Masochistic
"I miss you." Charles hit send and closed his omni-tool before he changed his mind.
Ares hadn't said anything else since he sent the message telling Charles not to worry about it after he'd apologized. Apparently, Ares didn't think he had anything to apologize for. Or express to Charles that he still cared about him. It wasn't all that surprising, though. He was Ares after all. The man spoke two languages: killing and fucking. Charles knew that going in, and he didn't have any right to really expect anything more from Ares … even if he did wish for it sometimes.
He lit a cigarillo, blowing the smoke up toward the ceiling. Mahlia came into the break room and sat down over by the news kiosk, turning it on before shifting her attention to her datapad. Charles watched her for a few seconds, his mind wandering back to David and all the terrible shit the sick fuck wanted to do to asari. Mahlia had grown on him a little, and the thought of someone doing crap like that to her pissed him off. Not that the thought of someone doing that to anyone wouldn't piss him off, but he actually knew Mahlia.
"What?" she asked.
"Huh?" Charles furrowed his brow, taking another drag.
"You've been staring at me for the last two minutes." She glanced up, meeting his gaze, an amused smile on her face.
He grinned and shrugged. "I was just thinking about you and Lindsey. How's that going? You kiss her yet?"
Rolling her eyes, she snorted, looking back down at her datapad but with a smile on her face. "Shut up."
He chuckled, letting his gaze drift away from her as he smoked and listened to the news.
"A third body has been found," the feminine voice said, "in a series of murders some are now calling the work of a serial killer. C-Sec has confirmed that the latest victim, twenty-eight-year-old human David Walsh, died after sustaining wounds similar in nature to those of Ethan Rorschach and Aiden Jackson, both also human males."
Serial killer. Yes, he supposed he was. Charles looked at the kiosk, even though it didn't provide him with any more insight than the voice coming through the speakers. He took a deep drag, flicking his ashes in the ashtray. He knew he should've waited longer, but with all the shit going on in his head and the fight with Ares … he needed to kill David.
"Authorities have not yet confirmed the suspicion that these deaths were committed by the same individual, but they will be making a statement to the press tomorrow evening." The voice on the kiosk paused for a second. "In the meantime, it is suggested that citizens of the Citadel take extra precautions to ensure their safety. Avoid traveling alone when possible, stick to well-populated areas, and be sure to keep your doors locked at all times."
"Goddess. I hope they catch whoever is doing this, soon." Mahlia moved over to sit at the table with him, reaching over and putting her hand on his wrist. "Charles … maybe I should take you home after work tonight."
He let out a bark of laughter. "Why?"
Blinking, Mahlia looked at him like he was a simple-minded fool. "You heard what they said, all of the victims have been human men. It's not safe for you to be alone."
Charles smiled, leaving his cigarillo between his lips to lean forward and put his free hand on top of hers. "I'm sure I'll be fine, Mahlia, but you know you don't have to use a serial killer as an excuse to come home with me."
Scoffing, she pulled her hand free from his and slapped him on the shoulder. "You're incorrigible!"
He leaned back in the chair, laughing and nearly dropping his cigarillo. "If it'll really make you feel better, I'll see if Cammus will share a cab with me."
"Thank you." She folded her arms on the table, watching him for a moment. A slow, sly smile spread across her face. "You two seem to spend a lot of time together away from work."
He took a drag from his cigarillo, raising an eyebrow. "Are you asking if we're dating?"
She huffed and let out a soft chuckle. "Well, I was trying to be more subtle about it, but yes."
"No," He said, smirking, "we're not dating."
"That's too bad." She shrugged. "I thought it'd be kind of nice for you to have someone."
"What makes you think I don't have someone?" He arched an eyebrow despite the sick, twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach. For all he really knew, he didn't have anyone anymore.
"I—I don't know …." Blinking, she waved a hand. "You've never mentioned anyone."
He shrugged, putting out his cigarillo. "He's a private person."
Travium watched them from across the gym, leaning against the wall, ankles and arms crossed. Charles tried to ignore him and the stares coming from the other turians around the room and just focus on Cammus. But damn, it was hard when he felt them watching, judging, laughing. And he knew the fact Cammus was in there with him, teaching him, only made the turian a target for snide comments, too. Charles could tell it bothered Cammus, but he refused to let it rule his actions, and Charles admired that about him.
"This time, I want you to turn your arm and grab my wrist after you push my arm aside." Cammus waggled his fingers. "Throw a punch at me, I'll show you what I mean."
