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“You have really nice hands,” you comment.
You sit with your back against the wall in some random room of the hideout. The space is filled with random objects for your boss’s experiments. Jabber sits next to you, head lolled back as he mentally tries to relieve his boredom. He looks at you for a moment before looking down at his hands, turning them over and flexing his fingers. He eyes his own digits carefully before snapping his attention back to you.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks.
“I mean you have nice hands. They look…” You search for the right words.
His fingers are long and slender, but not too slender, but enough that he could probably be good at playing piano. There’s an obvious strength to them—he’s dexterous given his power. If not piano, then he could play guitar or maybe some sort of wind or brass instrument—something that requires good use of his fingers. His tan skin is unmarred, surprisingly so considering he uses his hands to control his Vital Instrument. His skin looks smooth, the palm of his hand a slightly lighter color. His nails are stained black—a style many people adorn. With his set of rings sitting neatly in a row along the middle of all of his fingers, he could even have been a hand model for jewelry.
“Pretty,” you finish.
“You think I have pretty hands? Are you high?” He smirks.
You laugh. “No, dumbass. I just mean they look good. It’s surprising since you fight so much with them.”
“Well, my Vital Instrument does a lot of the work, so my hands don’t really get injured ever. Hey, actually, now that I think about it, I don’t think my hands have ever been injured in a fight.”
“Are you high?” you ask, raising your brow at him. It wouldn’t surprise you if he is.
“No, but fuck, I wish I was.”
You hum in thought, taking one of his hands into yours to inspect it further. He freezes at your touch, but lets you continue while eyeing you curiously.
“Yeah, pretty. That’s my final verdict.”
“Don’t call them pretty,” he mumbles with a huff, pulling them away. He groans. “I’m so bored! I wish the boss would just give us a mission already. Sitting on my ass all day isn’t my style at all.”
“Go find something to get fucked up on, then. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Hey, that’s what Cthoni said!”
“Unsurprising…” You roll your eyes.
“I didn’t even get to fight anyone on the mission yesterday and Fu refused to fight me, too. Nothing turns me on and I’m bored.”
“Wow, why don’t you just fuck yourself up on your own poison and jack off or something, I don’t fucking know.”
“Hey! That’s a good idea!” His fingers start to glow an electric purple as his claws grow and extend from the silver rings on each digit.
You catch his wrist before he can fully impale himself in the sternum. “I was fucking kidding!”
He huffs, giving you a pout. “C’mon! There’s nothing else to do!”
“The boss said to wait for orders, so that’s what we have to do.”
He groans again, his head lolling back against the cement wall. It feels cool on your back, chilled from the afternoon spring air. Unfortunately, spring brings a heavier haze of pollution, so staying inside is better than going out. It’s a constant fight to get Jabber to sit still and stay in; he’d rather be out running around and soaking in the sick toxic gasses swirling in the air.
“So, what else do you think is pretty? But don’t say ‘pretty’, say something more manly,” he asks, leaning in with a smirk.
“That’s the most direct way I’ve ever heard anyone fish for compliments in my life.”
“Oh, come on! There’s nothing better to do, and you won’t let me get high.”
You groan at his antics. “Fine. You have a very tall nose.”
His smile drops and he squints his eyes at you annoyed. “That’s it?”
“Well, what do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know! Tell me that I’m really good at killing people or something. That’s manly!”
“You’re a dumbass.”
“Hey! That’s mean!”
“You like it.”
A smile stretches wide over his face. He bites his lip, humming softly. “Yeah, I do. Say something again.”
“I’m confused, do you want compliments, or do you want me to insult you?”
He hums in thought. “Well, it’s a little strange to get compliments from someone who isn’t the boss, and it does turn me on when you’re mean to me. So, say more mean things.”
“I’d rather not then.”
He pouts, giving you the worst puppy dog look you’ve ever seen.
“Why don’t you say something about me?” you tell him, changing the subject to deflect from how awkward you feel.
“Okay, fine. Let’s see…” He thinks for a moment. “Oh, I know! I don’t wanna kill you.”
He smiles warmly at you as if that’s the greatest thing he could say.
“That’s not a compliment!” you snap.
“Yes, it is.”
“Nevermind. This game is stupid.”
