Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Janus perks up in bed as he hears his front door be pushed open. 

Normally, this would be an instance where one might call the police, or something of the sort, but Janus doesn't feel the need to. And the reason he doesn't is because the distance between Janus’s lavish bedroom - in which he was resting in - and the front door was rather large. He lived in an old mansion, after all, so there were long hallways between this door and that one, the bathroom and the kitchen, et cetera.

The only reason Janus could hear multiple sets of footsteps slowly creep into his house was because of his acute hearing, which he luckily had to counteract his colour-blindness. It didn’t make traversing his house difficult, but it messed with his depth perception considerably. 

And the only reason he has excellent hearing was because he was bitten by a vampire nearly three centuries ago, and turned that very night. 

Janus slides off his comfortable mattress, and slips out of his room, stalking the halls of his house without a care. The electricity had long been cut from this place, and so he resorted to lighting candles to see at night (as in the morning, golden sunlight seeped in from the giant windows anyway, which Janus could carefully manipulate with curtains to give him the light he needed to traverse without tripping) but blows out the many he has burning through his halls as he passes, shrouding more and more of the interior in darkness. 

In the distance, he can clearly hear “it’s not as dilapidated as I expected. Just… archaic.” 

A scoff follows, and a second voice speaks “well, if the exterior wasn’t falling apart, why did you think the interior would be? That’s not typically how architecture works. It’s not like the living room is exposed to sleet and snow.” 

“Don’t be an ass.” 

Janus smiles, almost able to hear the way arms cross over chests just from the tone of the first’s voice. 

“Everything’s… eerily upkept,” a third speaks. 

“Don’t worry,” a fourth - four intruders? - soothes. “I’ll protect you.” 

The first voice huffs. “From what? Spiders? There’s nothing here. It’s just a creepy ass house; nothing more, and nothing less. It’s not like it’s haunted or anything. At worst, there’s probably just squatters, and that’s why it’s not completely in ruin.” 

“That’s logical.” 

“Oh gosh, I didn’t even think about the amount of spiders probably roaming around! Maybe… maybe we should just go home!” 

Following the chittering voices, Janus silently slinks onto his balcony overlooking the front door - which was left wide open, blowing the chilly night air into Janus’s otherwise warm house - but stays a few paces away from the rails in order to keep himself obscured in shadow. One of the four stands before the winding staircase leading to Janus’s position, but doesn’t climb it yet. 

From his vantage point, Janus takes a moment to assess the group. 

They were varying in style - quite an unlikely quadruple, in Janus’s opinion - but that made them more interesting. The tallest of the four was who Janus could immediately equate the bravest voice to, as with his muscular frame and protective arm wrapped around one of the others, it was clear to see he was rather protective. The one he was holding was leaning into his touch, eyes wildly looking around behind his round frames, as though scanning the area for spiders. His face was tucked into the larger one’s chest, which was about as high as it reached. Alright, so he’s paired two of them to two voices with ease. 

The other two provided much more of a challenge. Both of them look like they could retort something sassy, and neither of them looked pleased with where they were, but as one curiously crouched down to poke at Janus’s stairs (something that only irked Janus to a minimal degree), the other was more careless with his touches, more huffy and puffy as he jabs his fingers into a beautiful lamp Janus had acquired in the 1950’s. 

“Not a speck of dust,” the more inquisitive one says, which allows Janus to place him the second voice from earlier. The one who’d talked about “architecture.” 

That left the final one as the feistier one, who immediately quips “cool, so the spiders can do housework. Good to know.” 

With a wave of his hand, Janus wills the front door shut, making the smallest of the group yelp as he whipped around to face it, though everyone admittedly jumps at the noise. Silence settles among them, before the curious one adjusts his rectangle glasses, and clears his throat. 

“It’s a windy night,” he states, though Janus smirks as he hears him attempting to settle the quake in his voice. Rather interestingly, he sounds less as though he’s applying logic to quell himself, and more like he’s trying to soothe the others. “Just a disparity in air pressure.” 

The man he had originally been arguing with - bickering with? Bantering with? - moves towards him, and holds onto his arm, shoulders tense. They’re more affectionate than Janus would expect them to be. 

It makes him curious about their relationship. Initially, he’d assumed them to be a group of friends, but they seem more affectionate than that. Call him old-fashioned, but typically you don’t cling that closely to someone you’re merely acquaintances with. 

“What if this house really is haunted?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Patton,” the logical one says. “You’re perfectly safe. We all are.” 

“Quite the contrary, Patton,” Janus finally speaks, enjoying the way “Patton’s” name feels on his tongue as he says it. He watches with delight as all four faces whip up towards the balcony, searching for the source of Janus’s voice with varying degrees of fear on their faces. “You’ve essentially wandered into a lion’s den, and unfortunately, the four of you look like fresh meat.” 

“This house is abandoned!” the brave one speaks, urging Patton behind him and into the remaining arm of the analytical man. “It’s illegal for you to be here!” 

“This house is mine,” Janus corrects him. He takes a threatening step closer to the balcony’s ledge, allowing the group to see his silhouette. He knows he’s not particularly threatening - he’s about as tall as the sassy one, who’s the in-between height-wise of the group - but he quite literally has the upper hand here. “And you’re trespassing.” 

“Logan,” Patton whispers, voice quiet and shaking. Logan - who was the man Patton was currently cowering against - shushes him softly. 

