled at Cain, who didn't respond.
Crehador yanked Cain through the streets, and it was probably the fierce look in his eyes that kept them from being bothered.
"You're hurting me," Cain told him. He didn't sound angry or upset. His voice was distant. Crehador was tempted to pull him harder, just to teach him a lesson, but instead he found his grip slackening.
They finally arrived at a semi-respectable area, and Crehador hailed a hansom cab. He shoved Cain inside and gave the driver directions to the Hargreaves mansion. Once they were one their way he turned and glared viciously at Cain. "What were you thinking? During such a critical time, you go and get drunk? I know that you're a decadent hedonist, but I expected better. I thought that you at least took the fight against Delilah seriously."
Cain didn't look at him. Instead he stared straight ahead, obviously still feeling the effects of the absinthe. "I wanted to forget. It didn't work" There was something fragile in his tone. It disturbed Crehador. Cain should sound arrogant and smug, not vulnerable. However, maybe it shouldn't have surprised him. For all his confidence, Cain was little more than a child, really, and he had just been betrayed in the worst way imaginable. Crehador's anger didn't vanish, but it softened. "You should have tried opium."
Cain chuckled. "I don't like opium dens. They're so dirty."
"Typical spoiled aristocrat." The insult made Crehador feel like he was on steadier ground.
"Of course." Cain threw his head back, exposing the pale skin of his neck. He was lounging across the carriage seat, and his eyes were half lidded. Crehador tried to convince himself that it was not at all erotic.
The carriage came to a halt and Crehador stepped out. Cain tried to follow, but he stumbled and grabbed onto Crehador. "Pathetic," Crehador muttered as he paid the driver. "You're paying me back for the cab fare too."
No one greeted them when they walked through the door. Crehador wondered if that was intentional, if Cain didn't want to be reminded that the person welcoming him home wouldn't be Riff. Unfortunately, it meant that there was no one to take the inebriated earl off of his hands. "You are going owe me the largest favor in the morning." He sighed. "Which way is your room?" Cain pointed and Crehador started heading in that direction. After far too long (why did nobles feel the need to live in such unnecessarily large houses?), he found the room and dumped Cain unceremoniously on the bed. "You can take off your own shoes."
"Of course." Cain managed to sound scornful even while mumbling.
Crehador was prepared to leave, when he noticed that Cain wasn't untying his shoes. Instead, he was unbuttoning his shirt. It wasn't in any way elegant; Cain's drunken fingers were clumsy, but watching his bare chest appear ever so slowly kept Crehador rooted to the spot. Cain stopped, looked up, and smirked as if he knew exactly what Crehador was thinking. He abandoned his shirt, leaving only a small V of flesh showing, and began to untie his shoes. Crehador felt able to move again. He collected his wits and was about to turn away when Cain finished with his shoes and started on his trousers. Crehador swallowed. "You're indecent," he manged to say. "Put some nightclothes on."
"Why? I always sleep naked." Cain was finished taking of his trousers, which left him... Crehador cursed internally and worked very hard to keep his eyes on Cain's face, which was smiling far too knowingly at him.
"You're shameless." His voice only choked a little.
"And you love it." Cain walked up to Crehador and ran a hand down his cheek.
Cain was not a strong man and Crehador knew that. So, when Cain pushed him onto the bed, it would have been easy to resist. However, Crehador let himself fall, let Cain climb on top of him, and stared into Cain's bewitching eyes, now bright with hunger and lust.
"You're wearing far too many clothes," Cain whispered. He crawled down to remove Crehador's shoes.
There were so many reasons why they shouldn't be doing this. "You're drunk."
"Absolutely," Cain answered, tossing Crehador's shoes to the side. "Next the shirt, don't you think? Save the best for last?"
"You don't know what you're doing."
Cain brushed his thumb over Crehador's nipple before undoing the last button on his shirt. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"
Crehador shifted, his erection straining against his pants. He wanted this, there was no point in denying it. But... "I'm not the one you really want."
"No," Cain's breath was hot against Crehador's ear and his voice had a tinge of darkness in it, "but you'll do."
