one of a kind

”Hey man, we’re all going for drinks down at the station after shift. Come along, maybe wipe that mope off your face a while huh?”

Chase had bristled at it. Castor had felt it, like a dog’s hackles going up. That mope? Ha! Even if Chase had thought he was putting a damn good poker face on it but the fact was that Roxxi sneaking out in the middle of the night had left him with a major case of the self-doubts. The poor baby. Like the signs hadn’t been there long before that night that something was going on with Roxxi. Chase had just been blind to it, like so much else, wanting the fairy tale, the happy ever after, rather than the raw, gritty truth that would undermine everything in his life.

Dark eyes had flicked up to the door of the bar every time it had opened, a rueful chuckle going up as one beer after another was shoved his way by the patrol officer who seemed to have taken it on himself to raise morale. He was failing of course and in the end Chase’s neediness had grown pitiful enough that Castor had risen up in disgust. Moping wasn’t true pain, it was just a thin veneer of misery in comparison to how Buckley had fallen apart in New Orleans. Who would have thought that leaving the man in a coma would’ve been the pinnacle of what was supposed to be a hellish long con.

The mood in the bar had shifted with the change. Buckley’s laughter louder, more alcohol poured until they were all steeped with it. Bickering little arguments had started up, another lost puppy at the corner of the table bolstered with enough of a push from a whisper in his manicured earhole to go to her. As he’d risen Castor had slipped from the place, his laughter a low rumbling bark, like thunder, filling the still air on the porch before he’d started down.

It was an amuse-bouche, a little taster of what might come on a platter if he could stir the brother up tonight. Little comments dropped at the dinner table, playing on the insecurities that had to be lingering inside of the jail bird. Maybe a mention or two of the jigsaw faced mewling fool Emiliano had taken in like a stray puppy. Dontcha know he’s in town? He … shit … Knuckles brushing over the new knot in a nose full of them, tracing the line the plum coloured bruising had taken around one eye before fingers knotted around a wrist he still made twinge from time to time. Little stirrings of the storm to come.

Castor gave a little shudder of excitement as he climbed into Buckley’s car – maybe he’d let the car drift into the opposing lane on the way back to the apartment building, it was time Chase had a rap on the knuckles, a smudge on his record – and started towards home. There were lights behind the windows when he pulled up outside. Mikey, holed up behind the drapes like that would somehow prevent the Agnellis from seeing him or from him slipping back into that murky world they’d all but drowned him in. Tough luck buddy, the world was fouler than he thought and the worst of it was right on his doorstep.

Hearing strained as he walked into the apartment and let the door click shut behind him. No buzz of the TV, no rustling in Mikey’s room or clanging from the kitchen. The place was almost silent. Castor’s gaze fixed on Chase’s bedroom door, his lips twitching faintly. Not Mikey then. Had the little woman come to plead her case after near ghosting him for weeks or was this gonna be one more jab in that tender little heart?

He tossed Chase’s jacket aside, started towards the bedroom with fingers working at his tie, pulling it half loose behind he reached the door and found Roxxi sprawled on the bed. Even Chase stirred from that alcohol sodden heap inside of the shell of him, heat rushing under his skin as blood started to sing and start south for the end of a long, long winter. Standing in the doorway Castor raked teeth over his lower lip to squelch the sharper amusement from his smile. The tattoo Chase had trailed with his fingers before like it was a road map to this woman crawled up her body, dipping under lace and back out again. Back bowed, palms pressed to the sheets Chase now desperately wanted to see rumpled.

The stubbled chin lifted, a gleam glinting in those near black eyes. ”Hey,” he manged hoarsely, his voice like gravel. He took a slow step in, eyes dropping to the stilettos denting the carpet before they trailed up the length of that vine. ”At work, at the bar after. Y’know, there was a lot to try and burn off.” Chase might’ve managed it until he saw this and then it would’ve been all twanging nerves, worse than a damn honky-tonk. ”I don’t think I wanna watch a movie baby, not when there’s somethin’ so much better to look at.” The sweet scent of liquor perfumed the air as Castor finally pulled the tie free and wrapped one end around his knuckles. His hands dipped, the other end laced beneath Roxxi’s knees and around his other knuckles. Then he used the anchor of it to drag her towards him on the bed. ”Didn’t think you’d be back here like this. You makin’ it up to me?” Castor winged a brow as he dragged his knuckles up the outsides of her thighs.