Truth is, you’re growing bored as well. You’re usually better at remaining alert while waiting for orders but being cooped up for so long leaves a weird ache in your bones. Seeking out some intoxicating substance does sound nice, but you’d rather not be reprimanded. You need something stimulating, and intellectual conversation was not Jabber’s forte.
“Can you slap me?” he asks suddenly.
“No.”
“Please? It’ll be fun. I know you wanna,” he teases, biting his lip again as he leans close to your face.
Slapping him would be a bit funny, you have to admit, but being violent against him for no reason doesn’t sit right with you at all.
“We’re allies, I’m not going to hit you or fight you for any reason,” you tell him.
He pouts again. “You’re really no fun. You don’t turn me on at all.”
Your face heats up, embarrassment coursing through. “I’ll have you know that I am lots of fun and I can turn people on just fine! You’re just into freaky shit.”
“Yeah, so? I know what I like. There’s nothing wrong with that,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.
His fake pout is gone, and you realize he’s trying to rile you up.
“Well, I know what I like too, and I don’t get off on beating the shit out of my friends for no reason.”
He seems to perk up more hearing that. “We’re friends?”
“Allies,” you correct.
“No, you said friends. Aw! You think we’re friends!”
“Well, we’re not enemies so if you want to call it that, then fine.”
He repeats back in a sing-song voice, “You said we’re friends.”
A fit of giggles overtakes him and you wonder what he’s thinking in his head—or maybe it’s best not to wonder when it comes to Jabber. You roll your eyes again, hoping to end the conversation.
“So, since we’re friends , tell me, what are you into?” he continues.
“Not you,” you fire back.
“Ouch. That doesn’t really answer my question though.”
He’s invasive to your personal bubble both physically and mentally. Like a vine of poison ivy creeping along the ground, just waiting for someone to accidentally stumble across it and suffer a reaction, Jabber is the same. He likes to sneak his way into your head and slither around searching for any way to get you to crack.
“I don’t know,” you reply.
“It’s okay, you can tell ol’ Jabber anything. I won’t judge!”
He’s worse than poison ivy. He’s a bittersweet nightshade the way he invades you, poisoning you from the inside out.
“I like having my neck kissed,” you confess.
“That’s it? That’s boring.”
“You literally just said you wouldn’t judge!”
“Yeah, but I thought you’d say something fucking wild like drinking piss or something. Neck kissing isn’t anything exciting or juicy.”
“I like hickeys. I know most people hate them, but I like seeing them on other people or seeing them all over my chest.”
“Okay okay, now we’re getting somewhere! So you like being marked up, huh? You like when other people can see you belong to someone.”
“I’ve never really thought of it that way specifically. I just think they look hot.”
“You like when you can claim someone, and someone can claim you. Someone you can look at and say, ‘that’s my person’, and have evidence to show for it.” He leans a little closer, prying further into your desires.
“I’m not necessarily going around flashing my tits to people to show off my hickeys. So, you’re wrong.”
He hums again, tilting his head and eyeing you.
You interject before he can even say anything snarky in response, “Now it’s your turn. And don’t say something that I would obviously already know.”
“It’s hot when people look down on me,” he says.
“That’s obvious.” You roll your eyes.
“But I also like knowing I did a good job.”
“So you like being degraded and praised. You teased me for not saying anything exciting or juicy, but so far, you’ve said things that are really obvious about you.”
“I’m an honest guy, what can I say?”
“You didn’t seem too keen on me complimenting your hands though,” you point out.
“Yeah, ‘cause it’s weird coming from you. Made me feel all funny.”
You actually laugh in surprise. “Funny? Funny how?”
“My stomach turned, but not in the same way as the neurotoxin makes it turn and I feel like I’m gonna puke, but in a way that it felt all twisted and weird.”
“I gave you butterflies?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“When you get a little nervous and it feels like your stomach drops. Like there’s a little rush of adrenaline.”
“Yeah! That’s what it felt like!”
“Oh my god, do you like me or something?”
His jaw drops as he stares at you, eyes wide in shock. “WHAT?! No!”
“Then, what? You never had a genuine compliment before?” You smirk, feeling success as if you finally got to corner him.
“Not true. The boss compliments me when I do a good job—”
“There’s a big difference between the boss giving you praise for your hard work and someone complimenting something attractive about your body or face.”
