Based on a prompt by lux-literarum on tumblr
post/173773394912/prompt-132-you-dont-touch-them-the-demon
Admittedly, it had been very stupid to get involved with a human. Arthur knew that, but he was nothing if not a sucker for temptation and trouble. There was a reason the harshest boot camp in England kicked him out when he was 16. (He didn't know who his foster parents had been kidding.)
Though that didn't take into consideration the risks to Marceau. He thought he had considered the risks, since he had explained it to Marceau. Evidently not. Then again, how could Arthur have considered that his cruel (and birth) family would send people to... "help him see their way."
The way to do that was not by breaking into his lover's flat and threatening his life. They were smart enough to do it when Arthur wasn't there-or else the walls would be painted with their blood.
What they didn't take into account was that Arthur could sense his family a mile away. Not to mention the fact that he would be absolutely enraged at their presence. Considering what his family put him through, he had hoped they hadn't been there long.
He didn't waste with subtlety after walking through the hallway. Preferring to make a statement, he kicked the door in and let part of his glamour fall. As soon as he took a step in, someone lunged at him with a knife, which he caught with his tail. "Now, you can all leave, or I can throw your bodies in the dump," he stated, giving the three intruders a cold glare.
Marceau was a little battered and exhausted, but he mostly just looked pissed off. Not that he could talk easily with a hand firmly on his throat. Not enough to choke him, but enough to be a threat. Especially considering the magic potential from the owner.
"Ha! Before or after we kill your boy-toy?" one of them asked. That man was the largest of the three and the one with his hand wrapped around Marceau's throat.
"You're the one with a choice here, boy," the eldest looking stated. "You can either be a good child and come back to your parents with us, or he'll die."
Arthur crossed his arms and pretended to think about it. "Well, let's see... Considering what my 'family' put me through, uhm... No. I will mail your heads back to them, though," he said with a cheery smile. "Because you people don't touch him. You can fuck with anyone but him."
The next ten minutes or so were chaos. The first thing he did was hurl the third man's knife at the large one, landing the knife straight in his head. The fight instantly turned to magic once the surviving two lost their glamours completely.
Arthur was sure that Marceau had passed out, so he didn't think twice about dropping his own glamour. He didn't have much concern about being able to handle the situation. There were only two of them and Arthur was raised to fight.
A couple hours later, Marceau woke up in a bed that was most definitely not his. After his confused haze passed, he realized that he was in Arthur's flat. It was less of a flat and more of a fucking penthouse, but technicalities...
He sat up to find Arthur sitting with his legs under him and his arms crossed. Marceau almost had to do a double-take as Arthur looked very different than he was used to. He had seen Arthur before with the tail and horns, but not the crimson hair or wings. And definitely not the suit.
"What... the fuck happened...?" Marceau asked, sitting up slowly. "And... what the hell is this look?"
"Ah, family drama..." he told Marceau with a shrug. "I'll settle it soon enough. Do you not like this?" He didn't mind. He knew that form was substantially different than what Marceau was used to.
"Not... necessarily... dislike it... It's different," Marceau said. It wasn't how he knew Arthur, but it was still Arthur. Though he was admittedly too tired to really ask much about it. Something had exhausted him.
"Mhh... I think you should go back to sleep. You're probably still in shock," Arthur stated as he stood up and brushed Marceau's hair back. "I'll still be here." Maybe he used a bit of magic to relax Marceau, but it wasn't anything that crossed the line. And he was sure that Marceau would appreciate it later when the shit starts to hit the fan.
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