Sex & Sinners | Ilias

by **Louie Calvin Klein** Tue Feb 22, 2022 8:32 pm

AHOTE LASPOR

Three days—that's how long it took for Ahote to get from that lush forest and through that terrible swamp. Well, or so he thinks. Frankly, it was kind of hard to tell since it seemed that no matter how long he walked, daybreak never came. That swamp seem engulfed in an endless night, and the same could be said for Sinhaven. After all, when he finally managed to stumble upon this city, it was dark too—though, Ahote couldn't conclude whether that was because of unfortunate timing or if this place was also influenced by the same enchantment. Interesting, but it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. That's right, he had other things to worry about right now.

Creeeaak...

The heavy wooden doors of a dark, gothic tavern groaned open as a drab and haggard man stepped inside. The way he dressed was modest and formal, holding his black button-down vest on his arm while wearing a white dress shirt, black slacks, and loafers. His short, wavy hair was the color of coal, and staring at his narrow eyes was like staring into midnight—black and empty like a city sky at night. His eyebrows were thick and his lips thicker, short enough to be an accessory but tall enough to be taken seriously. He was prettier than most of the sorry lot filling this tavern, but his atmosphere was so weary and unapproachable that he almost fit right in despite his impressive appearance. Besides, despite all of this, he didn't look as pristine as he could've.

There was no doubt that Ahote could dress, but three days trudging through swamps and forests turned his outfit into a mishmash of hardship and doom. His clean, white dress shirt was littered with splotches of sweat and dirt, his vest so drowned in mud that it was better to carry it on his arm than to continue wearing it. His loafers weren't their shiny obsidian color anymore, clad in the mud like his vest, and although his black slacks didn't show the dirt as much, they were stiff with dried swamp water. He had hairs sticking out of place, a face caked in sweat, and a look in his eyes that made it clear that he wasn't in the mood to entertain anyone's bullshit.

"Water. Room temperature," said Ahote, exhausted as he slid into the nearest seat by the bar, right in between a hilariously large and thuggish man and a scantily dressed woman who so obviously wanted to show off her bust and thighs. Ahote sat there for a moment, rubbing both of his temples with his hands before realizing the unusual amount of time it was taking for the bartender to get his drink. He looked up with a puzzled but nasty look on his face to match the equally malevolent stare the bartender gave him. "Please."

It took a moment, but the bartender eventually obliged and gave him a tall glass of water, though he could tell that it wasn't room temperature—cold as ice, actually. Ahote stared at it before taking a sip, unwilling to contest the service. After all, there was more he had on his mind. Where was he, and why was he so weak? Hiking it cross-country was inconvenient, but nothing that to exhaust him in Fiore, where his power and craft were near insurmountable. In fact, hiking aside, he just felt weaker overall. The brat who brought him here ditched him as quickly as he summoned him, even before he could ask questions.

There was a lot Ahote wanted to ask, but it didn't seem like the bartender was in a friendly, chit-chat, "Ask me anything, friend!" sort of mood. Honestly, neither was he, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there were eyes on him. Life in the underworld had taught him many things, and he knew when he was being ogled or observed. It didn't sit right with him, and he wanted to leave this tavern, really. Maybe getting back to that forest and finding a way to send himself home was a better idea than this, but he was so thirsty and his head ached so much that he couldn't even think straight. Sighing, he took another sip.

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by **Ilias** Fri Feb 25, 2022 3:00 am

Sinhaven. From his mind of olde did he recall a memory of this place: of being chased away, unwanted, at times peaceful like a priest being refused a service; at times like a fly being frantically swat around by a neurotic. Perhaps the violent nature of the latter should have stricken fear into his now tangible heart. Perhaps this tinge of world-wariness should have been enough to steal him far and away from the clutches of those who ostracized him in the past. Yet no such fear came, finding himself stolen away, instead, by a city of ceaseless night and of gothic structures spiraling elegantly beneath a mantle of stars.

So charmed by the sights was the wayfaring spirit that he’d neglected to rest, and so allowed his blossoming wonder to guide him through the streets until an eye-catching sign lured him into a tavern. Faint contentment adorned his delicate features, unwavering even when placed under an ominous spotlight of glares and stares. He found too much fascination in the surroundings to notice the patrons’ ogling.

