INFLUENCED GREATLY BY MY SISTER'S, NERAKSIS', IDEA OF A MODERN MAFIA AU! AND LADY GAGA'S SONGS G.U.Y. AND SEXXX DREAMS …ANYWAY, ENJOY! WE NEED MORE OF THESE TWO!
Laying it out-by PS
The club's heavy music drummed inside of Killian's head, giving him a headache as he searched the crowd for his new dealer.
The boy was always surrounded by an entourage of other males, bodyguards, along with his right hand man Felix. Peter Pan was a busy man, yet he always made time for Killian. Killian knew it, but he ignored it.
Catching sight of the tall blonde who always trailed after Pan Killian shifted through the crowd, weaving around the twisting bodies to approach the secluded corner that was smoky yet quieter than the rest of the club.
Pan sat in the back of the half-room, idly running his fingers along the rim of an empty glass, eyes flickering up to meet Killian's as he neared the area, a smirk coming to play on his lips as he held up a hand to silence Felix's prattle in his ear.
"Ah," the demon boy said, grin widening to reveal even teeth, "Killian. You finally showed up." The way he said it made it sound like Killian had made him wait a long time, like he was being irrational in that single decision.
"Aye," Killian agreed, moving past the bodyguards to sit across from Pan in the single chair that was placed there, "do you have what I asked for?"
Pan waved a hand and Felix moved to retrieve an ornate box, handling it carefully in his gloved hands before handing it over to Pan, moving back once he was done.
Peter looked down at the box, light eyes hooded, "I had to go through a lot of trouble to get this," he said, brows raising, "your employer must want this very much."
Killian narrowed his eyes, "I don't ask questions." That was true, it was part of his protocol to never ask for extraneous information, and to never know what the employer did with what he procured for them after it was handed over. As long as it didn't affect him he honestly didn't care.
Pan grinned at him again, "if you say so. But, I do demand some extra payment for the trouble I was given. Battling the true owner for this was quite unfortunate, " he laughed at that, as though it happened every day and was comical, "I lost a few men in fact!"
Killian licked his lips, hands itching to snatch up the box and just get the job over with, "sorry to hear that." No he wasn't.
Pan gave him a dubious look, raising a brow, "right," he drawled, "those men were treasured," he said, though his tone betrayed him as he didn't really care about any of his men at all, except maybe Felix, who was his most loyal.
Pan suddenly stood up then, making Killian's nerves jump and his fingers twitch, muscles tensing to reach for his gun.
"Come," the boy said, casual clothes differing from that of his men's suits as he passed by them, stopping at Killian's side, "I want to talk in private."
Killian groaned inwardly. Pan's talks always ended in blood and sweat, not that of the violent kind, but that of the more raw and primal, the kind that Killian couldn't handle when it came to the boy.
But, he stood, chair scraping the floor loudly and making Felix frown, face disapproving as he watched Killian follow his boss to one of the back rooms. Killian personally agreed with that face…
Pan's private room was elaborate, dressed in velvet greens and stocked with rum and beer, Killian helping himself to some of the drink as Pan flopped down restlessly into one plush chair.
"This object," Pan started, watching him languidly from his seat, "was difficult to procure this time Killian." He almost sounded tired, pupils wide and dark as he ran his fingers of the fabric of the chair.
Killian downed a glass of whisky before he reached for the rum, "sorry," he said, not really feeling it at all, "but the boss wanted it real badly."
Pan swallowed, "I want to know why." His eyes were narrowed and dark, making Killian stifle a shiver.
"You know I don't ask them the personal stuff," Killian said as he went to sit by the boy, placing himself on the brown leather couch, "I don't want to know what they do with this stuff. It's against my rules."
Pan rolled his eyes, "oh please Killian," he scoffed, "rules are meant to be broken. You of all people should know that."
Killian glared at him, taking a sip of drink, enjoying the burn for a moment, "not these rules Peter," he said seriously, leaning back. "I don't get paid to ask questions, and neither do you."
Pan leaned forwards a bit, "I don't get paid nearly enough for what I do for you," he said, licking his pink lips, "you're a special case," he continued, hands clasped together, "I already own you."
Killian sighed into his glass, feeling and knowing the truth of the words, and hating it.
"You don't own me," he told the boy just to contrary, "nobody does, I'm not an object."
Pan smiled indulgently at him, standing, "no, you're much more than that." He walked around to the back of the couch, draping himself over the back of it and pressing up against Killian, "and you know that."
Killian licked the alcohol from his own lips, breathing in the scent of pine and wild spices, the scent of Peter Pan, a one man extraordinaire, a one man empire.
