Questionable Interests (Translucentfeathers & Goddess)

Damien tugged his coat around him a little bit tighter, the biting cold of winter lancing through the layers of clothing he wore as he walked through campus. It had been almost an entire month of nearly complete silence, the blessed quiet of the winter holidays were drawing to a close though, and he found himself dreading the return of the noisy boisterous crowds of students clogging up the sidewalks, crowding the coffee shops and just in general being more of a problem than a help.

With a brief indignant huff, a hand reached up to brush his dark hair from his eyes. Damien had never really been accepted within the normal cliche cliques and groups, his biting humor steered the more alternative ascribing conformists away from him just as much as his darker style made the more bubble gum drop ditz and jock squads feel uncomfortable. Highschool had been a hellacious experience and he was grateful for his ability to graduate and escape it's stereotypes and blanket made assumptions. In college he found there were still the cliques, still the cliches but there was a wider range and broader selection of people that helped filter some of it. Shoving his hands into the front pockets of his black pants, he shrugged his coat further around himself as he huddled against the wind.

The house he stayed in was offered up by his great aunt in a will, something else that drove an even thicker wedge between the already strained relationship he had with his mother. He shook his head though, unwilling to focus on her now. The little home was a small two level with two bedrooms, one bathroom, small kitchen and living room and a large unused basement. Damien had been posting advertisements for a roommate and was hoping to find someone who would keep to themselves and offer Damien the ability to focus on his...darker interests. It made him different, much more so than the thick black hair with slashes of dark blue and occasional green or red depending on the month peeking through over his eyes. The black clothes he consistantly wore, the woven bracelets and leather bands that wrapped around his wrists, the ink he kept hidden under long thick clothes in the winter and lip piercing he worked with his tongue when he was thinking...all of it made him different, but not quite as different as this hidden interest did.

Damien was studying forensic psychology and he focused in on serial killers with an unhealthy fascination until it bled into every corner of his life from the books he read, the movies he watched and the tv he occasionally saw. He found an odd sense of comfort in it, an odd sense of belonging within a realm so inexplicably dark and taboo, a world he had dabbled in and brushed against on more than one instance.

With a brief sigh he unlocked the front door of the house and slipped inside, the dark heated interior welcoming. The furniture was all black and the walls were painted dark navy in color. He had thrown out all of the simple decorations and bright paintings that had made the house look inviting, finding more comfort in the dark colors than he did in trinkets and framed artwork. With a gentle hum he shrugged out of his jacket and slipped over to the couch to pull out his laptop and check his email. No inquiries about the ad he had put up on the bulletin boards both on campus and on the school's website.

With a shake of his head he noticed a new message from someone though, a brief surge of excitement rushing through him in a way that made him question just what this online friendship was doing to his sanity. He let a small smile slip over his pale face as Damien's dark eyes clicked open the message from the academics website he had joined in the summer as a way to try and get some second opinions revolving around the classes he had signed up for and then again to get constructive criticism on the papers he had to write the first few weeks along with finals.

Most of the users were useless and left him either frustrated or pissed as they blathered on incessantly trying to explain the unexplainable and pretended to know things when their ignorance shined through their words blatantly. One had caught his eye, and the respect seemed mutual as their correspondence became more relaxed and drifted from academic discussion to an almost...friendly manner. It was odd, Damien didn't make friends. Sure, he could be social and knew the nuances of how to communicate and talk to people, he just hated pandering and idle small talk. With a smile though he fired off a message in reply to the one he had received.

You managed to survive the winter and holiday hell? Fantastic to hear. I stayed on campus for it, though the returning swarms of brain dead hipsters and neurotic under grads have slowly made their way back with classes starting next Monday. Spent the winter break watching documentaries, returning video tapes and chopping up some bastard I picked up at a bar last week. You know, normal day to day. What courses did you sign up for this semester? -glassmask363

He smirked at the movie reference of one of his favorite films, lacing the message with the usual thread of dark humor before hitting send. Damien let out a sigh as he leaned back and stretched, wondering how long it would be before he found a new roommate.

The winter cheer, the festivities, the Christian prayers and the continuous asks from each family member they visited about whether he'd gotten a girlfriend yet, winter holidays were pure hell. After a lifetime, you'd think Joe would be used to the fake smiles and the teasing, but after the taste of freedom college was, returning to his family life was almost unbearable. He'd always been the perfect son: good grades, popular, a good Christian; exactly everything he didn't care about. A sheltered young man from a strict Catholic private school, he was all too used to hiding his feelings, to feeling bad about everything he was and how it was denounced the bible. In reality, though, he wanted to be nothing like that.

Joseph Jacob Santiago, or Joe as he was most commonly known by, had experienced in college a level of freedom, both about his thoughts and his identity, that he'd never felt in all his years in high school. He had felt so unable to control the events in his life, trying to fit into a mold that was never meant for him, that he felt as if everything about him was wrongly made and made him question the value of his own existence. In college, however, none of this mattered: not his brand-name polos nor his lack of interest in his female form, and there were even people with morbid enough interests to want to learn more about people even more obsessed with control and death than he was: serial killers.

That forum correspondence was pretty much what kept him sane, what kept Joe going, and what led him to the conclusion that he needed to move out. Between that and repeated visits to a local dungeon, he knew that he had to look for a place to stay, and searched online for a place, ideally with not too many roommates, and with no need for friendships or social nonsense: he was so tired of faking who he was and just wanted some privacy to be himself. With his campus email, he dropped a letter of interest to Damian, not knowing it was the closest he had to a true friend from his online correspondence.

Hello, this is Joseph Santiago, a fellow first year. I am sending you this email to corroborate the availability of the place and the price. I would be available to move in as soon as possible, if we arrange a showing of the place? Thank you for your time

It was so tedious to be so overly polite, but he did what was considered best in this society. It didn't take him long to move from the wanted ads to the academic forum he so often frequented. It was not only a place where he could read and receive feedback on his work and the works of others, but it was there he'd found a kindred spirit with a humor as dark as his and as much interest in the topic as he had. The message hadn't been received long ago at all before he started off his reply.

