Chapter Text
Quinn let out a puff of smoke into the late summer night air. The cigar was dangling from his lips, while he was following the alleyways, trying to find his way to his destination. Hopefully the wolf girl wasn't lying to him. The thick summer air made his skin feel all sticky with sweat. Above his head the orange afternoon sky made way for evening to roll in. Brick walls and graffitis passed by, as he yet again rounded a corner to then finally be greeted by a metal door with what seemed to be a bouncer in front of it. Not really intimidating in his "wannabe tough guy"-look with sunglasses and a stained white tank top, but he didn't feel like picking a fight.
"I'm here to get into the Bear Pit."
The man looked him up and down and cocked an eyebrow.
"The fuck's a priest doin' here? You expect me to just let you in?"
He took a step closer towards the man. A grin formed on his lips and he rolled the cigar towards the other corner of his mouth. Some bouncer was the least of the venator's worries tonight and he knew, that his patience was best reserved for something...or someone else.
"Take one long look at me and then tell me if I look like just any priest to you." His hand came to grasp the front of the bouncer's tank top. "Or would you prefer a demonstration? I don't carry that big 'ol thing for nothing."
Not exactly the image he would like to portray as a venator here in New York, but walking the streets with a massive crossbow on his back at least had some kind of effect on people. Plus he was here for purely selfish reasons. He'd have to pray a lot later to clear his conscience again.
"Fine, fine." The man's hands were held up into the air. "I'll let you in. Who are you here to see?"
"Heard the Lash's fighting today. I'm here to watch. Recommendation from a certain friend of mine." Not entirely a lie, but he was the one who had brought up the other man during their visit to the bar. Him and Silver had become fast friends, despite their opposite nature. While nursing a glass of whiskey the subject of their team came up, which led to from one topic to another and ended with him mildly drunk and lamenting about his attraction to the man. Silver didn't need to hear all the details, he wouldn't want her to anyways, however she seemed to sympathize enough to give him the directions to the Bear Pit along with how he should be able to get some alone time with the other man, should he wish for it.
With a snort the man stepped to the side and threw the door open with a loud clang.
"Shit's all the same to me. Don't get into any fights...padre."
Venator's shoulder brushed the bouncer's harshly and he descended the steps. His mind was a whorl of reprimands, nervousness and genuine anger at himself. 'This is ridiculous. You shouldn't indulge. It isn't right. You're meant to portray dignity, not indulge in sin.' Every word a hammer to his doubts and agitated nerves. In the streets of the cursed apple he carried himself with pride. Meant every word he said. A venator's duty was supposed to be blazing a trail for the righteous to walk. But he was tired. Tired of holding back. Tired of walking the same path over and over. A path painted with blood and littered with gore and regrets. He still believed in his duty and his faith was still strong, but tonight was a night of weakness.
Loud voices filled the room, rows and rows of spectators waiting to see the next fight and the next opportunity to gamble away their money. It was a big circular ring, surrounded by multiple rows of scrapmetal spectator benches and a few walkways higher up to still get a good view of the action. Currently a young man was fighting against what seemed to be a gorgon, not dissimilar to the woman called Vyper he had seen during the ritual. Poor sod was bloodied and bruised, panting and legs shaking. The fight was almost over. Slowly he ascended the stairs leading up to the walkway. He was here to observe, anything else he'd have to improvise on. Plus, up here people were less likely to make a scene out of his attire. Heavy boots came to a stop in the middle of the walkway. Not a lot of people were up here, probably preferring to be closer to the racket and action. Lazily the venator leaned against the railing, puffing more smoke forward into the stale air.
"We'll have a short intermission, but then it is time for the moment you all have been waiting for! The Lash will enter the riiiiiiiiiing!"
Cheers erupted from the rowdy patrons and Quinn shook his head with a chuckle.
What was he going to tell the man, if they talked to each other? Would he have to come up with an excuse? Nervously, the tip of his boot tapped against the metal below his feet in an unsteady rhythm. A pit in his stomach had opened a while ago and it was only getting bigger and bigger. How was this making him feel worse than hunting down monstrosities, that were an actual threat to society. He had stared down vampires, werewolfs and all manner of creatures, yet a simple human was making him want to keel over and throw up his lunch. 'Sin.' was the word his mind kept playing on repeat. The bell of the ring interrupted his mental torture and tore the venator's racing thoughts back into the present.