He takes a step back, guiding Patton and the other with him, while the brave one stays near the stairs.

“We’ll leave, then,” Logan says, keeping his voice passive and steady. He turns to the man closest to Janus and goes “Come on, Roman. Let’s go,” before tilting his head back up towards Janus and adding “we’re very sorry for breaking and entering.”

Janus cocks his head to the side, watching the snarky man turn from Logan’s arms and to the front door, and he can’t help grinning wide when his pale hands grasp the doorknob tightly, and struggle to turn it at all. Grunting with increasing desperation, he tugs on, before eventually stumbling backwards as his hands slip off the knob with a particularly rough pull. He falls flat on his ass, with Patton rushing to his side. 

“Virgil!” Patton softly exclaims, crouching down to tend to Virgil, who Janus can see is trembling in the darkness. 

“It’s not opening,” Virgil grits, voice low and shaking. Roman finally turns to look at him. 

“What do you mean it’s not opening?”

Virgil’s fists hit against his thighs. “I mean it’s fucking stuck!”

“‘Stuck’ is one way to describe it, I suppose,” Janus pipes up, moving even closer to the railing and leaning over it, resting his chin on his hand as he watches the four gasp as they see him, no doubt startled by the shimmering yellow scales lining half of his face. “I personally would use the word ‘locked,’ but the four of you wouldn’t really have a way of knowing that, would you?” 

Janus smiles, wide and playfully, allowing the group to see his sharp fangs. Roman backs up to stand in front of the other three. 

With his arm outstretched to protect them, he shouts “what are you!?” while Janus watches Logan subtly reach into his back pocket and pull out a dimly lit cellular device. Janus hums as he sees it, before waving his hand again. As Logan flips his phone over, preparing to call the police, he finds it off. And when he tries to power it on, nothing happens. 

Mouth agape, Logan looks between his cell and Janus. 

“Don’t bother trying to call anyone,” Janus states, with a shrug. He watches Logan fumble with his phone, before it falls from his hands and onto the ground. He doesn’t bother to pick it up, and so stands staring at it as Janus continues. “None of your phones will work. I’ve always hated the technological age, you know. You’ll come to find my house is quite unplugged.” 

“How are you doing this!?” Roman asks again, increasingly worried as he feels Logan very slowly grab the back of his shirt, trying to keep himself grounded. “ What are you!?” 

Laughing softly, Janus recedes back into the shadows, murmuring “why don’t you come up here and find out?” 

Just as he expects, Roman breaks away from the group to head up the stairs, much to the dismay of the other three. Logan reaches for him, but doesn’t follow, while both Patton and Virgil yell his name to try and stop him, both panicked. Virgil tries to get up and chase, but is stopped by Logan who holds him back, clearly not wanting two of them to impulsively get themselves hurt. Virgil struggles rather valiantly. Janus can’t help lingering his gaze on him for a few seconds, before focusing back on Roman. 

Roman’s footsteps are heavy as he ascends up to the balcony, though Janus is already walking backwards into a dark corridor, out of sight of the other three. Foolishly, Roman follows him further, which is exactly what Janus was hoping for. 

As Janus is chased into a separate hallway, a large set of double doors separating that from the main area slams shut, effectively trapping Roman with him, and leaving the other three stuck oblivious on the other side.

Janus continues quickly moving back as Roman runs toward him, angry and, perhaps, feeling the need to defend his friends (partners? Lovers? Janus still wasn’t sure what to make of them).

He stops in front of a large window, which, with a quick flick of his wrist, has the curtains pulled back, allowing bright moonlight to stream in and cast over Janus, illuminating his rather nonthreatening form, but providing Roman with enough of a look for him to slow somewhat. And that slight falter, where his eyes travel Janus’s body, sizing him up and soaking in his appearance, gives Janus that mental slip he needs to sink his teeth into Roman’s mind. 

As Roman steps before the window, about an arm’s-length from Janus, Janus raises his hand into the air, thumb and middle finger pressed together. And as Roman stares at Janus’s digits - his face falling as he wonders what ability Janus will use next, and even doubting whether or not he’ll survive - Janus snaps. 

A loud thud echoes throughout the mansion’s walls, startling Logan enough to make him drop Virgil, who immediately scrambles up the stairs and over to the doors keeping Roman from them. He shoves his shoulder against it, attempting to use his rather unimpressive body weight to get the doors open, but they don’t budge in the slightest. In fact, Janus merely grins as he hears Virgil pounding on the wood, shouting through it to “give him back!” and that he’ll “call the cops!” 

“He’s worried about you,” Janus muses, as he bends over so that he’s face to face with Roman, who’s chin Janus keeps tilted upwards, forcing eye contact. His own eyes - which are normally bright yellow with slit pupils, reflecting those of a serpent's - spin with colours so intoxicatingly vivid they’d be deemed poisonous. As Roman stares, drool begins to dribble out of the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure they all are, actually. You’re very brave… stupidly so. How much must they mean to you for you to thrust yourself carelessly into danger on their behalf?” 

Roman lets out a soft groan, as though he’s actually trying to answer Janus’s question, but he’s unable to form any proper words. 

“They’re more than friends, are they not?”

This time, Roman’s eye twitches, but Janus doesn’t get much else from him. For someone so physically strong, Roman’s mind was pathetically weak. All brawn, no brain. All bravery, no brevity.

“If I told you to hurt them, you would.” 

