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Grave Matters: A Repo! Roleplay (SevenxKawamura)

Graverobber hissed, body jerking with the sudden pain of that grip. Nathanâ??s (or was it Repo now?) nails dug into his skin even through the thin shirt. There would be five little bruises there in the morning, ugly, purple things that he could already see in his mind. And if he moved too much now, heâ??d get his shoulder dislocated. The pain made it hard to breathe, the whole muscle quivering as his arm protested against the abuse.

It burned.

It was perfect.

He groaned as he was jerked back by his hair, the pain bringing tears to his eyes as Nathan devoured his throat. There was something very, very arousing about the mild-mannered father with the bleach fetish losing himself like this, the previously tamed hair starting to muss from where heâ??d hit Graverobberâ??s chin or jaw. His breath was shallow against his abused throat, nearly painful from his treatment.

â??Much better,â? he wheezed, letting one foot drop off the couch. He wanted more touch than just the man leaning over him. â??Get on the couch.â? Graverobber was still trying to keep some control of the situation, trying not to lose in this odd dominance battle. Or perhaps he was trying to lose faster; he wasnâ??t quite sure.
 
As much as Graverobber wasn't in any position to make demands, and Nathan was in no mood to obey them, he found that he couldn't argue with it right then; the idea of more contact, more touch, the feeling of another body close to his own was a tempting one. Nathan managed to keep one hand on Graverobber's arm, still levelling the elbow up as punishment for trying to strike him, and he moved in a fluid, graceful motion that brought him into a position straddling the other man's hips.

In most situations, this would have been a strictly erotic position to be in, but given that this was a position he frequented while slicing into bodies and wrenching out organs, it was difficult to think of it in a strictly sexual sense. Even as he leaned in to continue what he had been doing, he found himself thinking about blood, but it may have been because he was continuing to taste it on his own lip, his senses so keen when it came to gore that he could even smell it.

His hand slipped out of the mass of knotted, rainbow hair and moved beneath Graverobber's shirt, fingers digging against his ribcage, his mouth working at a spot of skin just below the collarbone, right where he could see a thin pattern of veins that he could torture.
 
Dark eyes watched Nathan appreciatively, taking in the line of his leg as he swung it over. There was a moment when he could see the other man fully: grey, tired face highlighted with color, his eyes shining with some sort of manic hunger, and those stern lips bruised and split. Graverobber licked his lips again, disappointed that he no longer tasted blood.

Wherever Nathanâ??s hands went, warmth followed. He cried out softly when fingers nicked his rib cage, pressing muscle and skin to bone in a way that made him twitch up, trying to press against the body above him. God, he wanted his hands. He wanted to give Nathan a good fight, to yank that hair with just as much force and attempt to wrestle him to the ground. So he could be the one on his back, the one with his arms forced above his head.

â??Untie me,â? he breathed, trying for his most innocent voice. â??So I can touch you.â? Graverobber rolled his hips and folded a leg, pressing his thigh between Nathanâ??s legs. That obsessively clean hand was near his head, holding his arm tight, and he couldnâ??t help but turn his head to press a sloppy kiss to the wrist.
 
Nathan's eyes were glittering with the same bizarre cruelty they had held in the alleyway a few weeks ago, but this time there was enough light that his eyes no longer looked like empty wells as they had then; they were sharp and bright, lively in a way that seemed to go against both aspects of his personality.

He felt a thigh, muscled and strong, push between his own legs, pressing up against him; he felt warm lips kiss against the tender inside of his wrist, even as he held Graverobber's arm in that same, painful position, and he heard the man's suddenly more gentle plea, and he was struck by the strangeness of hearing the scavenger trying to use that tone of voice on him.

He began to push Graverobber's shirt up and out of the way, moving the hem until the man's stomach and part of his ribs were visible, and he moved one hand over the bared flesh, fingers splaying out, palm sliding along in a way that was strangely gentle, but it was followed by the fingers raking back down again, blunt nails against sensitive skin.

"No," Nathan repeated, shifting; his hand slid down between the other man's legs, giving him a rough squeeze while his mouth found the dips and arches of Graverobber's ribs and he marked him there with his teeth, leaving a nasty welt right below his right ribcage.
 
God, he wished he knew what Nathan was thinking. His body was obviously masculine; no one was going to mistake him for a woman unless they were terribly drunk and used to hairy women. Nathan was (probably) neither of those and previously completely straight. Graverobber stretched up, groaning as those nails scraped down his skin, and pressed that thigh up again.