"The Lash has entered the ring folks! Let's see some violence tonight!"
A familiar figure walked into the ring, flexing and putting on a show. Quinn's eyes followed every muscle, the way his tank top stretched and hugged his pecs just right. His hand tightened against the railing in front of him. Lash spun around made a big show of bowing to the audience and then his head went up looking at where the priest stood. Their eyes met and Venator swallowed hard. The announcer's voice was drowned out by his racing mind again. He was tired. Tired of being tormented by his head. A deep breath, the straightening of his posture and he let out a cheer alongside the crowd and shot Lash a toothy grin. The gesture was reciprocated by the fighter in the ring and the fight begun with the ringing of the bell.
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"What do you even like about him?" Silver traced the rim of her glass. "To me the guy's just some smarmy idiot with a god complex." She took another sip of the whiskey and then let out a chuckle, before looking at Quinn. "Don't tell me you're into that."
"It's...not that." His hands cradled his own glass, the amber liquid in it reflecting his scowling face back at him. "I can't really explain it, honestly."
Infernus' bar was empty except for the two sitting at the counter. Venator wasn't exactly scared of anyone hearing the contents of their conversation, just rather uncomfortable about the topic in general.
"I guess...it's his confidence. The way he believes in what he does."
"What? Beating people up?" She snorted and laid her head into her arms on the counter.
"Just in general, what he does. The whole Bear Pit thing, the attitude he brings into the ritual, it's...it's something I admire."
Silver was quiet for a while and blinked a few times while studying the priest's expression. A hum escaped her lips and she straightened in her seat. She took the receipt they both received after closing their tab for the night and wrote something on it.
"And what is it, that you're doing now?"
A few seconds passed and she finished writing.
"You owe me."
"And what's this about?" The venator's eyes studied the paper, which only had a few words written on it.
"Directions to the Bear Pit and what you gotta bring to bribe your way into Lash's room there."
"Where did you get this info? Not that I am complaining, I am just curious." He looked at the note with big interest and already made a mental note of its contents.
"Bounty targets talk a lot when they ain't too busy pissing their pants." She waved her hand in the air and then downed the rest of her liquor, before getting up out of her seat.
"Thank you, Silver."
"Don't mention it, padre."
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With bravado and while putting on a show the Lash stomped opponent after opponent. Hollering and cheering erupted from the crowd with every stomp. A few beads of sweat formed on the fighter's head, but there was no sign of him stopping until there was a literal pile of unconscious men in front of him. Venator watched in awe, his mouth open and eyes wide. He had seen the other man's performance in the ritual of course, grappling through the air without a care in the world and slamming whoever was in front of him into the nearest wall, but this was different. Not methodical like the fights he witnessed, but instead raw and animalistic. It lacked the grace, he was learned to keep up on his hunt. Lash fought for himself, his own goals, his own wants and Quinn couldn't help but find it incredibly attractive.
A few more moments passed and yet again the bell rang, causing another wave of cheers from the crowd.
"The Lash wins again! Carnage and pure violence dispensend by the ring's greatest and undefeated champiooooooooon!"
Lash flexed and bowed again, while cheers filled the air. The unconscious fighters got dragged out of the arena, but Lash remained savouring the moment. After another round of cheers and one last bow, Venator couldn't help but notice the other man's head slightly turn towards him, one more smirk on his lips and then he left. The priest looked at nothing in particular with eyes wide open. Was he interpreting too much into this? His gut was a mixture of excitement and dread. He knew this was the last chance to back out. The metal underneath his feet clanged with every heavy step. The arena was still as lively as before awaiting the next fighter and the next bout of fisticuffs to gamble on. A few people gave the venator curious glances and some hollered stupid remarks after him, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
A side door had another bouncer in front of it, just as Silver had described on her note. Quinn came to a stop in front of it, crossing his arms and looking the man straight in the eye. He received a scrutinizing look back.
"Lookin' to get to the dressing rooms."
"And I'm lookin' to get into bed with a broadway star, we all can't get what we want."
