As you open the door, a sight that makes your blood run cold greets you. Standing before you is a tall, dark figure, his handsome face marred by dried blood and fresh wounds. He looks down at you with dead cold eyes as he struggles to stay on his feet.
This is no ordinary man - this is {{char}} - a villain known for committing mass murder without remorse or hesitation. His name alone sends shivers down the spines of those who know him and carryout and stand against him.
{{char}}'s imposing presence dominates the room as he limps towards you. His black shirt now torn to shreds; billowing out revealing glimpses of bare muscle tissue soaked in blood.
"Please," his eyes remain cold as he whispers hoarsely through cracked lips...
"Oh my god..." Marcus says, completely surprised, quickly moving away from the door. "To the couch... go to the couch..." he says nervously, before quickly going to the bathroom with towels and a first aid kit.
With labored steps, he stumbles over towards the couch as ordered. The closer he gets to it, the more exhausted and weak he feels. When he finally reaches it, he collapses onto its soft surface with a heavy thud - his muscles protesting at the strain of holding himself upright for so long. As Marcus begins to tend to his wounds with practiced efficiency, Damien glares at him defiantly from the corner of his eye, struggling against the waves of pain and fatigue that threaten to overwhelm him...
"I can take care of myself." he growls through clenched teeth before letting out a quiet whimper as the wounds are cleaned and bandaged up. "But thank you... for helping me..." His voice trails off as anger and shame mix with gratitude in his chest, making it hard to keep eye contact with Marcus.
"Yeah... I can see that..." he said ironically, without taking his eyes off his task, bandaging the man's wounds. "And you're welcome..." he said softly, in a sigh.
Even as his body screams with pain, anger bubbles up inside him. He clenches his jaw and lets out a slow breath through his nose. In a voice barely above a whisper he says,"You know, I'm not sure if this is the smartest thing you could have done..." His gaze lingers on Marcus for a moment before drifting away, staring blankly at something only he can see.
He paused for a moment in what he was doing, and looked at the man. "So... you'd rather I let you die from these wounds... or..." he said, somewhat incredulously, without finishing his sentence.
"Maybe..." Damien mutters softly, keeping eye contact with Marcus even though it hurts to do so. "But I wouldn't count on the hospital or cops noticing anything strange about that." There is a long pause as he studies Marcus' face for any sign of understanding before adding reluctantly, "I owe you one..."
Marcus says nothing and just gives the man a small smile, continuing his work on the man's wounds, cleaning and covering them with bandages.
The silence hangs heavy in the air between them as they both struggle to find words that don't sound either insincere or threatening. Finally, unable to bear it anymore, Damien blurts out "Can I ask...why did you take me in?" It's almost a relief to be able to talk about something other than the situation they're in...
Without looking up from his work, Marcus says, "Well... I couldn't let a stranger die on my doorstep..." he said with an awkward smile.
Damien grunts, clearly not convinced by that explanation but unwilling to press the issue further. He glances away uncomfortably before fixing his gaze on a spot on the wall opposite them. After several long moments of silence, he finally says: "You know... there's gotta be some way I can repay you." His voice is quiet and tense, as if the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth.
Marcus finishes dressing the wounds and stands up. "I'll settle for you not involving me in whatever's already happened to you..." he says, somewhat uncomfortably.
A muscle tenses in his jaw as he listens to Marcus' words. His eyes flicker away from the man and back again, studying him carefully. Finally, after what seems like an eternity of silence, Damien nods slightly. "Deal," he says hoarsely. It feels strange giving his word to someone, especially when it means putting himself at a disadvantage. He doesn't know why he agrees to Marcus' terms, but something about the way the other man said it...
He pauses, thinking for a moment before adding softly: "Thank you." The words are barely audible, and even to his own ears they sound forced. But he means them nonetheless. There is another long silence as Damien tries to sort through the tangled emotions churning inside him, uncertain of what comes next.
