In which Griffin and Balakai go to breakfast and absolutely nothing goes wrong on the way.

CW: slurs, dubcon, mental manipulation/coercion

Word Count: 5269 (nice)

With a further two days to recover; most of it spent eating and sleeping, Griffin woke on Friday morning and felt almost like himself. He pushed a little to perform a few small magics of convenience to see how he felt after and, satisfied that he wasn't going to do himself more harm than he intended, he rose without a word. He showered and put himself together and was, for the first time in some while, back to the refined with which he had preference for keeping himself. By eight in the morning, he was seated at the small kitchen table with the file on Julian spread out before him and his computer out, as well as a box of books that were hand written and mostly leather bound. He had pulled his hair back into a high ponytail and donned his black rimmed glasses, a half full ashtray, and a steaming cup of coffee beside him and one across the table for when Balakai decided to come down.

The demon stumped down the stairs not long after Griffin, hair wet from the shower and wearing what amounted to a leather miniskirt and an oversized bomber jacket. He slumped into the chair and reached for the coffee the witch had left him, squinting at the books and papers all spread out on the table. "Ech. That looks like work. What's for breakfast?"

"Is," Griffin said without looking up as he flipped through one of the books he'd stacked up beside the file, a pad of lined paper with his own notes beside them. "I appreciate the notes you left. They're helpful." 

He wrote a few things down and snapped the book closed, giving a sigh and setting aside his glasses. He gave Balakai an appreciative smile and it was clear where his mind went. "Thought we'd go out. I don't feel like cooking. And I wanna see how the city feels. Maybe snoop the building where Julian was staying. There might still be some residual magic hanging around and I'd like to see what I can learn. He was never sloppy before, but it's been a while and I accept that I didn't know shit that I thought I did or he wouldn't have gotten the drop on me to begin with."

"Good." Balakai put his bare feet on the edge of the chair, mug clasped close to his chest as he watched Griffin finish what he was doing. He was clearly still waking up as he yawned and breathed in steam rising from the up. He caught the look though and grinned. "I'd've fucked you, but you decided to get up and be productive instead of sitting on my face. Shame for you."
The witch's smile went sharp and he leaned back, crossing his legs. "Maybe I like to torture myself. You'd have just tossed me into the wall if you were that intent anyway, so clearly I'm not the only one." 

He gave a little wink and stood, stretching his arms above his head and checking to see if all of the seams where he had been rent asunder were mostly in working order. Nothing screamed at him too badly, though there was still the dull ache in his bones. Nothing that would stop him from doing as he wished.

Balakai downed a long drink, set the mug aside and stretched as well. "I like snooping. Let's go. You get breakfast, I'll bring lockpicks, and we can have a party." 

For all that he was a demon, and to some extent innately capable of certain magics, Balakai had never put the time in to be deft in the arts of shadows. Besides, that sort of thing could attract a lot of attention, fast. He relied often on mundane tools where they would suit. He slid to his feet, ran a hand through his hair, going to hunt for his boots. He found them under the couch and fished them out with not much care for propriety.

Griffin crossed over to the large window where his small collection of growing things had continued to flourish in his absence. He picked a sprig of one and a leaf of another, rolling them between his fingers. They released their oils and properties and with a few words turned to ash in his hand. He returned up the stairs to a drawer where he was actually somewhat surprised to still find most of his charms and talismans. He rather assumed Balakai would have pawned them. He slid a little black velvet bag into his left pocket, donned a silver chain with a rough cut moonstone over his head, and put on two silver and copper bracelets etched with strange markings. Settled with what preparation he felt he needed, just in case they ran into trouble.

He usually managed to look like casual grace, with his white button down and expensive jeans, but there was never not something about Griffin that set people on edge. He felt sharp to most people. Unsettling. He knew it and didn't care. The ones who were drawn to danger always found him. He gave Balakai a wicked grin as he opened the door for him. "Let's go start some shit. I've been well behaved for just far too long."

