Bloodbath Butcher

"Going to stick around Cammus' place to fuck. Probably won't be back tonight. See you tomorrow."

It'd felt like a slap in the face when he got the message from Ares about an hour or so after he'd left the apartment with Jasmine. It felt even worse knowing damn well he couldn't just tell Ares he wasn't okay with him spending the entire night with someone else. Ares wouldn't understand, probably just think Charles was being selfish, overly jealous, or a 'sap'. If it was what Ares wanted, then it was what Ares wanted. Charles wouldn't tell him no. He'd just suck it up, shove his feelings aside. So, he sent Ares a response thanking him for letting him know.

Stow my shit, right?

After getting the message, Charles made an excuse about being tired and left Jasmine at the park where they'd been sparring. She'd spent some time talking to him about pressure points and running him through some exercises. He didn't think she really believed he left because he was tired, but she didn't push him for a better explanation, just gave him a smile and a nod.

He'd tried going home and going to bed, but it only resulted in him staring at the ceiling, brooding. His mind kept slipping back to the things Ares said to him during their fight and the things Jasmine told him about Ares. It all just left him feeling pissed off. Taken for granted. Unappreciated and underestimated. Unloved.

Leaving Eezo sound asleep on the bed, Charles got dressed and left the apartment again. At first, he'd strongly considered finding someone on his list to kill, but—despite the beast snapping and growling, pacing its cage—he'd talked himself out of it, knowing he really did need to lay low. And … it'd probably piss Ares off, leading to another fight between the two of them. Even if he was hurt and angry with Ares, he didn't want to create more waves.

So, he'd ended up going to the gym where he spent two hours pushing himself lifting weights until he knew there was no way he'd be able to blink without being in pain the next day. But still, the beast rattled the bars, and still, he couldn't shove away the ache in his chest every time he thought about Ares falling asleep next to Cammus, arm wrapped around the other turian. Which was why he found himself sitting in The Palisade, drowning in whiskey.

"Charles?"

He turned toward the feminine, dual-toned voice, spotting a turian with rust markings. In an alcohol-fueled haze, it took a couple of seconds for him to put a name to the familiar face. He smiled, remembering the woman unclothed and stretched out on his bed, Ares buried deep inside of her. "Sade."

Smile widening, she flicked her mandibles and came closer, stopping to lean against the bar next to him. "I thought that was you." Leaning in toward him, she nuzzled her face against his neck and inhaled, purring and making him chuckle. "Where's your mate? I smell him on you, but I don't see him here."

Laughter souring on his tongue, he took a heavy drink from his glass. "He's spending the night with someone else."

She let out a soft rumble and slid onto the barstool next to him. "You sound unhappy about it."

He shrugged, trying to brush it off and said, "Just wasn't planning on spending the night alone."

"So, don't spend the night alone." She purred again, dragging a gloved talon over his arm.

Taking a drag from his cigarillo, he glanced at her, lifting an eyebrow. She smirked, flicking her mandibles. Killing off the rest of her drink, she put the glass back on the bar and tipped her head toward the door. He took another drag, considering the offer for a second before nodding. He brought his glass to his mouth and drained it before sliding off the barstool.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and draped her arms over his shoulders, head tilting back in laughter. "We're going to fall."

"No, no. I got you." Chuckling, he ducked his head under her chin and nipped her neck, pushing her back against the wall. "Mmm. You smell nice, what is that?"

"Oh, uh, Jania sprayed the office with some flowery stuff today. I've grown used to the scent, I'd forgotten all about it." She hummed, tilting her head back a little. "You smell nice, too."

"You mean Aelianus smells nice." He chuckled again, nipping her mandible. "I know I'm covered in his scent."

"You are—and I do enjoy his scent—but I'm talking about your scent." As if to prove her point, she turned her head, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply.