Emerald hair flowed effortlessly down his shoulders and hid one side of his face as he looked this way and that, tied together into a ponytail by a scarlet ribbon whose twin was gifted to a man now presumed dead. A fitted suit inset with golds hugged his body; an ivory robe draped over one side concealing a sword and a satchel. A striking appearance, fantastical in ways meant for the mainland, but filled with the sort of oblivious serenity to be found in one so naïve. It practically radiated off his person—an imaginary lightbulb just waiting to attract insects.

His marveling was placed on a momentary hold, however, when from the entrance did the heavy doors whine on their hinges and in walked a mishap of earthy browns. Having side-stepped fast enough to go unnoticed, a puppy dog tilt of his head following the muddy calamity’s wake.

“Ah? Only going to gawk?

A voice, soothingly low in its timber but so unprecedented, caused the distracted being to nearly jump out of his skin. He blinked up, a looming figure materializing from behind him, bony fingers sliding up his back and gingerly grasping his shoulder. “Pardon?” he said, quiet and curious; the clear signs of stranger danger being lost on him despite an uncomfortable shiver running its course.

“Over there. The bar,” the figure pointed out, a hauntingly gaunt man with a smile split as wide as a feline's. “You only going to gawk or you going to drink?”

A chance to respond had barely been afforded when another male entered the scene: a youth with such jovial loudness it bordered on happily drunk. “Hey, there you guys are!” the blonde beamed, snaking an arm around Ilias’s waist and tugging him close, startling him into flinching away only to be met with a tighter hold. The jovial youth continued, “Voids, took the two of you long enough. Come on, drinks on me for the night, remember?”

“…No?” Ilias squeezed out, before being dragged further into the premises by force. He didn’t know these men, complete strangers acting as though they were friends, but it'd been strangers who had nursed and helped him before. So it stumped him, overwhelming the creature who had never undergone something like this, and bringing about a meeker attitude than expected. Essentially, he clammed up. “R—really, I wouldn’t want any drinks. Only a place to rest would do or,” he thought over his words, “if anything… water…?”

“Aw, and where’s the fun in that?” cooed one, his cattish grin growing wider.

“Yeah, who comes here just to drink water?” chirped the loud other, twirling away from the gaiyan and obnoxiously nestling himself between the dirt-caked man from earlier and a scantily dressed woman. Drinks emerged from the bar having been suspiciously served on cue, one being shoved into their target’s hands, completely ignoring the initial ‘no drink’ statement. “Here. Drink up.”

“No, I—” Just the smell of the brown liquid sloshing around in the glass brought about a crinkle to his nose, brows sewing together in concern. It had a strong smell, much stronger than what he’d had back in Ilyanor. “I really would not…” The apprehension didn’t last long when he lifted the glass up to smell, instead a slender finger belonging to the gaunt goliath dipping under the glass and bringing it to his lips, still clasping his shoulder as he did so.

In the meantime, the blonde leaned back on the counter and found interest in the curly-haired ravenette at his side. "Huh," he started, examining him with odd intent. “You don’t look too bad, except for…” he waved around at him in disgust, “all that.”

WC: 789 | TWC: 1495 | Tag: @Louie Calvin Klein

by **Louie Calvin Klein** Fri Feb 25, 2022 9:41 pm

AHOTE LASPOR

This was a tavern, so perhaps Ahote should've known better than to hope for some peace and quiet, but it wasn't long before things started getting noisy—especially around him.

A rattish blonde man approached him not long after he sat down, sizing Ahote up like some sort of gem. Some people might've liked the attention, especially if they came to these places looking for something a bit different, but Ahote was neither promiscuous or interested. Even when the stranger tried talking him up, Ahote didn't respond. Instead, he irritably lowered his glass of water down onto the counter, let out a deep and weary sigh, and just looked up at him with a glare.

For a moment, Ahote just paused wordlessly, staring a hole into that stranger's face. He was half the mind to just get up and leave if this was what his day was going to look like, but it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. He was exhausted, confused, and just overall fed up with his entire situation. More than anything, he needed information, and although the people in this place didn't seem overly friendly, it could still work out—after all, he wasn't friendly either.

"Tell me, are we still in Fiore?" Ahote continued to look at the stranger coldly, pinky tapping on the glass of water as he awaited a reply, but the stranger also seemed a little taken aback by the question. He took a moment before returning to that interested, coy smile of his before glancing back at his buddy behind him. Yeah, maybe it was a sort of strange question, but Ahote was well-traveled in his country and had never encountered a place like the swamp, that forest, or this place. Considering he was summoned here, it wasn't so farfetched to entertain the idea that he may not be where he thought he was anymore.