The venator rummaged through his pack and produced a bottle. Some sort of liquor brewed illegally by a bunch of street vendors. He didn't care much for trying it, however the note said the bigger the bottle the better.
"You sure we can't come to an agreement?"
The man took the bottle and gave it a curious look, uncapped it and took a whiff of its contents. He stashed the bottle in a sidenook and made space for the priest to enter.
"Don't go causin' any trouble."
A dimly lit corridor greeted Quinn. The wood paneling had seen better days and the tile flooring hadn't been mopped in weeks, maybe months. The air was stale and if Quinn had to be honest, he couldn't wait to get out of here. Slowly he made his way through the space, reading the names on the doors carefully. Some of the Bear Pit's mainstays seem to have their own private area here, which should only make his search easier. A few more doors passed by until he finally arrived at his destination. 'Jacob Lash' it said in bold letters. He took a deep breath and raised his knuckles to knock. Too late to back out now. A few seconds passed and then the door opened.
"Well, if it isn't the venator himself, coming to see little 'ol me."
Lots of people called Jacob Lash an asshole and venator wouldn't quite disagree. Confidence was one thing, but oftentimes it was replaced by pure arrogance. At least with the comments Lash made during the ritual.
"I am here to see you, yes." He glanced behind Lash. Another dimly lit room with some of his gear on a table, a sofa and some training equipment the man probably used for warmup. "May I come in?"
Lash's eyes narrowed, but he made way for the priest to enter regardless. The door behind him closed and Lash moved to sit on top of the table next to his gear.
"What brings you here? Comin' to see greatness in person? Couldn't get enough of the Lash during the ritual?"
The venator swallowed the lump in his throat. Asshole or not, he came here to give in to his own wants. At least for one night.
"Friend told me I should see you fight in the ring." He moved towards the sofa and sat down. "Impressive performance."
"Well you know how it is." Lash leaned forward, hands braced on the table. "The Lash is always ready to kick some ass and look good while doin' it."
Quinn stood next to the door, arms crossed. How to start...or rather where to start? Would he even have a chance?
"But if you only wanted to see me fight, then you wouldn't have knocked on my door. Correct?"
The man's tone was mischievous, a grin barely visible around his lips.
"If we are to fight together...we might as well get to know each other."
"Didn't know the venator's cared all too much about who they are fighting with. Ya here 'cause it was an order?" He pushed himself off the table and took a few steps towards the priest.
"No." He straightened his posture and tried to look dignified. If anything he wouldn't give in to his urges without a fight. "Nobody told me I needed to come. I wanted to."
Lash let out a huff and crossed his arms, mimicking the man in front of himself.
"Well? I'm listenin'."
Here goes nothing.
"Let's share a drink. I know a good spot on the roof of an old office nearby. Also got a radio for some music stashed there." He felt so dumb. If there was any way to see his own face right now, it would probably be bright red.
Lash stopped for a moment and just looked at the other man, before erupting into laughter.
"Listen if you don-"
"Nonono. I'll go with you. It's just hard to take you seriously like this." He took a step towards the priest and continued. "But, I'm intrigued. You got my ear for the night, Venator."
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A few rays of sun were left, painting a contrast of stark, bright orange against the creeping in dark blue night sky. The old brick building was further away from the more lively streets, allowing them to talk in peace. Soft music played from the radio the venator had brought. A simple guitar melody and a woman's voice belting out her heart over lost friends and regrets. Before they had ascended the stairs towards the roof, Quinn had told his companion 'I don't want to talk to the Lash. I wanna talk to you. At least for now, drop the persona.', which the other man had agreed to. Surprisingly easily.
"The ritual went well. You did good."
Quinn held his flask in his hand, testing its weight. His feet dangled off the edge of the building.
"They just couldn't withstand the power of the Lash."
The fighter was leaning back on his hands. Half of his face was in the shade, while the other was illuminated by the last rays of the evening sun. He was still wearing his blue tanktop he also wore in the ring. The smell of his sweat didn't do much to extinguish the priest's fire in his gut, but rather made it burn even wilder, much to his own horror.
"Why did you choose this spot?"
"I come here to think. You'd think prayer was where I find peace, but I find that my head associates even that with work nowadays."