At that point, Crehador should have told Cain to go to hell, put on his clothes, and left, but he didn't. Rather, he tugged Cain's face to his and pulled him into a brutal kiss. Pride seemed a much smaller thing when one was faced with a half-naked Cain Hargreaves-a half-naked Cain Hargreaves who was currently stroking Crehador's cock over his trousers. He jerked his hips. "Get these off of me," he demanded. The smirk never left Cain's face as he undid Crehador's trousers and flung them away. Then he stood up. "Where are you going?" Crehador asked.
Slightly unbalanced, Cain walked over to a small chest and opened it. "You don't have much experience with men, do you?"
"No, but I'm sure that you have plenty."
Cain paused. "Some." Shadows came over his face.
Crehador wasn't sure how to respond to that. He settled for, "Hurry up and get over here."
That snapped Cain back to the present. He pulled out a small bottle of what appeared to be oil and came back. He set the bottle to the side and positioned himself between Crehador's legs. "Let's start slow," he said before running his tongue along Crehador's shaft. Crehador groaned and twisted as Cain licked his cock. Then he gasped as Cain took him into his mouth.
The things that Cain knew how to do with his tongue were downright sinful. Crehador had no idea where Cain had learned to suck cock like that. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know. It was unbelievable. Not even Sheila... but he wasn't going to think about Sheila right now, not even knowing that it probably wasn't him that Cain was seeing.
With Cain's tongue driving him mad, it didn't take long for Crehador to come. Panting, he stared as Cain swallowed, his eyes fixated on the other man's throat. Without pausing for breath, Cain reached for the bottle that Crehador had forgotten about. It was true that Crehador wasn't experienced when it came to men, at least sexually, but he had a sneaking suspicion about what the oil was for. "You can't be serious."
Cain looked at him, a drunken gleam still in his eyes. "You thought that you were the only one who was going to get any pleasure? Does that sound like something I would do?"
"No," Crehador answered readily, "you're entirely selfish."
"Exactly," Cain agreed, far too easily for a man who had just been insulted. "Which means that you're going to be doing something for me."
Crehador raised an eyebrow at Cain's matter-of-fact tone. "Do you think that you can force me?"
Cain gave an offended snort. "Don't be an idiot." He bent down and nibbled on Crehador's lip while one hand stroked Crehador's thigh. "I'm simply very persuasive."
Crehador really didn't want Cain to stop touching him. Maybe it was worth an unsavory compromise. "Do what you want," he said finally.
Cain looked at him long and hard. Then he slicked one of his fingers with oil and slid it inside Crehador. The intrusion was strange and uncomfortable, and Crehador was about to object when Cain brushed a spot inside him that made his body jolt with pleasure. Crehador gasped in surprise. He looked up at Cain, shocked, only to discover that Cain was pulling away. "Why are you stopping?" He tried not to sound as eager as he felt.
"You don't sound very interested," Cain answered lazily. 'Do what you want' isn't what I would call enthusiastic. And I'd never take an unwilling partner."
"Damn you," Crehador snapped. "Do that again."
"Do what?" Cain was the picture of false innocence.
"Touch me like that again. You smug bastard," Crehador added to make himself better.
"If you insist." Cain was all but purring. This time he slipped two fingers inside Crehador. It felt odd, but every time Crehador felt ready to complain, Cain would touch that same spot and all rational thought would desert him.
Without warning, Cain removed his fingers. Crehador was about to tell him off for stopping, but he noticed that Cain was pouring out more oil and spreading it liberally over his cock. "Don't clench your muscles," Cain reprimanded lightly. "That will just make things more difficult." Crehador frowned and tried to obey.
It hurt when Cain pushed inside of him, but not nearly as much as Crehador was expecting. He felt... filled, and the sensation was strangely pleasurable. When Cain began to move, Crehador found himself thrusting his hips to match Cain's rhythm. It was easy to lose himself in the feeling, and it startled him when Cain came with a sharp cry. They were both breathing heavily as Cain pulled out. He rolled onto his back and stretched out. "I'm irresistible," he declared, sounding satisfied.
"You're insufferable," Crehador countered, but there was little heat in the words. He grimaced as Cain began to prod him with his feet. "What are you doing?"
"You need to leave," Cain insisted, poking harder.
"If this is how you treat your bedmates, I have no idea where you got your reputation for charm."
"Normally, I'm the one leaving someone else's bed," Cain explained. "And I prefer it that way, because it eliminates this exact problem."
"Poor planning on your part."