He pulls away, finally leaving your space as he leans his head back with a humph. His wicked smirk has been wiped away, replaced with something unrecognizable. He thinks long and hard about something.
“So,” he says finally after some time, “you said I have a tall nose. Is that a compliment?”
“Yeah. I think it fits your face well.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means it looks good. It’s a good feature to have.” You want to roll your eyes at him again, but you hold back, exploring the new territory that is Jabber’s more vulnerable side.
“What else is a good feature?” he asks.
“Oh, you’re back to fishing for compliments?” you tease.
“Hey, just remember you started all of this by saying I have pretty hands!”
“I like your hair, too. It’s really long.”
“You’re just saying things that you notice, those aren’t compliments.”
“They’re all still things that I think are attractive, so they’re still compliments.”
“So, you do think I’m attractive.” His smirk was back, but this time he kept his distance.
This time, you do roll your eyes. “I never said you weren’t attractive.”
“Am I your type?”
“No,” you lie.
“Then, why bother pointing out so many things that you think are attractive about me?”
“Because you keep asking, dumbass!” You laugh.
The conversation feels like it’s going in circles. It’s getting ridiculous at this point, and you begin to wonder what his aim really is. I guess he just really isn’t used to being complimented on his appearance so bluntly…
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked what I find attractive about you,” he says.
“I don’t know if I wanna know.”
“I think you smell good.”
You laugh at his comment. “Thanks, I guess?”
“You have nice hair too. And I think your lips look really soft.”
The last one catches you off guard. You weren’t expecting him to say something as candid as that . Blood rushes to your face as you stare at his lips. The feeling overwhelms you as your heart races in your chest. Jabber’s done nothing but push you right where he wants you, and you fell right into his trap. Like belladonna, he’s captured you and envenomed you with his poison. You cave to your desire. Your lips are on his in an instant. His are slightly chapped as they move against yours, but for a moment, he realizes what’s happening and pulls away.
“Wait, why are you making out with me?” he asks.
You feel heat in your cheeks as you realize what’s happening. “Shit, sorry. I thought—”
“Do you wanna fuck me or something?”
His blunt words cut through you like a knife, piercing your heart as if he stabbed you directly with his claws.
“Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking—” you mutter.
“‘Cause if we’re gonna fuck, I just want you to know I don’t have any protection or anything. Unless you’re into that. Then, I guess it’s fine.”
“What?” You’re actually stunned at what he’s saying.
“Well, you’re super-hot, so I’m down to fuck. I just don’t have any—”
You tackle him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you straddle his lap and press your lips to his.You moan into him as you open your mouth for him to press his tongue inside.
He pulls away again, “So you’re cool about—”
“Shut up and fuck me,” you command.
He surpresses his chuckle with a sudden moan as you grind your body against his. You thought he’d be more dominant, yet you’re the one in control as you paw at his clothes, searching for the heat of his skin. You move your lips to his neck, focusing on the taste of his salty skin.
“Oh fuck,” he moans. “Fuck this is so hot.”
“I told you so.”
You feel your own arousal growing as you grind against the hardness between his legs. It presses against your clothed sex, making you moan into his mouth. He lets you shove your tongue inside as he kisses you sloppily. You pull off his jacket, tossing it aside and your hands pull his T-shirt out from where it’s tucked into the cloth wrapped around his waist. You slide your hands under his shirt resting them on his stomach. Feeling his toned abs flexing under the warmth of his skin. His own hands find your hips, helping you grind against him.
You capture his lower lip in your teeth, biting just a little bit, earning an eager giggle from him. Pulling away, you look at him. His eyes are half lidded, drunk on lust and pleasure. He leans forward to try and capture a kiss from you again, intoxicated on everything you’re giving him.
“Is this better than the neurotoxin?” you ask.
“This is better than anything. Are we really gonna fuck? I wanna fuck you.” He squeezes your ass hard with a smirk on his lips. “Is it my turn?”
“What do you mean your turn?”
“I’ve never done this before, so you gotta give me a little guidance here.”
His inexperience actually surprises you. He’s candidly so horny and open about it that it never even occurred to you that maybe nobody ever actually fucked him. The realization makes your heart sink for a moment, feeling like you’re corrupting him before you remember who it is that’s under you, and that feeling is swiftly replaced by a sick excitement.