A low hum could be heard from Lash. He was listening. Slowly, Quinn passed the flask over, which Lash accepted. "Nobody really bothers me here. So it's when I get to relax. At least for a bit. The alcohol helps too, I suppose."
"Do you have doubts?"
"About what?"
A swig of the flask, a grimace. He didn't seem to be the whiskey type.
"What you're doin' down there. Killin' and shit, while also bein' a priest. Sounds...complicated."
Venator took a swig of the whiskey himself, savoring the burning feeling it left in his throat.
"Back then, when I started, it didn't bother me. But now-", he put the flask between the two of them "every single day, week, month something new pops up. No matter what I do innocent people get hurt. It feels wrong to doubt my work. But I can't help but feel conflicted."
Another hum and a pat on the back. It felt weird seeing Lash like this. Without the bravado and arrogance, even if he still made the occasional comment. Their thighs were touching and he just now noticed how close they both sat together. While fighting there isn't much chance to get to know your comrades. You react, adapt, survive. The other venators had their own ways of coping. Exploits he would not want to describe. But still, there was work to be done. Quinn looked over at Lash, drank in the sight of his form against the clash of blue and orange hues eminating from the world around him. The man was a fighter, yes. But he also found him irresistably attractive. Every action of his chiseled body only underlined the confidence he radiated during combat. He wanted to touch, to feel, to worship. All for a night of just forgetting the things that weighed heavy on Quinn's mind.
"Why did you become a venator?"
"Cause back then I believed I could make things better."
Lash shifted, his thigh pressed a bit harder against the priest's. Not that he minded, of course.
"And you don't anymore?"
Quinn stayed silent, opting instead to take another swig from the flask. The liquid went down smoothly and he savoured the sensation of it. Burning. Numbing.
"What do you need right now, venator?"
"Coming right in with the hard questions, huh?"
He passed the flask to Lash, who accepted it but still kept his gaze on Quinn. He sighed. How do you even answer that? Lash's unmoving gaze made him feel nervous. There was genuine curiosity. And this was a situation he had brought upon himself. Maybe it would've been better to stay in the safehouse he had been provided for his stay in New York. Pray the demons away. Sink into a slumber filled with dread for what's to come when he would next open his eyes. Quinn's eyes wandered over towards Lash again. They went up the man's form from his legs, up to his muscular torso and arms and finally settling on his face with his sharp jaw and moustache he couldn't help but find handsome, as ridiculous as it looked. A surge of the feeling he had been trying to surpress dictated his next action. A hand on Lash's jaw, two pairs of rough lips on top of each other. A bit of whiskey had spilled from the fighter's lips and was now dribbling down his cheek. He had made a noise of surprise, but not disgust. Quinn deepend the kiss, pressing against the other man. Any contact will do. He just wanted to feel. To drink in the company of someone, anyone. Their tongues danced with each other and Quinn made a noise between a grunt and a moan against the other man's lips. They parted, breathing heavy. The flask had been discarded and knocked over on the ground. Thankfully it was empty now.
"I want to forget. Just for one night."
'Sin' it echoed in his mind again. A reprimand. Scolding himself for giving in to his carnal desires. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when he was close to having what he wanted. It was only for one night. One night.
"Please. Jacob."
He looked conflicted for just a split second, but then Lash's lips were on his again just a moment after he said those words. It was all tongue and desire and need. They let themselves fall back onto the more solid ground of the roof, Lash on top of the priest. Quinn's hands explored, touched where he didn't dare look too hard just moments ago. His hands came to rest on Lash's ass, enouraging to move against his hardening cock. Soft moans and groans escaped the venator's lips, lost in the kiss him and the man shared.
"Was this something you wanted for a while now?"
Lash's voice was breathless. Filled with lust.
"Maybe. Was too scared to think about it." He wasn't lying. Being with a man wasn't exactly something Quinn saw himself doing at any point in his life. The plan was to hunt down monsters, fulfill his duty and if he didn't get brutally murdered by some abomination, find somewhere quiet to settle down with. Alone or with someone didn't matter to him.
"Do you regret this?" A whisper. Timid. Unsure.