No mistaking it, he was enjoying himself: Graverobber could feel evidence of that hot against his thigh even through the Repo Man's scrub-like slacks. In response to the squeeze, he jerked up some, putting almost painful pressure on Nathanâ??s groin.

â??Surely youâ??re not going to do all the work,â? he managed through gritted teeth, Nathan having found a particularly sensitive patch of skin right below old surgery scars, ones pulled tight. Obviously, he had received them before he had stopped growing. â??You let me up,â? he whispered. â??Iâ??ll suck you off.â? Bartering, always bartering.
 
Once upon a time, Nathan had been a gentle lover - he had been so exceedingly careful with Marni that she had in fact needed to urge him, to assure him she wouldn't break if he was just a little rougher with her, if he was a little less thoughtful, if for a little while he would allow himself to enjoy his own pleasure - and letting go of control had been difficult for him. Some aspects of that showed through, but there was nothing gentle or caring about what they were doing, this was need and lust and anger and frustration, all coming out at once.

He had never been with a man, had never before considered it until a few weeks ago, but at some point lines had begun to blur for him, and the boundaries of gender somehow seemed irrelevant because this crass scavenger was driving him up the wall, torturing him, infiltrating his job, his life - setting his nerve endings on fire. Nathan didn't know if he wanted to kill him or fuck him, and Repo told him to do both, his conscience told him to do neither, and his immediate thoughts told him to find a nice middle ground.

A quiet noise escaped him when the thigh pressed harder against his growing erection, and Nathan's hand gave Graverobber a few firm strokes through the material of his trousers. He ran the tip of his tongue over one of the scars he encountered, and he tried to ignore the shuddering heat up his spine, caused by Graverobber's words,

"No you won't," Nathan said roughly, "Because you're staying just like that."
 
He hissed, fingers tightening and relaxing uselessly above his head. God damn Nathan for wanting complete control even during sex. Graverobber should have expected this, but then, no scenario he had imagined involved extension cords. Roughhousing, yes. Blood, probably. But starting off with his hands above his head?

Damned kid. And damned Nathan. All he could do was tremble, muscles quivering under Nathanâ??s tongue, making more noise than he wanted when a hand squeezed him through his pants. â??Fuck,â? he breathed, sliding his upper leg in an attempt to make Repo repeat that soft sound from earlier, that very human slip of control. â??Next time,â? he promised, flinching away from the over sensitivity brought on by Nathanâ??s mouth. Seventeen years, and the man still knew how to use his tongue. â??Iâ??m going to have you on your back with your hands over your head.â?

Assuming there would be a next time. Though he had a very good feeling that this would continue.
 
A low laugh escaped Nathan at the sound of Graverobber's soft hisses and groans, and the promise he made - Nathan's eyes flicked towards the other man, and though he said nothing, there was a self-assuredness on his face and Repo was grinning at the thought that someone might try to subdue him. It seemed ridiculous, no one had managed it before.

And Nathan, meanwhile, simply put forward the doubt this would happen again - but then, he'd told himself before that he wouldn't allow himself to do this with Graverobber again, that the first time was the last time, but he had never expected this to happen. Repo was urging him to continue, urging him to do things to Graverobber that he couldn't remember learning, and he was fighting between minds, one that told him he needed this, the other that told him this was a bad idea.

He tried to lift his hips away, but he felt Graverobber's thigh move against him again anyways, and a soft groan escaped him and he busied himself with the other man's torso to try and muffle the sound.

He should stop.

His teeth found the sensitive pink of one of Graverobber's nipples, tugging roughly while he pulled down the zipper on Graverobber's trousers.

He should really quit while he was ahead.

His hand slipped inside, his fingers grasping the other man.

This was a terrible thing to do.
 
His attempt at dampening the sound didnâ??t work, if the soft, breathy chuckle from Graverobber was any indication. Conservative, no-nonsense Nathan the Sexual Exile was currently hardening against his thigh.

It was a good feeling.

Even better was the teeth worrying his nipple, making him twist in an attempt to either get away or get closer, he wasnâ??t quite sure. His mouth was more painful than pleasurable, but the scavengerâ??s sick mind wasnâ??t able to differentiate between the two at the moment, not when Nathanâ??s hands, rough from too much obsessive washing, were down his pants. Graverobber made a strangled sort of noise, hips bucking into those abrasive fingers.