Barely, man, I almost went on a serious spree. I had half a mind to kill half of them and maim the rest, but if I did that, I'd never be able to keep ritual killing from jail. I swear, they are lucky I love them and that I'm one of the most likely suspects. You know, I managed to snag a Psych class with professor Howard, the one who specializes in abnormal? And I managed to get BioPsych and General Bio 2. Half of the class we have to take are bullshit: I had to jam a class about the ethics of psychology and psychology as a profession. I think they just don't know what else to give to us. You? See any good documentaries this break?
-acriminalsmind

After sending the message on the forum site Damien ran a hand through his hair, pushing the thick dyed strands away from his eyes to switch browsers and bring up his email. There was an email from some guy named Joseph, it was polite and impersonal which had him raising an eyebrow, unable to gather anything from the message that would give him a clue as to what the sender was like. His fingers slipped over the keys lightly, easily, as he typed out a quick response.


Well Mr Santiago, I would be interested in meeting you to discuss the the lease as well and go things. Feel free to swing by tonight, if you would like. I will be home all evening.


Damien added the address of his home to the bottom before sending the replying email off. He stared quietly at the screen for a moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he wondered if this idea was worth it. It was a risk bringing a stranger into his life, his space, that could result in lethal consequences if Damien wasn't careful. With a grimace he shifted to set the laptop down on the couch next to him before pushing himself to his feet and heading into the kitchen.

He opened the fridge, eyes scanning the barren shelves before settling on an apple, plucking the red fruit up before slipping over the sink to work the faucet and rinse it off. It wasn't as if he didn't have any sense of control. Control told kept him from slamming the corner of his textbook down on the fingers of his classmate when they brushed too close to his belongings or invaded his space on the tables in class. Control had a smile plastered to his face and kept his hands clenched in his pockets when some other student caught him after class to prattle away incessantly about some shallow, small talk style chatter, instead of giving into the glare and desire to smack them until their head spun. Control kept the air pushing in and out of his lungs in quiet, steady even breaths when he wanted to do nothing more than scream at the top of his lungs to fill the silence of empty nights when his thoughts became too much to bear. He wanted to just give in, to just shred every little bit of control he clung to so desperately and just let himself get lost in the rush and bliss behind not always being in such riginld constraints.

Damien didn't realize his hands were shaking until the knife he had plucked up to cut the freshly washed apple grazed his thumb, cutting into the flesh and coaxing a curse from his lips as he dropped the blade on the counter before reaching for a dish towel. The cut wasn't deep and he tended to it easily, cleaning it out and bandaging his injured hand before tossing the ruin apple into the waste bin, instead settling this time for some questionable chinese leftovers he has ordered in that weekend. As he made his way back into the kitchen, he used the length of his sleeves tugged down below his fingers to manage the hot bowl that he had nuked in the microwave before settling back onto the couch, folding his legs underneath himself.

A new message indicator was flashing from the academic forum and he set the bowl down on the table carefully before freeing his hands from his sleeves, fingers wrapping around the laptop to drag it back over into his lap. A rare smile graced his face for a moment as he read over the message from the closest thing Damien had ever been able to consider as a friend. Of course there were people he talked to, share conversations and could mingle over social gatherings with but they only saw the outer shell. The fragment of himself he let out of the glass cage he hid his darker side behind, using humor and sarcasm to disguise himself as someone normal, someone acceptable.

With this faceless person who simply existed somewhere on the other side of another screen he felt like he could be himself and shed the facade for a moment, loosen that tight leash of control he kept over himself and just give into that darker side and those darker interests just a little. Damien's eyes flitted over the message and widened slightly at the mentioning of Professor Howard, he had genuinely enjoyed that man's take on things and had signed up for another course with him this semester as well. He tongued his lip ring, fiddling with the small cool silver band before beginning his reply, the uncharacteristic smile remaining on his face as he typed.


Well, you know what they say, sharing is caring, or some such nonsense, so feel free to send some of your undesirables my way should you feel overwhelmed whenever you do eventually lose your grip and go on that spree you have been dreaming of. And Howard isn't bad, took class this past semester with him. He let's you do your own thing within his curriculum as you stay within the general guidelines of the class structure. Ask him for some extra curricular reading, the man has quite a few good suggestions for further study and doesn't mind darker topics. There were a few good documentaries, one focused on the intricacies and detailings of psychosis by location, breaking down the statistics of different psychological abnormalities within cultures and the correlation betweem societal influences and psychogical abnormalities. As for tonight? Just finished mangaling my hand and I am about to choke back old chinese food. Debating a movie, any suggestions? Howabout you?~glassmask363


Damien sent off the reply before he went back to his food, stomach growling violently as he was reminded it had been nearly eleven hours since eating that rather interesting breakfast sandwich that morning from the limited services offered up at the dining hall when he was roaming campus at seven in the morning. Nothing but coffee fueling him for the better part of the day and the occasional stick of gum.

Joe had already begun packing, stuffing a suitcase with much needed items like underwear and his less preppy clothes along with items he never wanted his parents to find, like dildos, male erotica books and a couple of books about BDSM and accounts of well-known cases of serial killers. He'd gotten different covers for them, putting slipcovers of things from around the house like "The Fallacies of Evolution" and his psychology textbooks, but if there was a chance of him moving out, he didn't want to risk his relationship with his parents. The bing of his cell phone interrupted his packing, making him smile at the email request to meet him.

Thank you for the opportunity, I will meet you in two hours and look forward to doing business with you.

To his simple reply he added his phone number. If he really wanted to move out, he would tell his parents about it after he moved out of the house, since he had no intention of letting them know where he lived and he was sure they would keep intruding in his life if they did. He'd brought it up with them before, mentioning things like the full college experience and convenience, and they didn't seem to suspect a thing yet. Maybe this could be the beginning of him coming out to his parents, even, when he didn't have to fear life on the streets or being killed in his sleep. After all, he'd gotten his morbid imagination from somewhere and if they were anywhere near as creative as he was, and as against homosexuality as they said to be, he would have to make either his homicidal or suicidal thoughts a reality.

Thinking about it, it'd been a few weeks since his last thoughts of suicide, likely thanks to all the diversity and self acceptance he'd found in college. The venting with glassmask363 had likely helped a lot, and now that his bags were done, he wanted to get one last message in before going into the shower and hoping he'd finally gotten a chance to move out. If this went anything like he was hoping to, he might finally feel able to be himself and feel he had some semblance of control. And his unknown friend on the other side of the screen was becoming more and more one of his reasons to smile.

