Chapter Text
Your life at the cleaners is, as basic as it may sound, good. Simple, the pay is good, the boss is great, your colleagues are okay. They’re all a little deranged in their own ways, yourself included. But really, who on the ground isn’t? All the best givers have more than just a couple screws loose. Perhaps a necessary adaptation to survival in this trash heap of a world.
There has never been anyone you really clicked with. Most of the main branch basically consisting of kids and their supervisors, with the occasional oddball sprinkled in. All either too young, too weird, or too normal for you to hang out with. As part of team Danger, you also don’t really partake in group missions that make the bond of the other cleaners so strong.
That in no way means you’re a recluse though. When you feel like it and time allows it, its not above you to get a drink with them every now and then. HQ’s receptionist is cool, and the Adderoy twins along with Mildretta from the Southern branch are quite alright for a night out too.
You don’t mind things like they are at all. Cleaning trash beasts is your job, so your co-workers do not need to be any more than just that.
There is, however, one single person of your fellow cleaners that is a thorn in your eye. Frustratingly, for no concrete reason either. Which only makes the thorn sting sharper. You don’t see him often, but when you do, you can’t help feel on edge and irritated. Tamsy Caines has this thing about him. Its strange and subtle, but you notice. The way he carries himself, the almost sarcastic air in all of his overly friendly quips and gestures. That freakish light blue glint in his eyes when he notices you noticing. It irks you.
Until recently though, you haven’t been paying it too much mind. Sure its annoying, but sometimes peoples vibes and personality just clash with your own. Can’t get along with everyone, after all.
Word spreads quickly about the young giver spherite that fell to the ground, and lived. This was already highly unusual. Apparently, team Akuta’s leader had found him and promptly recruited the boy. Unfortunately, you couldn’t make it to his welcome party, you would’ve loved to hear his story.
Even stranger was it when the boss summoned you to his office for an important task.
Corvus told you vaguely about Rudo, (you learned is the spherites name) his plans to return to the Sphere to avenge his father, Team Akuta & Eager’s trip to the desert no-mans land, their encounter with the Lady of Penta, Amo, and how they learned of her puzzling fate during the Raider’s trash storm incident.
Her vital instrument has been in the hands of the Raider’s, but according to Rudo, they did not even know of Amo’s existence as a person. Meaning a third party likely abducted her.
Separating a giver from their vital instrument is always bad, but especially so when their instrument is part of the Watchman series. According to your boss, the girl is also very important to Rudo, and her unclear whereabouts were causing him great distress.
That is where you would come into play, and how you got tasked with investigating her disappearance, while Corvus is busy dealing with the very angry Hell Guard after the Raiders’ artificial trash beast came down crashing and burning on a few civilians.
Luckily, you already know exactly where and how to get started on this job.
Coincidentally, just as you leave the boss’ office, you witness Semiu and Gris at the front desk conversing, and then bidding goodbye to none other than Tamsy, dressed strangely casual.
You watch him look over his shoulder as he turns to leave. He looks you straight in the eye, and smiles.
Just like that, you’re pissed off again. But at least its settled. Time to find out if your subconscious dislike for the man is warranted.
Shadowing Tamsy is far from easy. He is incredibly careful and perceptive, and he hides it well.
Its a real change from the usual violent trash beast clobbering. Following your target and never letting him out of your sight while making sure you go unnoticed, is thrilling. It makes you feel like a predator stalking its prey.
With a mix of glee and fury, you watch Tamsy trot to a secluded area, where he clears away some rubble, checks his surroundings and disappears under a large trapdoor.
You wait a while before swiftly following suit.
Descending a winding, rocky staircase, you cant help but marvel at the large, candle-lit stone walls surrounding you. Using your vital instrument in a closed spaces like this one, especially underground was out of the question. If bad came to worse, you could handle Tamsy without it. There is always another weapon that you wield very well strapped to you for cases like this. Even without it, you’re strong, and incredible at hand to hand combat.
The though of beating that pretty face black and blue with your bare fists makes your skin tingle excitedly. Unconsciously, you put some pep in your step and stride down the stairs 2 steps at a time.
They didn't put you in team Danger for nothing.