This was further than Repo had gone last time: about now, the night surgeon had pulled away and smacked him. â??Get up here,â? Graverobber hissed, tucking his chin against his chest so he could watch Nathan.
 
Nathan felt the other man shuddering and twisting beneath him, and if it weren't for the noises escaping him, it would have been difficult to tell if Graverobber was enjoying himself or not - well, that and the hard length he currently had his hand on. Despite the clean-cut, smooth appearance of Nathan Wallace, his hands were rough from his work, palms and fingers calloused and rough from the years of handling weapons, favouring the right hand for manipulating knives.

He tortured the sensitive flesh with his teeth, stopping short of doing any actual damage, and shifted to the other one, his tongue circling it, followed by the same torment.

The light hit Nathan's glasses when he glanced up at Graverobber, reflecting off them and nearly obscuring his eyes with the harsh slants of light and shadow, and it was difficult to tell who was at the wheel now; his actions indicated Repo, but the subdued expressions, the controlled and fluid movements, told of the mild-mannered doctor. He moved back a little, just enough that he could fully look Graverobber in the face, and while keeping eye contact, he used one hand to shove the man's hips down against the couch and prevent him bucking, and the other to stroke him roughly a few times, ignoring the other man's demand.

And there was a smile, just the smallest tug at the corners of his mouth.
 
Nathan Wallace had too much control. Where the light hid his eyes and his expression was that same, subtle shift in muscles, Graverobber was exposed. The make-up he wore accentuated every movement so even the most understated of twitches were magnified.

The bastard was even holding his hips down now, forcing him to be still as those dry hands wrung out even more noises from him: obnoxiously breathy, low things that Graverobber didnâ??t want to think were coming from his own throat. Eye contact was too much. At this angle, the glasses did nothing to hide Repoâ??s steady, lopsided hazel gaze, and Graverobber couldnâ??t stand being observed like that, pinned like a bug to a board by a man who had his dick in his hand.

Someone needed to tell Nathan sex wasnâ??t something that should be controlled.

Graverobber smiled slowly and kept his leg moving lazily, trying to shatter that control. He was doing a good job up till now as far as he was concerned. â??I could do better with my hands,â? he murmured. "Wouldn't you prefer that, Nathan?"
 
There was something incredibly arousing about the sound of Graverobber's moans, the way his breathing had gone ragged, even the sturdy and solid feeling of his torso - undeniably male, but so gloriously human and warm and alive. He leaned in close, his mouth at Graverobber's ear - he could practically feel the blood thrumming through Graverobber's veins, and it was nice to be overseeing a body that wasn't opened or in bits and pieces.

One he didn't have to tear apart.

One that wasn't struggling.

Though, there was a small amount of protesting from Graverobber, mostly concerning the fact he was unable to move his hands, but as far as Nathan was concerned, he was just being careful. Besides, he wasn't sure he could stand hands on him right then - he wasn't sure how Repo would take it, or how he would take it - just the thigh insinuating itself between his legs seemed like too much contact.
He moved close, his voice in Graverobber's ear,

"Why did you come here?" he repeated, and stroked him roughly, just once.
 
Now this was better. Nathanâ??s breath in his ear was uneven, so subtly laboured that he could only hear it now with his lips right there. Damned son of a bitch was wasting too much focus on keeping himself in check. Next time, he told himself, it would be different.

Graverobber growled when he tried to buck up into that hand and found his hips still forced down into the sofa. For such a small, unassuming guy, Nathan had an annoying amount of strength. Instead of answering immediately, he turned his head, teeth finding an earlobe to worry. Repo may try to control this whole meeting, but Graverobber was going to make him work for it.

â??It was a job.â? The thief managed to raise himself some on his hands, though it killed his wrists in this position. â??Someone paid me to steal something from your bedroom. Something obvious, they said. To weird you out, I figured,â? he lied smoothly, not wanting to give up that little morsel of information before he had to, though Repo could probably smell lies, the creep. He stretched out and pressed his mouth against Nathanâ??s neck, feeling the pulse under his lips.
 
He could feel the scavenger's muscles twitching, his body straining at the teasing touches, trying to get more, only to have Nathan draw his hand further away to prevent the other man from succeeding in his endeavor - no, he couldn't have Graverobber thinking he had any power in this. He kept his hips pinned firmly down, using the bizarre excess of strength he had.

He felt teeth on his ear and Nathan let his eyes close for just a moment, another of those small, breathy sounds escaping him when lips found his throat, and his fingers gave Graverobber a small squeeze,

"You're lying to me," he said, and his voice was a low hiss, not quite the good doctor, not quite the evil surgeon, but somewhere in between, a threat that he could turn into either.
 
