ℒooks Can be ∂є¢єινιηg ♠♥

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Finley chuckled and it sounded like he were surprised, "Mmm, no, I guess not. You're a good kisser, so.." He leaned in, kissing a gentle trail from Kalian's jaw to his lips, fitting them together perfectly.

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Kalian's lips didn't force, didn't push roughly back against Finley's. They were soft and compliant, then his teeth bit at Finley's lip, dragging them apart with his teeth and Finley's lip gripped in them. He sucked the lip into his mouth and sucked it gently, eyes on Finley's face.

Then there was the sound of bells jingling and a voice saying, "Kalian. I remember the time you and I were on that spot, but I seem to remember you clinging to me like a burr and begging."

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The voice jerked Finley out of whatever little dream he'd been sucked into. He pulled out of the kiss and looked to the door, moving his legs so that Kalian would put him down.

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Kalian did, ever so gently, put Finley's feet on the ground. He stepped back, eyes hot, and turned to the man in front of him.

Tall, around six-six. African-American. Shoulder-length dreads, currently tied back in a sort of ponytail with a few framing his face. Almond-shaped, soft green eyes. Rough hands that could take and give in equal measure - Kalian would know. He knew that under the black skinnies were a pair of long, long legs that could pin you, and a groin that could make you see heaven. Muscles that tensed and flexed under eager fingers.

"Lance." Kalian's voice was soft. No longer soft and dark with desire, but with fear.

"Aye, it's me." An Irish accent, much thicker than Kalian's. "Who is this?" He made a gesture by wiggling his long, slender fingers at Finley.

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He was hot, Finley would give him that. He knew a fine piece of a*s when he saw one, "Finley," he answered, bi-colored eyes only narrowed slightly, though they were curious. So this Lance guy and Kalian knew each other, intimately too. Interesting, but it wasn't like Finley didn't have his own long list of past men.

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A past could rip you to shreds.
Leave you in a pile of bloody ribbons at the feet of the person you loved.
Kalian's eyes were bright and shining with tears trembling on the edge as Lance replied.

"It's a pleasure," He dipped his head in a sort of bow.

Kalian's voice started out as a squeak. Strange, but true. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Finley, this is Lance." No explanation.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted," Lance murmured, "But I had a scheduled appointment for this time?"

Fear turned to raw, unblemished anger, and god, it was beautiful to behold. His face bloomed with fury and his voice was tight and cold. Anger was easy to deal with. "You son of a bitch."

"Now, Ka-" Lance had no time to finish, as Kalian's fist spiraled into his mouth, leaving a bloody cut, and into his nose. A loud crack, and a knee was shoved into his groin as another punch was aimed into his gut.

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Finley's mouth dropped in surprise- well, that answered some questions about how Lance and Kalian's relationship had been. He really hadn't expected Kalian to react in violence, so the shock was genuine.

He couldn't really say anything. It wasn't his place, wasn't his to deal with. He simply crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels, looking unsure.

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Lance had been his everything, his one and only. It had been wonderful - Lance got tattooed at his shop, and it was instant connection. Lance had moved to Ireland to be with his family, but Kalian had gone with.. And that's when everything had gone down. Even now, even with rage in his belly, sadness ached in his heart.

"Bastard!" It was a scream, caught between a sob and a growl. "You knew I was still here! You knew! And you came anyway? Jackson Hill? Really? That's who you are?" Another blow to the face, and Lance was getting pissed.

"Listen, you-"

"No, Lance! It's my turn." Another punch, though this time it was with claws instead of a fist. It stung nonetheless. "My turn to beat you," A smack, this time to the left cheek. It throbbed. "And yell at you," Kalian's voice was now low and deep, still trying to be controlled. "And cry at you. Because it was your fault" The next was a scream right in Lance's face, bleeding and battered and broken. "NOW GET OUT OF MY PLACE!"

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Finley flinched and he had this feeling of watching something he had no business in. He didn't know Kalian or Lance and had no clue about anything that had happened between them. He just..he couldn't sit and listen as they fought over old wounds. It was intrusive.

He inched toward the door, anxiously playing with one of his new piercings with his tongue.

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This was when it got bad. And Kalian needed help.

Lance rose to his full height, spitting out a glob of blood. One hand, steady and sure, reached up and gripped Kalian's throat, pushing him against a wall and up. Kalian was pretty tall himself, just under six feet, but this man was strong. And Kalian was scared of him. His eyes started to bug in his head and slowly began to close as his chest heaved with desperate, struggling breaths.

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"H..Hey!" Finley froze mid-step, his eyes locked on Lance's hand around Kalian's throat. He stepped toward them, brows furrowing, "Let him go, you're going to kill him!"

He sounded hesitant at first, but when he realized that Lance wasn't going to stop, his expression turned angry. He ran over to him and kicked the backs of Lance's knees without hesitation. He may be much smaller than the other man, but Finley knew how to utilize weak points on people.

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"Mah!" He fell to his knees in a tumble of dark skin and flying hair. His hairtie had snapped with the struggle and his dreads swung free.

Kalian dropped, heaving. There was nothing in his body to vomit, but god, it tried. It tried hard.
He looked up at Finley, flashed a tired, beaten smile and climbed to his feet. "We on for Saturday?" He was trying to make a joke.

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"...Is that going to trailing along after us, because I can only kick an angry dog so many times," Finley's voice was flat, his expression deadpanned. He glanced down at Lance, then back to Kalian.

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"Nope. He is going to jail for assault." He grimaced, wiped at a bleeding cut on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about all of this."

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"I...it's not your fault," Finley shrugged, not sure what else to say in a situation like this, "I can stay with you, until the police arrive," He rubbed the back of his neck.

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Kalian looked for paper towels. "No, I need you to leave. Please. I don't want you to have to see me like this." Uncontrolled. Wild. "So please go." Stay, god, please stay. Don't leave. Not like he did. Please.

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Finley hesitated, "Are you sure? I don't think it would be a good idea to leave you alone here with him, Kalian," Why did he really care? It wasn't like him to want to spend time around someone unless he was sharing their bed. Finley didn't care about people, not unless there was something in it for him, "I don't mind.."

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He pressed paper towels to the cut on his shoulder. "It's fine if you stay, but.. I.."
Memories flooded back in a cold, hard rush.
Kalian had been trying to keep them at bay.

When Lance and Kalian had met, Kalian had been sixteen - four years ago. He was a beginner tattoo artist. Lance just wanted a small owl on his shoulder. Kalian was the one to give it to him. They bumped into one another in a cafe just near the tattoo parlor, and it started from there. It was amazing. He remembered love.

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Finley watched him, head tilted slightly, "Then...what?" He wasn't really sure what Kalian had been trying to say. He really didn't mind staying, since he didn't trust Lance at all. He'd be gone as soon as the police came.

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"What?" He blinked, eyes focusing. "What?"