You know perfect murders like that never really work, the amount of messages between us would give you away. Don't worry, though, I'll invite you to my ritualistic killings instead to make up for it! Man, you got to take class with him last semester? I'm totally jealous! I had that boring class with McGuire, she managed to even make the ridiculous accolades of Sigmund Freud boring, if you can believe that. With Howard, I might finally get good information on psychopathy and sociopathy. Damn, sounds like you had a fun winter break! Send me a link sometime! Check out The Circle on Netflix. Its the best sociopolitical criticism I've seen in a while and the ending is ridiculously fucked up, in a good way. Its good for a good night of fun. And hey, if you want to mangle your hand, call me over! I'll do it for you and treat you afterwards. I'll be out for a while, so see you when I see you?"

With his message sent, he packed his bookbag and his suitcase in his junky old Niisan, which was likely as old as he was, and went to take a quick bath. The warm water helped him relax, focus into the man he wanted to pretend he was, if only for now, just a tiny bit more pretending. The water washed off him, dripping down his toned, strong body, his olive skin, down his abs, his thighs, his short brown hair clinging to his scalp. He gave himself a quick handie, the thought of being able to bring men to his room exhilarating, then washed off the cum down the drain. His fingers traced his tattoo, the molecule of oxitocin on his inner thigh, also wondering if he would be able to get more now.

Once out of the bath, he dressed in his usual Ralph Lauren polo, burgundy, with some chinos and Oxford shoes. He pushed his brown hair up and back, trying to look like he was going out like any other night, but deciding on his glasses to cover his blue eyes instead of his usual contacts. Made him look a bit less of a prep, in his own opinion. And with that he headed off to the address, marveling on the beautiful house before knocking on the door.

The email notification popped up again and Damien glanced over at the large clock perched over the mantle of the small fireplace in the room. He decided he had enough time to watch a movie and sneak in a bit of studying while finishing up his dinner. As the opening scene played for the movie Se7en, Damien took a few more bites of his fried rice before he cracked open the new text book he had gotten for the Criminal Justice Ethics course he was required to take to study Forensic Psychology.

Damien afforded another glance to his laptop screen and an eyebrow arched when he saw a new message on the forum site. Clicking it open he snickered when he read over the promise of an invitation to a ritualistic killing. His dark eyes scanned over the rest of the message before humming slightly and shutting his laptop after reading the choice in wording, see you when I see you. It made him wonder if they would ever get to that point where they would want to meet. It made Damien anxious in a way he couldn't explain.

The idea of seeing someone else in the flesh who had the same interests, sense of dark humor and had the distinct ability to make him feel excited just over a brief 'You Have 1 New Message' alert left him wanting something he never thought he would have. A chance to open up and just be himself around another human being. An opportunity to drop the walls and mask he hid behind on a daily basis to simply explore what it was like to interact with another person without fearing he would send the other person screaming.

A hand came up to scratch idly at the back of his neck before his fingers traced over the black widow tattoo he had on the side of his throat just at his collar, just barely visible over where the long sleeved shirt collar hung over his shoulders. Damien had acquired quite the collection of ink over the years. There were scorched feathers that looked as if they were caught in motion falling down his spine and littering across and contrasting sharply over the pale skin of his slender back. His favorite quote by the author Oscar Wilde about masks was written in beautiful script across the top of his back, spanning between his shoulder blades and marked the point where the feathers began their descent to the small of his back, a few stretching and slipping past his hips and thighs. The small black widow on the side of his neck was his favorite, though the barbed wire tangled and cutting across his calves and wrapping around his ankles were a close second. The masks of comedy and tragedy on his ribs, one on the left, the other on the right, were the largest pieces he currently possessed, spanning across his sides from the hip bone up to his ribs. So far everything but the spider could be hidden easily with clothing, and even that if in professional attire wouldn't be an issue. He had several others planned in small notebook of doodles, sketches and quotes Damien had gathered and hidden away for later inspiration.

Damien shifted on thr couch, eyes feeling a little heavy as he studied the book in his lap, body relaxing into the couch as he remembered the steady thrum of addictivr, heady pain he felt as he was tattooed. It was an intoxicating blend of sharp flares of pain mingled with dull throbbing aches along with the satisfaction of getting something beautiful to mark his pale skin forever...

The knock on the door had him jerking awake violently, eyes snapping open as the book in his lap fell to the floor. He must have drifted off and Damien blushed brightly at having let his control slip as he sat up and tried to shake the sleep off of him. A hand slipped over his face, brushing the mop of black and dark blue hair from his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet and paused the movie. It took a few minutes to get his bearings as he made his way through the dark living room to a lightswitch, grimacing at the almost violent way the light flared the room into life. With a shake of his head he unlocked the door, a neutral and polite expression on his face to try and regain some sense of the control he lost for the sake of his visitor.

The man was a prep, or at least resembled one in those clothes, the cliche polo, the pressed slacks and casual business shoes. He locked away the grimace he felt and focused in on the guy's face. He was certainly attractive, and Damien found himself studying the sharp blue eyes hidden by glasses. Damien offered a slow nod, "You must be Joseph, it's a pleasure. Name is Damien," he offered, while stepping aside to let the other man in. "I figured first we could discuss roommate agreements and rules?" He asked, nodding towards the couch.

Joe's eyes widened at the sight of the man who had just opened the door, his smile turning from a polite one to an honest one, a bit more excitement in his voice. "The pleasure is all mine, Damien," he said, walking into the house, absentmindedly pushing back his hair. He had to admit the man before him was attractive, and he was likely closer to what he wanted to be than what he currently was. This man before him, he had more control over his life, and while it made Joe feel jealous, it also made him hopeful that he would gain that control living here. "Nice hair." While typically this sort of comment would come flooded with sarcasm from someone who looked like the brunette, you could hear the honesty in his voice.

Walking into the house, he looked around, taking in the decor of what might just be his newfound freedom. With the corner of his eye he noticed the dropped book on the floor, facing down, picking it up but keeping it closed as he handed it over to Damien politely as he sat down. "Did I catch you by surprise?" he asked, offering him a soft, honest smile. "I apologize. Thank you for your prompt availability." Back to business he laid back on the couch, catching a glimpse at his neck and his smile twitching, holding back from giving him plenty of compliments. "Of course, I understand. What kind of rules did you have in mind to establish?"