You reach the bottom of the stairs. They open up into a maze of dark and gloomy corridors, forming what can only be described as a dungeon.
After lightly stepping along dark hallways and carefully rounding a few corners, all of your suspicions are horrifyingly confirmed at once.
You freeze as you peer past a stone wall, down a corridor. At its end, Tamsy is crouched down before the thick metal bars of a crude cell. Within, someone is held up by chains on their wrist. Limp and slumped over. Someone small and delicate. A girl. Scarf around her neck, a small bow on her chest. Long, dark hair. Bright orange at the tips.
Amo.
Your fingers dig into the rough rock they’re pressed against. You have to hold yourself back. Don't do anything rash. You keep watching.
Tamsy, seemingly already done with whatever he’s been doing to that girl, starts getting up. He dusts off his robes and hums, looking far too self satisfied and happy.
“Apologies. You’ll have to stay here just a bit longer.”
He quips to a clearly unresponsive Amo. He waves and smiles, starting to make his leave.
Enough is enough.
You thank whatever higher power might be watching above that you went wholly unnoticed this entire time.
That way, Tamsy is caught fully off guard by you crashing into him out of the dark.
He yelps in surprise when you roughly snatch him by the collar and slam him against the nearest wall with a loud thud.
Tamsy flicks his wrist, and there's a rustle from underneath his wide sleeve. The blue tip of his wooden distaff peeks out, he tries activating it, but you're faster.
One powerful jab to Tamsy's elbow joint and his whole arm goes limp. Tokushin uselessly clatters to the ground and he grunts in pain. Just for good measure, you push his vital instrument a few more meters out of his reach with a nudge of your foot.
You push your forearm firmly against Tamsy's throat, pushing him tighter against the wall with an intense glare. His other arm flies up to grip at yours.
Its really quite a pleasure to see the usually so relaxed Tamsy like this. Helpless, teeth gritted, face contorted with shock and bewilderment.
"You. Just what the hell do you think you're doing here?" You hiss.
You feel Tamsy struggle to swallow against the pressure of your arm. His eyes flit across your face before going wide in recognition.
Caught red handed, defenseless, and pinned against a wall, this bastard still has the audacity to wheeze out a chuckle.
"I.. could a- ask you the.. same.." He manages to sound lighthearted.
But you’re not in a joking mood at all. Such a long time of harboring an underlying distrust for this guy, and now you finally have a very good reason to not just dislike, but hate him. Your blood angrily runs hotter with every heavy pump of your heart. You try your best to ignore the other warm, throbbing feeling spreading in your body. You narrow your eyes at him. A warning.
“I’m not playing around. I’m here on direct order of the boss. Answer me or I’ll make you.” You state.
Tamsy raises his eyebrows curiously, your threat outwardly having the exact opposite effect than intended.
“Oh, ‘make me’ ? And exactly how would you do that, hm?” He retorts, cocking his head to the side and blinking at you innocently.
God how badly you want to tear your hands into that lithe body and rip all the smugness and feigned cluelessness out of him by force.
You take a deep breath in to steel yourself. Slowly, you pull your elbow back until your hand is on the same height as Tamsy’s neck. You breathe out, and demonstratively press your palm against his sternum, the tips of your fingers resting on the pulse points beneath his jawline.
Not yet with enough pressure to hurt, but you flex your hand threateningly, making sure that Tamsy feels the raw power rippling beneath your skin. The readiness to crush the delicate bones of his cervical spine at any moment.
Tamsy’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. He looks down, and runs his eyes along the arm pinning him. His eyes meet yours, and he grins.
Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.
“Talk.” You demand tightly, leaning in closer and putting on your best menacing glare.
“Hmm.” Tamsy looks up and purses his lips, as if he’s pondering a question.
You can feel your own eye twitch at the display. You consider just knocking him our right here, he can be interrogated later. Even though the boss hadn’t said anything about not hurting people, you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t be too happy about you bashing another cleaners head in before getting some answers.
Tamsy looks back at you, the corner of his mouth quirks up.
“No thanks!” He giggles.
The knuckles of your left fist connect with Tamsy’s nose the second the words leave his mouth. The wet crunch of breaking cartilage rings in your ears like salvation.