“Do everything to me that I just did to you,” you command.
He grabs your waist and flips you around so you’re lying against the ground under him. He positions himself so his hard-on is right against you, rubbing your clit through the fabric of your clothes. He kisses at your neck, sucking hard and being sure to leave marks. His bruising kisses are sloppy and wet as he licks at your skin, nipping along your pulse as if he can’t get enough. Pulling your shirt off, he makes his way down to your tits, covering them in lewd hickeys as he paws at them. It’s only then that he notices.
“Woah, you have nipple piercings?!” he exclaims with surprise.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I didn’t think you’d be someone who has that!”
You loop your arms around his neck and pull his face towards yours. “Well, that’s our little secret now, isn’t it?”
He kisses you with a hunger that can’t be satiated as he rocks his pelvis against yours. You pull off his shirt as well, letting your bare skin touch each other. He feels hot against you as you run your hand down his torso. Little bumps of raised scars litter his torso in sporadic spots. Despite this, his skin was soft under your fingertips. He sheds the loose fabric around his hips, giving you better access to what’s inside his pants. Grabbing his length, he hisses and moans into your mouth while you stroke him.
“Oh, fuck. I think I’m gonna cum already,” he moans against your lips.
“You wanna be a good boy? Hold it for me and show me you have at least a little bit of self-control.”
“I wanna touch you. Can I touch you?” he begs against your mouth as he ruts into your hand.
You take his hand and slide it beneath the waistband of your pants. “Do it like this.”
“Holy shit,” he mewls when his fingers make contact, “you’re so wet. Do I really turn you on this much?”
He pushes against your clit, trying to figure out the quickest way to make you come undone. His ministrations are rough, but he soon realizes there’s even more of you to explore. Dipping his finger in, he slides his middle finger into your hole.
“It’s so warm ,” he coos. “I bet it’ll feel so good on my cock.”
You pull your hand out of his pants and roughly grab his face, squeezing his cheeks as you pull his mouth to yours. “Do you ever stop fucking talking.”
“No,” he says between kisses.
“If you’re not gonna shut up, then fuck me with your mouth.”
He bites his lip with a giggle, pulling your pants all the way off. Your underwear is coated with your slick, and the fabric peels away as your cunt is exposed to him. He’s nearly salivating at the sight; not wasting a single moment to dive in and taste you fully. He hums against you, lapping up your juices between your folds like he’s starving. The sounds he makes are more than lewd, and you’re really hoping no one can hear. You can’t suppress your moans as his tongue flicks at your clit. The muscle presses against the bud before sucking. You moan, unable to hold back as you feel your climax building on his tongue. Jabber doesn’t let you finish though. He pulls away briefly to line himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing himself in.
A look of complete bliss crosses his features. “Holy fuck. Oh, fuck you feel so good.”
You gasp as he pushes himself all the way in. He wastes no time pulling out and slamming back into you. His hands find your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he thrusts. He finds a rhythm, and your hands search for something to grab onto. You find his face and pull him to you. He readjusts before pounding into you even faster. At this angle, your hands trail down his toned back until they settle on his ass. You rock your hips into his, grinding on him and fucking him back. You feel your climax building once more.
“Let yourself go. You can be free with me. Your greatest desire—anything—I’ll give it to you,” he pants.
“You’re so toxic.” You moan into his mouth when he kisses you again.
“I know. Want me to be your poison? I’ll be your poison. I’ll be anything for you if you keep fucking me like this.”
His words twist themselves into your head until he finally pushes you over the edge. The sweet intoxication ricochets through your body in waves. Jabber pulls out, painting your body with himself before he comes down as well. He crawls over you, pressing another kiss to your lips. Even with your body and mind spent, you can’t help but want more. Your mind is reeling—your body longs for his touch as he pulls away to dress himself again.
“That was fun. We should do it again sometime.” He smiles warmly. “The boss will probably want us soon, so hurry and get cleaned up, ‘kay?”
It makes you feel sick. Your stomach ties itself into knots. The whole ordeal ended as quickly as it started. You’ve tasted the delicious poisonberry and now it’s too late.
You’re addicted to him.
“Okay,” you reply.