Damien suddenly was acutely aware of the cliche that people used to describe someone lighting up a room with their smile. Damien felt his face flare in a way that it hadn't since he was a much younger blushing inexperienced version of himself before he found ways to control and hide himself safely behind the thick walls he had built. He never became a mess over someone offering a compliment, especially over something as basic as his hair, but the thread of honesty he caught in this other persons voice had him thrown almost as much as the genuine smile did.

"Thanks, dye works wonders," he said briefly before nodding at the couch, the charming smile and controlled motions coming easily despite the internal flustering he felt. "And you did," he said with a slight shrug as he took the book from the other man to return it to his bag with a gentle lift of a single shoulder. "But it isn't your fault, unintentionally crashed over dinner on the couch while watching a movie and trying to get some extra studying in before the semester starts."

Damien returned to the couch, dragging the bowl filled with fried rice and a half eaten eggroll to the side before sitting at an angle, a slender leg folded up against himself so he could face this man in a polo shirt with the soft honest smile and stoic manners. It was an interesting combination, and he wondered if the sincerity of his compliments and words were real and the polite, professional way he spoke and wrote was an act. It was intriguing, unsettling and slightly exciting all at the same time. He decided being a little more real and upfront with this potential roommate may be wise, so he wouldn't have to try so hard constantly to keep up the facade.

"Ground rules are as follows, no parties, no exceptions. I'm a private person and I want to keep it that way and dealing with drunken coeds trashing my place and things isn't a favorite past time of mine...going to someone elses place to do so is another story," he said with a smirk. "Also, I don't mind if you bring someone over to fuck around with but keep it in your room so I don't walk in on something in the kitchen that makes me want to remove my corneas with a scalpel," though the idea of seeing this Joseph fellow in a rather heated compromising position would probably leave Damien in need of a long cold shower rather than in need of physical mutilation due to scarring.

"Speaking of the kitchen, figure we just do our own thing and get our own food. I'm not a big eater," he said nodding to the left over chinese with a grimace. "So feel free to help yourself to anything of mine you may see and want. Only exception is I do ask you not fuck with my popcorn or the tea I keep in the cabinet next to the sink...if you do I will not be held responsible for lacing unidentified items of yours in the fridge with laxatives," he said with a slight smirk that left it uncertain to the threat being serious or simply a joke.

"That really is it, I don't see a point in trying to lay out a shit ton of guidelines or rules," he said with a shake of his head. "If you have a problem with me let me know and I will grant you the same courtesy. Pick up after yourself and don't be a raging douche bag and I figure we can probably coexist pretty easily." Damien brushed his hair out of his eyes with long pale fingers before nodding at him with a bit of a smile and arch of an eyebrow. "Any comments, questions and or concerns?"

Joe couldn't help but find the growing blush in the other's face endearing, feeling as if he had just seen not meant for his eyes, but an expression of a truer self. So even someone so cool and collected had a cuter side to him? It made the brunette want to tease him to see more of those cute expression, made him want to pick on him and see the faces he made if he were to flirt with him. Could he like him, Joe wondered?

There was just something about Damien that Joe couldn't place. The books, the old Chinese food, the watching a movie... He would have though it all a coincidence were it not for Damian talking so brazenly about removing his corneas with a scalpel and threatening him with laxatives. It was almost a familiar sense of humor that felt just... too familiar. There was no way, right? That out of all the places in the area he could room with, it would be the one person who he had opened up with and the one person he was himself with. Just the way he talked, the way hs lips moved... it had to be him, right? If it was... If it was him... What would he do about that?

"All that sounds more than fair," he said, edging in closer, boosted with confidence as the idea of his online friend with the glass mask could be the one in front of him. He moved close enough so that his thigh brushed with Damien's, his body facing him. "There's only one little question I have, before moving in and becoming a part of your life..." There was still a smile in the blue eyes behind the glasses, but more than being warm and open, it showed a sense of mischief, as if he'd found out some terrible and wonderful secret. "How did you manage to mangle your hand?"

Damien found himself thrown one more time by this Joseph Santiago person and it came from the way this guy was staring at him, like Damien was a puzzle or some type of mystery that Joseph was determined to solve. Damien swallowed, glancing down to where Joseph's thigh brushed against his when the prep moved in closer to him, invading his space and facing him. He felt a little crowded, a little boxed in, just pinned in a way under those sharp blue eyes that had him struggling desperately to tamp down on the second blush of the evening.

The way the guy spoke, the beginning of his question, as if stating boldly he didn't just intend to move in but intended on becoming a part of his life had Damien arching a dark eyebrow, teeth worrying the silver ring on the side of his bottom lip. Joseph's smile had an edge to it suddenly, as if he had solved the curiosity in front of him, figured out what it was he had been wondering earlier, pieced something about him together. Damien's cool dark grey eyes locked onto blue, staring quietly and feeling as if he had missed some sort of punchline or crucial detail. Then the actual question itself, the use of the word mangled throwing him in how coincidental it was, and he glanced down at his bandaged hand poking itself innocently enough out of his shirt sleeve where he had tucked it.

It had to be a coincidence, some sort of weird cruel joke played by the universe, there was no way the wild thought he entertained for half a moment could be true. It had a slight flare of exhilaration racing through him tangled with apprehension, the hope being quickly caught by doubt. The idea that this guy was the one he had grown so damn fond of was pressing in close and smiling a dangerous knowing smile at him? Damien thought over his response quietly, letting the silence stretch on for a few moments before breaking it.

"Well, depending on how you play your cards will determine if you become a part of it or simply become a pretty but unmoving fixture in it," he hedged, amping up the dark humor a little as he scanned the other man's face for a reaction. "And mangled is an interesting word choice, wouldn't you say? But to answer your question I had an argument with a piece of fruit I was attempting to disect for dinner and the knife took the apples side. I just wish I had had someone to treat me afterwards," he hummed. It was all things that to just anyone may come off as a bit twisted and dark but to...to the right person? It would potentially affirm things. "I have a question of my own, what are you here to study Joseph?" It was a double edged question that could be taken to mean his major while at the University or what Joseph thought he was figuring out about Damien during their interaction.

The surge of energy, of emotion that ran through his veins was exhilarating. It was true, it had to be him, there was no one else who would be able to toss those witty one liners at that word choice. The way he talked, the way he teased, it was his friend with the glass mask, the man who could see right through him! And then he made those blasted cute, blushing faces... Fuck, that brought out the most primal instincts from him and he had to hold himself from stealing a kiss, right then and there!