Delighted, the blonde stranger attempted to actually take a seat next to Ahote.

"Fiore? Never heard of it. Oh, well, maybe I could jog my memory over a few drinks with you—"

"Is that right? Then there's nothing for me here..." Ahote immediately stood up just as the stranger sat down, graceful in his ascent but clearly uninterested in whatever this guy had planned for him. He hadn't paid much mind to where he was, swiftly twisting to take his exit before bumping into someone. "Ah—"

Ahote went quiet for a moment, narrow eyes widening just fractionally as he stared at the man he bumped into. It was surely the poor sap who was clearly getting bullied into these strangers' schemes, but Ahote had never thought to pay him any mind or even a glance before now. He had long, emerald hair and was clad in clothing that demanded grace and elegance. He was a little shorter than Ahote, if only by a few inches, but his skin was unblemished and pearl-like. He was nothing short of pretty and aesthetically pleasing, and more importantly, he looked eerily similar to Baird—yet another companion whisked away from him through his summoner's impulse.

Stunned into silence, Ahote's wide-eyed stare regressed back into its usual unfriendliness. It was only for a moment, but he almost blurted out Baird's name to this man, but he stopped himself. This wasn't Baird, just someone who looked a lot like him, and a pushover too...

"You'll wrinkle that good face of yours if you keep frowning like that!" the blonde stranger rejoined the scene, this time wrapping an arm around Ahote's shoulder, though judging by the chilly glint in his eyes, Ahote wasn't the least bit amused. "Why don't we all sit and have a chat? Hm?"

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by **Ilias** Sun Feb 27, 2022 1:18 am

Some of the substance trickled into his mouth, the glass having been tipped far enough that it bumped against his plush lips. Not only did the fumes sting his nostrils, but the swallowed portion felt warm and lightly burned his throat. Immediately he drew his head back in disgust, pushing against the tall gaunt’s hold on the drink as a dribble of alcohol accidentally spilled down the side of his chin from the sudden jerk.

“Hmm? Not to your liking?”

Had it not been obvious enough maybe Ilias would have replied. It had an awful taste; much worse than the wine he’d grown somewhat fond of just a month back. Vyldermire’s inhabitants had some odd tastes and, while he supposed being exposed to them would help, some things he could not bring himself to enjoy. Perhaps he’d enjoy something softer… not that he craved anything to begin with.

He wiped the spill on his face with his palm, further pressing the drink back onto the gaunt’s hand. The beginnings of a light frown tugged at him, especially when the glass was not allowed to leave his hand after he continued to push away from it. Was he not being understood? His attention would have directed itself at the gaunt had he not heard the muddy man’s mentioning of a place he’d never heard before. Fiore.

"Uh—!" It seemed the four were a little too close in proximity that, when the man in question turned to leave, he bumped against Ilias just as he was about attempt to move out of the way. A sensation wormed through his body, seizing him up into an equally if not more stunned state while peering into the man's ebony eyes, recognition written all over his wide, doe-eyed look.

A moment passed, his chest rising and mouth opening slightly to intake a breath. "You are much too far from the forest," he exhaled, the words tumbling out. He blinked a few times seeming to zone back in, suddenly shrinking into himself and attempting to shrug off the bony fingers still grasping his shoulder to no avail in a fit of actual discomfort. His body willing him to leave.

Ilias, despite his recent transition into the land, still retained one of his baser elements he was just discovering. It seemed to him that the instincts which sensed the irregularities of this world were still at work, though dimmed. While most creatures would be hostile towards an Otherworlder's out of sync aura, the spirit guide worked the other way around. Even if he found this man's dark gaze and overall complexion to be one which could draw him in, he was repelled. "This is not a place for you," came an even quieter warning right after, nearly drowned out by the blonde's suggestion to sit and drink.

Having caught on to the two male's exchange, the gaunt added, "Yes, why don't we? It seems the two of you know each other—and I am curious about this Fiore now that you mention it."

Being pulled away into a nearby stool, Ilias impulsively grabbed the otherworlder's wrist with a light squeeze, still trying to shrug off the stranger's grasp. He hadn't lost eye contact with him, his brow settling further down in concern and almost pleading. He seemed calm despite the impulse, mind and natural instinct working against each other as he both wanted to help this man but also stay as far away as possible. Though the reason for helping did not align at all with situation at hand. People like him, much less those which could be considered human, shouldn't be anywhere near Eldritch settlements.

