Philisophical discussions about murder, magic, and power.  Julian leaves Griffin a message in his leftovers and he gets melancholy.

Word Count: 5564

CW: Murder (discussions and evidence of), death, blood, rough sex.

Balakai made a little soft wanting noise and arched into Griffin's hands, perfectly willing to be toyed with for now. Perhaps it was security in knowing he could flip things if he really wanted to. Other of it was just the thrill. He was often the pursuer in his relationships and it was pleasant to be the toy or pet sometimes. His size meant he often attracted people who thought they wanted to pursue him but, well. They usually couldn't handle him. He tilted his head into the kiss, and the breath he let out when they broke apart was edged in a moan.

"Do you promise, Daddy?" He purred back, voice gone low and breathy, though his eyes were still bright with amusement at their little play. Not that he didn't clearly find it attractive considering how hard and weeping he was under Griffin's hand. 

When the waitress arrived, Griffin didn't even look at her.  "A stack of french toast, strawberries on the side, and a mountain of whipped cream. No cinnamon for him. Duck omelette,  field greens, and no starch for me. And another bottle of wine."

She hesitated a moment and he cast a patient look just over his shoulder. "That will be all." His voice had a kind of laden quality to it and the air smelled a little of ozone. 

"It's kind of hot when you're bossy." Balakai laughed, a little breathless with desire. His hips jerked under the witch's hand, cock twitching. He wrapped an arm around the taller man's neck and leaned his head against his chest, using the one leg not draped over Griffin's knee to get a little leverage to push up into his touch. As the waitress moved away though, he moved a little more so he was properly sitting in his lap, legs spread wide to straddle over his knees, skirt bunching high. He leaned forward to pick up his hot chocolate, grinding his hips back into Griffin as he licked the whipped cream from the top.

"After I murder Julian, we're going out. Out-out, not just for food. I think I'd like you to fuck me somewhere very public while the world spins around us. Pandemonium is members only and I am known there." Griffin worked the hard shaft of the demon with skill, thumb running along the underside of him as he brought it just up over the tip in little jolts, slow at first, but faster now. 

"You should take his power," the demon purred, back arched in a pretty, practiced line. "God, can you imagine the kind of fuck that would be? If he's been glutting on people's power and you take what he's got..." he shivered and made an impatient whine, reached down to push Griffin's hand down farther.

He stumbled, hand and breath and heart going still for a moment until the demon whined. He was half distracted now, though, because it was a horrible idea. Monstrous and disastrous and forbidden. And already a part of the plan that had been slowly taking shape since the morning. He'd done it before.  Many times.  He’d used magic long outlawed by the Round Table and the self governing bodies of witches such as they were. It was why he was so much more powerful than most. Because there were lines that should never be crossed that he had. That he would continue to do. 

"I can imagine vividly," Griffin replied, his voice gone raw and almost broken. "Julian was powerful before. I... can imagine how he must be now." He slid his unoccupied hand up Balakai's chest and pulled him back against him, fingers wrapping around his throat just a little too tightly. "Demon. You wanna see what a monster I can be so badly?" He bucked against him, breath heavy with desire.

A palpable shiver ran down the demon's spine at the sound of Griffin's voice gone raw. He resisted being drawn back against the witch's chest, leaning into the hand on his throat and making him work for it, just a little. In the end though, he sank back against Griffin's chest and let his head fall back on his shoulder, grinding down against him. He licked the whipped cream from his lips and slid a hand down between his legs, stretching to reach and rub Griffin through his pants despite the awkwardness of the angle and his own body being somewhat in the way. There was something about the urgency, about the awkwardness, that just made it good.

"Fuck yes," he purred, eyes gone dark as he writhed in Griffin's grip. "I'll help if you want. Or just watch. Fuck I want to watch. See the look on his face. The look on yours." He moaned.

One match at a time. That was how Griffin burned the world. People. Himself. He loved nothing but himself, and hated just the same. Oddly, here was one who said 'let me watch it burn too. I'll even hold the match.' It echoed in his bones and burned in his blood and unholy night he wanted. Foresight was not a gift of his, but if it were he could promise the way he would rail the demon screaming while Julian's corpse cooled, drunk on magic and power and unbridled madness. 