"Well behaved? Hah." Balakai barked a laugh as he strolled out the door ahead of him. His skirt was too tight to flip up to flash Grif, a passing regret, and he stamped down the stairs in his unlaced boots. "You've been dead."

He waited for Griffin to lock the door and join him, and linked his arm through the taller witch's. He leaned into him, for all the world playing the skanky twink. "I want french toast. Take me somewhere decadent." 

The look he shot Griffin was pure sugar, wide eyed and pouting. His face was a little too sharp-featured to pull off innocence and he couldn't keep a straight face about it. He broke down giggling after just a few steps.

"If my princess wants french toast, daddy will get you french toast," Griffin replied with all the protective indulgence of a doting sugar daddy. And really, in a way, he was. Balakai was staying with him and he didn't see a reason to change that. He didn't care what he spent or did. Griffin charged obscene rates for his work and was utterly unethical about using his magic to gain what wealth suited him. 

"Oh you're so good to me, daddy." Balakai beamed and batted his eyelashes, voice bright and honeyed. Even the way he walked shifted, putting a little more swing into his hips and mincing along, as though he might fall over at any moment from his unlaced boots as they slapped around his ankles. His hands squeezed Griffin's arm playfully, fully enjoying the looks they were getting as they walked.

Griffin led them deeper into downtown. The summer morning was balmy and bright, a little warmer than he particularly liked, but he was a child of autumn storms, iron skies and the first nip of winter.  The city felt the way he expected. No warning eddies of magic to give hint to trouble.  People went about their lives, days turned, and the sun moved.  He was content enough and almost downright at ease.
Three young men lingered, smoking on the stoop of a townhouse.  It wasn't until one of the muttered “Fucking faggots," loud enough for him to hear that he stopped. 

Though his facial expression remained a kind of pleasantly neutral, his eyes went sharp and he moved in a subtle way to draw Balakai in front of him, pulling him close and wrapping a strong arm around his back to rest on his hip. He looked down into his sharp, handsome face.  He delicately cupped his cheek and kissed him, lingering and sweet. He drew back after a breathlessly long time and looked over the demon's shoulder at the three and gave them a deadly smile. 

Balakai had been paying not one bit of attention to the commentary they were getting, his sharper ears picking up much more than the witch's.  Enjoying a little the scandal and mutterings because he enjoyed putting people off their balance. So at first he wasn't actually sure what caused Griffin to stop in particular. Not until he noticed the shift of his attention, but by then the witch was kissing him, lips sweet and arms possessive. Balakai boosted himself up on his toes and molded himself against the taller man's front. He reached up and slid his arms around Griffin's neck, tangling his fingers in his auburn hair, and moaning into the press of his lips.
“Oh come the fuck on.”  One of the smokers stood up, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.  “Get outta here before I put my boot up your ass.”
“Careful, he might like it.” One of his friends crowed from the stairs.

"As if your tiny prick could satisfy me,” Griffin sneered as he held the demon that much closer to him, their bodies molded together. “I'll let you beg me for it, though. I am a merciful god and I have heard the wickedness of your prayers." There was nothing kind or easy in Griffin’s expression, no gentleness in his voice.  Like someone had flipped a switch, he saw a path to violence and cruelty and he would always walk it.  He longed, like breath, to see fear and agony in the eyes of those who would so carelessly disrupt his morning.

Balakai let his hands slide down to curl into Griffin's shirt, still pressed against him. He didn't pay any mind to the shitheads, instead kept his face turned up towards Griffin, gaze just shy of worshipful. "Oh Daddy, I'll worship you. Better than any of them could. Let me worship your cock,” he begged, voice had gone breathy and light.

"You sure could, Princess. You 're such a good bitch," he turned his smile down at Balakai, the sharpness of him flipping to sweet and possessive like a whip. He caressed the line of his jaw with infinite tenderness, the hand on his hip sliding down to claim a handful of his ass in the skin tight skirt. "You gonna show these filthy boys how to suck a good dick? Right here?"

"Anywhere for you." Balakai purred, pressing his ass back into Griffin's hand. 