"Ah, but if you turn me into a fixture, how will we ever go on a killing spree together?" The wry grin on his lips softened, a chuckle escaping him. His body language was changing, from stoic and mild-mannered, to confident, playful. He edged closer, moving a hand to his face to caress it, giving a soft flick to the piercing on his lip. That morbid humor, with that cute blush, combined with the one mind on the planet that did understand him; maybe God did exist and he was telling him that life was not only worth living, but it would be so bloody fun. Then, he boldly took the other's bandaged hand into his, pulling on it to give it a kiss. "Hadn't I told you, I would treat it for you?"

His heart was racing. This was the chance of a lifetime, far more of a chance to be himself than he ever imagined. Forget just coming out of the closet, in this home, in this place, Joseph Santiago would be an spectator in his own life no more, he would regain control, or take it if he had to. "You know what 'm here to study. A criminal's mind, of course!"

As soon as Joseph said the line about the killing spree, that little flare of hope in him burst into a white hot feeling of excitement in his chest. He watched as the professional mannerisms seemed to just melt away in front of him, and watched as the confident teasing voice he had befriended through written word came to life in the flesh. Joseph's entire demeanor seemed to open up, as if he had dropped some heavy weight, a false persona, off his shoulders and Damien felt his heart do an odd jump start at the other man's smile. His blush deepening when one of Joseph's fingers reached out to brush playfully against his lip piercing.

It the way Joseph took his injured hand and pressed his lips to it gingerly had a raw smile slipping out as what could only be compared to tingles of what felt like electricity sparked and flashed to life under the skin of his hand where his mouth made contact with the skin.

Damien settled back where he sat, eyes taking in Joseph, also known as ACriminalsMind, and the only perdon he truly regarded as his friend. The genuine raw smile he had broadened into a smirk, as his tone turned playful. "Well, you're in luck it seems," he hummed, the fingers of the hand Joseph held curling around his. "But I must say, Mr.Santiago," he teased, his free hand coming out, pale fingers playing with the collar of the ridiculous polo that he somehow pulled off so well. "I didn't think you were being quite so literal when your last message said 'see you when I see you'. Not that I am complaining, of course. It is nice to meet you...hell, it's fucking amazing to meet you-physically, I mean," he added with a wink while trying to regain some sense of charm and his usually sharper nature to make up for all of the previous moments he had been caught blushing like a complete dolt.

"Though I must ask," he said, face going mock serious despite the humor still flashing in his eyes. "Knowing how utterly depraved I am are you honestly still willing to share a roof with me?" And a little bit more, if Damien had any say in it, but that bridge would be volted hopefully once they got past the initial shock and he found out if the man in front of him was willing to move in or not. There was a slight thread of apprehension in his gut that made him wonder if he would back out and prefer to reinstill the distance they had, and it just made his fingers lace around Joseph's a little tighter as he waited with a curious expression for his answer.

The warmth of Damien's hand against his, his fingers wrapped tightly between his own, brought the most amazing sense of warmth to Joe. Somethng as simple as two hands together almost seemed to give him more support than his family had for the entirety of his life. This was his friend, his one true friend who had seen his true self and embraced it, blushing and smiling and laughing with him. The feeling was indescribable. It was fate, Joe's still religious mindset thought, it was God showing him a way, validating his life, giving him hope. Or hell, it could have been the devil and he wouldn't have cared. For a life where he got to feel this feeling of warmth inside him, Joseph would have gladly given his soul.

He found his body leaning to Damien's touch, moving closer as his now very physical online friend played with his collar. The warmth that filled him began to feel hotter. It was the first time he'd flrted this openly in real life, the first time someone flirted so boldly with him, well, someone that he wanted to flirt with him. But knowing that it was GlassMask363, or Damien as he had to get used to calling him, it made him feel perfectly at ease.

A loud laugh escaped Joe as the amazing coincidence that had just happened seemed almost like a work of fiction. "Now, despite my ability to blow minds and hypnotize people to do my bidding, I'm pretty sure that doesn't work through a computer!" he laughed, though admittedly his own cheeks had a bit of color in them. "Please don't call me Mr. Santiago." He pulled Damien's hand to his own face. "Call me Master."

After the years of walking on eggshells with his family, of holding back, Joseph had gotten pretty good at reading people, part of the reason he was so interested in forensic psychology. Despite his morbid mind, or maybe because of it, what he wanted was to be a profiler. Feeling his fingers tighten, seeing his playful look change, it let him know that Damien was also used to put as many masks as he did. He pulled his bandaged hand closer, undoing the bandages. "Oh, I'm more than willing, on one condition." His eyes looked into Damien's, trying to remain calm and stoic, but the smile never leaving his eyes. "You have to invite me into your depravity every once in a while."

The subtle movements, the way that Joseph was leaning towards him, opening up and growing more comfortable helped Damien feel more at ease in his own skin around the other. It was a first, letting the layers slip back and showing this side of himself so openly. Flirting, charming and sarcasm all came easily as part of the facade, but being genuine about it and actually hopeful for positive response? That was something entirely new to him. Damien watched as his hand was plucked free from the collar and brought to Joseph's face, ignoring the motion to tug free so he could trace pale fingers along the cut of Joseph's jaw, tracing the subtle blush along his cheek bone. It was enticing and terrifying knowing that he could pull a similar reaction to his own from the dark haired man in front of him.

"Hypnotize, hm?" He said easily, "Hate to break it to you, but I don't usually fall victim to the manipulations of the mind easily, but please by all means try your talents against me any time. And that title," Damien continued, eyes darkening a fraction as his smile teased. "Is earned, not simply given." And oh how a small portion of him, the one that begged to be given an escape from the damn near constant control he kept over himself, wanted Joseph to take that as a challenge rather than a deterrent.

Damien let the hand at Joseph's face fall away as he watched the other man tug his injured one closer, dark grey eyes falling to the way Joseph's hands worked at unraveling the bandaging, his interest captured in the movements, listening as he spoke. Damien tore his gaze away from their joined hands to lock onto the sharp blues in front of him, having moved in so much closer than he had realized before, feeling pinned and waiting to hear the condition.

A slow dark smile spread over his features then, "Why, you make it sound as if you have any choice in not taking part in them, Joseph," he said, loving the way his name rolled off his tongue when he said it out loud. "Consider yourself the recipient of an open invitation to all depraved activities I indulge myself in."

