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[pikuni]

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GOOD STAB

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[pikuni]

[he thinks, after not throwing his phone into the lake: brat.]

You come and go as you please and now you're upset.

[ghostface]

tell me.

[pikuni]

Blood. The hunt. You.

[ghostface]

so you're a whore and a liar.

[pikuni]

If you call me a liar again, you will find out quickly what it is like to have me angry with you. Enough.

[ghostface]

( he thinks about calling him a liar again. he thinks about telling him that he doesn't want danny the way danny wants him, because it's impossible. he thinks about knocking down koby's door right now, fucking him, sending pictures back to good stab.

he thinks about all of these things and leaves him on ✔️ read. )

[pikuni]

[in turn, he thinks about leaving it there, because it's near over a century and he's still the same petty man he was at 37, and 27, and 17. still knows how to tend his temper and make it spark, but -

but. ]

Danny. Kills In The Night.

Nitáwahkahtaaniksi. Speak to me.

[ghostface]

( he doesn't, not at first, because danny's petty, too. but he does, eventually, later when everyone in the house is mostly asleep, or trying to be. )

how do you think about me when you think about wanting me?

[pikuni]

Like I want the other half of me. That I need you.

[ghostface]

( that goes to his dick and something else. petulant, ) i was only a little jealous.

[pikuni]

[ softening: ] My spirit and heart are yours. Every time you doubt this I will cry.

[ghostface]

( the something else is panic, it turns out. )

show me your dick, uncle.

[pikuni]

This is yours, too.

[it seems unwise to push further. so, after a moment: one picture of his dick in hand, half-hard and heavy in his palm, thumb cresting close to the tip.]

[ghostface]

you're mine.

( beautiful and his. good stab gets him going so easily, but he's been half-cocked since he first texted him hours ago. he rolls belly-first onto the couch in his room, one-handedly stuffing a decorative beaded pillow made for looking over touching between his thighs for slow humping. )

uncle, you're mine.

[pikuni]

I’m yours.

[ and has been since day one, since smelling Danny on the air and knowing it with his soul. his hand squeezes once, hips jerking up in the confined space of the tub, his solitary sanctuary for increments of thirty minutes or more. ]

But are you mine?

[ghostface]

( he calls. breathless, hip-fucking the edge of the couch with a leg over the side and a knee under him because it offered a harder place to land than the pillow, he says: )

Do you have to ask?

[pikuni]

[yes, he thinks. yes, he does. to himself, he admits that he would make Danny all his if he let him. that he would stake a claim so deep that it would follow him from life to life, world to world, gravitational pull anchoring him back to Good Stab until the Backbone crumbles and the world turns in on itself. after that, too, maybe. sometimes he wonders if he already did in his last life.

he thinks: you don't know the depths of my selfishness.

his breath hitches a little, with the effort of answering, of thumbing his dick, of carefully shaping his voice into something normal. ] But you're not all mine, [he says, like a counter, in a drawl. ] Are you mine enough?