"The fuck did you say, faggot?" The man took another step forward.  The heart of him radiated malice and Griffin could taste it, like vinegar on his tongue, as he drew in a breath.

The witch gave him a deceptively sweet smile. "I said that you are welcome to shut that mouth of yours on my princess' cock. It isn't good for anything but a dick cozie, so get at it. I don't have all morning." And he bore into him with intent, pulling at the magic of him that was vile and manipulative. He drew on the hate and insecurity and hunger of the man, eyes flickering with power as the air felt heavy. The sun seemed to falter and there was the breathless waiting as before a storm.  Too, he could feel the pull of it up his spine, as he called on the raw power without ritual or rite, shaping it by will alone.  It burned along his veins and he savored it. 

The demon turned his head to shoot the hulking man a long, judgemental look that was all sulky pout and bedroom eyes.  Then he caught onto Griffin’s intent, felt the whisper of the magic and temptation shudder over his skin, and his expression changed to a sunny smile.  He twisted in the witch's arms, grinding hips back against him. He reached up to slide his arms around Griffin's neck again so that it stretched the line of his body, facing the man with Griffin behind him. He spread his legs a little- as much as the tight leather skirt allowed- and let the witch take some of his weight for balance.

"He wants to. Can't you smell it on him?" His voice dropped to a husky purr and the gold of his eyes was bright in the sunlight that angled down over the tops of the buildings. "He wants to be on his knees between my legs. I bet he'd suck me while you fucked me."

Griffin sighed in mock irritation. "Knew I shouldn't have left my strap at home. When will I learn? Hands still work, though." He leaned down and kissed along the column of Balakai's neck, eyes on the large man who could not help but be drawn toward them, his friends watching in transfixed horror. They were frozen by Griffin's will, magic and malice holding them in place and denying them the ability to be anything but spectators in their associate's lesson. The witch made a little 'come hither' motion by crooking a finger at the man who was struggling to fight his own body as it moved forward. Griffin held the demon close to him with the other hand, arm wrapped around his core and fingers splayed across his taut belly as the oversized bomber jacket gaped open, just held closed by the zipper connected at the bottom. 

"Now, do you see how all of this could have been avoided if you'd just kept your filthy, hateful mouth shut and let people live? I would have happily tormented the wait staff instead and probably done him proper elsewhere, but you've made me angry and I just... it gets me hot when bigots think they have big balls. If you were going to be a shithead, there are much better things to hate me for than the fact that I suck dick like an angel and fuck like a demon. Now, hands and knees. Come show my pretty princess how you're going to sanctify that mouth of yours. Fifty 'Hail Balakais' for you for bad behavior and impure thoughts. You may be forgiven when you swallow."

Balaki watched with faint fascination and delight at the struggle of wills. Witches, from his experience, could not often do such things with so little preparation. He had no particular power over minds. Certainly he could push emotional buttons, could breath in and scent their emotions on their skins, their wants and base desires. 

"Griffin." 

The witch went very still.
The tension went out of him as he gave a dramatic sigh, annoyance in every line of his body without even looking behind him. He knew the voice. Very well. 

"Really, Velorum?" 

The man had stopped moving while Griffin was momentarily distracted, and he turned his attention back to him. "Did I tell you that you could stop? Get your ass over here. You've got work to do."

The Avatar of Death gave an audible huff of breath, though he didn't move from the porch stair on which he was sitting, violet eyes dark and troubled. "Griffin. Let him go. You are attracting attention." 

The witch gave a growl and sank his teeth into the lovely muscle that connected neck to shoulder, worrying the skin there, fingers curling along Balakai's stomach, nails biting in. The demon hissed when teeth sank into his shoulder, arching back into the pain of it, feeling the heat of it drop through his skin and pool between his legs, arousal fighting the tight briefs he'd worn to keep from disrupting the line of the skirt too much. His nails sharpened and pricked into the skin on Griffin's nape, the muscles of him tense under the witch's touch.