Tamsy's hands clutch at his nose, his mouth hangs open but no sound comes out. Finally shocked into silence.
That felt so unbelievably good, you have to battle the urge to do it again just for fun.
Tamsy's eyes go comically wide with horror as he slowly draws his quivering hands away from his face, fingers red and wet from the blood still oozing thickly out of one of his nostrils.
You make sure to engrave the sight deeply in your mind.
It stirs something in you. The closest thing to compare it to would be a primal instinct. Like fight or flight, but much more fierce, and hungrier. Not simply a reaction, but the initiating action. As if you're a starving hound that just picked up a fresh trail.
Your heart rate goes up, you can hear it deep within your body, pushing and urging.
More, more, more..
Tamsy looks at his hands, and then at you. The disbelief in his expression is hilarious on someone who you're pretty sure has never spoken an honest sentence before. It brings you back from your roaring thoughts for a moment.
You can’t help but snort.
"What? Don't tell me princess has never taken a punch to the face before?" You scoff.
When Tamsy doesn't reply, you snatch up both of his wrists in one hand and pin them above his head.
You press closer, close enough to whisper your next words into his ear.
“You know..” Slowly, your other hand finds the handle of the knife bound to your thigh. You feel Tamsy jolt next to you. “My hands are far from the worst way I can make it hurt.” At that, a full body shiver runs through him. You lean back, unsheathe the blade and bring it up to Tamsy’s face, letting its tip rest on his plump lower lip. He looks at you, dazed and apprehensive.
You tilt your head to the side and blink at him. Mocking the way he had done moments ago. You raise your voice to the same innocent, airy tone.
“Hmm? What happened to that smart mouth of yours all of a sudden?” You lightly tap the knife, clinking where it hits Tamsy’s piercing.
Now, its your turn to grin smugly.
“Cat’s got your tongue?”
You cant really say that you're proud of everything that transpires from here. Was it good, exhilarating, and even a little mind blowing? Yes. Did Tamsy deserve it, and strangely also relish in it? Also yes. Are you glad that you finally found someone that perfectly matches whatever is wrong with you? Maybe. Do you like Tamsy Caines just a little bit after all this? No. Stop asking questions.
At least if you play your cards right, no one will ever have to know about any of this.
In response to your question, Tamsy fucking whimpers. He parts his lips to let the cool metal slide into his mouth slightly. He tongues at its sharp side, metal scraping on metal.
Because of fucking course he has a tongue piercing too. He runs the tip of his tongue along the edge of the knife, all while keeping an intense eye contact. Cheeks pink and eyes lidded.
Oh. So its like that. Its been like that.
Really, you feel a little stupid for not noticing earlier.
This whole time you’ve been trying to intimidate Tamsy, threatening him with words and a taste of your prowess as a fighter to try and get him to fess up, and all it did was turn him on. Great.
And oh if this whole situation isn't just perfect. You are alone in some dark dungeon, with a stupidly beautiful, evil man up against you who is eye-fucking you with a knife shoved down his throat.
You don't think about it for long, make hay while the sun shines or something. Professionalism be damned. You don’t often get to let loose like this. Fuck it.
Your grin cracks into derangement. All little remaining self control (and probably sanity as well) go flying out the window.
“You’d like that huh?” The knife inches down his throat further as you get closer.
“If I cut out your filthy lying tongue out clean right now..” You muse. “Could take it home with me as a trophy and leave you here to gargle on your own blood.”
Tamsy, not the least taken aback by your sudden devotion, nods dumbly and moans. Low and breathy.
Oh, he’s gonna get it bad.
You feel a push against your knife and gladly comply, meeting the resistance until a drop deep red trickles down your hand.
You yank your hand back, making sure to nick Tamsy’s lip on the way back.
You bark out a laugh and step back, letting go of him completely. You watch him lean back against the wall, panting, shaking and bleeding, knees canted inwards. Pride swells in your chest.
“Absolutely vile.” You eye him with distaste. “Not even trying to get away or fight back anymore.” You click your tongue, and step back into Tamsy’s space. He eyes the floor, watching a small puddle of his own blood form on the floor.
You bring the knife under his chin, using it to tilt his head back up to look at you.