Tagged: ROXANNE BRASCHI * Word Count: 946

Hell had been all about putting what you wanted most on a platter before it was snatched away. Constant disappoint, constant loss, constant need burning everything out until there was just that charcoal shell left. Black and rotten, ready to spread the suffering that’d turned them into what they were throughout humanity. The pain it had caused for the millennia it had taken to hollow them out turned to pleasure.

It sang in Castor’s – oops, no, technically still Chase’s – blood now. How was the pitiful drunken marshmallow gonna feel when he woke up in the morning and realised he’d missed all the fun? Their first time together, oh, and it was gonna be this time, no more teasing and dipping back out the minute the water started getting too hot – getting her all hot – and Chase wouldn’t remember a minute of it. Maybe he’d let this imprint, a flash behind eyelids that felt like sandpaper scraping over aching eyeballs come morning. What Chase had wanted since the moment Roxxi had first licked her way into his mouth, all wiped away while every moment of it was seared into Roxxi’s flesh.

Hot fingertips pressed to equally hot flesh, the thin cotton of Chase’s shirt, probably reeking of alcohol and desperation, barely a barrier between the two of them. Soon even that was gonna be gone. The laugh that rolled out of him was almost all vibration, low and gravelly, shivering through him and down that strip of silk as he pulled her in with his tie. ”That all you want me to do this time Roxanne?” The tie still bracketed her thighs as she snaked her arms up around his neck but his thumbs were already gliding higher on top of her thighs, finding that line between black lace and light golden skin, dipping beneath for a moment. ”Look, touch, taste. Much as I can before you go wrigglin’ away. How ‘bout this time I make sure you can’t?” There was a cluck of his tongue as she pulled herself all the way up, her lips finding that potato of a thing in the middle of Chase’s face – the sign of the brawler the man sure as hell wasn’t. Mikey had gotten the pretty boy looks and had more fight in him than the saint here.

Castor hummed lightly, eyes going heavy lidded so it was just that glimmer of coal black peering under from lashes just as dark. His mouth moved roughly against hers, his teeth nipping at that full lower lip as Roxxi made her promise. ”Cross your heart, baby?” he asked, a teasing note to his voice as he dipped his head down to nuzzle against her throat, nipping at her collarbone like a puppy with a shoelace. Roxxi was working no less hard, popping his shirt, a couple of buttons raining down. More fuel for the fire he was gonna set in Chase’s mind come morning. Another yawning blank spot, those old fears rolling in as he tried to paste on a smile for the woman curled around him, still limp from the pleasure of the night before.

His head tipped back as Roxxi skimmed lips over his throat. Chase was stirring, the heat turning the alcohol fumes into a perfume that reminded him of that first night at the store filled with virgins who would all end up roasting downstairs for their avarice in the end. Castor groaned lightly, sliding the tie further up under her hips, under her ass until it curved around behind the scrap of black lace. ”I missed you too, baby. I’d wake up wanting to feel you right here.” As she tipped her chin up, her lips almost finding the fleshy lobe of his ear before she snickered. Castor hissed out his pleasure, turning it into a dark laugh as she grabbed for his ass. He gave her an another hard yank at that, the tie pulling her into his hips until there wasn’t a breath between the two of them. Letting go of the tie finally, he gripped her bare thighs, offering up a searing smirk before he tipped them both back onto the mattress.

Barely catching himself, Castor pressed into her, skin to skin, that heat burning from his throat right on down. ”We got to the touchin’ point huh? Not gonna stop here tonight. No scoochin’ away this time.” No breaking poor little Chase’s heart – the sap – as Roxxi turned skittish and danced away, not wanting to bring all that Agnelli stink into his life when there was still so much of it clinging to his brother. Castor freed a hand from her hip, winging a brow as he tugged the tie out from under them to wind one end around Roxxi’s wrist, cool silk on hot skin.