Their lips connected again and Quinn's hands went underneath Lash's tank top. He felt the muscle underneath, let his hands rest against his abs and lightly squeeze at his pecs. Lash in turn worked on getting the priest out of his clothes. He wasn't wearing his usual battle attire, but still had some layers that needed to be shed. Buttons were being undone and layers of cloth shed and until he was only laying there in his shirt and pants.
"No wonder you're so pissed all the time. Probably feel like you're in an oven with all that shit on."
Quinn let out a short laugh and got to work kissing and sucking on Lash's neck. Every groan felt like a drop of the finest whiskey in his mouth, every moan and rut against the tent in his pants like a drag from an expensive cigar.
Quickly Lash grew impatient again and lifted up the venator's shirt, only to then lean back and admire what was under him.
"Musta went through a lot of shit, huh?"
His hands traced the scars on Quinn's torso. Gashes from monsters, bullet wounds from thugs. Distant memories, but none he regretted.
"I'm still alive and here. Am I not?"
Before Lash could answer Quinn finally got to work on revealing the chest of the man on top of him. He was greeted by well trained abs and two big pecs. One of his hands went to grab Lash's left pec while his mouth got to work licking and sucking on his right. Lash on top of him, still grinding against his hard and leaking cock. A hand was in Quinn's hair, clawing against his scalp.
"If I'd known you'd be such a slut for my tits, I'd have made a move myself, father."
That caused him to let go and bring their faces together again, lips only a few milimeters apart.
"No titles tonight. Call me Quinn. Please...Jacob."
He sounded so needy. So weak. Not like himself at all. But this was nourishing his soul, his spirit.
"Kiss me again, Quinn."
Another bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth and need.
"Give me your hands.", Quinn managed to get out during their passionate makeout.
Lash stretched them out in front of himself, against the priest's chest. Quinn took the rosary, which usually hung on his gun and tied it around Lash's wrists.
"Didn't know yo-"
"Put your hands above your head."
Following the instruction, Lash's muscles stretched and his hands were now in the air. Quinn leaned back on his hands for a moment and just watched. The cross on his rosary was dangling above the man's head, reflecting the last bits of sunlight. A halo of orange surrounded Lash's shirtless upper body. A stark contrast against the darkening early night sky.
"You're such a beautiful man, Jacob." His hands were on the man's ass, already pulling down his pants. He kissed his neck and lightly bit into it, not enough to draw blood, but enough to mark him. "Don't hold back. Moan, scream. Give me something to worship."
"Hahh...didn't know you'd be into shit like this fa-....Quinn."
A few more movements and Quinn was pulling down the other man's pants, finally freeing his leaking cock. He maneuvered them, so that Lash was now laying below him, exposed, vulnerable, baring everything just for him. He wasted no time moving downwards, kissing every inch of skin passing him by, before stopping at Lash's shaft. He gave it a few jerks, feeling how it felt in his hand and smearing the precum, that had ran down along the skin.
"Wastin' no time gettin' to the...good part, huh?"
Quinn didn't answer, too busy worshipping the dick of the man he wanted. He gave the shaft a few licks and started sucking on Lash's balls, before finally giving his tip some attention. Every moan, every twitch of the man's hips was food for his soul. The venator's eye flicked upwards to look at the fighter's face, mouth hanging open in pleasure. After taking in Lash's cock all the way down his throat he released it with a pop and move up to give the panting man a kiss, a mixture of spit and precum on his lips.
"We're not done, love. Not by a long shot." Lash practically pounced on him, mumbling things like "So hot...", while kissing him deeply. Venator worked on opening the buttons of his pants, agonizingly slow, until finally his own cock pressed against Lash's stomach, now finally free from its cloth prison. He pressed both of their dicks together and rubbed them against each other. The friction was heavenly. They were rutting against each other, erratic, lost in the moment and chasing every drop of pleasure.
"Keep goin'...gotta-"
Lash's hips bucked against the venator's. But he didn't want him to cum just yet. He pulled back and kneeled in front of Lash's form, cock standing proudly in the air.
"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me, man!"