“Well-“ His voice is small and garbling “You’re not exactly doing what's in your job description here either-“
You surge forward, retracting the knife at his throat and roughly replacing it with your hand instead. The back of Tamsy’s head knocks against the wall with the force of it.
This time, you don't bother holding back. You tighten your grip until you can hear Tamsy wheezing, wet and painful, breaths barely making it in and out of his bloody, constricted airways.
What a magnificent sound.
“Still have some backtalk in you..” You sigh. “Oh well.” You smile encouragingly while digging your nails into the sensitive scar tissue on Tamsy’s neck.
“Let’s change that, shall we?” You murmur, low and dangerous. Tamsy makes a pathetic, strangled sound and squirms weakly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
You shove your palm against his trachea while clamping your thumb and index finger down on his jugular veins. You hold him there firmly.
Tamsy’s face gradually turns a fascinating shade of purple-ish blue from the lack of air and blood oxygen. You flip the stained knife in your other hand around, sliding the now down-pointed blade behind the collar of Tamsy’s dark blue robe.
His mouth splits open into a wobbly smile. You pull down, slicing the fabric cleanly apart. A pink mix of blood and saliva slips from the corner of his mouth.
You angle your knife and push forward until it barely breaks the porcelain skin of Tamsy’s chest. You can see his knees buckling as he presses his thighs together tightly and gags, struggling for breath around your iron grip.
You tear your hand town the rest of the way, exposing all of Tamsy’s scarred torso. It leaves a thin cut stretching from in between his pecs, across his smooth abdomen all the way to his hip bone. Tamsy’s back arches off the wall and he chokes on what you can only guess is probably a moan.
Bright eyes darken, rolling into the back of his head, dimming with the tell tale absence of near-unconsciousness.
Looks like you were right on the money. You can’t think of any other mission that has filled you with this much self satisfaction.
Being in full control of something essential as breathing, you could kill him right now. What unfathomable imbalance of power. Life and death willingly put in your hands. Its a feeling so intoxicating you have to be careful not to get addicted. But focusing your full attention back on Tamsy, you realize it might already be far, far too late for that.
Clothes torn apart, hair disheveled, he jitters and quivers in your grasp. Like a dove in the fangs of a rabid fox. There are tears welling in his eyes, threatening to spill over those long, sand-colored lashes and joining the messy smear of spit, blood, and cold sweat on his face.
Contradicting the lack of pretty much anything reaching his brain, Tamsy’s face is somehow flushed a deep pink.
Despite most definitely being on the verge of passing out, if not already in the process, Tamsy looks as if he’s having the best, most stimulating time of his life.
Its looks so obscene you don't know if you want to laugh or cum on the spot.
Tamsy is writhing below you, his hands finally fly up to claw at your wrist and arm. You think that finally, it came to him to fight back. Maybe an uncontrollable reflex of the body activating in the face of death.
In hindsight, you really should’ve known better.
Because instead of wrenching you away, he pulls your hand closer against himself, demanding, urging you. Harder. Tighter. More.
And good god if by some miracle you haven’t gone borderline insane until this moment, you sure as hell are now.
Refusing to give the little shit what he wants, you release him unceremoniously.
Gasping hysterically, Tamsy immediately falls to his knees, your hand around his neck apparently the only thing that's been holding him upright.
He scrabbles around your feet, sucking in air so hard his entire body heaves with it. “Oh, God- oh my god- ah-“ He shakes his head, hands coming up to feel around his bruised throat frantically, then the floor beneath him, and finally your legs. “why-“ Tamsy fists the fabric of your pants and snaps his head up to you, eyes blown wide, brows furrowed.
“Why’d you stop?!” He rasps, looking genuinely distraught.
What an absurd question. You try to stifle a hearty laugh, with mild success. The crease in between Tamsy’s eyes only deepens in confusion.
“First of all,” You begin. “Don't just touch me like that.” With a firm kick to the chest, you send Tamsy toppling back against the wall. “You dirty freak.”
“Second of all,” You continue, closing the distance between you and him with a single, long stride. “I’m still very far from done with you”
You punctuate your sentence by roughly planting your foot in between Tamsy’s spread legs. Squarely onto the very obvious tent at the front of his pants that you’ve been aware of for quite some time now.
