third wheel

Some girl who barely looked old enough to get in the day followed him with a look over his shoulder as he skirted the dance floor. Acne still bloomed on her cheeks, almost looking like a blush from a distance. She smirked as he caught her eye, lifting her hand to give him an honest to God little finger wave. Mitch’s upper lip curled in something too sharp to be a smile. Even that seemed to offer her an ounce of hope, but he wasn’t turning off of the path he’d been taken to slink up to her. Maybe if she’d been a brunette instead, flipping him the finger with the sort of dare on her lips that would have him roaring in frustration and other things before the night was out, he’d have stopped, determined to just excise the thorn that had buried itself in his ass once and for all. Oh she wasn’t though, was she. This one was too young, still too sweet.

And he was too masochistic.

He didn’t even look for the bouncer on that inner door as he approached, digging thumb and forefinger wearily into his eyes instead. Had she cut off his balls while he’d been passed out that first night – oh yeah, he was still calling bullshit on that – and was carrying them around in her pocket now? He’d have said her purse, but that would’ve suggested she was girly enough to carry one. Lucky was more like some feral creature that’d clawed its way up his legs and was now hanging by its claws from some part of him that was too delicate for him to tear her away from.

Jnr had called him again that morning. A ’we’ve not heard from you, son. How are you?’ rapidly turning into a not so friendly query about the coming soon announcement about his new book. How many secrets were being spilled this time? Why was there always a corrupt politician? Are you putting me in this one? I’ll be able to tell you know. The same circular crap that he’d started to block out the minute the first contract had come through. Maybe Jnr could still make his life difficult, maybe he should’ve taken Lucky’s knuckling seriously and just cut the asshole off, but he was still standing in the middle of that same vicious circle, puffing out the same protests of how it was all fictionalised. Did the cheating bastard congressman who’d somehow avoided being ousted from his seat in the senate through the last three books bear some resemblance to his father? Oh definitely, and it was staying that was until the son of a bitch finally got what he deserved. Then he was throwing a fucking party.

The door swung open silently in front of him, the nod from the bouncer barely registering in his peripheral vision as he started down the stairs. There was plenty of booze at the bar upstairs, but there was also a chance of that walking fuck you appearing, and after Jnr’s yapping, he sure as hell didn’t have the energy for that tonight. Psychic as Lucky seemed to be, digging into his brain with her nails until he wanted to scream, she’d probably have tracked him down just to put the finishing touches on it.

Clattering down here the last time, Hannya’s hand had been on him, coaxing, pushing, reassuring when that vicious little world had opened up like Dracula had set himself up some sort of gentleman’s club in a backwoods little town. It was no different tonight. Things, people, that were more than a little dead behind the eyes glanced his way as he approached the bar. Just wait for one of them to try and take a nibble, they’d realise he was like one of those frogs in the rainforests, choking them with bitterness if they tried it.

Mitch ignored them, sinking down on a stool at the bar. He gestured to the bartender, some scrawny looking kid who’d probably been barely old enough to shave when he’d … whatever the fuck had happened to him. ”A rum and coke … make it a triple and keep them coming huh?” It probably would’ve been easier just telling him to put an entire bottle on his tab, but what had happened that first night with Lucky was still nagging. He grunted in thanks as the glass hit the bar in front of him. One elbow was planted on the bar, that hand gripping at the back of his neck as though he could tear out the cords of muscle standing out under his skin. The other lifted the glass, half of it vanishing down his throat in a slow roll of gulps.

At the rate he was going it wasn’t going to be a choice of when to severe the last time with Jnr, it was gonna be which straw broke the camel’s back. Theft, joy riding, playing chicken on train lines until he was buzzing with the sort of energy he’d misdirected after. All those tours and this was gonna be the one that would kill him.

He hung his head, ignoring the noise down the bar until he reached for his glass again. Fuck. The breathless laughter huffed out of him as his eyes met Hannya’s. Was it any sort of escape when you were just heading into another mantis’ bed? Probably not, but something needed to burn tonight. Feeling the hum of her under his skin again, Mitch slipped down off of his stool. He paused to gulp down what was left of the drink before he approached. ”From you?” he asked lightly as he smiled back at her. ”Never. Just been busy upstairs when … fuck me.” Oh the temptation was there to groan and grind the heels of his hands against his face. All he needed now was Lucky barrelling in here to complete the unholy trinity here.

The smile that he shot Leah – he’d found her name out eventually as she’d whispered those stories about her half-brother to him, all tangled up in his sheets. ”Looks like you’ve been hiding things at least,” he murmured to Hannya before he met Leah’s eye. ”In the carnal sense. Same as you. I guess you two are … friends? Small world indeed. Nice dress.” There’d been a dry tone to his voice at first, but it melted away, a hot rasp working its way in instead as his eyes skimmed her up and down. A change from last time, although Hannya was still dressed to catch every eye in the place, including his own.

Tagged: HANNYA & LEAH SIVAN * Word Count: 1064

Upstairs was nothing but a myth to Hannya. Leah had never seen the demon step foot on that dance floor upstairs. Probably because there was some sense of order up there as the place crawled with humans. Leah preferred downstairs for that exact reason. It was a boring club filled with boring people. A smirk spread across her face as Hannya looked back at her, gripping onto Mitch’s bicep.