"I'll order something softer," spoke the gaunt once more, ignoring the spirit's attempt at escape.

WC: 789 | TWC: 2731 | Tag: @Louie Calvin Klein

by **Louie Calvin Klein** Sun Feb 27, 2022 2:09 am

AHOTE LASPOR

Despite easily buckling beneath the peer pressure, this emerald-headed man did have some interesting things to say. Ahote stopped and gazed at the man, mildly annoyed with the light touch but hearing what he had to say anyway. How did he know that he came from a forest? What was so special about that place that it could be noted as the forest? What's more, the young man had the gall to warn him of his own place here in this city, when he was the one struggling more than Ahote.

Whatever he meant by the last part didn't matter—this man was the only one who looked like he could give him some real information about this place, one way or another. Being the pushover he was, perhaps it wasn't foolish to assume that Ahote could drag him away for an actual chat. All in all, there was no longer a reason for Ahote to stay here in this tavern.

"No, I don't think we will," Ahote gently brushed the stranger's arm off of his shoulders, reaching over to grab the emerald stranger's arm and raising him to his feet with a grip not as delicate as his, "But, by all means, enjoy your drinks."

His words were cordial enough, but the way he stared down at the two looked as though he was staring at insects—insignificant and not worthy of his time or breath. Perhaps it was foolish of Ahote to act in such a condescending, unavailable way when his strength was so limited and muted. Just lifting this loser up to his feet made Ahote have to put in some effort—and it wasn't because the guy was fat or anything. In Fiore, his power was overwhelming. Now it just felt... well, it didn't feel like anything. Like he was never strong to begin with...

"Look, I don't think you're understandin', handsome!" the blonde approached the pair from behind as two more burly strangers stepped up and blocked the exit to the tavern. The chatter around the place grew quiet, but no one turned to look at the scene. It was like everything was aware of what was going on, but just decided not to intervene at all. "I insist that you let us buy you drinks!"

The blonde reached over and grabbed Ahote's shoulder once more.

"Okay? Now—mmph!!" Whack!

A muddied elbow popped right into the stranger's nose, making him stumble backward and crash against the bar as he held his face. His nose began to bleed as the crimson spilled through his fingers, making the once jovial man twist into someone far angrier. Perhaps Ahote had reached the limits of his patience because he was no longer in a mood to say no. Instead, he resorted back to his number one survival tactic—violence, a universal language understood by all, regardless of realm or time periods.

Despite the blonde's obvious anger, he couldn't help but smudge away the blood with a wicked grin. In fact, he began to cackle cattishly.

"Heh! Looks like you're in for it now, good lookin'!"

Bar fights were typical in taverns like these, and Ahote thought that it was a bar fight that he managed to get himself into. But unlike most ruffians, this one didn't immediately jump on him after popping him in the nose. In fact, it was a little off-putting, but before Ahote could act on his intuition, the men blocking the exit approached them swiftly. He felt an arm wrap around his neck, putting him in something of a chokehold as an odd-smelling cloth was forced against his face!

"Mmghh!!" Ahote protested in muffles, squirming and wiggling around in the burly man's grasp as he tried jabbing him, but he was too weak. Before he knew it, all the strength left in his body was sapped away from him, and his vision began to blur. His grip loosed and his jabs felt more like pokes. He tried biting the man's fingers through the cloth, but before his teeth could dig into the flesh, he was out like a light. "Ugh...!"

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by **Ilias** Sun Feb 27, 2022 5:33 am

“Hmph—!” he recoiled when grabbed but somehow stumbled to a stand, that same feeling prying Ilias to stay away. The ravenette seemed keen on both of them exiting the premises, something he was not against at the moment. So for the good of this irate Otherworlder, he stuck with; more than willing to oblige despite the crude treatment.

The tavern had been thriving with conversation of which he held little-to-no care for from the beginning, much less understanding of. But when the silence grew louder it placed an eerie spell on his growing worry. He’d missed something, that much was revealed to him now. Late, but surely the entrances to the establishment being obstructed had driven that revelation home, more so when the situation escalated into violence. It did not serve to ease his ills when his eyesight began to blur over, his serpentine pupils dilating and causing him to squint.