He smirked, turning his head for her a little. "Yeah?" Sliding his hand around, he reached under her thigh to rub the back of his knuckles along the much softer, malleable plates between her legs, ignoring the way the room seemed to tilt and sway around him.

"Oh, yes." She thrummed, nipping his neck and tilting her hips into his touch. "You wouldn't be here right now if I didn't find your scent appealing. It's too bad you can't pick up on my scent the same way, I think it'd remove your doubts."

"Mmm. Why don't you show me instead, then?" He brought his other hand to her waist, squeezing and kneading.

She let out a low, soft growl, biting down a little harder, dragging a groan from him. Pulling her away from the wall, he turned them toward the hall, staggering and looking over her shoulder as he carried her to her bedroom. She let out a very amusing squeal and tightened her grip on him when he stumbled, throwing a hand out to catch himself on the wall, the other still holding her up.

Laughing, she nuzzled against him. "You're too drunk for this."

"Shhh. What? No." He blew a soft raspberry, wrapping his hand back around her and grinned. "I'm the perfect amount of drunk for this."

She chuffed, flicking her mandibles and smirking with a hum. Making his way into the bedroom, he carried her over to the concave bed. He put a palm out, his other arm wrapping around her back as he carefully lowered them. She growled again, tugging at his shirt, and he pushed up to his knees, pulling it off over his head before dropping it to the floor.

Reaching up, she trailed her gloved hand over his chest. He wrapped his fingers over hers, pulling her hand away and tugging off her glove before pressing it back to his chest, curling her fingers enough to make it clear he wasn't afraid of her talons. Fluttering her mandibles, she dragged her talons down his chest, applying more and more pressure as she went, watching his face closely. He smirked, cock getting harder and starting to press uncomfortably against his pants. Her nose twitched, pulling in his scent, and she smiled.

Undoing her pants, he stood, tugging them down when she lifted her hips from the bed and purred. He hadn't really taken the time to figure out exactly how everything worked with a female turian the last time, but just then, he was too drunk to really give a damn what she had going on between her legs, so long as she let him put his cock inside something warm, wet, and tight. She sat up, removing her top while he stepped out of his own pants. Her gaze roamed over him, and he thought he saw doubt in her eyes.

He reached out, brushing his knuckles over her cheek before pressing his palm to her mandible. "You're in control here. Nothing happens you don't want to happen."

Humming, she reached out and caressed his waist and hip, running her hand over his skin in the same, intrigued way she had before. "You're so different from a turian."

He let out a soft chuckle. "You're so different from a human."

Fluttering her mandibles, she smirked, wrapping both hands around his hips and pulled him down to her, lying back on the bed. "But you have more experience with turians than I do humans."

"Not female turians." He grinned, ducking his head beneath her chin to scrape his teeth across the hide of her throat. The heat radiating from between her legs teased him, making his cock twitch against her. Running his hand down her left thigh, he pulled her leg up to wrap around his waist and growled softly against her ear. "You're my first."

Charles collapsed face first onto his bed, still drunk and reeking of sex. He was even still too drunk to care that he'd seen a C-Sec uniform in Sade's room while he was getting dressed to leave. He was sure he'd think it was a big fucking deal after he slept and sobered up. Ares probably wouldn't be too happy to learn they'd both fucked someone in C-Sec, either, but there wasn't anything to be done about it after the fact.

His omni-tool pinged against his wrist, and he rolled over, opening it and checking the message. It was from Irene, confirming the store would be shut down for a few days, so he didn't need to go into work. Closing his omni-tool, he rubbed his hand over his face and kicked off his shoes, wondering why the hell Irene thought it was a good idea to message him at four hundred hours.

Eezo whined, standing up on the bed to yawn, turn in circles, and then lay back down. He pulled himself up to sitting and raked a hand through his hair, digging out his cigarillos and lighting one. Taking a deep drag, he blew it out slow, staring off at the wall, feeling detached from his body. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the alcohol or the strain of suppressing his feelings. In the end, it didn't really matter, and he didn't really care. At the moment, he wasn't hurting, he wasn't angry or sad. He wasn't anything.