Griffin didn't care if he was attracting attention. He liked it. The show of it all, the desire he could almost feel radiating off of those morning travelers who couldn't help but be perversely enthralled by the scene before them. "Couldn't make him if he didn't have some wish for it, Velorum. You know that. He wants to know what it's like to have a dick down his throat. Just helping him along."

"We need to talk."

Griffin snarled and shoved Balakai a little forward as he moved in front of him and dropped to a knee in front of the plaything they'd found. For a moment, the whole of his attention narrowed to the singularity of the held eye contact between them. The man looked terrified even as his cock was hard as a rock and straining against his sport shorts. Griffin grabbed his chin roughly and shoved his first two fingers down the man's throat as his eyes bore into him with cold malice. 

"Fuck as thou will. Give no care for any false construct of decency or propriety. It's all bullshit. You are a slave who must now cast off your bonds." Velorum couldn't move fast enough to stop him as he released his jaw and slammed the palm of his hand into the man's forehead, sending him choking and sprawling onto the sidewalk at his feet, the magic of his manipulation sealed with the contact and with his will.

"You cannot, Griffin!" 

The Avatar's voice was a low hiss from just over his shoulder and Griffin did not shrink back when he stood and the raven haired man was angry and in his face. He just reached out for Balakai's hand. "Are you going to stop me, Vel? Stop me. Do it." There was a wild look on the witch's face, all seriousness and glass and mayhem.

Balakai made a little noise of affront for being cast aside, catching his balance in an animalistic crouch, though he brought his knees together almost immediately and rose, smoothing his skirt properly back in place. He glanced sideways at the tall, dark haired man who was Death. He'd not been in the presence of such as him before, though he knew of them. He avoided such powers, when he could.  It did not due to draw their attention, not when he liked his life comfortable.  But he watched the play between the Avatar and Griffin with growing... not concern, exactly. Fierce, jealous possession. 

As the other men stepped forward to grab their friend and pull him out of the way, even their dull human senses sharp enough to know when powers beyond their ken were at work, Balakai stepped back to Griffin's side. He turned his back on Velorum, threading his narrow body between them. He caught Griffin's wrist rather than his hand, the burned gold of his eyes dropping to the smoldering orange of embers as his other hand reached up to catch the witch's jaw and force his head down to look at him. 

"Don't." The word was a low, growled command. "You're mine to kill."

Griffin's gaze remained fixed on that of Velorum until Balakai broke his line of sight and then he narrowed his eyes as he focused on the demon instead of the Avatar. Magic sang in his blood, the intoxication of it like lightning under his skin. There was much he could do if he were willing, if he wanted to destroy the healing he'd done over the last several days. For a heartbeat, he almost did. Almost just summoned the raw wild of it to make the demon unhand him and the meddlesome Avatar to go away. There was something in the color of Balakai's eyes, though, and the intensity of him that caught his attention and made him pause and ponder. "Am I?"

Balakai growled in answer, a low, bass rumble and the teeth he flashed Griffin were sharp. There was no play in the ember bright of his eyes or the tautness of overtly defined muscle. Had he hackles in this form, he'd have been bristling. "Yes."
Griffin rolled Balakai's single word around in his mind far more than he did those of the Avatar.

Velorum watched Griffin and took a step back, not actually interested in a public confrontation with the witch and the demon. His brow knit and he was glad to see the humans collecting their associate and leaving. He'd seen what Griffin's boredom and anger could do. "You cannot be so foolish as to do this in plain daylight, Griffin? This is not a century ago. There is technology and even I cannot save you if the Table decides you have become too much trouble."

The witch ignored the Avatar for a long moment, gaze still held by the demon. He leaned in and kissed him. Balakai kept hold of his jaw when the witch leaned in to kiss him, taking the gesture as his due. "Didn't I promise you French toast?" 

Velorum blinked, unaccustomed to being ignored. "Griffin Summerville-"

There was a sound like thunder and the pressure in the air all around them was almost unbearable; ear bleeding even though there were no clouds in the morning sky. "You do not save me ever, Velorum, and I am not beholden to your wishes. Let the Round Table come! I will send them to you, one and all." There was poison and a wrath so hot it could have turned earth to slag in his tone, softly spoken though it was.