Graverobber thought, just for a moment, that he might have fooled Nathan, that the question would be dropped and they could get on with whatever it was they were doing. No such luck. His groan was somewhere between frustration and â?¦ well, frustration of a different sort as Nathanâ??s hand stayed on his cock, but only just.

This was worse than the hose.

That voice shouldnâ??t spark warmth in anyoneâ??s stomach, but it did for Graverobber. He chuckled, pleased to have been caught even as he hardened under Nathanâ??s fingers. No, that couldnâ??t be a healthy response to that voice. â??I am,â? he whispered to his own Dr. Jekyll, dark lips moving against his ear as he spoke. â??Want me to try a little harder for the second one?â? Graverobber taunted in a deep, almost familiar tone.
 
The laughter emanating from Graverobber was surprisingly warm, and it sent a similar warmth through Nathan, one that moved down his spine and settled in an area that he was only now realizing was currently intensely uncomfortable due to - constriction. Ignoring it wasn't as easy as he had hoped, given that after seventeen years of ignoring that particular urge, his sex drive was moderately pissed off with him and urging him to get on with it.

But if Nathan was anything, he was determined; even though Repo was frustrated, he was managing to satisfy his darker side by putting Graverobber through much greater torture. The groans and shudders escaping the other man only lended to the satisfaction, though Nathan had to admit, it wasn't just the night surgeon who was investing some amount of interest in those noises.

He could actually feel Graverobber's physical response, he could feel him growing harder, and the man's lips on his ear was too pleasant. He turned his head, and their lips brushed for an instant,

"I wish you would, I'd just hate to have to leave you here for lying to me." he replied, and his thumb circled around the tip of Graverobber's cock, and he added in a low whisper, "Marcus."
 
Graverobber would have been intensely glad to know he was entertaining both sides of Nathanâ??s personality, though he was at least somewhat aware of that fact. After all, previously heterosexual men did not rub themselves against a manâ??s leg while kissing him if they didnâ??t at least enjoy it. Even with Repo around, but he was learning how to tell the difference between the two now.

This was still Nathan. Sort of. Just a Nathan in very close council with his dark side. The fleeting touch of lips was proof of that: Repo had never showed an interest in kissing and Graverobber would have never thought to do such with him. Seemed like a good way to get oneâ??s tongue bit off.

He fought down the urge to question Nathanâ??s self-control, if the man could really just leave him. After seventeen years of just leaving sex, that cockiness would just get him a thin, grim smile and probably another hosing down before being thrown out again. Not the night he wanted to have. â??Mm,â? he hummed as he felt a rough thumb against the sensitive head. â??Whoever it was.â? Graverobber mouthed at Nathanâ??s jaw, that same teasing quality to his voice. â??Had access to your key, your schedule, and an awful lot of script. I wonder who that could be?â? Quickly, before Nathan had a chance to pull away or hit him, he nipped at the other manâ??s neck, right below the line of his jaw and with enough strength to bruise. With no women in the house other than a very sick child, Graverobber was sure thereâ??d be no cover up in any of the bathroom drawers to hide what would become a rather visible mark.
 
Nathan could feel traces of Graverobber's waxy black lipstick, some of it on his neck, some of it on his own lips from the brief touch, and the smell of the other man - the smell of the streets, and sweat, had somehow become less atrocious to him, and more familiar, somehow comforting. This was, perhaps, due to the fact Nathan's socialization was severely limited; most of the people he met in his line of work, he only got to know for a very brief period of time, there was no chance to really appreciate the nuances of another human while one was tearing them apart - well, aside from the internal features.

And the way they screamed when he sometimes twisted the knife for fun.

Repo chuckled.

It was Rotti then; he had been aware the other man was harbouring some malcontent after what he'd been put through over the last few weeks, the gruelling and endless pile of patients, including the one behemoth that he wasn't sure he was supposed to have survived. While Graverobber said that he had been sent to take just anything, Nathan didn't buy it - Rotti was after something, but it would have to be significant, and as far as Nathan was concerned, only his daughter was important.

Well, that and -

- the thought was snagged, derailed when Graverobber bit down on the soft skin of his throat, and a gasp escaped Nathan at the sudden sear of pain and pleasure. He had to struggle for a moment, getting his composure back once Graverobber had let go, and slowly, he sat back.