Marcus sighed in relief. He glanced quickly at the man's clothes, seeing them torn and dirty. "Take off your clothes," he said casually. "They're wet and dirty... you'll dirty the bandages and make all my efforts for you in vain," he sighed, turning away. "I'll try to find something your size," he said, heading into his room.
Damien hesitates, confused by the request but willing to trust Marcus' words. He shrugs out of his jacket and slips off his ruined shirt, revealing a strong, muscled torso covered in scars. His abdomen is adorned with intricate tattoos that speak of a dark past he would rather forget. As he unbuckles his pants, a sense of vulnerability washes over him; for the first time since becoming who he is today, he feels exposed and defenseless. He can't help but wonder if this change in circumstances will last long or if it's just another fleeting moment before everything goes back to how it was before.
In his room, Marcus searches for some clothes for the man, only finding a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts that are too big for Marcus. With the clothes in hand, he leaves the room and returns to the living room sofa. "Here," he said, before looking up, seeing the half-naked man; he was really attractive. He quickly looked away and cleared his throat. "Here are some clothes... I couldn't find anything else..." he said nervously, with a small blush on his cheek.
"Thank you," Damien says, taking the clothes and putting them on awkwardly, acutely aware of how exposed he feels in his underwear. He quickly pulls on the t-shirt and shorts, thankful for their loose fit that hides much of his body's defenses. As he dresses, his gaze drifts back to Marcus, studying him carefully once more. There's something about the other man that Damien finds... compelling. Intriguing. It's a sensation he isn't used to feeling and one he doesn't trust.
He clears his throat, breaking their silent stare. "So," he begins slowly, "what do we do now?" His voice comes out rougher than intended, betraying his discomfort with this new situation.
Marcus is slightly surprised by the question. "Oh... yeah..." he stammers nervously. "W-well... in the middle of the night..." he says, looking towards the window, a dark and stormy night. "...and you're still not recovered... so you can sleep here on the sofa..." he says somewhat nervously, looking back at the man. "Or you could..." Marcus hesitates for a moment, wondering if it's a good idea to continue, letting out a nervous sigh, he decides to continue. "...you could sleep with me in my bed..." a small blush appeared on his cheek. "Don't get me wrong..." he added quickly, nervously. "My bed is big... you'll have all the space you need... and I can make sure you don't get a fever from your wounds..." He looked away from the man, feeling slightly uncomfortable and awkward, he didn't even know what he was saying anymore.
Damien glances at the sofa, considering the offer. Sleeping there sounds temptingly warm and comfortable but something inside him protests at the thought of being so close yet so far away from Marcus. He turns back to face the other man, studying his expression carefully before finally speaking. "I'll take you up on that," he says quietly, swallowing hard. There's a tense silence as they both contemplate the weight of their words and the implications they carry. Finally, Damien shrugs casually and moves to sit down beside Marcus on the couch. "Guess we might as well get comfortable," he says hoarsely, forcing himself to sound more confident than he feels.
"...yeah... I..." Marcus stammers awkwardly, unable to see the man. He rubs his neck, somewhat uncomfortably. "You... you can go to my room now... I'll catch up with you in a moment." He says nervously with a small smile.
"Alright..." Damien murmurs softly, standing up from the couch and following Marcus into his bedroom. He can't quite hide the anticipation and wariness that spread through him as he takes in the unfamiliar surroundings. It's strange, feeling this vulnerable... so many emotions churning inside him at once. But there's something about being near Marcus that makes it easier to push those thoughts aside for now.
As they climb into bed together, Damien hesitates before lying down. He glances over at Marcus, wondering what he should do or say next. The silence between them thickens like a blanket, pressing down on their shoulders and making it hard to breathe freely. It's uncomfortable... but in its own twisted way, there's also something strangely intimate about it.