Now, having been the casual observer to hundreds upon hundreds of battles in his lifetime should have left him a little more than stunted in face of something like this, but the guide’s nature had never been one for battle—not that he abhorred hostility. Preservation came first, even if his sense of preservation out in the mortal world was underdeveloped at best, which meant—

“We really should…” He reached for the ravenette, feeling sluggish as though he hadn’t had enough sleep, “leave… now…” The world moved much faster than he, it felt like; the grab he made for turned more into a light brush against the other Otherworlder’s skin when he felt himself being pulled by the hips and closer to someone's body, his head angling back limply onto a chest only to be met with the gaunt stranger's smiling mien looming over him.

A dark chuckle, a disconcertingly soothing “shush now,” and a hand wrapped in odd-smelling cloth being placed over his mouth were the last things he experienced before all his senses were lost.

WC: 327 | TWC: 3739 | Tag: @Louie Calvin Klein

by **Louie Calvin Klein** Sun Feb 27, 2022 10:43 pm

AHOTE LASPOR

"Oowee!~ Quite the catch you've got there. He'll look even better once we get him some proper clothes!"

"Riiight? I'm tellin' ya, man! We'll be eatin' real good with a catch like this! And the little friend he brought with'im ain't so bad either. He's prettier than a girl! Probably could pass for one, too. I know Orlok will love'im."

It was dark and... hard. He could hear voices talking, but Ahote couldn't really understand what all was being said as he gradually came to. Honestly, his head was a mess and it felt like he knocked upside his skull. His breaths felt so heavy and tight that he couldn't help but breathe through his mouth, panting softly into his... cell?

"Mmn... ergh..." Ahote groaned as he lifted himself up to take a look for himself. He was lying on a bed, but the mattress was so hard and firm that he might as well have been lying on a sack of bricks. It was clear that this was a dungeon or jail of some kind, with the wavy-haired ravenette trapped inside, and his captors standing outside. Although his vision hadn't quite cleared up yet, he could at least recognize one of them... the blonde stranger from before.

"...? Oh!" the jovial blonde man perked up when he saw Ahote move in the darkness, giving him a wicked smirk and a crinkle of his nose through its bloodied bandage. "Won'tcha look at that?! Sleeping Beauty's finally awake!"

There was a hint of triumph in the man's voice, no doubt because of the violence from earlier. He had a rather chubby companion with him this time too, instead of the man harassing the loser from earlier. Yet, despite his lumps, he looked particularly pale and anemic, and Ahote could notice his sharper-than-usual teeth every time he spoke too. Curious, the chubby man tilted his head as he mouthed his plain-spoken musings.

"Huh? Isn't he..." he leaned forward, closer to the bars, "...oh, an Otherworlder, huh...?"

Clink!

In almost the blink of an eye, a pale hand bulleted through the bars, but stopped just shy of the chubby man's neck, trembling as a handcuffed chained to the bed would permit him to go no further. Ahote stood at the edge of the cell, glaring at the men with a look of frustration and resolve in his eyes. Amused, the chubby man grinned an ugly grin, the lumps of fat on his face twisting to accommodate such an unattractive expression.

"Ahh, scary! Scaaary! How'd you get a guy like this to come here? Looks like he wants to rip my face off!" he chuckled.

"You know how, dude! Even so..." the blonde continued. Suddenly, Ahote grabbed ahold of the cell bars with his cold, chained hand, slumping down to the floor in a sweaty mess. His cheeks looked like peaches and he had such an invasive, fuzzy feeling pervading every inch of his body. He could feel his own heartbeat, and his breaths were hot. Honestly, he felt more exhausted and diluted than before, clenching the fabric over his chest with his other hand. "...it's nothin' a lil' potion can't fix. Look at him—the guy can't even stand straight."

"What did you... haa..." Ahote tried to speak between his light panting, the same panther-like glare falling onto the strangers before him. "What did you do to me...? What is this place—"

"Oh, don't worry! It's just a lil' aphrodisiac, friend! You do know what an aphrodisiac is, don'tcha?" the blonde approached the cell alongside his chubby friend, crouching down to eye level with Ahote, greeting him with his jovial smile, "I'unno how they do stuff in private, but eventually you'll be in the rhythm of things by the time it wears off. It just helps ya' relax before you go and see the clients. You totally look like you want to murder us, and I kinda think that you would if we didn't drug ya, so please understand, 'kay? Pft."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me... ngh..." Ahote sighed and cursed under his breath. There were a few moments of silence between the three before the blonde clapped his hands.