Most of the time, when he felt like that, it made him want to cut himself. Made him want to bleed, so he knew he was alive. But just then, it didn't seem … relevant. His omni-tool pinged again, and he closed his eyes, smoking his cigarillo for a minute before checking the new message. It was from Daniel Hendricks, the lawyer handling Charles' dad's funeral and shit. A little over sixty-five thousand credits had been transferred to his account—the remaining sum of his father's liquidated assets after the funeral and lawyer's expenses were deducted.

He knew he should feel something seeing the message, but he didn't. Closing his omni-tool, he took another drag and stood up. He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water before heading to the bathroom. He put the bottle of water on the sink and took a piss before grabbing the bottle again and going back to his bedroom, leaving the bathroom light on. Cracking the lid, he drained half the bottle in one drink before closing it again and setting it on the nightstand.

Putting his cigarillo in the ashtray, he stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed, pushing the pillows up behind him. He pulled the covers up over his legs and picked up his cigarillo, taking a long, slow drag. He watched the smoke drift, catching in the soft light coming in from the opened bedroom door. As soon as he finished his cigarillo, he put it out and killed off the bottle of water. Rolling over to his side, he tugged the pillows down and pulled the covers up. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of Eezo's steady breathing until he drifted off to sleep.

Three monsters circle him, faces twisted into macabre masks, blood dripping from their teeth as they cackle and howl, snapping at one another to get to him like a hungry pack of wild jackals. Two others dig into Sarah, teeth and claws rending her limb from limb. Her screams pierce his ears, worming their way into his head to eat away at his mind. He yells and cries, begging for mercy, pleading with them to leave her alone.

They laugh, grabbing him and forcing him to the ground. Asphalt scrapes his arms and face, claws rip his clothes off of him. Something rough and hard pushes inside of him, sending pain lancing through him, white-hot, tearing apart his insides. He screams in agony, but it only makes the jackals shriek and cackle with glee.

His gaze catches on something shifting in the shadows, something dangerous, deadly … and his.

A ferocious growl rolls through the parking lot, and the jackals turn to look, sniffing the air and whimpering with fear. A turian steps out of the woods, scars trailing over his face, milky-white eye almost seeming to shine in the moonlight. Ares isn't alone, though. A human steps out from behind the turian and Charles recognizes his own face … but something's wrong. His eyes, they're cold, soulless, and empty. His lips pull back in a malicious grin, and he reaches into his pocket. Flicking his wrist, silver glints, his head tilting back to let out a howl. He isn't Charles … he's the beast.

The monsters cower, whining and pissing on themselves, some turning to try and run away. Ares snarls, lunging forward to grab them before they can escape as if simply by trying to retreat, they'd sealed their fates. The beast growls, rushing forward, razor arcing through the darkness of night. Blood fills the air, a crimson mist catching in the street lamps, coating Charles' nose, mouth, and throat. Seeping into his pores and filling his lungs. He watches, horror-stricken, as the beast and Ares rip the jackals apart with teeth and claw and blade.

When it is finished, Charles whimpers. "Help her. Oh God, please help her."

But the beast doesn't listen and neither does Ares. They turn to each other, chests heaving, blood-drenched, and start ripping each other's clothes off. Ares takes the beast from behind, kneeling on the asphalt, primal growls and snarls tearing through both of them as they fuck.

A few feet away, Sarah breathes her last breath.

He woke up to Eezo's wet nose brushing over his face followed by her tongue. Groaning, he reached out and draped his arm over the dog, pulling her down and pinning her to the bed and the side of his chest. He hurt all over, every muscle in his body yelling at him in protest over the slightest movement. She yipped at him, squirming and licking his arm, and he cracked an eye to look at her. Unsurprisingly, Ares' side of the bed remained empty, unslept in.