Charles balled his hand into a fist, and he could tell there was something about it Cammus didn't approve of. The turian flared his mandibles, his brow plates twitching, but he didn't say anything, so Charles struck out at him. Cammus brushed his arm aside, his wrist against Charles', and then followed the movement to wrap his fingers around Charles' wrist.
"Got it?" Cammus asked, meeting Charles' gaze but still holding on to his wrist.
"Uh." Charles lifted a shoulder. "I think so."
Cammus chuckled and asked, "Do you want me to show you again?"
"Yeah." Charles nodded.
Cammus let go and waved his fingers again, so Charles threw another punch. The turian's hand darted out, his wrist slapping against Charles' again before twisting and locking his fingers around Charles' wrist. He wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to pull the movement off, but he felt ready to give it a shot, so he nodded at Cammus.
It took him three tries, even with Cammus moving slow, to get it down. After that, they spent twenty minutes with Charles doing it over and over again as Cammus picked up the pace. When Cammus seemed satisfied, he switched hands, making Charles do the same with his left.
"You're being too easy on him," a voice called from across the gym, and suddenly all sounds stopped.
Charles and Cammus turned to look, finding everyone looking back and forth between them and the gym's owner. Travium pushed off the wall, walking right across mats other turians occupied as if he didn't give a damn whether he was in their way or not, and headed straight for Cammus and Charles. Cammus took a deep breath, flaring his mandibles and glanced at Charles.
"We can go if you want to," Charles said, keeping his voice just above a whisper.
Cammus shook his head, turning his attention back to the turian approaching. "What can I do for you, Travium?"
Travium walked right up onto their mat, stopping in front of Cammus and crossing his arms. "If you want to teach him to fight like us, then teach him like us."
Fluttering his mandibles, Cammus let out a confused sounding trill. "He's not … he's not a turian, though. I don't think—"
"Human." Travium cut Cammus off, moving to stand in front of Charles. "Does your mate coddle you and fuck you like a human?"
Charles raised his eyebrows, suddenly wanting nothing more than to punch the cocky sonofabitch right in his nose. "How is that any of your business, turian?"
Growling, Travium leaned down, bringing his face a little closer to Charles. "My name is Travium, and I own this facility. I suggest you show a little respect."
"And my name is Charles." Leaning in closer to the turian, the muscles in Charles' jaw tightened, tendon jumping and twitching. If he hadn't left his razor in his gym bag, he could pull it out right then, flip it open and slice open the turian's throat before the asshole saw it coming. "When he comes home, I'll have him show you how he likes to fuck." Leaning in even closer, he flashed his teeth in an aggressive smile. "Or, since you're so infatuated with the fact that I'm human, I can just show you how I like to fuck."
"Spirits," Cammus muttered, and Charles saw the turian rubbing his fingers over his forehead out of the corner of his eye. Then, he gasped. "Charles!"
Charles wasn't entirely sure how he ended up flat on his back with a turian pinning him to the mat, one hand wrapped around his throat, talons just barely digging into his skin. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't hot as hell … but it also hurt like a motherfucker and made the beast really want to taste Travium's blood. He managed to shift enough to slip his hand free from behind his back and wrapped his fingers around the turian's mandible, grip just tight enough to make it clear he held no compunction about dislocating the damn thing.
Cammus sounded utterly pissed when he growled and said, "Travium, get the hell off of him!" He moved into view, hovering over Travium, tugging at the other turian's shoulder.
Travium snarled but kept his attention on Charles. He growled, low and threatening. "Bring your mate here, human. I'll make the both of you—what is it you humans say?—yes, that's right: my bitch."
Charles licked his lips, tasting blood in his mouth, making his beast perk up, snapping its teeth. A slow smile spread across his face, and he stared into Travium's eyes. "I'll be sure to tell him you said so," he said, voice utterly calm.
Snarling again, Travium let Charles go and pushed himself to his feet when Charles released his mandible. He stared down at Charles for a few seconds before turning to Cammus. "Teach him right or take it somewhere else." Walking off the mat, he headed toward the door.
"Are you trying to get yourself hurt?" Cammus appeared over Charles, concern drawing his mandibles in tight. He squatted down next to Charles, nose plates twitching. "You're bleeding."
Maybe.
Charles smiled, rolling over to get his feet under him again. "I'm fine."
He fired another shot and stopped to look at the hole left behind in the target. He was starting to get pretty good at hitting the chest area—at least at close range. Pursing his lips, he sat the Stiletto III down and moved over to the kiosk, using it to pull the target all the way over to the counter. He took the paper off the clamps and held it up to look at. Someone tapped on his shoulder, and he turned his head, finding Saelus standing behind him. The turian gestured at Charles' earmuffs, so he put the paper on the counter and tugged them down.
