Chapter Text
The small group fell into a steady routine for the next few weeks. Striker went killing, Sallie May was working and visiting for the afternoons, and Crimson occupied himself with the homestead. He cleaned and fixed up what he was able to, but made notes on what they'd have to farm out to hired help. With a list of contractors from Sal, he'd have them come and do steady updates and renovations until everything was in order. The first contractor proved quite untrustworthy, as he saw a curvy imp in a cast as an easy target but to Crimson's surprise, Sushi proved himself to be a far more effective guard than he initially gave him credit for. He supposed Sallie May had not truly registered as a threat, but the minute he gave off an inkling of unease when the snake demon he called in to work on the plumbing got entirely too friendly, the hellhound ripped out his throat quite efficiently. Crimson was too impressed to be upset about the mess, in fact, he had the carcass moved outside for the other contractors as a warning and for Sushi to make a chew toy out of. Needless to say, the rest kept their distance.
As the weeks passed, the imp found himself growing nauseous and experiencing bouts of vertigo. It was likely morning sickness, but going into the fourth week when he felt occasional swelling in his throat and it sometimes became difficult to breathe...
"Ugh, fuck my life..." Crimson swallowed with some trouble, the urge to vomit rising. He'd kept the ailments as quiet as he could, but it was growing apparent to the cowboy something was up.
"You all right?" Striker frowned, pulling on his boots as he dressed in preparation to go to work. RMP was working remarkably well for him and they were pinching IMP nicely. Blitzo was still a frequent caller, cursing them out for stealing customers. At least he had wised up and started competing against their rate, which made Crimson drop theirs out of pure spite. It was hilarious and he loved how viciously petty his partner was with their rivals. But lately he'd noticed Crimson was looking like shit and he was starting to wonder if it was what he thought it was.
Crimson ran a claw down his face with a groan, then frowned at Striker. "What was that shit Doc told ya ta give me to mitigate this shit?"
"Mitigate what?" Striker arched a brow, then sat up straight. "Wait...Are ya experiencin' venom side effects?"
"I can't breathe half the time so fuckin' maybe. Give me the shit!"
"All right, all right, hold yer horses!" The cowboy jumped up and rushed to the kitchen. The tonic had been expensive, but he grabbed a few bottles anyway, not wanting the side effects to affect the other imp terribly. After reading one of the bottles, he grabbed a small cup and poured the recommended dose. A quick sniff made his snout wrinkle with disgust. That was gonna taste awful, but he wasn't the one drinking it. Still, he figured it would be best to warn the other man as he returned and passed him the cup. "Watch out, pretty sure it'll taste-" Crimson snatched the cup and tossed it back like the world's worst shot. "-like shit."
The imp shuddered when he caught a touch of it on his tongue. "Eugh! Yeah, it fuckin' does..."
Despite everything, Striker's tail weaved back and forth eagerly. He was the fucking winner, that was his spawn. He let out a low rumble as proud arousal stirred in him. "Ya know what that means...That's my bun bakin' there. Gonna be a strong one too, if'n he's already gettin' to ya..."
"Are you gettin' off on this realization?" Crimson demanded incredulously. If the tent the cowboy was pitching was any indicator, then Striker was aroused.
"What can I say?" The snake grinned wryly. "Yer gonna get fat with my kit and I gotta say, it's doin' it fer me!"
"You fuckin' perv..."
"Lemme fuck ya b'fer I go ta work..." That tail was whipping back and forth now. Crimson frowned. For a mercy, they'd kept sex off the table since the Ferrari incident. But something about the half-breed's feral excitement seemed a little infectious. When he bit his lip in thought, Striker growled at him, "Don'tcha be teasin' me by bitin' yer lip like that!"
They wouldn't have to do much, his leg was still bound up though it was likely he could free it up soon but he was wearing a long night shirt with nothing underneath. It would be pretty straightforward. Crimson found himself giving in. It wouldn't be bad...He hoped. "All right, fine, a quick fuck...But you better not be rough with me!"
"Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'." There was no need to be rough or forceful. Unzipping his jeans, he noticed Crimson was shifting into an easily accessible position so he wasted no time getting between his mates knees, lifting his hips just so and burying his cock into him as soon as he was presented. The older imp grunted and shuddered, biting his lip again as the cowboy pushed deep before he started working up a good thrusting motion as he fucked the other imp. Striker growled with pleasure, moving with care and keeping an eye in case there were any signs of discomfort. In spite of the nausea still plaguing him, Crimson seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit after his initial unease. Letting out a grunt as he released inside the older imp just as the other let out a cry for his own, the snake leaned in and gave him a firm kiss on the lips. "Ah...Not so bad now was that?"
"Yeah, yeah, you rock my world, cowboy..." Crimson huffed at him as he pushed on his nose gently, catching his breath. That wasn't bad at all for a quickie. "Get yer work done early and maybe I'll give ya a congratulatory blow job."
Striker smirked. "Careful, ah'm gonna hold ya to it."
Crimson could only roll his eyes as the cowboy took his leave and while a part of him knew he was a mess and needed to get up and clean up, he let himself partially lie back in his chair the way he'd been left. What the fuck was his life now? He wondered what Alessio would think if he could see him now. Knocked up, sitting there fucked out at the table like some easy whore while operating a petty little assassination business out of pure spite. He wasn't sure how long he'd let himself sit like that, staring at the far wall where it met the ceiling. Part of the chair was pushing obnoxiously into his shoulder. He didn't move until he heard the front door open again and Sushi's over-eager yapping. Someone neutral at least. If he had thought it was anyone other than Sallie May, Crimson would have sat up and made sure there weren't any signs of the quick fucking that had taken place a moment ago. Unfortunately it was Moxxie's dumb ass and he saw more than he needed the second his head poked around the corner. "WHAT THE FUCK, SIR?!"
Despite his son recoiling back around the corner and screaming, his father didn't move immediately. Crimson took his sweet time sitting up, let alone grabbing a nearby napkin and cleaning off part of the seat. "Not my fault you go walkin' int' people's houses like some common hooligan. The fuck do you want?" He scowled.
"To discuss RMP, you degenerate! Was that...?! And who the fuck is this?!" Moxxie pushed Sushi away from him who was sniffing at him intensely.
"Striker or Sal? Striker. He was real horny the second he realized I ain't pregnant by Ferrari...And that's Sushi. He was bumming around the woods and now he kind of just lives here."
The silence was heavy before Moxxie eventually broke it. "Sal-I thought Sallie May had washed her hands of you, as she should have." The tone his son used rubbed him the wrong way. It felt like Moxxie saw himself as higher than him, that he was something to look down on. Crimson inhaled deeply to maintain his composure. It wasn't lost on him how his son maneuvered around the mention of Ferrari, he certainly noticed the little bastard had not checked on him in the weeks following his assault.
"Didn't think ya knew that." The punk didn't need to know otherwise. "Now what do ya want?"
"As I said...To discuss RMP-Are you decent?" He could see his son's claws grip the wall's edge, waiting to look again. When Crimson didn't answer him, he ventured a hesitant peek. The shirt was pulled down and the evidence of sex had been wiped away, it was good enough for the younger imp to step out now, fidgeting with his bow tie as he did while giving the Hellhound another push away from his person. Crimson could remember when he started that stupid bitch habit, sometime after his wife had died. "Sir, you need to shut your business down-"
"Why? Don't like competition? It's a free fuckin' market, kid. You should know that. Does it grate ya that we offer our clients better service? Y'know...We're makin' plenty of bank...Job's a gold mine with next to no competitors! Why is it you and your wife live in that shit apartment ya do?" Crimson jeered with a wicked smile. "Yer boss too busy eatin' up the funds t' pay ya proper? If ya come work for the family business, ya wouldn't have t' worry about me spendin' yer paystub on garbage."
"The family business..." Moxxie huffed with a roll of his eyes. "So is that what this is, you trying to be a mob boss of some kind again?"
"Eh, no. But technically? This is the new family business."