"You gonna wait on your knees while I choke the life out of him, baby? Gonna make sure he doesn't kill what you have claimed for yourself? He's done already, you know. Those glyphs on my back weren't my doing. Can't reach." 

He moaned the words, more breath than voice and his hips moved against the hand that reached him, begging for the friction that would release him. And then a kind of fey shadow fell over him and he reclaimed his hands. He brought them together like a thunderclap and the whole world went still. Diners with bites suspended halfway to their mouths, wine in glasses stilled. It took an inhuman, literally, amount of power, but Griffin was reckless and he wanted.  There was still so much of it lingering under his skin from the earlier confrontation, barely restrained.

One of the bangles on his wrists shattered, and he hardly heard the noise of it.

He took an arm and swiped it across the table, sending the wine and hot chocolate crashing to the floor, loud in the silence around them. He stood, holding on to the demon so as not to unseat him, but turned him around and sat his bare ass on the now clear tabletop, keeping his knees well apart as he licked his own fingers and gave only a cursory moment of preparation before he slid them deep into Balakai's entrance. He fucked him with his hand while he braced his back so that he could kiss him while he did so. 

It was the sheer, wanton excess of power that drove the breath from Balakai. His hands sought for and found purchase on the table as Griffin moved him, helping take his own weight. Taking cues from the witch's rough handling of his intention. He practically keened as Griffin opened him, drawing his knees up and bracing his boots on the edge of the table. He wound one arm around Griff's neck again to hold him close, the kiss a thing more of teeth and tongue than lips, hungry. Bruising. His other hand worked feverishly into the witch's pants, sliding fingers around his cock to tug it.

"I'd wear a goddamn chain and collar and nothing else if you wanted me to." His voice had gone rough and low again. He rocked into Griffin's hand, loud in the silent restaurant, eyes gone the color of blood, cherry bright and fresh spilled. 

"Won't let him kill you. Mine." He dug his teeth into Grif's shoulder, close to where he'd bitten him before, though this time his teeth were blunt and only human, not the jaws of a hell beast.

Griffin was so wet he was dripping and the feel of Balakai's fingers around his little cock was everything. He drove into him, wild with magic and desire and intention. On the promise of the violence to come and the shattering power that would accompany it. And right now, how he had the hot demon breathless like a bitch in heat. 

"I do want. I think I want that very much." He went just weak at the color of his eyes shifting, so hard that it fucking hurt and when he bit down on him, he came fast with a gush because fuck if that claiming wasn't about the hottest thing ever. He shook and gasped but kept his feet and did not relent as his fingers plunged deep into the demon.

Balakai growled into his grip on Griffin's shoulder, bucked against the fingers in him. He pulled his hand out of Griffin's pants, still slick with him, and touched his own achingly hard cock. It didn't take him much longer than that before his body tensed and he let out a low cry muffled by the witch's body, digging teeth in hard enough to bruise as he twitched and trembled with release. 

The demon let go of him and sprawled back on the table, skirt bunched around his waist and the oversized jacket falling open to frame his lean torso. He lifted his hips up toward Griffin. Laughed, giddy with ecstacy. "Clean me up Daddy?" He broke down in soft giggles.

Griffin gave a long sigh and ignored the thunderous ringing in his ears, the pressure that would build in his head until either he let go of his spell or went unconscious. Not true time manipulation, because he knew of no magic that could actually do that, but more like sliding them just half a step outside of it, caught outside of a moment for as long as he had the strength to hold them there. It was usually magic that required a lot more preparation if one wished it not to take a heavy personal toll. 
Griffin was wasteful and part of him enjoyed the pain.

He peaked an eyebrow at the demon who was actually pretty adorable sprawled across the table and properly fucked. "Let it never be said that I don't take care of my things. Can't leave my pretty princess wanting. Spoiled bitch." He bent down and looked up Balakai's body as he licked him clean, along curling spell ink and silky skin. Balakai laughed and wiggled, unable or unwilling to stay still under the touch of Griffin's tongue when he was still sensitive.

A drop of blood fell from his nose to stain the pale skin there and Griffin sat a little hard on the bench seat behind him when at last he'd gotten him all clean. He reached out to draw the demon back off the table. "C'mere."