The warmth of Damien's hand to his face, such a simple detail, but he couldn't help but lean into the touch, wanting more. His lips parted and his eyes closed as a tingle went down his spine and a breath escaped him. How he would love to have those hands on every bit of him, to tell him how to touch him and to do some exploring of his own. He wanted to look at that tattoo, barely visible around the neck of his shirt, and to find what other wonders his clothes hid. But for now, all he really needed was his touch.

The bandages fell, revealing the mangled hand, which really, wasn't that hurt, but Joseph treated as if it was the most delicate and beautiful wound he'd ever seen. He held the hand in his and gave the knuckles a kiss, far from the wound. "Not only will I earn it, I'll make you want to say it." Still holding his hand, he examined the wound from the knife, his hand on his. "What an unfair knife, taking the side of that apple. Where's your first aid kit?"

Reluctantly, he got up, still not letting go of his hand. He leaned forward, touching his face with his free hand, enjoying the warm softness of his face, exploring the shape of his cheekbones and the contour of his jaw with his thumb, eyes looking into his. "Maybe I should do depraved acts to you, and I'll indulge in you as my depraved actvity." His eyes were so playful right now. He leaned in so close, about to claim a kiss. He could almost feel the other's breath on his lips, but he held back, staying right there before asking again, "Really though, first aid kit?"

When the bandages fell he glanced down at the pale skin, the cut sliced along the side of the pad of his thumb down the length of his finger into the meat of his palm from when he had jerked away in shock foolishly when the blade first bit into him. Damien glanced up at Joseph, feeling a little warmed at how the other man examined his hand delicately as if he was something fascinating worth studying and care. It was an odd sensation, being looked at in such a way.

The gentle press of lips across his knuckles had Damien blushing again in a way that made him curse his coloration internally, hating the way he had permitted himself to become an odd little pale shut in, wishing he could regain some sense of control over his reactions. The dark promise he offered Damien of not only coaxing him into calling him Master but making him want want to say it? Had that cursed blush deepening as he bit down hard on his bottom lip attempting desperately to control himself, though it seemed his control wanted to fly out the window whenever Joseph looked at him or did anything. It was as if he simply threw off the tight grip Damien tried to restrict himself while simultaneously offering to take control where he had lost it.

"The knife has come to regret it's actions," he said easily with a lift of a shoulder and small smile, but before he could inform him as to where the first aid kit was suddenly Joseph was leaning in, lips a breath away from his, free hand touching his face, his flushed cheeks, his jaw. His mouth fell open slightly as an uncharacteristic gasp was torn from his throat at the suggestion, and the noise left him mortified a second or so later when he came to, eyes widening before shaking his head with a soft laugh, eyes dark.

"Think I would like that a little more than you can imagine," he practically purred before glancing up at him with an arch of an eyebrow and a dangerous grin. He stood then, pulling away and tugging gently on their joined hands as he tilted his head towards the hall. "Keep one in the bathroom down the hall."

Heavens, the way he blushed, the way that beautiful, pale skin burned hot and red, so much he could feel it in his skin. How he wanted to taste that burning red skin, to see more expressions in those dark grey eyes. That idea that he could actually have control of himself, that he could control how he was without the need to be constantly appealing to others because he had the acceptance he though he would never have.

"I'll be right back then, just sight tight," he told him, pulling away. It was just so fast, it felt like a supernatural connection. They'd been talking for so long, their relationship seemed so deep, but really they had only just met. Half of him wanted to rip off his clothes right there, while the other half was still hesitant to completely give in to this illusion.

He headed to the bathroom, searching around and bringing back the first aid kit, waving it around playfully before opening it on the nearby table. "You know, for the many times I wanted to meet you," he said, putting on the antibiotic on the lenght of the cut by his thumb, "you really exceeded my expectations. You have gotten to see every bit of me I've hidden from the world, and here, in person... You're... Heh... A wish come true really."

Back with his honest, tmid smile, with the blush on his cheeks, Joe bandaged him up, a lot tighter and a lot more cleanly than he could have on his own, massaging his hand playfully. "Life has a cynic sense of humor, doesn't it? Its worse than we are."

Damien settled back onto the couch at Joseph's words snd promises of returning. He tucked his legs up on to cushions to curl underneath himself as he watched the other man's back disappear down the dark hallway to the bathroom. It was odd, someone doing something for him...someone taking care and offering their attentions. It wasn't as if others had not tried, but they never truly knew him so it didn't count. He had never had someone who knew him that openly, who had laid himself bare to and shown the raw unfiltered side of himself to be willing to show him such attentions and concern. It was mind blowing, and Damien simply sat there with a slightly crooked smile.

And then Joseph was there again, waving the first aid kit like a prize as he began speaking, gingerly tending to his injury and offering it much more care than Damien had afforded it himself. The words took a moment to sink in, as did the acceptance he found within them, the compliments. "Exceeded your expectations?" He asked, glancing up with an easy grin as he leaned back casually on the couch as much as he could while Joseph tended to his hand. "Glad I am not a creepy looking fifty year old whale of a beast in some run down shack with a greasy come over and morbid fascination for all things foot related?"

Damien grinned before nodding at the other, "Though I must say, in all my wildest fantasies I never pegged you for the prep/jock type with a dark side...still hot as hell but the polo and chinos?" He snickered, unable to hide his amusement. "Gotta say, never thought I was opening up to someone who wears Brooks Brothers," he offered with a wink.

The soft timid smile and the blush that flushed Joseph's cheeks had his smirk softening though, as did the care that was evident in the way his hand was tightly bandaged and cleaned. The gentle massage Joseph offered the tense muscles in his palm and fingers had him melting in a cliche way that he normally would resent. "I don't know about that...I think I can give life a run for it's money."

At Damien's description of a worst case scenario, Joe laughed, shaking his head. "What I expected was for you to be hiding yourself, for you to be... ordinary?" He chuckled at that idea, at the idea that Damien could have ever been anything but extraordinary, that he could have ever been... like himself.

Really, he couldn't help his smile from faltering as Damien described him, or rather, described the man he pretended to be. His face darkened, his eyes shifting to the floor and his hand getting a tighter grip on him. He could feel his cheeks burn, partly of embarasssment and partly of self-loathing. "Would you have ever pegged me from an affluent family...? A god fearing, racist, homophobic, Christian family that had control of every aspect of my life, that left me hating who I was until... until I met you..."