"You cannot simply murder supernaturals and expect them not to pay attention!" The taller man countered.

Griffin blinked, brow furrowing in confusion.  The growing pressure in the air suddenly vanished. "I've been dead for the last month. I haven't killed anyone recently except myself."

Velorum frowned and took a breath. "Did you not? But there was the feel of your magic there."

"Mine?" The witch raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Balakai can attest, I was dead till like four days ago. Wasn't me."

Reluctantly, Balakai released Griffin as the witch's attention turned back to Velorum, instead hooking his hand into Griffin's back pocket, squeezing a little to make his point. His. He shifted a little so he could watch Death sidelong, inclining his head in agreement. 

"Near four and a half if we're counting hours." His voice stayed in the low bass notes, too deep for the slight of him.

Velorum gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "Then you have a problem. Someone is using your weave to torture and murder other witches, even other supernaturals beyond human mage kin."

Griffin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm here. I wasn't aware Julian could emulate my casting patterns, though. He's gotten clever."  Though, Griffin was pretty sure it was that he had gotten sloppy and lazy.  There wasn’t the same kind of urgency to have care with his magic when the threat of permanent death was removed from the list of consequences.

"You know who has done this thing?"

"Yep. And I'll have his heart in my hand by the end of the week."

Velorum pursed his lips. "Have care. There is something... unsettling about this. Too many threads that lead to you to be casual, Griffin."

The witch shrugged and started to walk, done with this conversation. He wasn’t about to let on that he was well aware of all of this, was simply waiting.  He intended to give Julian all the rope he needed and reduce both the workload and risk to himself.  "What's he gonna do, Vel? Kill me? I'll handle Rhodes. Tell the Table to leave me the fuck alone. I’m here because the Sinclaires called me in to see to this mess, and I will.  I remember their last threat. I'm not interested in spending a century bored as fuck locked in a cage. Masturbation gets boring."

The conversation clearly was winding to a close, and for that Balakai was intensely grateful. The nearness of great Powers made his skin crawl. He was more than happy to walk, letting go of Griffin's wrist so they could more comfortably walk side by side, his arm curved possessively around the taller man's hips. "I'd let you out. You'd be boring in a cage."

Velorum, suddenly beside them again, placed a hand on Griffin’s arm and the witch stopped dead. 

"Don't." He did not want his pity or kindness or concern. He did not wish the look of long sorrow he'd see in his eyes. Velorum reminded him far too often of things he could not change and people he could never get back. 

"Will you be careful? There are things much worse than death." 

Griffin hefted a sigh. There was a flicker of a moment when the age of him seemed to settle on his shoulders and Griffin’s mask slipped just a little, showing some of the old hurt and endless bitterness that he kept resigned to the deep darkness within him.
"I won't be alone." It was all of the comfort that he had for the strange power who simply never gave up on him for some unfathomable reason. He did not understand the endless compassion of Velorum and did not try. It served him not at all to waste time trying to fathom the great powers.  They moved in the world as they did and his understanding was not required for them to do so.

Velorum said no more, but watched them go. The shadows swallowed him a moment later, his expression still clouded. 

They walked in silence for a while and Griffin worked to shrug off the storm of himself. His lips turned a little and he looked at Balakai sidelong. "You'd storm the Round Table jail to liberate me, would you? All dashing white knight?"

Balakai in turn brooded on their walk, but slowly some of the tension eased from his shoulders. He kept his grip on Griffin, but it eased, becoming more of a lean into him like it had been before. His voice too, when he spoke, was back to its more normal pitch.

"Storm? Fuck no. Do I look like an idiot? I'd sneak." He snorted derisively, and put a little more sway into his hips- only to stop and reach down to adjust himself with a little grumble. He was practically tucked to keep from ruining the line of the skirt and considering how the threat of violence tight on the air was rather akin to aphrodisiac, well. He wasn't comfortable. "I want more than french toast."