"Sir, I know RMP is doing sinner orders on Earth simply out of spite for Blitzo-"
"And you." When Moxxie had the nerve to give him a perplexed look, Crimson scowled at him. "Ya can't be bothered t' give two shits what happened t' me back there cause of you assholes and ya can't even be bothered to ask after the fuckin' fact. Millie fuckin' asked at least! I've been sittin' here all fucked up an' ya haven't called once let alone seen me. Hell, ya wanna sit there and pretend I don't even fuckin' exist, Mox. Never told yer wife about me, never looked back for a second when ya ran off like the ingrate you are! I know ya hate me an' ya don't fuckin' care anymore, but ya don't have to rub it in my fuckin' face every chance ya get!" The room felt incredibly hot and Crimson was sure that regardless of the medicine, the venom was making him feverish. It didn't help that his son did nothing but send him into a rage when they spoke. "So yeah, RMP's doin' what it's doin' outta fuckin' spite. And I seriously considered backin' off at some point, but you're temptin' me to do it till IMP goes completely belly-up. We'll back off when we feel like it, not when ya tell us to!"
"Hmm...?" Sallie May frowned when she found the IMP van parked outside Striker's. They had no business being here, so she pulled out her trusty pink pocket knife and stabbed each and every tire out while spinning like a ballerina. They wouldn't be leaving any sooner when she went to run them out, but it would cost Blitzo a hefty sum to replace all of the tires. When she was done and she approached the door, she could hear Crimson and someone who sounded like him yelling at each other. Had Blitzo sent Moxxie to deal with his old man in person and without him? Of course, he did. Knowing how pissed they were with him, it was really the smartest call to make, though Sallie May was personally a little sore towards Moxxie herself. Quietly, she opened the door to slip in unnoticed while Crimson was busy venting at his son. Sushi was standing aside, gaze darting back and forth between the two. Moxxie was probably throwing him off in a way, which was understandable. Sallie May slid right up to him and swept his skinny legs out from under him. Moxxie yelped before he began to respond and flopped to the ground. Crimson was grateful, because he didn't want to hear his son argue with him further or make up some lame denial against what he said. All he was out to do right now was get RMP shut down and he wanted him gone. Sallie May put her hands on her hips as she glared down at her brother-in-law. "Just wut do ya think yer doin' here?"
"Wh-Sallie May! What are you doing here?!" The smaller imp demanded as he pushed himself up.
"Ahm movin' in with mah boys." The transgender woman declared proudly as she tossed her packed duffle bag on the table when she went sauntering over to Crimson. She was quick to notice the shirt he was wearing and she wasted no time slipping over to start getting under it and straddling his lap. The former mob boss grunted with mild surprise, attention diverted from his son to her now and Moxxie let out an indignant gasp at the display. "Get out or stay an' get weird, Mox. Yer call."
Sallie May watched in amusement, but only for a moment, at how her brother-in-law's mouth worked like a fish gasping to breathe without water. "You-! He's your father-in-law!"
"Doesn't make 'im off limits."
"That's-That's incest!"
"What the fuck, Moxxie..." Crimson squinted at his son. Either he was utterly stupid or painfully naive.
"Technically incest!"
Moxxie was no longer entertaining to her so she turned back to Crimson as she carded her hand through his chest fur with a purr. Crimson flushed, vaguely pleased with himself that she seemed to still find him appealing after the business with Ferrari, but what the fuck was it with everyone wanting to fuck him today? He was glad his son finally realized he was getting nowhere with either of them and left, especially as he grunted when he felt Sal's firm grip around his cock. The older imp breathed in sharply, feeling a jolt in his stomach. He was still sick to his stomach and a touch feverish, but it was hard to deny that pleasurable tingle. He could swear Moxxie was screaming about something outside. "What the hell did you do...?" He groaned softly as she shifted on his lap and used her hand to get him ready for her.
"Stabbed out the tires." The young woman grinned smugly. "All of 'em."
"Ugh, so he's stuck here..." When he felt her wet warmth take him in and she ground down on his hips, he boggled at her because it was clear she was still in her short shorts and leggings. He gave a grunt as she started to build a rhythm as she rode him. "How the fuck are ya still clothed an' doin' that?!"
"Made a nice hole jest fer you ta get in, baby!" Sallie May growled, picking up her pace.
"Fuck-!"