Though Roman doesn’t react physically, Janus can almost feel the air shift. He knows that the part of Roman’s brain that can process Janus’s words doesn’t care for them at all. Discomfort and fear surrounds Roman like a tainted aura. 

Janus smiles sweetly. “You can’t resist, after all. Quite literally can’t. I’m stronger than you. I’m stronger than them. And I’m quite hungry.” 

Janus takes a step closer to Roman, breaking off their eye contact. Though Roman’s head is dizzy, he’s not being actively held captive in a trance any longer, and so lets out a choked “pl-pl- please .” 

He sounds scared. Worried. Desperate. 

Fingers combing through Roman’s hair, Janus pulls Roman’s head against his stomach, allowing Roman to hear the dramatic noises his gut makes as it craves a meal. Typically, Janus goes out at night, finds some loser in a bar, and feasts on them. If he does it often enough, he doesn’t even have to kill the person in order to be satisfied! But he hasn’t eaten in a while… he hasn’t really had the energy to go out and make small talk in order to con some pervert into letting him bite. Yet, now he has four meals, trapped inside his house. 

“I could eat the angry one. The one right outside the door.” 

Virgil pushes into the door again, emphasizing Janus’s words with his harsh punching. A sweet, metallic smell wafts through the air, and Janus sucks in a deep breath when it hits him, licking his lips afterwards. Roman seems ignorant to it, as though he can’t smell it. 

“He doesn’t look like he has much in him, though. Rather thin. If I tried to get a full meal out of him, he’d be empty on the floor afterwards, and I’d still be hungry. Perhaps I’d have to eat the smart one as well. He looks healthy enough to be satisfying, at least. But I like to overindulge, so he’d be disposed of after, too.” 

“Stop,” Roman begs him, sucking in a shuddering breath. He tries to move, or stand up, but his body feels heavy. After Janus snapped his fingers, Roman felt like gravity was actively pushing down on him, keeping him on his knees. 

“Or what about the emotional one. He seems sweet,” Janus continues, petting through Roman’s hair rather affectionately, even though he can see Roman’s body trembling as he tries to fight Janus’s control. “If you gave me just him, I’d be full enough to discard the rest of you.” 

Janus takes a large step back, watching Roman struggle to lift his head and watch him. 

“I’ll let you pick, since your feelings were strong enough to chase me,” Janus begins, as though mocking Roman for willingly defending the others. “One of them is staying with me. You’ll choose which one.” 

“Give him back!” Virgil shouts from the other side of the door. Beyond it, Janus can hear both Logan and Patton attempting to hold Virgil back. 

“You’re bleeding,” Patton cries, though Janus assumes his tears are for Roman, and not for Virgil’s supposed injuries. 

“None- none of them,” Roman responds, eyes welling up with tears. 

Tsking, Janus shakes his head. “That wasn’t an option, love. What were their names… Virgil, Logan, and Patton? One of them, Roman. You’re dumb, but not this dumb. Which one is staying with me?” 

“None of them!” 

Humming, Janus taps his chin. “Really? Even if it means you and two others get to leave, you won’t give up one? That’s rather selfish of you.” 

Truthfully, it was quite the opposite. Stupid, yes, but Janus never really expected Roman to give any of them up, not with how he’s been fighting to protect them. However, it was never Janus’s intention to let any of them go. 

“Fine.” 

Janus crouches down before Roman, who, despite the fog consuming his mind, tries to lunge forward. He’s unable. 

Once more, Janus seizes Roman’s chin, and forces eye contact. “If you won’t leave one of them here, I know a different way to keep you all together. And alive. At least for now.” 

As spirals once again spread through his irises, he watches Roman’s jaw go slack, his chest slump, and his entire body give up and only be supported by Janus, who’s speaking softly to him. His hushed words bounce against his extravagant walls, and wrap around Roman’s brain, being the only clear instructions Roman can focus on. Janus’s voice is the only thing he can listen to, his own thoughts drowned out by Janus’s commands. And Janus keeps talking, until he’s sure that the voice in Roman’s head isn’t speaking at all. 

***

The double doors are thrown open so violently, Virgil, Logan, and Patton are all knocked back and onto their backsides. 

“Roman!” Patton exclaims, but cowers immediately when Roman rather roughly bends down to scoop Virgil up, throwing him over his shoulder. Virgil thrashes as he’s held, demanding “put me down!” as Janus circles around Roman’s back, before standing rather smugly at his side. 

“Virgil- Virgil hates being held like that,” Logan stammers, staring at Roman, who’s staring blankly at the floor where Virgil was previously laying. “Roman wouldn’t hold him like that.” 

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t,” Janus responds, giving Logan a faux pout, before turning to Virgil. He has to lean back a bit to make eye contact with him, and can’t help grinning when he sees Virgil’s pissed face, smeared with wet tears and fresh snot. His cheeks are red, and his eyes are glistening with frustration and fear. 

When Virgil sees him staring, he quickly yells “fuck you!” which has Janus rolling his eyes. 

“You know where to take him, Roman,” Janus says, ignoring Virgil’s angry hitting and kicking. Roman doesn’t react to it either. “I’ll meet you there.” 

With a snap of his fingers, Roman turns on his heel and walks off, leaving Patton gasping. 

As he covers his mouth with his hands, Patton shakily asks “what did you do to him?” staring horrified at Roman’s shrinking frame as he disappears down the long corridor. 