Crawling out of bed, he stopped to grab his clothes off the floor and toss them in the hamper with a groan before making his way to the bathroom. His bladder felt like it might burst, eyes felt filled with sand, and his equilibrium still seemed a little off. He used the toilet then climbed into the shower, turning on the water as hot as he could stand it before washing away the dried on residue from his night with Sade. She'd offered to let him spend the night there with her, but he just couldn't bring himself to even try to fall asleep next to anyone else. It killed him Ares didn't seem to have the same problem.

After brushing his teeth and getting dressed, he put the leash on Eezo. "Want to go to the park, girl?"

Eezo barked, jumping up to press her front paws against his thighs. He smiled at her, leading her out of the door. Stopping to lock the door with his omni-tool, he realized it was already almost eleven hundred hours, and Ares still hadn't come home. He felt sick to his stomach, but he told himself it was just a part of being hungover and not because his feelings were hurt. He wasn't going to let it turn him into a fucking mess. He just wasn't.

Stopping at a café to grab some coffee and an asari pastry, he froze, hand hovering over his omni-tool when he saw the amount of credits in his account. A second later, he remembered getting the message from the lawyer earlier that morning and swallowed, feeling even more nauseated. He paid the cashier and left again, heading for the park. He'd never had so many credits at once; he should be thrilled, but instead, he just felt … annoyed.

Mahlia sat next to Lindsey on one of the benches when he got to the park. He took Eezo off the leash, and the dog ran straight for Lindsey, barking and drawing the attention of the women. Lindsey wasted no time hopping up from the bench to kneel in the grass, throwing her arms open for the dog. Mahlia laughed as Eezo jumped on Lindsey, turning her head to look at Charles with a smile and a wave.

Crossing the grass, he forced a smile on his face and took a seat on the bench. "Hello, ladies." He took a sip of his coffee before opening the bag and pulling out the pastry.

Ares still wasn't home when Charles got back from the park. So, after sitting out on the balcony for a half hour, he took off again, going to the shooting range. He stayed there for a couple of hours, firing round after round into the holographic targets until he ran out of ammo. It did little to ease the storm rumbling inside of him. He stocked up on ammo while he was there, taking a few seconds to stare at his account balance again as he paid Deliana.

His omni-tool pinged as he left the range, and it was Ares, sending him another message. "Finished the important shit with J, going to eat and arena."

Huffing, Charles shook his head and took a deep breath, wondering if Ares even came home at all before going to see Jasmine and whoever the fuck 'Ray' was. He hit reply and sent back, "Okay. Have fun."

Well, shit. At least he's messaging me and letting me know where he's at so I don't have to worry.

He sat down on a bench, tucking his gun case between his feet and propped his elbows on his knees. Threading his fingers through his hair, he rested his forehead on his palms. He was sore and tired, having overdone it at the gym and then again while fucking Sade before not sleeping worth a shit. Alone. While Ares slept over at Cammus' apartment. His head hurt, and he felt … no, he didn't feel. He wasn't going to feel. He was going to stow his shit and get the fuck over it.

He knew it meant he was going to have to stay busy, though, keep himself distracted. What the fuck was he going to do? He didn't have it in him to go back to the gym, and he was too hungover for the bars. He could go back into the range, but the earmuffs only blocked so much noise, and his head really did hurt. Which also meant shit like going to the theater was out of the question.

Sighing, he picked up his gun case and stood up. He walked a couple more blocks before coming to a taxi stand and called a cab. Climbing inside, he put in his address and sat back as the skycar lifted into the air. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and pressing rubbing his fingers over his eyes.

When he got home, he put his Stiletto III up and then headed for the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, he pulled out the bottle of painkillers, shaking it as he realized it was empty. "Fuck me." He groaned, realizing Jasmine must've taken the last of them for her 'sprained ankle' the day they met.