Letting go of his hand, Joe leaned over Damien, a strong, fast hand going from him to the wall, boxing him in. "You were the first person I showed more than glimpses of my true self, and now I am going to get that control back." His face looked calm, serious, but confident, a smile softly crossing his face as he leaned in closer. "I am going to take control of you... And you are going to love it." And with that, he stopped holding back, cupping his face with the other hand as he moved in for a sudden, heated kiss.

Damien watched carefully as he saw Joseph's smile fall and he felt a slight twinge of regret at the mockery he made in regards to Joseph's own mask and the layers the other man cloaked himself with. It was an odd feeling, regret, settling in the pit of his stomach and making him want to lean in and kiss him until that sharp smile returned. Damien heard the anguish in the man's voice and the self hatred as he described where he came from, told him how this disguise wasn't one he chose to wear. How Joseph hated the life he was forced into and the image he was pushed into portraying until...

Damien swallowed thickly when he realized the heaviness of the confession, backing himself further into the couch when a hand slammed onto the wall next to his head and caged him in under those fierce blue eyes. He felt a wave of heat and want flare through him hotly as Joseph leaned in and told Damien it was because of him and how Joseph intended to take his life back. How the other man intended to not only regain that sense of control for himself...but how he was going to control Damien, and how he would love it.

Damien moaned softly into the heated kiss that he was thrown into, the way Joseph was boxing him in and just taking their first kiss had one hand reaching up to grip at the other man's shirt collar, yanking roughly on the material to try and drag him closer, to desperately attempt to feel their bodies press together. He wasn't sure he could ever explain how much he craved and wanted to just give up the firm, white knuckle grip he kept on his life, on himself. Damien wanted a moment or two of freedom, of someone else caring for him, taking control over him that he could trust...and he trusted Joseph.

The realization of that trust had his other hand frantically reaching up to push through the other man's soft brown hair as he dragged him in closer, pulled him in tighter and tried to see how long he could hold up the kiss before passing out from lack of air. His lips moved against Joseph's before he opened his mouth, tongue tracing his bottom lip before the teeth snagged over it and he bit down, dragging them over the swell of flesh.

Damien wanted to tell Joseph how much he wanted to just give up that control he had to the other. How desperately he wanted to escape the constant restrictions and limitations he had on himself every day and let Joseph just break him into a writhing mess only to put him back together again. He wanted to tell him he didn't know what it was like to come from a place where you were forced to be a certain way, and how he came from the opposite his own personal hell where he had to claw and fight and find away to protect himself by wrapping himself in layers and layers of restrictions and control. But he couldn't form the words now, couldn't piece together the english language in a way that would make sense, not with the way this kiss seemed to be melting his mind in a blinding flash of heat.

So all he did wss tighten his grip on the other man's collar before finally breaking away to gasp for air, chest rising and falling hard as he hauled in some much needed oxygen into his lungs before he licked his lips and grinned, eyes dark and wanting as he looked up at Joseph. "Hit me with your best shot."

God, the taste of his skin, the feel of him pulling him closer, it all felt so bloody right. Joseph seemed as desperate as Damien did to get closer to the other, to slip his tongue into the other's mouth and to feel more of the other's teeth biting on his lips, to feel the warmth of his pale skin against his own olive skin. His body pressed to the other's, so naturally, pushing him against the couch, his arms begining to wrap around him.

It was the first time Joe had ever had someone in his arms, at least like this. It was the first time he felt a connection, a need of physical contact, of emotional contact. Not even in all his times visiting dungeons, trying to get some sense of himself, had he felt the urge to control someone as much as he did Damien. He could almost tell that he seemed to need it, that he too wanted this, he wanted to be controlled as much as he needed the control.

From all the sports he participated in, from all the training and exercise, Joe was still barely out of breath, but the heated passion of the kiss left him panting, wanting for more. "So you want that, huh?" he grinned, moving one of his hands from the warmth of the hug to grab the other's neck. "I'll be controlling every bit of you, even when you breathe." As he told him that, he gripped the other's neck harder, chocking him as he pulled on the neck of his own shirt, removing it a bit clumsily, leaving it hanging of a single sleeve. His olive skin contrasted with the paleness of the other, his blue eyes looking into his gray ones. They were living contrasts, but they had so much in common, t was like fnally finding someone to compliment him, to validate him. "Tell me if it's too much, I'll take such good care of you."

Damien hummed in pleasure when he saw the panting mess their kiss had left Joseph and it had him hungry for more. Damien's eyes widened a fraction when he felt a firm grip close over his neck, Joseph's hand coming up to circle his throat while he held Damien close. His lips parted as he tipped his head back just enough to offer Joseph easier access to his neck as he struggled to keep himself from begging to feel those fingers constrict. He didn't have to wait for long, the dark promises were accompanied by a firm grip that abruptly cut off his air supply.

Damien's eyes fluttered shut as he lost himself in the firm grip and the feeling of his life being quite literly held in the others hand. He forced his eyes to open a moment later and was grateful he did so, Joseph's shirt was being peeled off and it hung loosely off of one sleeve off of his arm. Damien's hands fell away, one coming up to loosely hold the wrist of the hand Joseph had locked around his throat, wanting to encourage it to stay there. The other slipped up over the hard planes of is stomach, long pale fingers brushing idly over olive skin before pressing the flat of his hand to Joseph's chest, fingers spread as his hand simply reveled in the heat he felt.

Damien glanced up, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes locked onto Joseph's for a moment. He had played within the realm of the darker elements of kinks and sex but was usually left dissatisfied and wanting, his partners either unable to give him the release he needed or knew how to break him down but were clueless how to bring him back up to the surface. It usually left Damien angry or violent while struggling to rebuild the control, lashing out and trying desperately to figure out what was so wrong within himself that he couldn't get what he needed from someone else like everyone else on the planet. In this moment as his dark grey eyes held Joseph's blue gaze, he wondered if perhaps it had been that he just hadn't found the right person yet.

Damien's dark grey eyes held Joseph's own blue and he struggled to find the words again, to figure out want to say as his breaths came and went in short pants, swallowing hard. "Please...just, whatever you have to give." He would take it willingly, wanted to do whatever the other man put him through or took from him if it meant a chance at a real, raw escape.