There wasn't anything of significance in the house, no items that Rotti couldn't get anywhere else, no GeneCo files, nothing that could hurt the Largo family in any way - all of that knowledge was in Nathan's head - so it only left one possibility within the Wallace home, and especially considering it was Graverobber who had been sent -

- Nathan stared at Graverobber, and his expression right then was difficult to discern, though it was likely a struggle between lust and anger.
 
It was the little moments where Nathan Wallace lost his steely cool that made his stupidity worth it. If only he wasnâ??t so close, Graverobber could see that quick struggle on the other manâ??s face as he pulled himself back together. And it wasnâ??t like there was anything he could do to scavenge the evening: Nathan had a good head on his shoulders and this wasnâ??t the most difficult of problems. Rotti hated him, the good doctor had an unhealthy attachment to his late wifeâ??s corpse, and Graverobber was Graverobber. He might as well have given him â??2+2â?? to compute.

Now to keep him from killing the messenger.

Probably best if he didnâ??t find his tools. Graverobber couldnâ??t play innocence; he obviously hadnâ??t come to warn the man, or he would have waited till he was at home. But he doubted that Nathan would find comfort in the fact that the dealer had been perfectly willing to treat his wifeâ??s body like any other heâ??d come across.

â??He must be paying close attention to you,â? Graverobber said, watching that bespectled face closely. Anger was winning, and he needed to direct it elsewhere. â??His flunkie mentioned that weâ??d had prior interactions.â?
 
Nathan knew there was no point in protesting, he knew that trying to argue morals and ethics would be useless, that there was nothing he could possibly say to Graverobber to make the scavenger consider that this was a poor path he had chosen, because ultimately it would become a debate about hypocrisy and Nathan just wasn't in the mood. Instead of using words as Nathan was wont to do, he conveyed his displeasure by remaining completely silent, removing his glasses, folding them, and setting them aside.

Unconscious of doing so, he ran a hand back through his hair, pushing it away from his face, and suddenly his features looked much more severe.

He didn't make eye contact with Graverobber at that point, suddenly it was as if the other man had become invisible, and he began to dig through his pockets, first pulling out the small case that he had been carrying around. Opening it, Nathan discovered a Zydrate gun and several empty glass vials; he set the case off to the side and quietly continued his search.
 
Ah, there was the change, the topple over to Repo. The manâ??s motions became more forceful, more confidant as he started to go through Graverobberâ??s pockets as though he were a bag or a jacket left on a chair, not a human being he was straddling. The same one heâ??d just been giving the worldâ??s most frustrating hand job to, who had put the second bruise that was forming on his neck.

Even his face was different, more pronounced, almost younger looking. Graverobber sighed and sat back, letting Repo search him. He lounged there, make up smeared and shirt pushed up crookedly, nearly to his chin, and watched. Repo pulled out his tools first, the glass and metal shining under the warm lamplight. It would be a pain to replace them, if he got the chance to, because next was the stolen medication, lovely and blue in its own little glass vial.

â??Well, youâ??ve caught me, youâ??ve shagged me for proper punishment, and everythingâ??s back in its rightful place. Care to let me up, now?â?
 
Next, he removed the vial of medication from Graverobber's pockets, and he instantly recognized it - it was, after all, his own creation. It was the medication he had been giving to Shilo for seventeen years, the tiny blue pills that he had posed as being the one thing that would hold off the symptoms of a genetically inherited blood disease. He had told her for years that, once he found a cure, she could stop taking them - but until then, she was stuck there.

It was for many reasons; one of them was Nathan's other guilty secret, the simple fact that he couldn't stand the idea of her leaving him. He'd already lost Marni, he couldn't lose his baby girl too.

And the second reason was - the outside world. It was a horrible place, and exposing her to the terrors of the world outside didn't sit well with him, she would never be safe out there, someone would hurt her, someone would injure her or break her heart or drug her or make her sick. He could deal with the guilt of poisoning her in those tiny doses, just enough to keep her there, because letting her go meant letting her face the unknown - at least these pills ensured predictable results.

Well, for someone who had been taking them for a while anyways; after all, the human body was a remarkable thing, and it was capable of eventually adjusting to small amounts of poison, though the body wasn't as capable of being energized as it would be without the poison - it was why Shilo was often too tired. Though lately, she'd seemed stronger.