Tossing the empty bottle into the trash, he pressed his palms against the edge of the sink and dropped his head between his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he took a couple of deep, steadying breaths, fighting back the urge to put his fist through the mirror. He pushed away from the sink and headed for the front door.

Getting in another taxi, he took the skycar to the nearest store.

He'd gone for painkillers, but desperate to cling to any distraction, he ended up spending an hour at the store. By the time he'd left, he'd ordered a bunch of groceries—both levo and dextro—as well as one of those fancy, interspecies beds the hotel had, bedding to fit it, and a shitload of pillows the kiosk claimed were designed for a turian's comfort. Might as well put his fuckhead father's credits to use. He'd also spent twenty minutes or so just browsing through other crap they had for turians, deciding he didn't really think Ares would like any of it.

The groceries and bedding were supposed to be delivered right away, so he'd headed back to the apartment to meet the delivery guy. The bed wouldn't be there until the next day, though. While putting food away, he realized he didn't really know what half the shit was he'd bought for Ares … or really even why. The turian didn't seem interested in cooking for himself, preferring to eat out of a can or MRE pouch. Hell, he'd probably just complain about Charles wasting credits.

Finding the bottle of painkillers in one of the bags, he grabbed his Paragade and swallowed a few of them, taking a moment to lean back against the counter and just stare off into space. After a couple of minutes, he opened his omni-tool and pulled up an extranet browsing page. He put in a search for recipes for turian dishes and found a really awesome site that'd let him enter a list of food items and then give him back different recipes using some of those ingredients. If Ares wouldn't cook for himself, then Charles would cook for him. Nothing would go to waste.

He glanced at the time, letting out a sigh when he realized it wasn't even sixteen hundred hours yet. He hadn't heard anything else from Ares, but he figured it'd still be at least another two or three hours before Ares came home. Suddenly, Charles realized even though he was upset Ares was still gone … he really didn't want to be there when Ares got back. He'd been fighting like crazy all night and all day to hold his shit together, and he didn't think he was ready to see Ares yet. He needed to wait until he felt sure he wouldn't flip out.

He needed to figure out something else to do, something to kill time and give him a chance to get a tight grip on his shit. Not really knowing where he was going, he left the apartment again and just started walking.

It was around twenty-three hundred hours when Charles finally went home again. His emotions were still flip-flopping all over the place whenever he thought about Ares spending the night with Cammus, but he was exhausted and his head was still killing him. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, stopping for a second when he found the lights on and the vidscreen playing. Sucking in a deep breath, he closed and re-locked the door behind him before making his way deeper into the apartment.

Ares sat at the breakfast bar, disassembled rifle laid out on the surface in front of him. The smell of gun oil filled the air, a scent Charles long since became used to. Ares didn't bother to even look up, so Charles just went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. Tucking it under his arm, he dug out his cigarillos and lit one before moving to the couch. He kicked his shoes off and used his foot to shove them under the coffee table before sitting down, staring at the news on the vidscreen.

"C-Sec has released more details on the trio of murder victims that has shaken the citizens of the Citadel with talk of a serial killer," the asari dressed in yellow and black said, giving the camera a severe look. "It appears each of the victims had a criminal record, charges ranging from child abuse to rape and murder. Some have begun to speculate that the killer may be acting as a sort of vigilante, specifically targeting men who have committed violent crimes against others, particularly women and children. Due to the level of brutality involved in these murders, members of the community have begun to refer to the killer as the Bloodbath Butcher."

Bloodbath Butcher? Could be worse, I guess.

"Did you work today?" Ares didn't turn around, holding a piece of his weapon up to look at it in the light.

"No." Charles took a heavy drag and cracked the lid on his bottle of water. "Irene messaged this morning. Store's closed for a few days."

Ares hummed but didn't speak. Taking a drink, Charles glanced at the turian, a fresh wave of hurt washing over him before he choked it down right along with his water. He put the cap on again, turning his attention back to the news and taking a long drag. He forced himself to focus on the vidscreen, and a second later, he felt relatively calm once more.