Tamsy moans so loud that his still brittle voice quickly cracks and crumbles into feeble sobs and hiccups.
“There we are” You coo. “ You’re a little less hard to look at like this!”
You grind your heel downwards. Tamsy damn near wails, tossing his head back and scraping his nails over rough rock underneath, arms and legs shaking.
When you shift almost your entire weight to the foot on Tamsy’s erection, he can’t take it anymore. You watch with amusement as Tamsy brackets his thighs around your calf with an intense whine and desperately thrusts his hips against you.
“Hmm, just a little bitch in heat after all. What a shame.” Your voice oozes with condescension.
“Uhh..h- uh..” Tamsy keens, the very last of his restraint slipping as he grabs at your leg, increasing the painful friction on his aching dick. He grits his teeth and bites down on the cut in his lip, whimpering. “Please, please- I’m-!”
“Oh please don’t start. Begging isn’t gonna get you anywhere with me.” You smirk, and promptly tug your leg away.
Tamsy makes a pained, choked off sound. He keels over and thuds his balled fists against the floor in frustration.
“Unngh.. why-“ He croaks. “I- was so, so close..” What a pitiful view. Except that you couldn’t be paid to feel bad.
You squat down, grabbing a handful of Tamsy’s long, blue-blond hair, roughly pulling back and forcing him to look at you. Tamsy mewls.
His eyes are wet and glassy, turning his hazy irises into blurry pools of gold.
He sniffles, big-eyed with his jutted lips painted a shimmering crimson. If you were just anyone, It’d be sad and touching enough to give in. But you’re you, and he knows that by now.
The fact he’s even attempting cheap tactics like pulling a puppy dog face like that pisses you off. It feels like Tamsy is making fun of you, thinking lowly enough of you to mock you with crap like this. Slutty and disrespectful. Gross.
“Quit it with the bullshit. I'm not stupid so don’t yank on my chain.” You sneer. Anger, distaste, and arousal twist together in your gut deliciously. You tighten your grip on Tamsy’s hair enough to feel a few strands ripping out of his scalp. “You look like a cheap whore right now. We both know that you’re having a fucking blast.”
Tamsy shivers, biting down on his lip hard to suppress a sound. He spreads his knees apart, and subtly tries to grind against the floor.
You sigh, he’ll never learn. Maybe he doesn’t want to. Fine by you, you’re gonna be nice tonight.
You untangle your hand from his hair to shove him down until the entirety of his back is flat against the ground.
You practically pounce on top of him, pinning his elbows down with your knees, upper body overlying his with an unreadable expression.
He pants short and quick breaths under you, sclerae showing in fright.
A hyena toying with an injured antelope.
You straddle Tamsy in a way that ensures he doesn't get a lick of pressure where he needs it most. He whines, and still tries to thrust his hips up against you.
Lighting fast, your knife is back at his neck, your faces only an inch apart. Tamsy’s breath hitches.
“What if I just slit your throat right here.” You say coldly.
“Then..” Tamsy whispers back “You’ll never know why I did any of this..” Daringly, he lets his mouth quirk into a smirk.
You press closer, barely a few millimeters. Eyes wide and never leaving Tamsy’s.
“So what?”
You breathe, keeping your tone devoid and indecipherable. A hairs width closer with the brutal pressure you keep on the handle, and it’d be over. Your trusty blade would sink into the muscle beneath it like butter. Easily tearing through his windpipe and vital arteries.
You carefully watch Tamsy.
He’s gone still under you. His eyes are still wide, but his milky pupils have gone tiny. Slender eyebrows furrowed, creasing and forming uncharacteristic wrinkles all over his soft face. His lips are parted slightly, but you can he his teeth nearly grinding together behind them with how tightly his jaw is clenched.
And ah, finally. There it is. Some genuine emotion. How exciting.
You grin. Tamsy slowly, hesitantly, exhales.
You sit up and watch him, almost bored.
Languidly, you let your knife brush across Tamsy’s neck, along his jaw, over the shell of his ear, and eventually let it settle on his left cheekbone.
“Pretty nasty scar you've got there” you hum. “Did you know that I absolutely detest asymmetric things?” You raise a questioning eyebrow at him before hissing. “Makes me sick.”