Unlike Striker, Sallie May had no where she had to be so they had wound up fucking there at the table for a good while before she had gotten him upstairs for the next round and after a few more times in the bedroom, in the shower. The pair took a cool bath by the time they were done, otherwise Crimson was worried he was going to burn to a crisp. Fucking on repeat had made the fever rise and while imps were good to handle a rough fever to a certain degree, the former Don knew he was coming to his limit...in more ways than one. Sallie May hadn't been keen to get a chilled bath, but she hadn't objected when Crimson had made it abundantly clear he needed it. That didn't stop her from cuddling into his back as he leaned on the rim of the tub with his head resting on his arms. "...Ya know damn well Mox is gonna tell yer folks about this shit..." He didn't want to see Joe and Lin come storming his way when his son ratted them out, because of course he would.
"Ya raised a real lemon there, Crim." Sallie May huffed.
"Well, he fell from a lemon tree, it is what it is...You shoulda heard his high and mighty shit when he was all 'I thought Sallie May washed 'er hands of you'...Who the fuck talks like that anymore?"
The transgender woman scoffed. "Yer pompous fuckin' son, that's who. Should see 'im when he prattles on about weaponry like mah parents give a shit."
"He does like his weapons..." He hummed. "Only shit we really bonded over. That and theater, but he liked that flowery shit where they sang an' pranced around like a bunch of fuckin' fairies...I will admit Chicago was good though. I can tolerate that one."
"When's Striker due back?" Leaning off of him, she put her hands under his arm pits to see if his temperature had gone down closer to something normal. It was close to it at least. "Do ya overheat like that durin' sex all the time?"
"Nah. I think I've been havin' side effects from venom. Think the brat's Striker's and it's doin' that shit...Not on purpose but still...Should be due for another dose of the medicine cause my throat's gettin' tight again." Crimson hated this vulnerable and weak reality he now found himself living in. Sure, he was taking his lumps, karma was definitely making him its bitch, but he was tired of it. Now he was stuck with poison in his system. Sallie May didn't say much to the news, simply nodding and helping him out of the tub. They dressed in loose sleep wear after drying off and once they were downstairs, she brought the medicine to him and went to prepare a simple meal since she was sure having it with food would be best. Crimson didn't want to admit it, but watching her walk away vaguely reminded him of his late wife but only a little. She was far daintier than Sallie May, and looking at the back of the younger woman's head didn't enrage him like his ex's had. Sex with Sallie May didn't feel as mechanical as it had with her, then again they were doing it for fun now when before he'd had little recourse in the matter. Slowly he frowned to himself, ignoring how lightheaded he felt as he waited for the medicine to kick in. "Yer on the pill or some shit, right?"
There was silence from the kitchen aside from the sound of something sizzling. Crimson straightened up in his seat warily, preparing to ask again and louder when she spoke up. "Wut sorta pill are ya talkin' 'bout?"
"Ya know damn well what sorta pill!" He barked in annoyance.
"Hormone therapy pill? Sure. Baby pill? Nah. I got off it when we started ta fuck." She had no right to sound as smug as she did and Crimson ran his hands down his face with a groan. "Wut? Ya got a problem with the possibility'ah knockin' me up?"
"We ain't married, for fuck's sake..."
"...The fuck's that got anythin' ta do with it? Ya ain't married ta Striker either-Technically, yer married ta that dickshit Bleu an' technically cheatin' on 'im if ya really wanna get inta alla that! But again...Wut's bein' married matter?"
"Technically, I was coerced into consentin' to that..." Crimson growled, clearly his throat hoarsely. He didn't want to think about Bleu and his bullshit as he tapped his claw on the table in agitation. Did marriage really matter or was it just a hang up from his old days? His parents, mostly his father, had always put so much stock in it. Truth be told, Crimson'd had no use for it in the last couple of decades, but it had been necessary in taking Chaz's supposed wealth. Assets and business were primarily tied into the act, you married and their shit became your shit, and vice versa if they had a decent lawyer on the other side. Beyond that, it really had no other purpose he supposed. Moxxie and Millie put a lot of stock in being husband and wife, but as far as Crimson knew, they had nothing really to gain from it. Babies came whether you had that legal bond or not, so did your mate for that matter if they were tired of your shit. The former Don massaged his brow with a groan. "...I suppose it doesn't? Maybe the Greedian in me thinks otherwise...I don't fuckin' know. I ain't really got shit, you ain't got shit. Technically Striker does but I doubt he's got actual documentation for that..."