"Copious amounts of alcohol will do that," Cain noted. "Now, leave. There's no way I'm going to let anyone see a man leaving my bedroom in the morning. Riff never gave me this much trouble," he muttered. His expression turned stricken when he realized what he had said.
Driven more by impulse than reason, Crehador leaned forward and kissed Cain deeply. "Get some sleep," he said after pulling away. "We'll have more work to do tomorrow."
"All right," Cain acquiesced, apparently deciding to be agreeable for once in his irritating life. He moved over to the dry side of the bed and pulled the covers of himself. "Turn out the light when you leave."
"Yes, your majesty," Crehador groused as he dressed. However, he did as he was told and he shut the door softly behind him.
Crehador had a lot on his mind as he walked through the Hargreaves mansion. And if he looked back once or twice, or if the look in his eyes grew ever so slightly softer, well, the halls were dark and empty, and it was nobody's business but his own.
Fandom: Count Cain/Godchild
Pairing: Cain/Crehador, with mentions of Cain/Riff and Crehador/Sheila
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2350
Warnings: Drunken sex
Spoilers: For Godchild volume six
Summary: Cain enjoys the influence of the Green Fairy, while Crehador finds himself caught by an entirely different shade of green.
A/N: The Green Fairy is another name for absinthe. (As anyone who's seen Moulin Rouge will know.) This was written for
kink_bingo for the prompt: "drugs/alcohol."
Crehador scowled as he stomped down the dirty streets of London. Where was that thrice damned earl? Really, Crehador should have expected this. Cain would never let an opportunity to be infuriating pass him by.
Splitting up had been Cain's idea. It was clear that Delilah would be putting their grand plan into action very soon, which meant that they had very little time to figure out the specifics of that plan, and, even more importantly, how to stop it. Cain decided that they could cover more ground across London's underworld if they separated. Also, he had pointed out, they would be less conspicuous if they weren't together. Crehador had replied that he wasn't sure that it was possible for Cain to be inconspicuous. Cain had just smiled like the arrogant prat he was.
Truthfully, Crehador wasn't sure how much help Cain would be. He was sharp, yes, but he didn't have Crehador's underworld contacts. On the other hand, he did possess that devilish charisma. People might very well tell him things without fully understanding why they were doing so.
Of course, none of that hypothetical information would be of any use if Crehador couldn't find Cain. He hadn't shown up at their agreed rendezvous spot, even after Crehador had waited a full hour. Finally, exasperated, he had given up waiting and went looking. Currently, it felt like he had been to half of the opium dens and brothels in the city.
It wasn't as if he was worried. He couldn't be bothered with such sentiment, and even if he could, he'd be more concerned for whatever fool might attempt to molest Cain. It was merely impatience that quickened his steps.
He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or furious when he opened the door to a seedy bar and found Cain surrounded by adoring beauties, both male and female, and a glass of green liquid in his hand. From the look in his eyes, it was not his first.
Fury won out. Crehador stalked up. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "We're supposed to be gathering information. I waited for you for over an hour, and here I find you flirting and drinking absinthe."
Cain grinned. "I am gathering information." He gestured to the people around him. "These are my lovely informants." His so-called informants tittered. He took a swallow of his drink, then peered at it, swirling the liquid around in the glass. "I don't have a good explanation for this, but I'll think of something."
Crehador grabbed Cain roughly by the arm, causing the glass to fall from the earl's hand. "We're leaving," Crehador spat out.
"Wait a minute," the greasy barkeep cried. "The kid hasn't paid his tab."
Crehador took some bills from his pocket and threw them to the floor. "Keep the change. You're paying me back," he growled at Cain, who didn't respond.
Crehador yanked Cain through the streets, and it was probably the fierce look in his eyes that kept them from being bothered.
"You're hurting me," Cain told him. He didn't sound angry or upset. His voice was distant. Crehador was tempted to pull him harder, just to teach him a lesson, but instead he found his grip slackening.
They finally arrived at a semi-respectable area, and Crehador hailed a hansom cab. He shoved Cain inside and gave the driver directions to the Hargreaves mansion. Once they were one their way he turned and glared viciously at Cain. "What were you thinking? During such a critical time, you go and get drunk? I know that you're a decadent hedonist, but I expected better. I thought that you at least took the fight against Delilah seriously."