Balakai was almost reluctant to let Griffin draw him off the table, but he noted the blood and laughed, sliding back into his seat. He was still a little hazy as he shifted to tuck his skirt down under his ass and leaned against the witch, eyes half closed. Once Balakai was settled back beside the witch, Griffin brought his hands back together, though this time the clap made no sound, as if the world swallowed it, and he slumped a little. He reached over for the black linen napkin and held it to his nose which was freely bleeding now, pale, but with a satisfied twist to his lips.

"Show off." Balakai leaned his head on Griffin's shoulder. The server stopped as she came back around to check on them and saw the mess on the floor, confusion flashing across her face. Balakai didn't bother trying to provide an explanation, instead just cuddling close to Griffin. 

"Always. I am wildly irresponsible." He wrapped an arm around the demon to give him a place to settle his head and grinned indulgently, despite the pallor of him and the way his head was absolutely pounding. Griffin gave the confused waitress a charming smile. "We need that second bottle, if you please. And another hot chocolate." He was untroubled by her confusion and offered no explanation. He'd learned that most people were too polite and it often served him just fine that social convention let him get away with almost anything he wanted. 

"You still going to be up to B&E later, or did you blow your whole load just now?"  Balakai purred.

"I believe you said something about lock picks. I can deal with any of the magic that might be there, probably. If not," Griffin shrugged and laughed. The demon was warm and soft beside him and it was utterly relaxing to just lean into him, eyes heavy with contentment. Their food came with fresh drinks and he enjoyed both with slow delight. He was a hedonistic creature who found no point in moderation or restraint. If he hurt others, that was their problem. And if he hurt himself, well... he kinda liked it so who was there to judge? If long life had taught him one thing it was to get while the getting was good because nothing, nothing, lasted forever. 

Balakai practically purred under Griffin's arm. How often did he get to just... cuddle? Not that he was a particularly soft creature, but he liked the hedonism of body heat, the pressure of the arm around him. He chuffed a soft laugh and just nodded against his chest- he had lockpicks stowed in the pocket of his jacket. "I don't like being told I can't go somewhere."

He detached himself reluctantly from Griffin's side when food came, just enough that they weren't in each other's way. He enjoyed it too, stealing bites from Griffin's plate just because he could, offering bites from his. When he was out of hot chocolate he helped Griffin finish the bottle of wine, then finally settled back in the seat, licking the last remnants of sweetness from his lips. He blinked lazily up at Griffin.

The witch’s phone chirped and he fished it out of his pocket, frowning as he returned a reply. Though he was full and sated and had enjoyed plenty of wine, his bones ached and his head thundered. No rest for the wicked, though. He set his black card at the end of the table before the server came back with the bill. 

"When all of this is done, I'm going home for a little while." He assumed that if the demon wasn't bored by then he'd come with. He didn't often bring people to his home, his singular sanctuary in the world, but he had a feeling that after he was done dealing with Julian, he'd need a break.

"Where's that?" He wiggled close again, idly running his fingers slowly up and down Griffin's thigh.

"The old homestead. Just north of Salem. I own about two hundred acres. Leased some to the witches who make that beer you like." He gave a contented sigh and let his eyes slide closed, lips curled with easy contentment. He liked the feel of Balakai there, tucked into him and pawing at him. His fingers were light and it was almost gentle. Though nothing about Griffin was soft, he appreciated moments like this. Like them in the kitchen the other day. Life was exhausting sometimes and even he got tired. Though they should have been catastrophic, and there was still plenty of time and room for that, this was nice. 

"My familiar keeps track of the place for me when I'm working. Not sure how she'll react, you being a dog and all. Should be fun." He grinned down at him, fingers running idly up the back of his scalp.

"Mmm. So that's where you disappear sometimes." Balakai closed his eyes and tucked his chin down as Griffin's fingers ran up the back of his head, sighing softly under his breath. "I assume you've got it warded all to hell. There've been a time or two you've wandered back this way and I've lost the scent of you. I shouldn't be surprised you have a hidey hole." 

Finally he stretched, languid, and reached into Griffin's pocket to retrieve his briefs. "I suppose we ought to get some work done before your masters come calling and interrupt us. I'm surprised you have a familiar. Is she a good fuck?”