Joseph could feel Damien's pulse in his hands, he could feel the other's need for this, the desire that was building up. It seemed Damien needed to lose hs grip on control as much as Joseph needed to grasp it. The warmth from the other's hand on his bare chest, the thrill of the other's faces as he got caught up with him; Joseph couldn't help his heart from racing. The grip on his hand stayed right on his neck, loosening softly for a few seconds to caress his neck with his thumb before gripping him tightly again.

While one of his hands gripped his neck, the polo still clinging to his elbow, the other slipped behind him, beneath him, under his shirt, his fingernails scratching on the other's skin. The soft, pale skin, a contrast to his own, felt so warm to the touch, and as his fingers explored it, learning its contours under the shirt, clinging tightly and marking him, making his own presence something his body would remember. His body leaned on his, his fingers going from his upper back to lower. He wanted it, Damien wanted and needed to lose control as much as Joseph needed to gain it.

"I'll give you everything," he said, lifting the other's shirt, giving kisses and playful bites all over his lower abdomen, sucking on the skin and leaving marks. The taste of his skin, of his sweat, the warmth of it in his lips was addictive. THe way he seemed to beg for more, to want to lose control so deeply, it only edged him on, sinking his nails deeper into his skin as he sucked hard on the skin on his abdomen before giving it a rough bite. Should he remove his belt? Should he give him more? THey'd just met, but... No, the physical would be first, then the sexual. He would take full control of his physiology, he would be conpletely in control for once. "Do you want me to tie you up?"

Damien felt Joseph's fingers loosen, a soft caress of the other man's thumb before they tightened again. Joseph's other hand had slipped under his shirt, nails raking over pale inked flesh and causing his body to arch hard, eyes slamming shut as he choked moan managed to slip past his lips. His hand tightened on Joseph's wrist, the other slipping back up to tangle in the brown hair when he felt the man duck down over his abdomen.

Damien squirmed under the hot wet presses of Joseph's mouth that contrasted so starkly with the cool air that assaulted his skin when his shirt was shoved up and out of the other man's way. From the pressure of those sucking kisses and the sharp brief flares of pain from those playful bites he felt himself slowly begin to unwind, his hips bucking slightly as his fingers knotted tighter in soft short strands of hair, urging Joseph to keep going. The promise of giving him everything had Damien hoping it was true, wishing it would be kept. "Hope you mean that, for your sake," he said in what was meant to come out in a teasing playful tone, instead? Sounded breathless and was broken over a soft groan.

Damien wanted to just writhe under the expert attention, wondering if the perfection in their physical interactions came from having gotten to know one another so well, so deeply. If perhaps that had been what was missing all those times before when he had been left angry and wanting, dissatisfied and bitter from the one night stands and the casual quick dalliances he experienced before...that he had been missing someone who knew what made him tick at his very core. With the way Joseph was so quickly unraveling him and breaking him apart, Damien hoped that this would finally be the missing link he had been searching for. The rough ministrations from the nails, to the pressure of those lips sucking bruises into his skin to the sharp pain of his skin being tugged between teeth he knew he was going to bare markings in the morning from this, signs littering his pale skin the way his tatttoos did and it had his head falling back with a whimper, heat racing through him at the thought of being marked, of being claimed.

The rougher drag of those blunt nails dragged him back to reality the longer suck and in turn harsher bite had him gasping for air due to other reasons than the hand at his throat. The offer to tie him up had him wanting to simply nod and let a series of begging and pleadings trickle from his lips but he restrained himself. Held on to that bit of fire and calm. Damien glanced down, tongue darting out to lick his lips as his chest heaved, sure he looked as debauched as he felt. "Depends, are you any good at tying knots? Or will I be able to slip free easily..." he asked with a slight smirk despite the flush on his face and way his body shifted restlessly.

Oh, he was still showing spunk and bite, even with all the blushing and moans? It was delightful, taking a taste, seeing him squirm under him, hearing him breathless. He just made the cutest faces as he laid there, so consumed by lust and need. How much would he need to break, he wondered, before he took full control of him?

"You really can't wait, can you?" Joe teased, holding his neck a bit harder as he kissed the border of his pants, tasting that pale skin. No sex yet, he told himself, but it was really a tempting thought, controlling every bit of him.

Fumbling, he began to undo his own belt, though he half regretted that he wasn't going to remove more than that. As he noticed he would need more than one hand, he pulled his hand away from his neck, finally tossing the hanging shirt from him and pulling away Damien's as well, as his lips moved to traverse up his gaunt chest. He marveled at the work of art his body was, at the taste, at the beauty of the tattoos on him and the way he couldn't help but tease those perky nipples. How glorious it was to take a bite out of them, kissing them softly and licking them afterwards.

"Put your hands up," he said, belt now in hand, pulling up to just look at him. "I want to see if you will really escape."

Damien's hips squirmed under the press of those heated lips to the pale skin just along the waistline of his pants and his eyes fell shut as he panted under the teasing onslaught, desperately trying to calm himself, to be able to make his mouth and tongue work again, to be able to respond. "Really could wait," he said, mimicking the other man's wording. He knew how to make himself wait, how to restrain himself when needed, it was what kept him from brutally knocking the barista who sold him his tea every morning over the head with her own tip jar when she prattled on and wouldn't leave him alone. Damien shook his head to dispell the thoughts that were distracting him. "Could wait...but I don't want to," he managed to get out in response before his teeth snagged over his bottom lip to bite back the moan threatening to slip free.

Damien wstched quietly with a small smirk as Joseph had to let go, releasing his throat before fumbling with his belt, Damien's own shirt getting tugged off in the process. Those lips were traveling up over his torso again and he let out a soft sigh as his pale hands came up to tangle in that short brown hair, mussing up whatever style it had been when Joseph first came over. The bite's and soothing licks to his nipples had him gasping as his back arched and he squirmed underneath Joseph's ministrations.

Damien heard the casual demand for him to offer up his hands and a slow smirk covered his features as he lay back, dark grey eyes studying Joseph's face, debating giving him a hard time of it. Perhaps next time, he decided, fingers untangling from the other's hair before he offered up his wrists easily, without a fight. "Do you want to see if I will really escape or if I will merely try to really escape...because that all depends on how good you bind me," he hummed in a low teasing voice before leaning up to steal a sharp kiss that had Damien's teeth catching Joseph's bottom lip again when he pulled back. "My trying to escape will be a part of the equation regardless-I just hope you know how to keep me from doing so."