"And with that, we've done our part!" he stood up, "If it makes you feel better, the man you're gonna be seein' today isn't nearly as bad as the fellow your friend's gonna see!"

Ahote paused for a moment. Friend? He didn't really understand what he meant by that until he recalled what happened earlier... he must've meant that pushover from before. He hadn't really thought about him until just now, but could he be here too? Food for thought, he supposed.

"Orlok is one... erm... eccentric dude! The guy likes pretty men, especially if they could pass for chicks. Dresses them up in clothes and really savors the foreplay and all, y'know?" the chubby man tried to explain, though it didn't seem like he really cared about it all.

"Yeeesh! I think I'd rather get it over and done with than spend a minute with that fat bastard fondlin' me, haha!" the blonde shivered theatrically, though he was grinning the entire time. Pausing, he regained composure and began walking away with his lantern. "Annnnyway, consider yourself lucky! Though, I don't really pity you! Broke my nose, you fucker. So just stay put, we'll be back in a minute to get you!"

With that, they left, the sound of a heavy metal door closing behind them. After a brief respite, Ahote let out a laborious sigh. It was clear what was happening—clearly some kind of sex trafficking. Being an underworld rat himself, he wasn't a stranger to it. In fact, he dabbled in trafficking back in his homeworld, though many people resented him for it. Maybe this was some kind of karma? It was also a bit ironic that he ended up in a place like this after reprimanding Aeluri for her and Iris's sex dungeon...

"...What a pain... haa..." Ahote mumbled to himself, slumping down against the cell bars fully now. He stared up at the windowless walls. Was he underground? It was also a little humid in here... wasn't it? Honestly, all of it was a bit difficult to judge considering he was under the influence. His body was itching for some sort of touch, and he felt sensitive to just about everything. His vision never really cleared up all the way, too. Even so, he was already formulating a plan for escape. Maybe he was selfish and cruel for it, but he didn't really agree with this... karma. He had things to do and places to be, and getting caught up in some sex trafficking scheme wasn't really part of his agenda. He needed more information, too...

Suddenly, that pushover from earlier flashed in his mind. Yeah, he was definitely caught up in this too, right? He probably wasn't gonna hold up too long with it... well, not that most normal people could. The guy looked like a stranger to cruelty. It wasn't really Ahote's problem...

"...I'll just wait for them to get back, then...nngh..."

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by **Ilias** Thu Mar 03, 2022 7:09 am

Everything had been a vacuum, blurring and focusing with each languid blink and utterly devoid of any sounds besides his own labored breathing, like dipping below the surface of the ocean. The world was quiet. But it was not still.

"My, my, waking up already?” the gaunt’s voice was but ripples through the silence, muffled and distant. “Hmm… maybe not. You don't seem too hot.”

Through his haze he'd been able to see doors, doors, doors, all passing by; all plastered along a hallway which to him seemed unending. He felt weightless. Perhaps he was being carried, but he was far too out of it to really tell; far too numb to feel the bony arms cradling his figure when he was delivered to a room.

"...Not that it matters. Orlok has special tastes. Such a pity, really."

There was an awkward swing in movement, that weightlessness suddenly taking a plunge, and he was dropped atop a surface with all the care of a discarded ragdoll. A bed, or so he thought, by the bounce in his landing. Still, it had been so unceremonious that it rattled his brain around in his skull. “Hmff… Wait...” He reached out towards the gaunt, the small light of clarity beginning to dim as his captor exited…

He awoke a feverish mess. The dim lighting of the room being the only saving grace afforded to the spirit, and even that spun and hurt his eyes. He squinted, an awful feeling bubbling at the pits of his stomach as the ceiling lurched around abnormally. “Hnng... What is this…?” he spoke weakly. Everything felt out of place. “Where am I?” He shifted onto his side, onto his stomach. The movement only served to water his mouth in a sickling wave.

Everything felt hot, the color of rose petals kissing his pale cheeks and the tips of his ears. From his breaths to his skin, however they’d tampered with him had undone him in ways unknown. He frowned deeply at the thought. Undone again by circumstances beyond his knowledge. Perhaps this was his life now. Perhaps he was doomed to awaken dazed and confused in foreign places for an eternity…

An eternity he now lacked.

That urged him to move, unsettled by how quickly he could be snuffed out. Just how troubling the situation truly was didn’t register until he tried to lift himself, abruptly falling flat on his chest. He could feel every nerve in his body, every brush of air and cloth against his skin, an odd yearning for more sensations mixing with the nauseating swirls at his core. Ilias drew heavy breaths.