“Nothing I can’t reverse,” Janus dismissively replies, waving his hand. “But I’m only willing to do so if you’re obedient. Both of you.” Janus turns to Logan, whose hands are balled into fists by his thighs despite his relatively expressionless face. If Janus wasn’t more perceptive, he’d assume Logan cares naught about the situation. But his chest was turned ever so slightly towards Patton. His knuckles were white. He was seething beneath the surface, but was doing a rather impressive job of keeping that anger hidden. 

“Now stand up.” 

Patton scrambles to his feet, while Logan is a lot slower pushing himself up. He fixes his glasses as he stands, glaring at Janus with his dark blue eyes from behind the frames. 

Janus then holds his hand outstretched, causing Patton and Logan to glance at each other. 

“I’m absolutely famished,” Janus explains, fangs shining as he speaks. “It took so much energy to subdue Roman. And I need to replenish it.” 

Briskly, Logan states “you’re not drinking our blood.” 

Janus frowns at his resistance.  

He clears his throat. “Let me rephrase that. I’m starving, and if one of you doesn't submit willingly, I’ll just take your blood forcefully.” Janus’s eyes narrow, but he smirks as he adds “and I have a reputation for getting carried away. Though, I suppose only having to manage three of you will be a lot less difficult than having to keep track of four.” 

Patton’s face pales. “You’ll kill one of us?” he whispers. 

“I might. Perhaps Virgil . The smell of his blood is permeating the air, after all. He’s basically taunting me with it.”

Patton turns to look at Logan with wide, wet eyes. He’s visibly afraid, and yet sympathetic. So, he offers his arm out, only for Logan to quickly grab it and pull Patton behind him. 

“No,” Logan firmly says, directed at Patton, though he’s staring at Janus as he says it. “He’s not touching you.” 

“Hm. You’re almost as heroic as Roman was. You did see how that turned out for him, didn’t you?” 

Logan stands up straighter, not bothering to acknowledge Janus’s mocking words. Instead, he holds his own arm out, with Patton holding onto him from behind. 

“Whatever you need to do, do it. And then take us to Roman and Virgil.” 

Janus hums. “You’re not in much of a place to be making demands.” 

“Starve, then.” 

“No, no,” Janus quickly replies, laughing softly at this one's… forwardness. He was just as spritely as Virgil! He was just better at keeping that attitude repressed. How… fun. “I’ll take you to them. After I’ve eaten, of course.” 

Janus’s fingers firmly wrap around Logan’s arm, before tugging him closer. Logan is rigid - clearly uncomfortable - but Janus pays no mind as he slides Logan’s long-sleeve shirt up his arm, exposing his forearm. 

“I thought vampires traditionally drank from the neck,” Logan comments, and as Janus’s eyes flicker toward him, he can see curiosity swimming within him. Even if he was mad, he was still eager to watch. “Provided you are a vampire, of course.” 

“Who’s to say?”

Logan frowns at the ambiguous response, seemingly hoping for a solid answer. Though, Janus is rather pleased to see Logan’s pale cheeks glow pink when Janus places a kiss on his knuckles. 

“What’s he doing?” Patton whispers into Logan’s ear, but seems embarrassed when Janus looks at him instead, realizing his question must have been overheard. Neither Janus or Logan answer Patton. 

Then, Logan’s arm is being flipped over, exposing his underarm and thick, healthy veins. 

“You drink a lot of water,” Janus comments. 

“I do.” 

“And you exercise.” 

“On again, off again.” 

Janus chuckles, pressing his thumb down on a vein right below Logan’s palm. “Not as often as Roman, I presume?” 

Logan doesn’t answer him, and frankly he doesn’t need to. Instead, he stiffens as Janus guides Logan’s wrist to his mouth, tongue sliding over Logan’s flesh and making him shiver. Where Janus’s saliva makes contact with Logan’s skin seems to buzz, as though it’s more abnormal than normal spit. And yet, Logan’s still not prepared for when Janus bites, sinking his sharp fangs into Logan’s wrist and making Logan yelp in pain. 

Patton quickly wraps himself around Logan’s free arm, grabbing his hand and holding it as Logan squeezes his fingers, clearly in pain. He sucks in a hissing breath through his teeth as Janus pulls away, before wrapping his lips around the two holes he just made, sucking the blood out of him. Logan can feel himself losing a lot in just a little bit of time, both from his veins having been impaled and Janus actively working to drink it out of him. 

He starts to get dizzy on his feet. 

“Wait,” Patton speaks, voice soft. However, as Logan’s eyes narrow, then slowly blink, and then snap open again, Patton’s louder. “Wait! He’s- you’re-” 

Janus pulls away, pushing his thumb over the holes to prevent blood from being wasted. 

“He’s fine.” 

“You’ll kill him!”

Janus licks his lips. “Not yet, I won’t.” 

He reattaches his lips to Logan’s wrist, moving closer until he has an arm looped around Logan’s waist, pushing Patton to the side as he single handedly keeps Logan upright, savoring each mouthful of blood that he gets. 

Logan’s blood tastes healthy. It’s thick, filling, and tastes so distinct to Janus. It’s not as trashy as the blood he’d drink from an intoxicated loser. It’s a lot nicer. A lot nicer. 

It almost reminds Janus of after he first turned, and the first blood he’d after tasted. He’d been healthy, fit, charming. He’d been delicious. 