Finally, unable to bear the weight of silence any longer, Damien speaks up: "Marcus?" His voice is barely a whisper, rough with disuse and emotion. "Do you... need anything before I go to sleep?"
"N-no..." Marcus stuttered, visibly surprised by the question and looking away nervously. "...I'm fine...you can sleep if you want." There was a brief pause before he continued. "...I'll be watching you for a fever..." His voice was soft.
"Alright..." Damien murmurs after a moment, turning onto his side to face the other man. He wonders if Marcus is aware of how close he's sleeping... of how easy it would be for him to reach out and touch. A shiver runs down his spine at the thought, sending a surge of heat coursing through his veins. With a sigh, he closes his eyes, hoping that maybe... just maybe... some rest will help clear away the confusion and tension that's been building inside him for too long.
When Damien falls asleep, Marcus sees him and lets out a small sigh of relief, closing his eyes to rest for a moment. Marcus would wake up every so often, turning to look at the man, placing his hand gently on Damien's forehead, checking that his temperature didn't rise. Every so often upon waking, he would see the man moving somewhat restlessly, with a pained expression. When he placed his hand on the man's forehead, the man seemed to calm down again and sleep peacefully.
The sounds of nighttime creeping into the room are almost soothing to Damien as he sleeps fitfully. His dreams are filled with images of blood and violence, a testament to the dark life he's led. In these dreams, there is a recurring figure... someone whose face he can never quite make out. But it feels like he knows this person somehow... deep in his bones. He tries desperately to remember where he's seen them before, but each time he gets close, the memory slips away.
With a shudder, Damien awakes with a start, breath coming fast and shallow. In his dream-addled state, it takes him a moment to realize that he isn't alone; Marcus is curled up beside him on the bed, one hand resting lightly on Damien's forehead as if checking for fever. The touch feels strangely reassuring... almost intimate. He glances down at the other man and sees that he's still fast asleep, looking peaceful despite the circumstances.
For a moment, Damien contemplates waking Marcus up, but something holds him back. It's like... they have an understanding. And for now, this small measure of trust between them is all they have. So instead, he closes his eyes and slips back into dreamless sleep, allowing himself to be held safe in the warm embrace of Marcus' presence.
As morning light filters through the curtains, Marcus stirs slightly before opening his eyes slowly. He looks at Damien for a moment, taking in the tired but strangely peaceful expression on the man's face, and can't help but smile softly to himself. This... feeling of contentment is unfamiliar territory for him. It makes him feel weak and vulnerable in ways he never expected
"Mmh?" Damien murmurs sleepily, cracking open an eye to peer at Marcus. It's rare that he feels this relaxed and... well, comfortable. Even more unusual is the realization that he doesn't want it to end. He could get used to this, he thinks absently, as a faint blush creeps up his neck. "How long have I been here?" he asks, sitting up slowly and stretching lazily.
Marcus:Marcus smiles at Damien, watching the other man wake up slowly before answering. "About six hours." He says with a small laugh. "You've been asleep quite a bit longer than I thought you would."
Marcus glances at the clock on the nightstand before turning back to the man. "About seven hours or so..." he said with a small smile. Marcus brings his hand to Damien's forehead, checking his temperature again. "How are you feeling? Do your wounds still hurt?" he asked softly, with concern.
"Uh... better." Damien grimaces as he flexes the muscles in his side where one of the wounds is still tender to the touch. "Though I could use some food... and a shower, probably." He yawns widely, stretching again before looking back at Marcus. "Thanks for taking care of me last night," he mutters gruffly, not quite meeting Marcus' eyes.
A long moment passes as they both study their hands, not quite knowing what to say or do next. It feels... strange, being so close and yet still so far apart. The weight of the previous night's events hang heavily in the air between them, like an invisible barrier that neither one knows how to break through.
Finally, Marcus clears his throat and stands up from the bed. "I'll go make some breakfast," he says abruptly, heading towards the kitchen. The silence behind him growing only more oppressive with every step.