"You know," Saelus said, fluttering his mandibles, "the holographic targets can collect data on your hits, offering a visual readout of your improvement. I can show you if you'd like."
"Uh …" Charles glanced back at the paper target laying on the counter before turning his attention back to Saelus and nodding. "… yeah, sure. Thank you, sir."
Saelus let out a soft rumble, moving over to the kiosk. "It's no problem."
Charles watched as the turian navigated through the screens, committing the selections to memory.
"You can select a specific species as targets, randomize them, or if you prefer, something nondescript." Saelus glanced at Charles and stepped back, waving a hand at the kiosk. "You can also choose to have the most lethal areas highlighted, which helps if you're targeting a species whose anatomy you're less familiar with."
Charles chewed on the inside of his lip for a second and then chose the 'random' selection and turned on the 'lethality targeting'. Why the hell not? He might as well learn how to kill everyone. With the way he was feeling, it was only a matter of time, anyway.
Saelus hummed, nodding as he moved closer again. "If it gives you a target you decide you don't want, you can just hit the button to skip it. It'll automatically change once you've successfully lethally wounded the target." He pointed to the 'finalize selections' button and said, "Just use this when you're ready."
"Thank you, sir." Charles nodded at him.
Saelus rumbled, smiling and dipping his head before putting his earmuffs back on and moving down to the stall he was cleaning up. Charles hit the button and slid his own earmuffs back into place. Picking up the Stiletto III, he turned his attention to the holographic image of the batarian down range.
Charles leaned against Cammus' kitchen counter, watching as the turian stirred the sliced meat and diced vegetables in the pan. He'd invited Acevia and Charles over for dinner and to hang out, even suggested Charles bring Eezo. Of course, Cammus didn't have a clue about preparing levo food, so Charles had to supervise the process.
He wished Ares was there. It was getting harder and harder to keep himself going without seeing Ares, without knowing they were going to be okay. Ares meant everything to him, and he always would, there could be no going back for Charles, not after Shanxi. If Ares didn't come home … if he left Charles … he didn't know what he'd do. He was already feeling the urge to kill again, knowing spilling blood would help stave off the empty feeling gnawing away at his insides. But with C-Sec on the hunt for a serial killer, news spread throughout the Citadel like a wildfire. He really couldn't hunt again—as Ares so aptly called it—so soon, at least not until things calmed down and people started to relax their guard.
He'd been spending as much time as he could at the gym with Cammus—who'd taken Travium's warning to heart the next day, and with a little encouragement from Charles, started pushing him more aggressively. It helped, some, kept him distracted for a little while. And going to the range helped a little, too, but after a few minutes of pulling the trigger, it became repetitive enough for his mind to wander right back to Ares. He still hadn't heard anything else, no response of any kind to Charles' last message. And that was two days ago. It felt like Ares was slipping through his fingers, and he didn't know what to do to stop it. He felt like anything he did or didn't do would just push the turian further away.
"You're doing it again," Cammus said, drawing Charles' attention back to him.
"Doing what?" Charles raised an eyebrow.
Cammus flicked his mandibles and glanced up at Charles. "Getting lost inside your head and upsetting yourself."
Chuckling, Charles reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I suppose I am."
Acevia came into the kitchen, holding Eezo pressed against her chest, scratching behind the dog's ears. "When's he coming back?"
Maybe never.
Charles sucked in a deep breath, chest aching. "I'm not sure."
She hummed, lifting her chin and flicking her mandibles when Eezo started trying to lick her face. "Hopefully he doesn't stay gone too long. Apparently being a human male all alone on the Citadel is dangerous these days."
"Yeah," Charles said, half-distracted as his thoughts started to slip back to Ares and the things they'd said to one another the last time they were together. "Guess it's a good thing I've got Cammus kicking my ass into shape."
Cammus chuckled. "Did you see Travium today? I think he's disappointed you haven't given up yet, but I'm sure he'll find something else to bother us about soon enough."
Acevia purred, scratching under Eezo's chin. "Maybe I should come down sometime and watch."
Huffing, Charles pushed away from the counter and crossed over to the refrigerator to grab the Paragade he'd put in there when he'd arrived. "Trust me, I've got more than enough of an audience as it is." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Don't really need another turian there laughing at me."
She chuckled. "Show them that fire you had the night we met. They'll stop laughing."