Logan lets out a shaky moan, and finally Janus pulls away, gliding his forked tongue over the wound and giving Logan that same burning, static feeling. Though, when Janus stands back up, Logan sees the fang marks have been completely scabbed over. 

Breathily, Logan tries to ask how Janus did that, but he crumples before he can, falling right into Janus’s arms. 

“Is he-”

“He’s fine,” Janus assures Patton, quickly and confidently. His voice is calm and passive, and he even offers Patton one of his warmest smiles. It’d be rather nice if he wasn’t holding a limp body in his arms. “He’ll just be exhausted for a bit.” 

Janus glances at Logan, watching as his bleary eyes look around drowsily, before falling shut as he tries to take long, deep breaths. Janus smiles, and rather easily lifts Logan into his arms, which has Logan letting out a groan of displeasure, but keeping his eyes shut, too tired to protest. 

“Follow me,” Janus then instructs Patton, turning and heading down the hall Roman had traversed, making good on his word to bring them to the others. He hears Patton’s footsteps rush to catch up with him, before Patton’s walking at his side, near Logan’s head, looking towards him repeatedly with concern in his eyes. But he doesn’t say anything, almost as though he trusts Janus’s word. Hm. 

Janus cracks a smile; smug, and temporarily satiated. 

Chapter Text

As Logan’s laid on a nice, big bed, Patton looks around the dim room, his hope slowly dwindling as he glances from wall to wall. 

“I thought… I thought you said you’d take us to Virgil and Roman,” Patton says, as he stands at the edge of the bed, watching Janus attempt to pull covers over Logan’s frame, and Logan weakly stopping him with little more than a frown. 

As Janus drops the covers in defeat, watching Logan turn away from him and hold his wrist firmly, he turns to Patton. 

“Did I say that?” Janus's foot rhythmically thuds into the floor. “I can’t seem to recall.” 

Logan’s tired voice cuts through the air. “You did.”

Janus smiles slightly, amused at Logan’s ability to act like a know-it-all, despite the fact he was struggling more and more to keep himself awake by the second. His body needs rest to replenish his energy, but he seems unwilling to allow himself the opportunity so long as Janus is present. 

“Hm.” Janus taps his finger against his chin, as though trying to reflect on his own words, before offering Patton a thin smile. “I lied.” 

Patton’s face falls, paling as he stares at Janus with an agape expression, as though utterly betrayed by Janus’s dishonesty. Under Logan’s breath, he mutters an obscenity so crude that Janus almost has half a mind to scold him, but that impulse is short-lived as Janus is once again distracted by sniffles. 

As he turns to face Patton, he sees those baby blue eyes brimming with tears. 

“But- but Virgil’s hurt,” Patton says, pleading with Janus. “And Roman… oh.” Patton presses his hands over his mouth, stifling a shaky sob. “Virgil must be so scared and confused!” 

A tear rolls down Patton’s round face. 

Janus reaches towards him, thumbing it away, before bringing his finger to his mouth and sucking the tear from it, staring at Patton all the while. Internally, he’s a mixture of bemused and intrigued, but outwardly he expresses naught. 

“If I take you to go see Virgil,” Janus begins, voice slow, “then who’ll stay here and watch over Logan? He’s in quite a fragile state, after all. What if the scab peels away, and he slowly bleeds to death?” 

“Improbable,” Logan interjects. 

“Not impossible,” Janus replies. 

Logan doesn’t contest, which has Patton gasping at the possibility. Torn between two of his lovers - both injured - Patton’s clearly conflicted. Logan’s turned away from him, but curled up, clutching his wrist. And Virgil is missing; he was taken somewhere in this large house, and Patton desperately wanted to know where. 

But, Logan feels the bed dip, and as he rolls to the side with narrow eyes, he’s a bit surprised to see Patton kneeling on the comforter. 

“Patton-” Logan starts, but he’s quickly shushed by Patton, who pulls Logan’s injured arm towards him and very lightly runs his fingers along the wound.

As he holds Logan, Patton turns to Janus. With a soft, trembling voice, Patton pleads “at least tell us if Virgil and Roman are okay.” 

And there’s something in his desperation that pulls Janus’s breath from his chest. Something so utterly human , and thus only faintly familiar to him. It’s akin to a candle smelled in your youth being brought to the forefront of your mind through a particular scent wafting through the air decades later in life. 

“I’ll go check,” Janus states. His words make it seem like he’s going on Patton’s behalf, though truthfully Roman and Virgil were his next stop anyway. 

He backs out of the room, with Patton watching him until he gets to the doorframe, before Patton gives his full attention to Logan, tending to him sweetly right as Janus shuts the door. With a quick flick of his wrist, the door is clicking as it locks. Just a precaution. 

Traveling down the hall, it’s a decently long walk from one room to the next, though Janus did that on purpose. Hopefully, he won’t have to keep them separated for long, but they’re much easier to subdue when they’re forced apart. After all, Janus is the only one who knows the wellbeing of the others; he’s a valuable source while stuck in this situation, though that doesn’t inherently deem him a reliable one. 

As Janus nears the opposite end of the hall, he hears very obnoxious thrashing. There’s soft pleading, followed by angry shouting, accompanied by the sound of furniture being thrown about. 

“Please, Virgil-” Janus hears Roman begin, his voice shaking. 

“No! Move out of the way!” 

“I- I can’t!”

And then more frustrated sounds ranging from stomping to screaming in anger seep through the door. Standing directly in front of it, Janus can feel Roman’s presence on the other side, standing in front of their means of escape, and being completely oblivious as to why. 