Cain didn't look at him. Instead he stared straight ahead, obviously still feeling the effects of the absinthe. "I wanted to forget. It didn't work" There was something fragile in his tone. It disturbed Crehador. Cain should sound arrogant and smug, not vulnerable. However, maybe it shouldn't have surprised him. For all his confidence, Cain was little more than a child, really, and he had just been betrayed in the worst way imaginable. Crehador's anger didn't vanish, but it softened. "You should have tried opium."
Cain chuckled. "I don't like opium dens. They're so dirty."
"Typical spoiled aristocrat." The insult made Crehador feel like he was on steadier ground.
"Of course." Cain threw his head back, exposing the pale skin of his neck. He was lounging across the carriage seat, and his eyes were half lidded. Crehador tried to convince himself that it was not at all erotic.
The carriage came to a halt and Crehador stepped out. Cain tried to follow, but he stumbled and grabbed onto Crehador. "Pathetic," Crehador muttered as he paid the driver. "You're paying me back for the cab fare too."
No one greeted them when they walked through the door. Crehador wondered if that was intentional, if Cain didn't want to be reminded that the person welcoming him home wouldn't be Riff. Unfortunately, it meant that there was no one to take the inebriated earl off of his hands. "You are going owe me the largest favor in the morning." He sighed. "Which way is your room?" Cain pointed and Crehador started heading in that direction. After far too long (why did nobles feel the need to live in such unnecessarily large houses?), he found the room and dumped Cain unceremoniously on the bed. "You can take off your own shoes."
"Of course." Cain managed to sound scornful even while mumbling.
Crehador was prepared to leave, when he noticed that Cain wasn't untying his shoes. Instead, he was unbuttoning his shirt. It wasn't in any way elegant; Cain's drunken fingers were clumsy, but watching his bare chest appear ever so slowly kept Crehador rooted to the spot. Cain stopped, looked up, and smirked as if he knew exactly what Crehador was thinking. He abandoned his shirt, leaving only a small V of flesh showing, and began to untie his shoes. Crehador felt able to move again. He collected his wits and was about to turn away when Cain finished with his shoes and started on his trousers. Crehador swallowed. "You're indecent," he manged to say. "Put some nightclothes on."
"Why? I always sleep naked." Cain was finished taking of his trousers, which left him... Crehador cursed internally and worked very hard to keep his eyes on Cain's face, which was smiling far too knowingly at him.
"You're shameless." His voice only choked a little.
"And you love it." Cain walked up to Crehador and ran a hand down his cheek.
Cain was not a strong man and Crehador knew that. So, when Cain pushed him onto the bed, it would have been easy to resist. However, Crehador let himself fall, let Cain climb on top of him, and stared into Cain's bewitching eyes, now bright with hunger and lust.
"You're wearing far too many clothes," Cain whispered. He crawled down to remove Crehador's shoes.
There were so many reasons why they shouldn't be doing this. "You're drunk."
"Absolutely," Cain answered, tossing Crehador's shoes to the side. "Next the shirt, don't you think? Save the best for last?"
"You don't know what you're doing."
Cain brushed his thumb over Crehador's nipple before undoing the last button on his shirt. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"
Crehador shifted, his erection straining against his pants. He wanted this, there was no point in denying it. But... "I'm not the one you really want."
"No," Cain's breath was hot against Crehador's ear and his voice had a tinge of darkness in it, "but you'll do."
At that point, Crehador should have told Cain to go to hell, put on his clothes, and left, but he didn't. Rather, he tugged Cain's face to his and pulled him into a brutal kiss. Pride seemed a much smaller thing when one was faced with a half-naked Cain Hargreaves-a half-naked Cain Hargreaves who was currently stroking Crehador's cock over his trousers. He jerked his hips. "Get these off of me," he demanded. The smirk never left Cain's face as he undid Crehador's trousers and flung them away. Then he stood up. "Where are you going?" Crehador asked.
Slightly unbalanced, Cain walked over to a small chest and opened it. "You don't have much experience with men, do you?"
"No, but I'm sure that you have plenty."
Cain paused. "Some." Shadows came over his face.
Crehador wasn't sure how to respond to that. He settled for, "Hurry up and get over here."
That snapped Cain back to the present. He pulled out a small bottle of what appeared to be oil and came back. He set the bottle to the side and positioned himself between Crehador's legs. "Let's start slow," he said before running his tongue along Crehador's shaft. Crehador groaned and twisted as Cain licked his cock. Then he gasped as Cain took him into his mouth.