Now Griffin’s smile grew broader. This was a much safer place to be, in the playful and wanton. "Is that so?" 

He leaned down to nip at the top of the demon's ear, sliding his tongue along it. There was the clear presence of desire in his own voice and all of the play and teasing had turned him into a faucet. Even Velorum's annoying interruption of their fun hadn't really put him off. There was little that could. He slid a hand along Balakai's tight ass and gave it another squeeze. 

Griffin wasn't entirely sure what to make of the possessiveness of the demon so on display. Usually, he was the aggressor in most of his interactions. He didn't trust the way it made him warm and made his cock give a little jump when the demon leaned into him. He liked the danger of it, the almost certain catastrophe that was bound to come from it. It made his heart speed up and his breath catch.

Balakai chuckled and squeezed the handful of Griffin's ass he'd kept his hand on in turn, tilting his head in invitation to his play.

 "Mhm. You're all mixed up in all sorts of stuff I normally avoid. God the shit I put up with for you." He rolled his eyes, but his tone was teasing. "I want hot chocolate. The good kind, with a tower of whipped cream. Pick a booth with bad sight lines so we don't get interrupted again."

There was a high end French place where he enjoyed the wine list and the lights were always low. An expensive place that demanded black clad staff and peerless service, and it served breakfast. He wouldn't have taken the demon in there before. Now Balakai was part of the game and it was funny. "I am always mixed up in shit, but Velorum is like a clucking aunt more than anything else. He feels sorry for me. I don't. We disagree about what a life is worth." 

The restaurant was done up as if the inside were an outdoor plaza and where that could have gone very mid-nineties tacky, it was done with a carefully edited eye and class here. Griffin was all charm and bright smile when they stepped up to the host person's station. The figure behind it gave them a raised eyebrow, but if they were going to argue Griffin setting his black card on the stand silenced it. They were led, as he'd asked, to a darker corner where a wall of greenery and trellises kept them mostly shielded from the rest of the room. It was made for private parties, clearly, but he wanted it. He usually got what he wanted and just the right application of magic did the rest. 

He didn't even let them leave before he asked for their best cabernet and a hot chocolate, sliding into the booth after Balakai with a relieved sigh. 

"I'm starving." The morning's coffee had done little and he was hardly seated before he slid a hand up the demon's leg, running his thumb up his hard cock.

Balakai was delighted to slide first into the booth, sliding all the way into the corner to clearly leave space for Griffin next to him. While Griffin ordered, he wiggled a little in his seat, and his smile was positively cheshire when he felt the witch's hand on his leg. When it slid up, it encountered only skin under the leather and he reached over and tucked his briefs into Griffin's front pocket.

"Me too. So much effort to just get breakfast." He tucked close to Griffin, so the whole side of his body was pressed against him. He lifted a leg and hooked it over Griffin's knee, spreading his knees beneath the table and letting the tight leather skirt roll up to bind tightly around his hips.

Griffin laughed, a bright ringing sound for all that it was not loud or garish. It was in contrast to the usual sharp of him, and especially this morning. There was no weight in it, just actual and unfettered delight. His expression matched it, color in his cheeks for the first time since he'd died, and better than since he'd first spoken to Balakai. He slid his fingers along the length of him appreciatively as he turned just a little into the demon so that he could run a hand up his neck, along his jaw, which he framed so that he could draw him in for a deep kiss. 

It wasn't the bruising of earlier, all laced with tension and danger. Something about the casual way Balakai just played and wanted and claimed him seemed to have settled the witch and he gave himself over to the moment without questioning it. Instead, he kissed him slow and tasting; the sulfur and almost anise that was demon, the lingering of his morning coffee, and desire. 

"I'll make it worth your while, princess mine. Daddy won't let you down." His voice was silk and joy and hunger. Griffin was a creature who lived in moments. He did not care for the future. It would arrive whether he willed it or not. Right now, here, he was delighted in the soft skin beneath his fingers and the taste of Balakai on his tongue.