Janus can’t help smiling slightly. Despite Roman’s anguish at distressing his partner, he’s still unable to disobey Janus. 

As Janus slowly opens the door, he listens as Virgil’s tantrum ceases momentarily, and watches as Roman turns to face him, tears glistening against his pretty face. Janus shuts the door behind him. 

“Roman,” Janus acknowledges, with a polite nod, “nice to hear you regaining some of your senses.” 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Janus ignores him, and waves him away dismissively. “Go sit on the bed.” 

Virgil stands stiffly, hands balled into fists so tight that his nails puncture his palm. Roman sits on the bed beside him, but Virgil doesn’t even look at him, staring angrily at Janus. 

“I didn’t want to sit down,” Roman croaks, voice a pathetic whisper. He’s looking at Virgil apologetically. Virgil doesn’t return his gaze. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Virgil shouts, blinking tears away from his eyes. His finger points at Janus accusingly, showing Janus the dried blood decorating his knuckles. He really should have had Roman clean the tempting sight, but alas. 

Janus smirks. “Whatever do you mean?”

Visibly shaking, Virgil seems unsteady on his feet. He looks exhausted, though his seething expression masks his dark eyebags rather well. 

“What did you do to Roman?” 

“Made a little suggestion here and there,” Janus vaguely replies, with a shrug. “You and your… group… were trespassing on my property. Why, I had to do something! I was scared for my life!” His fangs shine as he grins, motioning to Roman as he adds “and out of all of you, he looks the most dangerous. Thus, it’s only expected that I subdue the biggest threat first.” 

Wiping his pants off, Janus further explains “Patton looks as though he can’t hurt a fly. He’d make a good distraction, maybe, but someone who’d fight? Hmph.” Janus steps towards Virgil, who leans back, but doesn’t move.  “ You hardly weigh enough to even be considered a hearty meal, let alone throw a worthwhile punch.” 

Janus turns to look at Roman. “And Logan… well, Logan could have logically figured some way out of this mess, but unfortunately he severely misjudged just how much blood I’d take from him. Henceforth, Roman was the one who needed the most… help.” 

“You took Logan’s-” Virgil gags, cutting himself off and cringing, finally taking a step back. His eyes fill with worry, though his body retains its aggressive stance. 

“Please,” Roman suddenly begs, staring up at Janus with wide eyes. “He’s not dead, right?” 

Janus, similar to Virgil, ignores Roman’s words, though Janus does cup his face. 

“Poor, poor Roman,” Janus coos, in a sing-song manner, “had to do the selfish thing and keep the four of you together, and now you’re all stuck in here. Do you regret it? Wish you just picked one of them to give up?” 

Roman doesn’t answer, head falling limply, before he nervously raises his eyes only slightly, to meet Virgil’s gaze, which softens as he and Roman stare at each other. 

“No,” Virgil answers for him, sighing softly. “It’s not selfish. I’m glad we’re together. Even if we’re separated from Logan and Patton right now.” 

Virgil grits out that last bit - an obvious jab at Janus, expressing his disdain towards being kept away from their other two partners - but moves to Roman’s side. Relaxing softly, Virgil and Roman lock hands, Roman kissing Virgil’s knuckles in a silent apology, and Virgil under his breath murmuring “it’s not your fault. I know it’s not your fault.” 

“Do you want to see them?”

Immediately, both Roman and Virgil perk up. Initially hopeful, Virgil’s demeanor eventually shifts to one of distrust, regarding Janus carefully. With a low, bitter voice, he asks “what’s the catch?” 

Janus chuckles. “Only one of you can come.” 

Virgil bristles, but Roman kisses his hand again, and Janus watches as Virgil’s quickly soothed. He’s definitely upset - more so by Janus’s stipulation - but at least now he doesn’t look as though he might lunge at any moment. 

“ And,” Janus continues, “you have to willingly submit to me.” 

That has Virgil stiffening. 

“Me specifically?”

“Whichever one of you wants to go check up on your two lovers.” 

Roman looks at Virgil, and pulls him close, pushing his head against Virgil’s side. Virgil holds him, running his fingers through Roman’s hair, but keeps his eyes on Janus. 

Janus clasps his hands together in front of his body. “I need some sort of reassurance you won’t try anything during our walk, or once you’re with them,” he explains, though he’d easily be able to deal with whatever they’d throw at him. They were just humans, after all. “Displaying that you can be obedient and calm is the best way to do that. I’ll even help you!” 

“Hell no,” Virgil spits. 

My, my. At least their stubbornness is consistent, Janus thinks, amused. Yet, he just shrugs. 

“Alright,” he replies, turning his back to them. “Have it your way. I’m sure Patton will be disappointed to hear you had the chance to come see them, but chose not to. And Logan… well, it’s been a while since I’ve drank so much from a human. It’s truly a toss-up whether he’ll be able to replenish his energy before his body gives out from the blood loss. But,” Janus’s hand turns the doorknob, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips as he hears Virgil shift his weight back and forth on his feet, “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

As he sets one foot outside the door, Virgil suddenly speaks, with a quick “wait!” 

“Yes?”

Janus turns his head over his shoulder, regarding Virgil’s desperate posture with half-lidded eyes; Virgil’s feet are planted, but he’s leaning forward slightly, and his arm is outstretched in an almost cliche manner, as though he was genuinely contemplating grabbing Janus just to hold him still. 