He moved dragged himself forward, an infinitesimal amount, attempting to wiggle himself out of a pile of dark sheets. To call him fixated would be an understatement. His entire attention had gone towards the exit. So much so that when felt a grip, his eyes widened considerably, and his heart skipped one painful beat. Suddenly, he was dragged across the bed by the ankle.

A voice, foreign in accent, reached his ear.

“...And where do ya think yer goin’, pretty?”

WC: 518 | TWC: 5443 | Tag: @Louie Calvin Klein

by **Louie Calvin Klein** Sat Mar 05, 2022 7:52 am

AHOTE LASPOR

Ahote said he'd wait, but that was proving more challenging than he had originally anticipated. He could withstand all sorts of physical stress when it came down to it, the ability to endure broken bones and stab wounds as an unfortunate byproduct of his life as a criminal, but this internal war against this drug felt like an uphill battle.

He felt feverish and hot, his body aching for touch and yet cringed at the thought of it. He felt both restless and stiff, at constant odds with how to deal with this unscratchable itch. Admittedly, the feeling was familiar but exacerbated to a level that he felt was torturous. It was inconvenient and infuriating, but even then, he was too distracted with his own discomfort to get angry.

Slowly lifted his wrist to eye level, he glared at his chains before letting his arm drop back down to his lap, leaning against the bars with his eyes closed. All he could focus on was this terrible fever stirring his body up...

* * *

Tap...

Kreeeen...!

The sound of the heavy iron door separating Ahote from his captors rang in his ears, but Ahote didn't flinch or perk up at the sound. In fact, it felt as though his guard had dropped completely in the time since his captors were gone. There wasn't a hint of warmth or desire in his deep, dark eyes—in fact, his eyes were just short of his usual glare—but his expression did seem a bit softer now. Weaker. The fire that made him too hot to touch was just embers of a former flame now that the drugs had worked its way through him.

"That's more like it... you're lucky that I'm holding back right now after what you did with my nose."

"Yeah, yeah. Just get him dressed up."

"More like dressed down. Yeesh!"

"What else were you expecting from a client like him?"

There was a lot being said right now, but Ahote didn't really hear any of it. It seemed as though he only had enough spoons in his drawer for one thing, and he wasn't gonna spend it on these fools' idle chitchat. They could put him in whatever clothes they had in mind—Ahote didn't care and he was powerless to stop them anyway. All he could do was think about what to do once he got out of this cell and met the bastard who wanted a piece of him.

They got rid of his clothes and replaced it with a far skimpier outfit, dragging him to the bedroom where he would serve someone. It all felt like a blur, really. He was so focused on dealing with this drug and its feverish effects that he didn't really have the time or energy to take this brothel all in. There were many corridors with different rooms assigned to each one, most likely similar to the place he was going now.

He was only able to relish his "outfit" in full once they locked him inside the suite, fitted with a king-sized bed, bottles of red wine, candles, and other luxurious appliances. The mirror revealed him to be wearing nothing more than thin, black stockings and a large black bowtie—a particularly effeminate outfit if Ahote had to comment. He already had a few kinds of people come to mind with tastes like this.

* * *

A few minutes later, Ahote finally noticed the approaching footsteps of men from beyond the locked door. It was just enough time for the fidgety man to grow so tired of his circumstances that he was seriously beginning to eye the red wine on the nightstand as a source of relief, but the door opened before he could humor the idea any further. He sat on the edge of the bed, one leg folded over the other with another feisty glare on his sweaty face, staring at the doorway.

"—Here you are, sir. We hope he is to your liking."

It was the blonde bastard from earlier, though this time he was accompanied with a far more... unremarkable and plain man, clad in a dress shirt one size too large for him but complemented with an expensive wristwatch that fit him just perfectly. He had short, chestnut hair and a face not worth writing home about. He wasn't unattractive, but he didn't bring any good looks to the table either.

"O-Oh... thank you..." the man couldn't help but stare at Ahote, who was sitting on the bed, unimpressed and glaring with his weakened but unsubmissive gaze. "Y...You look... gorgeous."

With that, the blonde took his leave and locked the door behind him, just leaving the two men. By the looks of it, this guy seemed too neat and tidy to be here. He looked like the type with a wife and kids, but couldn't satisfy his true desires with such a traditional lifestyle, and so, resorted to this underworld market. After all, it was easy to meet those insatiable needs in a place like this if you knew what you wanted. It just so happened to be one-sided, though.