"You're upset," Ares stated more than asked, setting the piece he worked on down without picking up another as if waiting for something.

"I'm fine. Just tired. Didn't sleep much last night." Charles took another drag, using it to anchor himself, and shoved the feelings away again as he tried to pull that nothingness back around him.

"You're a shit liar." Moving again, Ares began to put his rifle back together.

Clenching his jaw, Charles sucked in a deep breath through his nose, anger making his sore muscles tight. Because snarky insults were exactly what he needed to hear just then. "I'm not a shit liar, you just don't understand humans well enough to get 'I'm fine, just tired' means 'It's not something you need to worry about.'"

Ares stayed quiet, nothing coming from his side of the room but the soft clicking of his weapon's pieces for a moment. "Fine."

After staring at the news for a couple more minutes—just long enough to finish his cigarillo and see they had nothing new to say about Citadel Souvenirs or Werin—Charles stood up and slipped his shoes back on. He was not okay; he needed to get out of there before he let something slip he'd regret. He grabbed the leash off the coffee table and whistled for Eezo. When she came running, he hooked it on her collar and headed for the door, lighting another cigarillo as he went.

Letting himself back into the apartment, Charles took Eezo off her leash. He glanced out the cracked balcony door as he made his way into the living room, spotting Ares outside smoking. Taking a deep breath, he thought he had his emotions under better control, so he kicked off his shoes again and went outside, too. He lit a cigarillo and leaned against the railing, looking out over the Citadel as he smoked in silence. Ares gave him a glance but didn't speak.

"The credits from my dad's estate came in today." Charles took a long drag, letting the smoke drift back out of him. Small talk, he thought he could handle small talk. "I bought a new bed. It should be here tomorrow."

Ares hummed around his drag, letting it waft out of his mouth as he said, "Good. I'll make sure my things are hidden."

Charles grunted in response, falling silent again as he continued to smoke.

"You're too quiet," Ares said, stamping out his cigarette before flicking it off of the balcony. He pulled out the box of cigarettes from his pants pocket along with his lighter, plucked another cigarette out of the pack, and lit it. "You say you're 'fine', but you still act like you're not."

Pushing himself upright, Charles slapped a grin on his face—years of living with an abusive father followed by years of retail taught him damn well how to act okay when he really wasn't. "Sorry, this better?"

Ares gave him an annoyed rumble as he looked at him, but he didn't say anything, just turned away again and leaned on the balcony railing.

Huffing, anger creeping in again, Charles threw his arms out to the sides. "What the fuck do you want me to say, Ares? Yes, I'm upset, but I'm doing my best to 'stow my shit' and deal with it, alright?"

He didn't understand what the turian expected of him. Ares made it pretty damn clear he didn't like the emotional shit, didn't really want Charles putting his crap on him. So why the hell was he pushing Charles to talk? Was he looking for a reason to tell Charles how weak he was again?

"Fine."

Shaking his head, Charles leaned back against the railing, taking a heavy drag from his cigarillo. Muscles tense, agitation rising, he sucked in a deep breath, forcing the emotions back down. "It's not something I can just change about myself overnight. It's going to take time, but I'm working on it," he said, keeping his voice level.

"'Fine' means 'I'll drop it,'" Ares said, shrugging as he blew out smoke. "It's dropped."

Charles took another drag from his cigarillo before stubbing the last half of it out in the ashtray. "I'm taking a shower and going to bed. My head hurts, and I wasn't lying when I said I'm tired."

Ares took a drag, nodding. "Alright."

Heading inside, Charles went to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out his painkillers. Using his hand to cup the water, he drank from the sink to swallow down another dose, hoping it'd finally do the trick. He took a deep breath and stripped, turning on the shower before stepping inside. Letting the scalding hot water wash over his neck and shoulders, he rested the side of his head against the wall and closed his eyes.