“What…” Virgil starts, before sighing. “What would I have to do?”

Roman opens his mouth to object, but stays quiet when he sees the way Virgil’s picking at the scab on his hand. He’s worried, presumably about the others. How cute.

Janus turns on his heel rather dramatically, once more pulling the door shut as he does, emphasizing the fact that Virgil is trapped in here with him, and with Roman’s mind binding him to the bed, it was almost as if Virgil and Janus were in the room alone. They’re about the same height, but Virgil shrinks beneath Janus’s gaze as Janus moves forward. 

“It’s simple, really,” Janus states, smiling wide. “All you’d have to do is give your mind and body to me.” 

Virgil seems aversive towards Janus’s demands. 

To quell his… ambivalence, Janus motions towards Roman. “Roman’s already done so,” Janus reasons, though he muses after “albeit unwillingly. But he’s fine. In fact, he’s happy. Aren’t you happy?” 

Before Roman can answer, Janus is flicking his fingers down, then up, with Roman’s head following the digit rapidly, up until Janus snaps in his face. Immediately, Roman’s eyes seem to cross, and his rigid, protective posture falls into something more relaxed. 

“Aren’t you happy, Roman?” Janus repeats, as though he’s talking to a puppy. “Happy to be under my control?” 

“Uh-huh,” Roman moans, slow and sleepy-sounding. 

Janus turns back to Virgil. “See? He’s perfectly pleased with his situation, and I’m sure you’ll be happy too. I’ll make sure of it.” 

“No,” Virgil stammers, looking between Roman and Janus. “Why would I- how can you- I’m not letting you take over my mind!” 

Hm. Janus’s smile falters, his eye twitching with annoyance. 

“Fine,” Janus replies, sucking in a quick breath. He could just do it anyway; Virgil was weak compared to him, and in such a state of distress, making him fall to his knees would be so easy! But Virgil is stubborn, and Janus wants to hear him submit. “What about just your body then?” 

“What would you want with my body?” Virgil’s eyes flick up and down Janus’s frame, before snarkily adding “aside from my blood, you monster.”

“Firstly, ouch.” Janus sets a hand over his heart, though he rolls his eyes, making Virgil scowl at his sarcasm. Secondly,” Janus steps forward, grabbing Virgil’s arm and yanking him closer. Virgil basically falls against him, legs unsteady as they’re pressed chest to chest. Janus cocks his head to the side in order to whisper in Virgil’s ear. “There's a lot more to you than just your blood. And while you do smell delicious, I know plenty other ways to have fun.” 

Holding Virgil’s wrist tight, he guides Virgil’s knuckles to his lips, and his tongue drags over the scab in a sultry manner, making Virgil shiver and rather suddenly shove Janus away. As Virgil stumbles backwards, he wipes his hand off rather aggressively, all while uttering “freak!” under his breath. The display makes Janus chuckle. 

“I’ll even keep Roman’s brain turned off, so you don’t have to be embarrassed,” Janus adds, as though sweetening his offer. 

Virgil rubs his knuckles against his hoodie repeatedly, despite having already cleaned it of Janus’s spit. 

It’s a repetitive action he can do idly while trying to focus on making up his mind. Janus can see him thoroughly weighing his options, and so doesn’t push further. He’s rather patient; you learn to be once you’ve lived for hundreds of years. 

“If I…” Virgil abruptly cuts himself off, choosing his words wisely. Hesitation is evident in both his voice and body language. He’s playing with his fingers. 

Gulping, Virgil restarts. “If I lend you my body-” Janus notes the word ‘lend,’ as opposed to ‘give,’ “-you’ll honestly let me go see Patton and Logan? No tricks?” 

Janus smiles wide. “No tricks.” 

Virgil sucks in a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. “Okay,” he says, before nodding his head and repeating himself with more bravery. “Okay. What do I have to do?” 

Janus waves Virgil towards the edge of the bed, sitting so that his and Roman’s shoulders are touching, but so that they’re facing different directions; Roman’s glazed-over eyes are staring at the door, while Virgil is looking at a nice wall, of which Janus stands in front of. Virgil leans back when Janus gets closer, but a soft chastising from Janus has him fixing his posture, even if he visibly dislikes having so little distance between them. 

 As Janus runs his hand over the length of Virgil’s jaw, feeling him tense beneath his fingers, Janus can’t help but muse “you know, I wouldn’t have to touch you as much if you let me play with your mind.” 

“Pass,” Virgil replies, through gritted teeth. 

In the corner of his eye, Janus watches Virgil’s hand creep towards Roman, holding it tight even though Roman can’t think enough to return the grip. 

Janus’s cold hand caresses Virgil’s neck, pressing down over his arteries, and then traveling further. His fingers dip past the collar of Virgil’s shirt, and over Virgil’s prominent collarbones. As Virgil shifts, Janus pulls his hand away, before he’s suddenly poking Virgil in the center of his chest, making Virgil gasp as he feels electricity course through his entire body, as though Janus shocked all of him at once. It’s brief, but intense. 

Then, he’s grabbing Virgil’s chin, and forcing eye contact. He wiggles Virgil’s face briefly, before outstretching his arm towards a nearby chair. He motions for it to come towards him, and rather quickly it does, sliding until it’s right behind him, and Janus can rather prettily sit back onto it. He crosses one leg over the other, folding his hands politely in his lap, and regarding Virgil with very excited eyes. 