Griffin raised an eyebrow and collected his card from the little folio in which the waitress had returned it, tipping her well for the mess they'd made. He stood slowly, having care with the near migraine that was settling and making his shoulders hurt. 

"Warded indeed. I'm not often home, and rarely for more than a few months a year. Millie keeps good track, though. You'll have to find out for yourself. I don't go in for pussy." He draped an arm lightly around the demon's shoulders as they left, his pace a little slower than it had been on their way here. 

"Why does it surprise you that I have a familiar? Lots of witches do. I have a pointy, black hat and broom too. Keep 'em right by the front door." He wasn't even lying, either. He was a witch who lived in Salem, with a black cat for a familiar. Everything about that was every cliché and he loved it. 

"Honestly I just didn't think anyone would put up with you, or you with them." 

"She doesn't have a choice. She's my familiar. I'm not home that often or that long, and if she annoys me I can always make her go somewhere else on the property." 

Balakai kept an arm around Griffin's waist, comfortably possessive. He snorted a little and shook his head. "I can appreciate it. I dress up as the devil every year for halloween. The sluttier the better." 

Griffin tilted his head as they walked, picturing what Balakai might mean by a slutty devil. "Complete with butt plug tail, eh? And sparkly horns? That'll be fun." 

The walk back was less eventful than the walk to breakfast and Balakai was content with that. After all, there were things to be done and he was curious about the man Griffin was hunting. He hadn't bothered to break into the townhouse on his own- he was wary of witches for good reason. Especially ones clearly getting into shit. 

When they got to the townhouse in question, Balakai slid a little away from him and trotted up the stairs, grabbing Griffin's hand and pulling him along behind him.

"Don't pin me against the door, I have to be able to work the lock. But you can grind a little." He flashed a grin over his shoulder as he drew the picks from the inner pocket of the oversized jacket and began the delicate work of picking the lock. "And make sure there isn't a ward that's going to bite me?"

Griffin watched him saunter up the stairs across from where they were staying, giving his tightly clad ass a good smack before letting himself be pulled along behind. 

"I would, but magic takes focus. Let's keep you pretty, shall we?" He stood just a step down from the demon and pulled at the magic that was wild and present in him; the deep well of swirling black and mercury that was what he envisioned for himself. In reflected moonlight, red like an eclipse, it was a haunting sight, if lovely. He closed his eyes and pulled, a finer hand of control than when he had slid them out of time at the restaurant. It was likely that whatever magic might still be here would be very old and almost gone. Hard to see. He opened his eyes, the green one very bright. In the sunlight it was hard to see, but silvery, mercury swirls and glyphs appeared in his skin and faded as the smell of lightning permeated the air.  Several of the silver charms in his hair tarnished.

"Hold very still, please," he said in a voice that was terribly calm, but he placed a hand on Balakai's back to add weight to the caution. The absolute web of crossed wards over the building was ridiculous. Griffin couldn't believe he hadn't been able to just see it casually until he found the set of threads that hid the weave from even supernatural sight. One had to know proper witchcraft to see it. 

"The fuck is he hiding in there?" He swore aloud as he sighed and fashioned the power of himself into a mental pair of scissors to cut the threads over the door. One of them was the red of agony and while it might have been funny to shock Balakai, they were working at the moment, not playing. 

It took a few minutes to clear enough of the warding from the door to let Balakai continue without the threat of trouble. "Kay. All clear." He sat a little heavy on the landing beside him and ran a shaky hand through his hair gone damp from sweat. His vision wanted to keep narrowing and it took several deep breaths to focus.  Everything hurt.

Balakai stilled- it was, he thought, the first time Griffin had said please and he found it very curious. So he simply froze where he was, hardly breathing or blinking. It drew all of his attention to the hand he could feel on his back, the pressure through his jacket and the way his skin almost prickled for want of the heat of him that he couldn't feel through the leather. When he sagged away, Balakai bent back to the lock. It didn't take long for him to coerce the pins into place. He opened the door slowly, but found no chain on the door or secondary lock. With a little pleased noise he opened the door and swept a grand, theatrical gesture to usher the witch inside.