Tamsy’s body is wracked by an intense shiver, he exhales shakily as you feel him press his thighs together.
He looks up at you.
“Yeah?” You know a challenge when you see one.
You place your index finger on the spine of your knife, thinking for a moment. “Yeah.”
Then, you sharply twist your wrist downwards in a zig-zag motion, etching an ugly line across his cheek that crudely matches his scar on the other side.
“Oh- FUCK yeah..!” Tamsy gasps and flinches, rapidly blinking his teary eyes. To your delight, the jerky movement makes the wound more uneven.
“Much better.” You purr.
Deciding that you’ve beautified his face enough for today, you move lower.
You let your knife scrape down his neck sideways, spreading the blood that flows there like butter on toast.
You ghost over his collarbone, tracing the outlines of the mysterious scars spread across his chest, deliberately pressing down just a little harder over the long cut from earlier.
You circle each of his perked nipples with the pointy tip of your knife. Tamsy suddenly twitches under you so intensely you almost stab him through the heart.
“Ah! Ohh- t- thats-“ He arches into it as far as he can, and whines. “So good...!”
Right. That's not a good sound. He is enjoying himself too much again, and there's no way you’re letting that happen.
You wipe each side of the blood-stained blade clean on the fabric bunching around Tamsy’s shoulder, gently re-sheathing your knife. Always so helpful, making every mission smooth and easy. You remind yourself to properly clean and sharpen it when you get back. If you were ever to gain a second Jinki, it would be this.
You look back at Tamsy and wrinkle your nose.
That irritating, very punchable smile was back. “Oh?” He rasps. “Finished with me already? I really hoped you team Danger folk would put up a bit m-mhrrpf-!"
You roughly ram the edge of your hand against the underside of his chin. You close your fingers and grasp his face, feeling Tamsy’s teeth click shut under your palm.
“Shut the fuck up.” You drawl gruffly.
Unexpectedly, Tamsy does.
You turn his head from side to side, examining his face like a jeweler estimating the quality of a rock.
His thick eyelashes are clumped together. Finally overflowing, fat tears roll down his cheeks. From what or why, you don't give a damn. All you know is that it looks absolutely divine. They mix with the drying blood crusting around his nose and mouth, leaving pretty light-red streaks where they trickle down his temples.
His (admittedly very adorable) nose is swollen, gorgeous blue and purple bruises beginning to bloom where you shattered it with your fist.
The jagged scars across his torso are disrupted by a clean swath of red.
Perhaps your favorite part however, is the discolored skin around Tamsy's neck, the shape of your hand still perfectly recognizable.
You hum, satisfied.
"A little word of advice,” Squishing his cheeks together, you force another small gush of blood from the fresh cut under his eye. "You should let yourself get beaten to a pulp more often, its not a bad look on you."
Despite being battered, cut up and crying, Tamsy’s expression is relaxed and easy. He looks up at you through lidded eyes. His smile is full of tenderness.
If you hadn’t been there, you’d think he just came, and gazing at his lover in the aftermath of it. He didn’t, you made sure of that. He wasn’t-
Bile rises in your throat. You feel like throwing up.
"How god damn revolting you are.” You spit.
“Even in this world filled to the brim with nothing but trash, finding things as disgusting as you is rare." You tell Tamsy, running your fingers over his chest and casually writing your name down with his warm blood. You sit up and eye him sharply.
"So, we're doing this again." You declare. "Tomorrow, your room, after dark. Try anything or don't show up, and I'm telling Corvus about your little side hustle here."
You stand, looming over him to take a good final look at your handiwork. Tamsy is still softly smiling at you, looking fucked out and ruined. Its kind of uncanny. As you sober up from your high, it also makes that all to familiar uncomfortable feeling you usually associate with Tamsy return.
You scrunch your nose and gather a gratuitous amount of saliva in your mouth before spitting it out with a wretch, directly onto the fresh cut across Tamsy's chest. He doesn’t react. You sniff dissapointedly before shrugging. Whatever.
"Well, until next time, Caines." You snarl his last time.
He only closes his eyes and sighs contently, oddly wistful.
What a weird guy.
You shrug and straighten up, quickly making your way to finally free poor Amo from this madman.