Tagged: ROXANNE BRASCHI * Word Count: 800

’Baby, I think I’m too drunk to do this like I should’. Boy scout Chase might’ve backed out, even with this smorgasbord laid out on his bed – like in so many dreams he’d had of this very moment. Crying drunk, pulling the covers up around them, maybe letting his fingers play over the edges of the wasted lace and unexplored tattoos before he’d passed out. Pathetic.

Castor had taken in the situation in a heartbeat as he’d slipped into the bedroom to find that same feast in front of him. Now, he knew that the offer didn’t exactly mean Roxxi was gonna come through on it – she ran more than Chase himself, scurrying away from the curse of her family – there was still plenty of time for her to squirm away across those still smooth sheets. If he let her. This was one time she didn’t get to bolt and spoil all the fun.

The demon let out a low rumble of amusement, like distant thunder in his throat. Eyes not yet as dark as they could possibly get narrowed at her. ”You know I like a challenge, honey,” he crooned. And he was up to this one. Each tiptoed step and fast retreat had taught him their dance and he could disrupt Roxxi’s rhythm at any point in it. Castor tightened the tie under Roxxi’s thighs for a moment, dipping hot into a kiss he was sure had just been meant as a taster. A little sip before the whole glass was downed.

It wasn’t half as difficult as he’d expected – and there hadn’t been much height to that yard stick in the first place – to have Roxxi rearing up, her head back, her neck bare for him to get lips and teeth on. When she did stagger out of here she was gonna be wearing marks for a minute or two at least. It was a shame they wouldn’t last long enough for Chase to see them and feel that pang of betrayal in that pathetically tender little heart in his chest. Her hands were on him, pulling him into place, shoving him down until the lace tickled against his lips. He could feel the beat of her heart against them, not racing quite fast enough for him yet. There was a kick as he let those pathetic words rumble out of him. A little jab to that heart that she didn’t return.

The tie was pulled out from under her thighs, his body weight doing what it had to pin Roxxi in place just a few moments before. Castor chuckled, his eyes narrowing to ebony slits as she rolled her eyes up towards him. ”Just tasting though, right baby? A … what do you they call it … an amuse-bouche? Just a little taste, never enough to fill anybody up.” A literal scrap of amusement for the mouth. It was enough to have a guy like Chase Buckley starving, even the choir boy got ravenous from time to time.

Oh she was grinning at him as he tried to make sure this wasn’t gonna be another night she went strolling out while Chase laid there with his stomach rumbling. Castor grinned right back, just a little sloppy at the edges, white teeth bright and sharp in that dim light as wrapped it around her wrist. ”You wanna wait still?” Dark brows shot up before he laughed, low and rough. ”Not this time. There’s been enough waiting. I’m callin’ time. Come ‘ere.” His voice was growing sloppy as he surged after her. A little less care now as he looped it around her wrist twice more. Castor dipped his head, kissed her, hopefully senseless enough to get the tie around the rail of the headboard. ”You gonna try and run from me again, Roxxi?” He dragged his mouth to her ear to ask, teeth grazing the cartilage as he did. A quick little nip of those teeth as he reached for her other wrist.

Tagged: ROXANNE BRASCHI * Word Count: 666

Lust was a sin, pure and simple. Castor had spent centuries steeping himself in all of them, glorying in that shared glow when he convinced others to do the same. Chase had raged, had been envious, had hungered, had hated. One look at this woman though and lust had started to work its way under that grizzled skin. He’d felt the guilt associated with it after Roxxi had stepped on that landmine the night she’d slipped out – the woman he’d brought into this house digging into their lives, digging the nails that bit into his skin now into his brother’s soft spot, almost ruining everything.

Ah. He could’ve woken Chase from his drunken little stupor now, given him more than just flashing after images of this. All that need building until the guy would explode. That would’ve blown the entire powder keg in one go though, hollowing out this shell of a man, cutting his fun off in its prime. No, this was his, to let slip one drop at a time until Chase was on that brink of madness again. This woman driving him there the entire way.

The whimper she let out had a shiver running through that hot, brawny flesh. Driving him after her as Roxxi tried to escape, leaving the laughter hot in his throat as he got the tie looped around her wrist again. Tight this time, solid around the rail. She’d been twisted up by those quacks, could snapped her way free even if she hadn’t been, but she didn’t want to, not this time. It was Roxxi had just been waiting for the sad sack here to snap and finally take charge. Well, baby, you’re gonna get just what you want this time.