"Oh, I think they've seen enough of his fire." Cammus turned off the stove and moved to a cabinet, pulling down plates. "Travium got in his face the other day, and where half the people in the place would've backed down, Charles just leaned in closer and egged him on." He chuffed, shaking his head. "He's lucky Travium only took him to the mat."
"You didn't hit him?" she asked, raising a brow plate.
Charles turned his mouth down at the corners and shook his head.
"No," Cammus said, bringing the plate back over to fill from the pan. "He just calmly reached up and wrapped his hand around Travium's mandible."
Tilting her head back, she laughed up at the ceiling. "I'm telling you, this one is fierce."
"Masochistic, maybe." Cammus handed Charles the plate, flicking a mandible in a smirk, a heat flashing through his gaze that Charles hadn't seen since the night they'd fucked.
Charles laughed, giving the turian a knowing smirk and took the plate back over to the table. "The guy was being a dick. Throwing his weight around. I don't roll over and take it up the ass for just anyone."
Acevia's laughter was almost loud enough to drown out Cammus' chuckle. A minute later, she sat down at the table with Charles, sliding her plate onto the surface in front of her. "I've met Travium, he's not very fond of humans. He fought in the First Contact War."
"Yeah, well, someone should tell him the war's over." He looked down at Eezo, standing next to him and said, "Sit."
Eezo sat right down—far better behaved since spending a few days with Lindsey—so Charles picked a piece of meat off his plate and gave it to her. She tossed it around in her mouth, biting down a couple of times before swallowing it and wagging her tail, turning her attention right back to Charles. He smiled, reaching down to ruffle the fur on her head.
Cammus sat down across from Charles, resting his forearms against the table. "He's not the only one there who fought in the war. I should've thought about that before taking you there." He hummed, picking up his knife and fork. "We can start going somewhere else if you want."
"Fuck that," Charles said. "Unless it's making you too uncomfortable?"
Cammus fluttered his mandibles and shrugged. "If you're okay, I'm okay."
Charles laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Eezo snuggled in against his side. Alone, in the dark, he couldn't run, couldn't hide. His dad's voice was back, taunting him, telling him that he was too soft and that was really why Ares left. Told Charles that Ares wanted someone he didn't have to carry. Wanted someone who could stand toe to toe with him. An equal.
And Charles would never be Ares' equal.
Ares was a fucking assassin. He'd never be happy with a fucking sale's clerk. He didn't love Charles, he pitied Charles. Thought of him as a helpless pet. He'd always been helpless, though, hadn't he? With his dad. With the men who killed Sarah. With the Johns who fucked him then robbed him, beat him senseless. The Johns who got too rough and thought it didn't matter because he was just a whore. Just a whore. That's what he was: Ares' whore. Wasn't that what Ares treated him like with Cammus? Flaunting what Charles' human body could do that a turian would like?
Charles sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and shoved his fingers through his hair, pressing his forehead against his palms. His chest felt tight, and he wasn't getting enough air. Eezo whined, standing on the bed and coming over to nuzzle against his side. He couldn't … he couldn't breathe. Slapping a hand against his chest, he jumped to his feet.
He took four steps towards the bedroom door and stopped, trembling and gasping for air. He was Ares' whore, and Ares had grown tired of him, just like every other John. That's what the vidscreen and everything else was about. Payment for fucking.
Shit, Ares even said it himself in the hotel. "Consider it a payment for my instruction."
Charles amused Ares, his beast amused Ares … but just like every other John, Ares had grown tired of him. He'd let himself fall in love with Ares, gave himself over completely to the turian, and Ares couldn't give a shit less. He was such a fucking idiot!
"No," Charles said, voice cracking. "No. He loves me. He trusts me. Even if I fucked up. It's just a fight." He shook his head, pacing back the other way.
"You're pathetic. You don't even believe your own bullshit," his dad said. "He doesn't love you. The sonofabitch probably can't even feel love."
"Fuck you. You don't … you don't know him." Charles raked his hands through his hair, turning again only to shift his weight from foot to foot. "You don't fucking know him!" he yelled.
"And you think you do? What do you really know about him? You really think what little he's told you about himself is the truth? You've seen how easily he can slip into character, just become someone else. Think about it, you fucking moron."
He slapped the side of his head. "Shut up. Just shut the fuck up."
"If he comes back, it'll probably just be to kill you. One less witness running around. It's what you really want, anyway. Isn't it? Whoring around with that murderous, skull-faced bird. Cutting on yourself. Why don't you stop being a pussy and just kill yourself?"