"Can you be fed power from an outside source without killing it?" He tilted his head a little, the bright, burnished gold of his eyes curious.

"Depends," Griffin sighed, standing slowly, though his lips quirked a smile at the elaborate invitation. "Moon and earth and fire and sky. I work best with the new moon and autumn winds. Storms are my call. My name-" and he stopped, snapping his jaw shut as if he had almost said something he should not. "From the natural world, yes. Without killing it? Not me, no. Not anymore. What I do... it's like... like adding more to the total volume of magic I can hold. My well is deeper. My reserves more vast. Because I have added the might of others to my own. To just... borrow?" He shrugged. 

"I have seen coven witches do it. To disperse the cost of a thing among more. Or, focus power into one. I am alone. I don't practice how to just borrow. I only take." He shrugged, not seemingly over fussed though he leaned over the demon in the doorway, bracing an arm above him on the molding. 

"Why? You gonna give daddy that good magic so I can make it through my work day?" He leaned in like he was going to kiss him and paused, just a breath over his lips before he turned to walk into the brownstone.

Balakai rolled his eyes as Griffin loomed over him, chuckling softly as he followed him in. He pushed the door closed behind them. "I like to know my options." 

Griffin’s green eye was bright, lit with the magic that ran in his blood and under his skin. Looked for traces of magic that might help them understand what Julian was up to. At first glance, everything was... painfully normal. The room was large and tastefully decorated, though impersonal and clearly a rental. It was almost antiseptic, magically speaking and that made Griffin much more unhappy than had it been as trapped as the outside. 

The hair on his arms stood on end because he knew there was something he was missing. Something that triggered some warning in him that set him completely on edge even though he couldn't see it. Something just on the edge of sight and sense, like a sound just out of hearing. "Come on, you sick fuck... what game are you playing?" He muttered darkly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Balakai stopped behind Griffin, nose wrinkling sharply and he sneezed, shaking his head hard and reeling back a little. "Oh fuck, can you not smell that?" 

He pawed at his face, rubbing his nose against the side of his hand to try and knock the smell out. "Fucking he wasn't playing around goddamn. I can't believe I couldn't smell that through the door." He sneezed again, in a short, explosive series.

Griffin sniffed the air and closed his eyes, trying to find what Balakai meant. He could taste the magic on the stale air, old and dark. Familiar. 

He gave a slow sigh and opened his eyes. "Fuck."

The witch followed the hint of a trail to a door off of the kitchen that led to the basement. The smell of magic and death grew as they passed through the immaculate house. There were no additional weaves of traps or catches that he could see and he wasn't sure if that was reassuring or not. It felt far too much like a set-up and he was glad, even if he'd never admit it, that the demon was there to maybe have his back. "Don't touch anything you see." 

The demon snorted softly, giving his head one last shake before he followed Griffin, though his face was still screwed up in an expression of distaste. "I'm impulsive, not stupid." 

As if to prove his point, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He stayed away from the walls and followed as directly as he could in Griffin's footsteps. It wasn't that the smell was bad, per say. It was too strong. Death left to rot, foul magic wasted. He liked a certain amount of carrion and dark magic. He could do without the aura of madness that lay over it though. Like someone shitting on a feast.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, all of the breath went out of Griffin and his shoulders dropped. 

It could have been worse; there could have been more of them. Five was plenty. And he knew this configuration. Especially the one in the middle with his back exposed and the glyphs carved into the skin there, leaving a ragged conclusion to the ritual that hadn’t quite worked. Griffin knew how he'd died. He'd died just the same way. Head missing too. The other four were arranged to the Cardinal Powers and the elements. It was dark and horrible magic. Magic he had traded any soul he'd had to obtain from powers with whom no human should ever trade. 

"This is my magic. Well, not exactly mine, but with my edits to make it work like this. It’s hard to do, convert the magic and life of others into a form that another witch can use without burning themselves up. He's trying it again. I am very careful with this formation because I'm not interested in burning away my mind for power, thanks. But, Julian doesn't seem to care. This doesn’t have most of the safeguards and directions I usually use.  Five is a lot for someone who’s human, or who isn’t very familiar with this particular methodology and phrasing. I got in his way last time. If he left this here for me to find, then he wants to make sure I know what he's up to. And how far he's made it." He sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair.