She reacted immediately, bucking against him, legs coming up to circle his waist as her heels bit into the backs of his legs. Castor’s fingers dropped to her hip, biting tight enough to have blood blooming to the surface like a rose petal at the edge of that vine. He fumbled with his hand other at her other wrist, tangling both up so he could take and take and all she could do was lay there and bask in it.

Castor nuzzled at her jaw as she tucked her chin in to escape him. He nosed at her temple, his hand settling on the side of her throat to turn her face up to his. The grin spread slowly, those eyes seeming darker than ever as they glittered behind a screen of lashes. ”Should, but you won’t, you want it too badly now, baby.” And while those fires were burning through her, he’d take all that want, balling it all up in his chest so that Chase could choke on it later. Never really knowing another had gotten there first. He pressed his lips to her cheek, then dragged them down, and down, until he could drive her relentlessly up to that peak.



He’d tied one on before, many, many times before. That handful of nights after the judge had ruled to lock Mikey up for what the fucking Agnellis had done, beers stolen out of the fridge, the look from his dad the next morning when he’d trailed down to breakfast, green in the face and not bothering to even try and rearrange the bottles. In training – guys there drank like damn fishes, shots by the line disappearing, not a single one of them looking worse for wear over the obstacle courses the next morning. Nights since. Never the cause for the black outs that’d plagued him though. Chase liked to think he had better control than that, even if his brain liked to fuck with him.

Images of split bloodied knuckles swimming in and out. Fists swinging at his own face until what he saw in the mirror was barely recognisable as a man anymore. Those same hands bandaged, fingers splinted like they’d been stomped, shaking as he’d levered his way out of bed. That shredded face – slicked with blood, healed with those shiny red lines – flitting in before he’d seen knuckles press white against the scarred skin overlaying them as his hand rasped its way up lean thighs. Black lace caught around them moments after. Like a malfunctioning film reel, stuttering, teasing. Whatever swam its way out of that drink pickled mind.

Exhaustion dragged at it like it could slow it all down. Chase’s fingers flexed, feeling the warm give of skin under them. Not entirely a dream then. Sheets warm and snared tight at his hips, the weight of limbs overlaying his. The perfect trap to be caught in, even if he could piece together the footsteps that had it snapping around him in the end.

Roxxi.

A rough purr rumbled through Chase’s chest as he felt her slide up him, inhaling his skin, like the stink of alcohol wouldn’t have been washing out of every pore. He swallowed at the nudge of her jaw, letting out a hum of relief as his mouth didn’t end up tasting like some hobo’s shoe – just her.

Dark eyes slid half open, onyx slits fringed with lashes just as dark. Chase’s lips curled, his fingers dragging up from her hip, to the tip of her spine, the tips dragging that featherlight line up to the back of her neck as she nuzzled and kissed her way around that face that only a mother could love. His voice was rough as it slipped out, like he’d gargled with gravel before bed. ”Mornin’,” Chase whispered. The laugh was just as low, just as hoarse. ”Drunk? Mmm. Not often, but I guess I still had enough sense to…” His brow furrowed faintly, his eyes squeezing shut. How had they got here? The offer had gone round at work, drinks at Campbell’s, his early protests melting away into an agreement. Drinks sliding down, the dark creeping in at the edges of his recall. Had he caved and called Roxxi, asked her to join him?

Chase’s hands worked their way back to her hips, fingertips right back where they’d been, like they were headed home. Like she was home. His grin was slowly heating, fire spreading under his skin. ”Not ‘til tonight. Forbes has me on lates. I like the way your mind works professor.” He tried to lift her back up, so he could latch his lips on her throat. A nip over her pulse before he slowed to take in the dark smudges beneath the tender skin. Had he? ”Was that… did I ….” Confusion rolled back in thick as fog again. Flashes lighting up like camera shots in his head, his mouth there, his fingers lower, biting, holding her while he … they hadn’t, never before.

Tagged: ROXANNE BRASCHI * Word Count: 1132