Charles growled, throwing his hands up in the air, resuming his pacing. "Fuck you! Fuck you, you goddamn asshole! I'm like this because of you!"
A knock on the door dragged Charles from bed. Bleary-eyed and confused, feeling like complete shit, he pulled on some sweats and made his way to the door. Glancing at his omni-tool, he realized he'd only slept three hours after having been up the whole night battling his demons. It was his day off, he was exhausted—mentally, emotionally, and physically. Whoever the fuck was at the door better have a damn good reason for waking him up.
He activated the security vidscreen, finding an asari he didn't know standing outside, holding a box in her hands. Narrowing his eyes, he furrowed his brow and hit the intercom button. "Can I help you?"
The asari smiled, glancing around as if she were looking for the camera. "I have a delivery for Charles Fairclough."
"From who?" he asked, stifling a yawn.
She glanced down at the box. "Um. I'm sorry, but it doesn't say."
Ares?
He rubbed his thumb and finger against his eyelids and took a steadying breath. Opening the door, he leaned against the frame. The asari glanced at his bare chest before meeting his gaze and holding the package out to him. He took it from her, turning it over in his hands, but just as she'd said, there was no indication of who it was from.
"I need your signature here, sir." She held a datapad out to him with a stylus.
He wedged the box under his arm and scribbled his signature on the screen before handing it back to her. "Thanks."
"Thank you! Have a good day!" She turned and started walking down the hall.
"You, too." He stepped back inside and closed the door.
He made his way back to the bedroom and grabbed his cigarillos before trudging back to the living room to sit down on the couch. Setting the box on the table, he shook a cigarillo out and lit it, staring at the package. He took a deep drag and let it seep back out of him, afraid of the plain, white box sitting on the table in front of him. He hadn't heard from Ares in days, not even to tell Charles to expect a delivery. So what the fuck was in the box?
He brought his thumb to his mouth, ripping off the edge of the nail with his teeth. Spitting it out to the side, he took a drag and held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds. Finally, he let it back out of him in a rush and picked up the box. He just held it for a bit, taking a couple of drags off his cigarillo before using his jagged thumbnail to break the seals on the box.
Setting it down on his knees, he opened it and looked at the black box nestled down inside. It had a picture of several different knives and tools, even a straight razor, on the front and said 'deep cleaning for all folding bladed instruments'. He took a drag, picking the box up and turning it over in his hands to read the back, his sleep-deprived mind struggling to make sense of why, after a week of silence, Ares would send him a kit to clean his razor. Not that he didn't like it, or even appreciate it, hell it was something he definitely needed … but ….
Spotting a card tucked inside the white box, he sat the kit down on the couch next to him and picked up the card. It was hand-written in turian script clean enough for his translator to tell him it said, "Tend to your fucking blade. All of it. Don't get yourself caught because you can't keep your shit well maintained."
He ran his fingers over the writing, and despite all the turmoil over the last ten days, it brought a smile to his face. Well, at least he knew Ares was thinking about him, and he'd actually taken the time to write the note himself. Charles took a deep drag, blowing it out and bringing the card up to brush against his lips. Only someone as fucked in the head as he was would get happy over such a simple, grumpy ass note, but he did.
He kept hold of the note while he finished his cigarillo and stubbed it out. Gathering the box to his chest, he carried it and the note to his bedroom. Setting the kit down on top of his dresser, he opened his underwear drawer and dug around to the back until he found the little box he kept hidden there. He pulled it out and opened it, settling the note inside next to the cracked, bloodied, prosthetic plates of Ares' he'd kept on Shanxi. He ran his fingers over the plates before closing the lid and shoving the box back in his drawer.
Even though he felt exhausted, he didn't think he'd be able to go back to sleep, so he figured he might as well take Eezo for a quick walk and then put the cleaning kit to use. He grabbed a shirt from the dresser and pulled it on before slipping his shoes on without socks. "Eezo. Come on, girl." He patted his leg and whistled, and Eezo jumped down from the bed to follow him back into the living room.
He felt terrible. Once he'd finally calmed himself down the night before, he realized Eezo had moved to the corner of the room behind the bed, cowering while he yelled and threw shit across his room. It'd taken him a few minutes to get her calmed down enough to come to him, and it made him feel like the galaxy's biggest asshole. Made him feel like his father. He didn't hit her, of course, but neither did his dad at first. At first, it was just yelling and breaking shit. He wouldn't do that, though, wouldn't turn into that sonofabitch. No matter what.
Hooking the leash on Eezo, they headed for the door. "We're just going around the block, so don't get too excited. I'll take you to the park later."