"Smells like he's lost it already." Balakai muttered as they came to the basement with its macabre ritual. He studied it for a long moment, then his lips curved in a little smirk and he pulled his hand out of his pocket, stepping close behind Griffin. He slid a hand up under the witch's shirt, tracing the scars there as he studied the victims. "I wonder how many times he's tried this and failed. If you were the first, he's had plenty of time."

Griffin didn't quite flinch under the run of fingers over the scars on his back, the ones he remembered with absolute clarity being carved there one careful line and swirl at a time. Julian's voice soft and gentle like a lover’s as he'd carved him up. He'd asked Griffin to beg. 

He hadn't.

Balakai wanted to open those scars up.

It was a sudden, violent impulse that the demon suppressed, though he couldn't quite stop the sudden curl of his fingers, digging nails into Griffin's skin as he drew in a deep breath, eyes darkened to amber.  He stayed glued to his side, though he wasn't paying attention to much more than the heat and movement of the witch's body next to his. Even the stench had faded into the background of his awareness.

Griffin moved into the large, open space, empty except for the candles burned out on the floor set at intervals along the white chalk marks on the concrete. And the five bodies, naked and painted in their own blood, skin marked with arcane symbols and dark magic. The smell of it should have had people on either side calling the cops weeks ago, but the magic written on the walls kept it subdued. Griffin knelt by a pretty blonde girl, her form not gone to rot as it should have. The magic suspended it, held it. Or... had. Griffin had cut the wards to get in and now nature would take its course. 

"He'll never be able to do it. No matter how hard he tries. He never understood what it takes to do magic like this. Even I couldn't do this now. Not right now, anyway. This magic isn't fueled on greed; greed just isn't strong enough for this one. You need hatred, burning and all consuming without relief.  Maybe if he tried one at a time, but all five?" He reached over and ran a hand over her face to close her staring eyes, open in horror and agony. His features were set, not disgusted but resigned. 

Griffin gave a little shake and let go of the threads of magic he'd been holding so that he could assess the scene. That's when he noticed it, something just peeking out from the decapitated body in the center. He rose and bent down to retrieve it. A photograph, him and Julian looking very happy. The day Julian had murdered him. A reminder. And a threat. He just shook his head.  These games were basic and juvenile.  Too… first pass at being a psycho.  Griffin knew the kind of methodical and seemingly lackadaisical it took to really pull off destroying someone; that it took to hunt people like Julian.

He closed his fist with the photo in it, flames kindling as he did and another of the charms tarnishing. He pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew a swirling glyph surrounded by several other shapes and figures.  Blood trailed from his ears and down his neck, his nose beginning to bleed again too. He ignored both and set a hand on the corpse.  That too lit as if doused in accelerant.

The demon spared only a glance for the photo at first, then looked again as Griffin's fingers curled tight around it. 

"Oooh," he purred softly as he let Griffin lead the way out. "You and him." He chuckled, a little dark sound.

"There's nothing more to see here. Let's go home." Griffin slid his fingers into those of the demon, gaze cold and hard. Fire began to claim the rest of the bodies and the chalk of the spells. Everything, flickering and hot but not burning the beams above or the floor. There was no good in leaving any of this for the Round Table, the Sinclaires, or the human authorities to find.  He had what he needed to know what Julian was doing and now it was just a matter of time and setting up pieces. He headed back up the stairs, free hand in his pocket and shoulders rounded in thought.

As they reached the foyer, Balakai shoved Griffin into the door, pulling the hand the witch had given him back behind his back. His tongue lapped the blood that oozed slowly down the witch’s neck.

"One of these nights," he growled, grazing teeth along the back of Grif's shoulder, "I'm going to open those scars up again. Make them mine."

Griffin went very still, breath caught for a moment before he let all of the tension drain out of him. He gave a slow sigh and rested his brow against the door as the demon sank his teeth into him. "Promise?" He answered with quiet bitterness.

Balakai's growl pitched into something more akin to a snarl and for a moment he was all tense muscle behind him, grip bruising hard on the witch's wrist and hip. 

"Yes." It sounded like a threat.