Sallie May came out of the kitchen with two steaming plates. She had cooked up a couple steaks and potatoes for them to eat. She arched a brow at him as she set the plates down and took her seat. "Ya think that's what bein' married's about?"
"Pretty much what it's always been about in my experience. Only reason Bleu did it was to get the rest of my shit, that and t' have a womb at his disposal for heirs."
"Remind me ta rip his dick off when we see 'im again..." That made the corner of his mouth twitch up appreciatively as she continued. "An' sure, marryin' does that but fer most people it's more like a declaration of love." Sallie May grimaced at the funny look that earned her. "Ya'll in Greed are fucked up, ya know that?"
"Yer not gonna tell me that Wrathians don't do the same shit...Like yer parents didn't think 'Mm, if we marry one of our girls to so and so over on that other ranch, we can get such and such'...Tell me I'm wrong." Crimson knew for a fact he wasn't, as that was why Dolly-Ann was married off to him in the first place. Her father had land and his father had money, their parents had benefited well at their expense. He felt sick suddenly remembering he had tried to do the same, but he blamed the nausea on the smell of the meat.
"Ah won't, but they never really pushed fer it. Guess it's all in how a family decides ta do things. Guess yer folks did that?" It wasn't lost on the woman how he had gone quiet and rigid. She vaguely remembered him stating his marriage with his first wife was arranged and Moxxie made such a hullabaloo about being born in Wrath when he clearly wasn't, it was easy to put two and two together. "Yer wife's family, yeah?"
Crimson poked the steak then turned his attention to the potatoes which seemed more appealing. "...Yeah. We had money, they had land. Made for a good trade. And yeah, I tried t' do the same with Mox for money, so I don't need ya t' remind me..."
"Mmm...Sounds like guilt?" She gave him a knowing smirk.
"Shut up. In any case, yeah, I guess the way I've always seen marriage has always been a transactional thing. But if yer in love and all that sappy shit, why even bother doin' it at all?"
At that, Sallie May shrugged. "I guess parta that's conditioned in? We all see it as like some grand status to show our love or some shit? It has its benefits though, like shared assets, makin' stuff concrete...Like if somethin' happened ta yer partner, there'd be no question as ta who their shit goes ta when if ya weren't married, every Tom, Dick and Ed could come tryin' ta claim shit...Like yer fuckin' house if'n yer name's naht on it. Like Ma and Pa...If Pa kicked the bucket, his folks can't come in and take everythin' from Ma."
"Would they?" Crimson arched a brow.
Sallie May scowled. "In a heartbeat."
That made Crimson snort in appreciation. So Wrathians could be just as calculating and greedy as Greedians, good to know. It was probably the only good fortune for him that Sallie May and Striker weren't so bad. Speaking of the devil, the pale bastard joined them once he stepped in through the front door, which he slammed behind him. He glowered at the pair once he came into view in the dining area, shoving Sushi aside when the Hellhound tried to bound up to him for a welcome hug. Crimson shook his head at the canine, he liked Striker in spite of how the snake seemed to despise him for whatever reason. "Why the fuck is IMP's shitty ass van outside mah house?!"
"Moxxie came here with his big boy pants on t' tell me t' shut RMP down." Crimson beckoned the Hellhound over and proceeded to feed him his steak.
"Hey! Ya eat that protein! Ya need it!" The cowboy hissed in irritation.
"The smell makes me nauseous. Fuck off."
Grumbling under his breath at that, Striker stepped to the fireplace, snatched up a poker and stormed outside. The pair exchanged perplexed looks, but when the sound of shattering glass could be heard, they snickered to themselves. Striker returned and tossed the piece of metal down with a loud clatter as he looked at their plates. "Now where's mah dinner?"
"I gotcha, just settle down." Sallie May smirked as she scraped most of her potatoes onto Crimson's plate since he was amenable to those at least and went to cook a steak for Striker, who barked after her, "Ah want it rare!"
"You'll get wut ya get an' like it!"