With a nervous but infatuated gulp, the man began to immediately unbuckle his belt and approach the feisty but vulnerable man...

Ahote took a long, deep sigh and glanced down.

WC: 887 | Total WC: 6,330 | WC Needed: ??? @Ilias "" —
Template by ivyleaf33

by **Ilias** Wed May 25, 2022 6:37 am

He’d barely been given the chance to react when he was pulled further down to the edge and accommodated onto his back. The force exerted in such an action caused a dizzying spell to override what little focus he’d regained and, in those few moments, could only see a distorted figure looming over him. “…Orlok,” Ilias’s normally feather-light voice fell to a queasy groan, vaguely recalling the name from an earlier, although hazy, memory. “You’re... You must be… Orlok?”

He tried to worm away from the situation when from between his legs flourished an uncomfortable brush of skin as this blurry presence invited itself between them. The image before him began to clear and Ilias was met with the admiring stare of a large, rotund man bearing no clothing.

Bunches of fat bundled under the stranger’s mutton-chopped cheeks. It was apparent, even through the blur, that what was being observed was anything but his face. “Hmph. That’s right,” Orlok seemed happy, the simplicity of recognition furthering the shameless smile crawling onto his bloated lips. “Oh, just look at you…” Orlok traversed the smoothness of the Gaiyan’s body, pushing up the sheer gown the greenette had apparently been dressed in. A pink, skimpy piece it was, barely leaving anything to the imagination, with fuzzy trimming at the chest and hem.

“You’re just so,” he started in a breath that was meant to be sultry in nature—his fingers dug painfully into Ilias’s inner thigh—and ended with licentious delight, “perfect.”

Ilias flinched, mouth opening as though to let out a pained gasp and instinctively reached to dislodge himself of the hand, “Don’t—” It’d stopped his fleeing form, which had already made it quite a few inches away from his assaulter. “Do not—” However, with a failed Moondance under his belt and drugs in his system the attempts to stop the invasive touch were weak.

His struggle, of course, went ignored.

“…It’d be a shame if you left so early,” Orlok continued from his earlier musings. The mattress sunk as the entirety of the large man’s weight was shifted atop it.

“Stop...” Fear rose like bile when the clammy, hairy stomach sagged over his slender frame. Ilias was pinned, sweaty face twisting with further alarm, as his pitiful pushing and shoving continuously failed to lead to any help. It was perverse— how little he was being heard or taken into consideration. It was unceasing— the feel of his hands so slowly gliding across his body that it felt like hours had passed as he was intruded upon over and over and over again. Yet it was the sensations which blossomed against his will and dried to a wretched death within seconds what instilled upon his person an unwavering amount of repulsion. Not only at the man who was carrying out the deed, but also at himself. "Stop!"

He wanted to throw up.

There was no help the drugged-up Spirit could conceivably reach for within that dimmed room; bottles of wine and ice trays being too far from his grasp. He saw no way out of this and cast his frightened gaze up to the lifelessly painted ceiling—sickening kisses being trailed up his neck. He closed his eyes, stopped struggling; held back a painful moan when teeth sunk into his soft flesh.

“God,” came an eerie breath at his ear that he tried to ignore, “I want you so…”

And when Ilias opened them again, a small orb of light, wavering and holding to itself weakly, had formed in the space above them.

“Hm?” The room brightened, catching Orlok’s attention and causing him to look over his shoulder. Ilias could only watch, however, as the mild annoyance flashing over the ginger’s beady eyes turned to confusion. “What… What is that?”

The orb bulleted downwards. “What the hell— argh!”

Blood spilled, drops staining the Gaiyan’s pallid face and see-through gown, while Orlok lurched back and away, hurt, eyes wide with shock and dumbly trying to fumble with the newly produced hole at his shoulder. He’d sat up just enough to give Ilias enough freedom from his overpowering weight.

And so, seeing the opportunity to escape and somehow managing to tear free a leg from underneath him, Ilias mustered up as much strength as he could and promptly kicked the man in the groin.

WC: 716 | TWC: 7047 | Tag: @Louie Calvin Klein

HUMANS	██████████████ 28
ELDRITCH	███████████████ 30
GAIYANS	█████████ 17
ANTHROS	███████ 14
HYBRID	███ 7
OTHER	████ 8
TOTAL	79

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