The things that Cain knew how to do with his tongue were downright sinful. Crehador had no idea where Cain had learned to suck cock like that. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know. It was unbelievable. Not even Sheila... but he wasn't going to think about Sheila right now, not even knowing that it probably wasn't him that Cain was seeing.
With Cain's tongue driving him mad, it didn't take long for Crehador to come. Panting, he stared as Cain swallowed, his eyes fixated on the other man's throat. Without pausing for breath, Cain reached for the bottle that Crehador had forgotten about. It was true that Crehador wasn't experienced when it came to men, at least sexually, but he had a sneaking suspicion about what the oil was for. "You can't be serious."
Cain looked at him, a drunken gleam still in his eyes. "You thought that you were the only one who was going to get any pleasure? Does that sound like something I would do?"
"No," Crehador answered readily, "you're entirely selfish."
"Exactly," Cain agreed, far too easily for a man who had just been insulted. "Which means that you're going to be doing something for me."
Crehador raised an eyebrow at Cain's matter-of-fact tone. "Do you think that you can force me?"
Cain gave an offended snort. "Don't be an idiot." He bent down and nibbled on Crehador's lip while one hand stroked Crehador's thigh. "I'm simply very persuasive."
Crehador really didn't want Cain to stop touching him. Maybe it was worth an unsavory compromise. "Do what you want," he said finally.
Cain looked at him long and hard. Then he slicked one of his fingers with oil and slid it inside Crehador. The intrusion was strange and uncomfortable, and Crehador was about to object when Cain brushed a spot inside him that made his body jolt with pleasure. Crehador gasped in surprise. He looked up at Cain, shocked, only to discover that Cain was pulling away. "Why are you stopping?" He tried not to sound as eager as he felt.
"You don't sound very interested," Cain answered lazily. 'Do what you want' isn't what I would call enthusiastic. And I'd never take an unwilling partner."
"Damn you," Crehador snapped. "Do that again."
"Do what?" Cain was the picture of false innocence.
"Touch me like that again. You smug bastard," Crehador added to make himself better.
"If you insist." Cain was all but purring. This time he slipped two fingers inside Crehador. It felt odd, but every time Crehador felt ready to complain, Cain would touch that same spot and all rational thought would desert him.
Without warning, Cain removed his fingers. Crehador was about to tell him off for stopping, but he noticed that Cain was pouring out more oil and spreading it liberally over his cock. "Don't clench your muscles," Cain reprimanded lightly. "That will just make things more difficult." Crehador frowned and tried to obey.
It hurt when Cain pushed inside of him, but not nearly as much as Crehador was expecting. He felt... filled, and the sensation was strangely pleasurable. When Cain began to move, Crehador found himself thrusting his hips to match Cain's rhythm. It was easy to lose himself in the feeling, and it startled him when Cain came with a sharp cry. They were both breathing heavily as Cain pulled out. He rolled onto his back and stretched out. "I'm irresistible," he declared, sounding satisfied.
"You're insufferable," Crehador countered, but there was little heat in the words. He grimaced as Cain began to prod him with his feet. "What are you doing?"
"You need to leave," Cain insisted, poking harder.
"If this is how you treat your bedmates, I have no idea where you got your reputation for charm."
"Normally, I'm the one leaving someone else's bed," Cain explained. "And I prefer it that way, because it eliminates this exact problem."
"Poor planning on your part."
"Copious amounts of alcohol will do that," Cain noted. "Now, leave. There's no way I'm going to let anyone see a man leaving my bedroom in the morning. Riff never gave me this much trouble," he muttered. His expression turned stricken when he realized what he had said.
Driven more by impulse than reason, Crehador leaned forward and kissed Cain deeply. "Get some sleep," he said after pulling away. "We'll have more work to do tomorrow."
"All right," Cain acquiesced, apparently deciding to be agreeable for once in his irritating life. He moved over to the dry side of the bed and pulled the covers of himself. "Turn out the light when you leave."
"Yes, your majesty," Crehador groused as he dressed. However, he did as he was told and he shut the door softly behind him.
Crehador had a lot on his mind as he walked through the Hargreaves mansion. And if he looked back once or twice, or if the look in his eyes grew ever so slightly softer, well, the halls were dark and empty, and it was nobody's business but his own.