His eyes shifted away from the pills and down to Graverobber as though the man's voice had just reminded Nathan of his presence. Eyes still on the scavenger, he removed the top from the pills and tapped several into his palm; they had been created with Shilo in mind, calculated for her weight and height and age with exacting precision - one pill was enough for her to be weak.

"No," Repo said, and his mouth twisted into something that was likely meant to be a smile, "I'm not done fucking you yet."

Five would do.

He grasped Graverobber's head then, his fingers jamming into the hinges between his upper and lower jaw, forcing his mouth open, and he clapped his hand over the man's mouth, forcing the pills in.
 
Not good.

Graverobberâ??s eyes narrowed as Repo opened the medicine and emptied a few into his hand. They were tiny things, but heâ??d learned a sort of dislike for blue. And that expression did little to ease his fears: for all he knew, heâ??d discovered Nathanâ??s secret stash of rat poison.

He wanted to point out that fucking was not something one did with pills in their hand, that Repo probably wouldnâ??t be able to do such in their state of dress, but opening his mouth was a horrible, horrible idea. Repo made that choice for him, though, cruel fingers digging into his joints savagely. The thief had started to struggle, but there was little he could do tied up and those fingers werenâ??t close enough to bite. Soon, there were five little bitter pinpricks on his tongue. Acidic things that dissolved in his saliva and, had that hand not been there, forcing him back so he had to swallow, he would have spat them out.

Dissolving that quick meant they would be in his blood just as fast, and vomiting wouldnâ??t work. Whatever Repo had forced down his throat was stuck in him until his body managed to force it out in other ways.

Or simply lost.

Graverobber stilled against Repoâ??s palm, breath harsh above his hand. Smirking, he ran the tip of his tongue against the otherâ??s palm, already feeling something nasty in his blood.
 
Repo watched impassively as Graverobber twitched and struggled, and he simply held his hand over the other man's mouth; it wouldn't take long, the pills didn't even need to be swallowed, though it was ultimately better to mix it with the harshness of stomach acid than with saliva. He kept his hand there, counting down in his head; he knew the moment the thin outside would have dissolved, and he kept his hand there so the remaining mix of poison and saliva would have time to work its way in.

Given how many he'd fed to Graverobber, it would take a matter of minutes for the other man to begin feeling it, and another few after that for the side-effects to really hit him. Naturally, he hadn't given enough to cause any organ failure, but he had ensured there was enough poison in the other man's veins to make him regret taking the job - and, perhaps, to make him reconsider it the next time Rotti Largo tried to hire him.

Of course, Graverobber didn't seem to learn lessons easily.

He crooked an eyebrow when he felt the other man's tongue run against his palm, and Repo's eyes went half-lidded like a cat's would; he was still effected by their earlier - activities - but no, this would be a poor time.

Finally, he removed his hand from Graverobber's mouth and sat back, considering the other man for a moment. He had two options - he could toss the other man out into the cemetary and let him try his luck at find his way to somewhere safe before he started retching, or he could - keep him here. The former was ultimately a more cruel option, which Repo heartily endorsed, but at the same time, even the monster questioned the results - given the time frame, would Graverobber actually be able to get away, should GENcops discover him? After all, while Repo was a bloodthirsty monster, it wasn't often he found someone quite as - compelling - as Graverobber.

What would be the fun of letting him die by someone else's hand, especially something as simple as being riddled with bullets.

And besides that, Nathan protested the idea.

He reached up and began to untie Graverobber's hands then, making a point of taking his time.
 
By the time Repo had begun untying his daughterâ??s knots, Graverobber was already tense, body starting to shiver. There was a slow ache spreading through him, crawling from his veins and down into his bones. When his hands were finally free, that same ache had clawed its way up to his skin and he was honestly shivering.

He grit his teeth to keep them from chattering, and suddenly Repoâ??s weight on him was painful, putting extra stress on his diseased form.

Never anger a doctor, he told himself, sitting up. He wavered then, movements clumsy and unsure as he straightened his hair, wiped his face, fidgeted. â??What did you give me, you bastard?â? he asked through clenched teeth, form trembling.

The medicineâ??s effects were something like coming down with a flu on fast forward. Every joint throbbed with pain, letting him know that, yes, his whole body was affected. Somehow, even his hair felt like it hurt. Graverobber leaned against the back of the couch, trying to take a few calming breaths. His lungs didnâ??t want to fill, not when every expansion of his chest pulled muscles tight and made him groan in pain. The scavenger tried curling in on himself for warmth knowing he couldn't rely on Repo to get him a blanket or his coat.
 
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