She’d lectured Cory about falling into Hannya’s trap, which he couldn’t see because he was too busy being manipulated by her, but now a similar thing was happening to Leah. Hannya had used the right words to convince the reaper to forget about Remzi and head out drinking with her. Within no time they had trapped a male in their net. Someone to play with and tease for the evening. But Hannya was right. This was better than sitting at home feeling miserable about Remzi and his bitch.

They weren’t friends. Leah wasn’t stupid enough to believe that, unlike Cory who truly believed the demon had his best interests at heart. Leah would be standing there with a huge grin on her face when it tumbled down around him. She pulled her gaze away from Mitch and those huge manly biceps and looked over at Hannya whose hand was cradling her jaw lightly. “Oh much deeper.” She said with a smile as she drew closer to the pair, “We’re reeeeal good friends.” The type of friends who’d probably stab each other in the back if given the chance, but maybe that’s why she liked Hannya. The danger kept drawing her back to the demon just like it had drawn her back to Remzi over and over again.

Leah returned the soft kiss, her eyes ticking back to Mitch as she did so. Men had a tendency to crumble when women started kissing in front of them. It was a weak spot.

Obviously Hannya took ownership of the dress. She wasn’t going to let Mitch compliment something she had chosen and belonged to her without him knowing. “You know it would look better on your bedroom floor.” She said in a low voice into Hannya's ear, but loud enough for Mitch to hear.

Special talent? Leah cast her mind back to the evening her and Mitch spent together and she couldn’t remember anything out of the ordinary. Just something he had saved for Hannya, “Care to show me?” There was a slight spike of jealous though, knowing he had shown Hannya something but hadn’t shown her.


MITCHELL DAVIS

The convulsive swallow at Hannya’s whisper almost choked him. It took a monumental effort not to squirm, already anticipating the painful, embarrassing scrape of hot, aching skin rasping against his shorts. His eyes didn’t budge from Hannya’s, but he’d seen the way the grin had spread across her lips. She’d follow through on it too. One move of her hand towards his ass and he’d have both her hands caught in his. As a demon she could probably tear both of his arms off at the shoulders without blinking, but he doubted she would, that’d ruin the good time that was on offer here, the rewards as Leah put it – far more his speed.

Mitch grunted, the sound cracking on the huff of amusement that rolled out of him at her comment about the two of them being lucky. Being like by Hannya felt a little like having a predator’s eye on you the entire time, something that was gonna have real fun taking a nibble, or leave your back side humming for days. ”I guess we’re just blessed,” he crooned, his lips curving briefly. Who would’ve thought that Lucky would start seeming like one of the sweetest things in his life these days.

Knowing it was better to butter the pair of them up than risking that oil and vinegar mix and a blaze that would end up torching him, Mitch drifted into the compliments – not realising that Hannya was buttering him up all the more with that kiss (like this was 9 ½ weeks and he was Kim Basinger. Hannya’s touch slithered higher, under the sleeve of his shirt, nails scraping over his skin gently enough to have him shivering before she gripped, probably to stop him bolting as she decided to one up him again and out him to Leah. The bitch.

His lips curled almost sourly at Leah for a moment as she cursed. She was in the wrong damn place in the wrong damn town if she wanted the entirely human experience – although the fact that she was here, wrapped up in Hannya’s web the way she was had him doubting that she was as human as she looked. ”Welcome to Mystic Falls, the supernatural fucking capital of the world.” The dark, seedy underbelly to a town that was keen to prove that it didn’t exist. Some other asshole goes missing? Oh well, you know how flighty people are these days – not ‘well, some poor fucker’s gonna end up digging him up in their yard in a decade or two’.

The change slipped over him in a slow, easy ripple. He grinned about it, but the shift out here in the bar seemed to tick Hannya off. He might never have married, but he knew a lot more about fucking women than Lucky woulda given him credit for. Knowing better than to comment on the huff she let out, Mitch merely guided the pair of them into the same room as before. His hands curled into his palms, covering the sweat that slicked his palms as Hannya broke free to slam the door shut. Fuck.

Squirming, he only managed another second on his feet before Hannya was grabbing him, pulling him from Leah, tossing him down on the chair with more force than even a woman as curvy as her should’ve been capable of. ”Easy,” he grumbled, like that’d calm down her sulk. Tipping his head back, breathing a little harder than he should’ve done, he watched her slither in, Leah just a second behind. ”You want me to get real impressive huh? What do you want? One of those super hero types?" All muscles and pretty faces – not that different to who he really was. He coulda twisted it up, let his pecs swell into a pair of breasts to rival Hannya’s, but going female had always left him feeling skeevy.

His hand settled on Hannya’s thigh, the other reaching for Leah’s hip, but it was his turn to huff. ”I’m not stupid.” But he did have an ego. Dragging his eyes away from Hannya’s before they had him shuddering again, he nosed into Leah’s cheek as she kissed him, letting the change roll through him as he did. He shrank slightly in height, the pale skin that hadn’t been that different from his own growing a deeper tan, the rough hewn features he’d inherited from his father and grandfather smoothing out to something prettier, darker. Eyes that were almost black rolled back to Hannya as he smirked. He was closer now to that jagoff cop he’d met outside, on the surface at least. Muscles that were already firm and defined under his skin grew, bulking him out in all regards. ”How much further do you want me to go sugar?” he crooned in a voice far lower than his own. Mitch caught Leah’s hand at the wrist, dragging it down while he started to tug at his shirt with the other. If they wanted it he’d keep the changes rolling, make it like a night with a dozen different people instead of just the one real talented son of a bitch.

Tagged: HANNYA & LEAH SIVAN * Word Count: 858