"Come on Killian," Pan breathed into his ear, "just one more time."
It was always one more time with Pan, Killian thought, gulping down the rest of his drink before putting the glass down on the low table in front of him, but, he sometimes found that he didn't mind when it came to the boy.
Now, he turned slightly on the couch, brushing his lips across Pan's and reveling in the scent of the boy, watching when a moment later the younger male jumped wildly over the back of the couch, landing lithely on top of Killian's lap, pulling him in for another kiss.
Peter liked to kiss, Killian found, liked to remind Killian of who he was with as he held the boy, pressing bruises into his hips and drawing blood with his rough nips.
Peter pulled back after a moment, un-tucking Killian's dress shirt from his jeans and trailing his fingers up over his chest until the shirt was off and on the floor, Peter's clever fingers running all over his bare skin.
Peter liked to touch him, liked to stare at him and memorize him from the inside out, making Killian worry for his own safety and sanity until Peter built him back up again.
Today though, the boy was obviously not in the mood to take things slow as he unbuckled his own pants and slid them down, shimmying his hips and letting them slide over his legs and crumple near his boots.
"Go on," Peter told him, licking up his jaw, deft fingers undoing Killian's belt and sliding his zipper down, the sound rasping and grating on Killian's nerves, the feeling not going away until Pan had freed his member and started stroking it gently, nearly shy. But Killian knew better.
He roughly slammed Peter's hips against his own, rubbing their arousals together for a minute before taking hold of his own cock and moving it downwards, towards Pan's entrance, the warmth and softness of inner thighs teasing him until the realness of Peter's hole was presented to him, enveloping him and taking him in.
Peter was tight around him, as usual, and Killian breathed in roughly, panting against the boy's shoulder as Peter put his own head against Killian's neck, rubbing his lips against the skin there before breathing out one word, "go."
Killian didn't need to be told twice.
He didn't waste time letting the boy adjust, he just thrusted up angrily, hating this, hating himself and always Pan, not liking that the warmth against his body was the boy, not one of his past conquests or loves. But, he supposed, Pan was a love all on his own, one that he couldn't shake or ever get rid of.
In his ear Peter gasped out a litany of dirty words, strings of possessive words coming from his pouting mouth, making Killian growl and grip him tighter, closer, aching need rising and crashing against his control with each passing moment.
"Killian," Peter crooned, voice a perfect temptation, a reflection of the siren it belonged to. "Killian," he hissed again, sharp nails piercing the soft skin of Killian's shoulder, "more."
Pan's demands were met easily, Killian finding it within himself to grab Peter's hair and pull him back to kiss in the last few moments, breath mixing, bonding them further as they both met a sweet release.
As soon as it was over Killian pulled out, pushing the boy away an settling him on the far end of the couch, trying not to get caught up in the image of the panting boy.
"Thanks," Killian said quickly, sliding his pants back up over his hips and swooping down to collect his rumpled shirt from the floor, "for taking on this case." Without Pan sniffing out the hard to find objects Killian would be officially fucked over.
Pan sprawled back on the arm of the couch, "of course," he said, "don't forget the box." He gestured to the door, where the box lay on a small table, seemingly appearing out of thin air.
When Killian looked back Peter was fully dressed, brushing a hand through his hair, ruffling it further instead of really fixing it.
Pan met his eyes at that moment, holding them, "what?"
Killian took in a deep breath, "she wants the apple to kill someone."
Pan smirked then, "then she'll be sorely disappointed."
Killian gulped, pulling on his shirt quickly, checking to make sure his gun was in his pocket before striding over to the door, grabbing the box and reaching for the door handle.
"Don't hesitate to come to me again for help," Pan called to him, "but don't say I didn't warn you if you get too deep into things."
Killian closed his eyes for a moment before licking his lips, "but, if I do get in too deep, you'll help me out?"
He could almost feel the answering grin, "of course," the accented lilt said, "after all, you are mine to handle."
Killian didn't stick around to hear anymore…
PHEW! THAT TOOK ME A SURPRISINGLY LONG TO WRITE, SINCE I DIDN'T I PLAN IT OUT AT ALL. ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU LIKED IT, AND EVEN IF YOU DIDN'T YOU SHOULD BE AWESOME AND LEAVE A REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! ALSO, IF YOU FEEL CONFIDENT IN DOING IT, YOU SHOULD WRITE A PAN/HOOK FANFIC OF YOUR OWN, SINCE THIS PAIRING IS LACKING IN FICS A BIT. THANKS AGAIN!