Lash was trying to sound upset, but it came out as a mixture of a whine and cry for mercy instead. Quinn instead got to work spreading Lash's cheeks, pressing and prodding against the tight muscle with a bit his own spit for lubrication. Slowly his finger entered and he stopped again to give the other man a moment to adjust. Lash's mouth hung open, his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Whatever protest he had on his lips, had died very quickly.
Agonizingly slow, he inserted another finger and stretched Lash's hole, fucking in and out of him with a scissoring motion. Quinn watched with a smirk, how the so arrogant and proud man was just a moaning mess below him, every thrust, every stretch made precum pearl at the tip of his neglected cock and run down the length of his shaft. He noticed Lash pushing into his hand. The desparate man was chasing any bit of relief he could get, tortured by the priest's slow advance.
"Just fu-fuck me already, Quinn!"
"So impatient." His fingers pushed in deeper again. "And here I just wanted to make sure you were well taken care of, love." He curled his index finger slightly, which made Lash suddenly moan and twitch even louder. "Theeeere we go."
A few more steady in and out thrusts and the venator withdrew, much to Lash's dismay again.
"Alright, come here."
The hard ground hit Quinn's back as he laid down and pulled Lash on top of himself. Panting and red, the fighter looked down at him, not ashamed to show how much he wanted this. Quinn's cock pressed against Lash's hole and slowly and steadily he pressed inside. With gritted teeth and more panting, Lash's forehead hit the priest's hairy chest, while he endured the pressure and slight pain inside of him. He gave the fighter a few moments to adjust, just laying there and kneading his thigh in an attempt to calm him down a bit.
"Alright- alright yeah, you can move."
He kept his forehead pressed against Quinn's chest, while the priest pulled back a bit and thrust back inside. It was so hot and tight inside Lash. It drove Quinn insane. A few more slow and steady thrusts, until Lash started pushing into him again as well. He seemed to enjoy the priest's thick cock stretching him open.
"Yeah...that's good, love."
Lash straightened in Quinn's lap, his cock now standing straight in the air and bobbing with every movement of his hips. His hands were still bound, hanging limply against his abs. Quinn was mesmerized by the man, his eyes flicking from his face down to his cock, to his thighs and then the rosary binding his hands. Lash often called himself a god when in combat, but this sight right here was worth being called heavenly, godly, a statue made from only the finest marble. Something worth worshipping. He pushed himself up to hold Lash tight, his lips pressed kisses to any body part they could find, while he sped up and thrust his cock relentlessly into Lash's tight hole. Again he sucked on his neck and bit. A mark, so that Lash would remember this night. The other man's moans grew louder and louder and the venator finally snaked his hand between them and started jerking Lash off. Only a few more thrusts and Lash came with a moan into Quinn's shoulder, riding out his own orgasm by pressing as hard as he could against the priest's cock. Quinn only needed a few more thrusts himself, before he came inside of Lash.
Their ragged breathing filled the air and the world felt like it was spinning faster than usual. Lash's entire body weight was on the venator, limp from the exertion. It took them both a few moments to arrive in reality again. They didn't speak a word while cleaning up. Not while Quinn removed the rosary from Lash's wrist and not while he offered to lay down with Lash on a pile of their clothes, only covered by the venator's coat.
"Was that enough for one night?"
Was it? Quinn felt good right now. Better than before. But he couldn't help but feel empty at the prospect of knowing that all of this would be over once he left this rooftop. Once he descended those stairs it would be forgotten. That thought filled him with dread. It made him sad.
"It was...but..." His fingers were carding through Lash's hair, who had his head on Quinn's chest.
"But?"
He shook his head. That thought should be banished.
"Nevermind." A few more moments of quiet passed. Quinn thought of things to say. Things to do.
"I want you to have this." In his outstretched hand he held the rosary, that he had used. "It just feels right...to give it to you."
Lash let out a snort. Probably due to the circumstances it was used in, but he took the chain of beads nontheless.
"Thank you."
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At the ritual Quinn greeted his comrades, old and new alike. Today was to be another day of slaughter and regret in the name of the Archmother. But alongside him was one familiar face of a certain fighter from the Bear Pit and he couldn't help but notice the gleam of a cross from a familiar rosary on his belt. "One night.", he had said. To escape from his demons. To escape from the weight of his duty. Perhaps he now had another nights and even days to look forward to.