“You can do a lot for someone who’s supposedly a vampire,” Virgil grumbles, cautious. 

“Movies lie,” Janus replies, with a small laugh. 

Virgil mumbles something bitter under his breath, but he’s not going to refute Janus. Especially because Janus can assume that Virgil has never run into another vampire before this moment. Believe it or not, they weren’t very commonplace!

“So… what now? Are we just going to sit here and stare at each other?” 

Janus chuckles. “We can. You’re awfully pretty, you know. All four of you.” 

Virgil bristles, shoulders squaring. His hand squeezes Roman’s tight enough for Janus to see his knuckles turn white. “Don’t talk about them like that.” 

“What? Don’t call them pretty?” Janus raises an eyebrow, half-lidded eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Why not?”

“Because when you say it, you mean it in an objectifying way.” 

Janus leans forward in his chair, his smile twisting into a more perverse smirk. He uncrosses his legs, and then recrosses them, resting his chin on his fist. Even while sitting down, he looks statuesque. “You don’t know that.” 

Hissing, Virgil’s voice raises. “I know you took Logan’s blood, you c-” 

As he leaps up from where he’s sitting, preparing to lunge at Janus with the full intention of tackling him and the seat he’s in onto the ground, he suddenly feels hands on his body. They push against his chest, his thighs, his stomach, and before he knows it Virgil’s being forced back onto the bed, sitting down and leaning back slightly as he gasps. 

They feel so real; as though actual hands have somehow wriggled beneath his clothes and were firmly guiding him where Janus wanted him to go.

One of Virgil’s hands grasps the comforter as he attempts to ground himself, expecting the phantom limbs to fade after a moment, but being confused and flustered when they don’t. Fingers press against his flesh, caressing him, as though they’re praising him for letting himself be so easily moved around with each pet over his body.  

He looks to Janus for an explanation, opening his mouth to ask what’s going on, but closing it soon after when he can’t muster up the words necessary. 

Janus says nothing at first, simply staring smugly at Virgil. His lips turn into a mocking pout, cooing at Virgil. “What’s the matter?” Janus asks, with faux concern. “Speechless?” 

“That’s okay,” Janus then says, as he shrugs his shoulders back, keeping his position relaxed. He’s attempting to appear non-threatening, but that doesn’t exactly work when Janus’s fangs protrude his mouth and rest on his bottom lips every time he smiles. “I know exactly what you’re thinking anyway.” 

Janus’s tone was matter-of-fact; his words make Virgil’s frown deepen. 

“You’re so confused. You don’t understand,” Janus says on Virgil’s behalf, watching Virgil scowl more and more with each consonant that echoes in the air. “Your simple little mind couldn’t possibly fathom the extent of my power. But, as I said, that’s perfectly fine. You needn’t worry about anything, doll. I’m not going to hurt you.” Janus laughs, low, and dark. “Not yet, at least.” 

Virgil goes to scorn Janus, but is quickly caught off guard when he feels an extra pair of hands squeezing at his inner thighs. Immediately, he squeezes his thighs shut, but it only takes a moment before they’re being easily forced apart. Phantom fingers massage at the sensitive muscle. 

Thumbs press into the fat, before the hands are sliding up Virgil’s legs, dangerously close to his crotch.

A third hand pets over Virgil’s chest, dragging up his thin stomach and over his chest, before one of the fingers circles one of Virgil’s nipples, making Virgil shudder. 

Face going bright red, Virgil stammers. “How are you doing this?” he asks, voice breathy, but Janus just shushes him. 

“Don’t ask questions, doll,” Janus shushes him. “You’ll spoil the fun.” 

Virgil tries to say something - anything - but before he can, he feels a thumb pressing down against his nipple, rubbing over the sensitive bud as it firms up beneath the phantom pressure. Simultaneously, his cock is palmed, though the friction feels like it’s coming both from overtop and beneath his boxers, grinding his clothes against his shaft, while also feeling like an actual hand is wrapping around it. 

Virgil quickly lifts a hand to his mouth, muffling a whimper that’s ripped from his throat, but seconds later he feels his fingers being entwined with another’s and his arm brought down to the bed, where it’s tightly held. 

Startled, Virgil looks towards it, and is surprised to see Roman’s big hand encasing his own. As Virgil tries to pull his hand away, Roman squeezes it tighter, though he’s still turned mostly away from the former.

“Roman,” Virgil whines, biting back a moan. “Roman- what are you doing?” 

Roman doesn’t respond, lightly swaying back and forth as though his body was too heavy to keep upright. Still, he obediently sits, not moving a muscle otherwise. 

“What a good boy,” Janus praises Roman, before grinning at Virgil. “I didn’t command him to do that bit! How wonderful it is knowing that his mind is molding so wonderfully around my presence. He’s being influenced by me so strongly that even he wants to hear you! Even if he isn’t aware of it.” 

Janus has to reign his excitement in a bit after Virgil gives him a weird look, though Virgil quickly looks away and back at Roman with pleading eyes, though he’s already resigned himself to the fact Roman wasn’t entirely conscious.

The hand rubbing against Virgil’s cock suddenly wraps around it, and despite his length still being trapped in his boxers, the phantom fingers fold almost expertly around him. He’s stroked in an almost mechanical fashion; the expert way he’s pumped and rubbed making him groan quietly. It twists at the base of his cock, and thumbs at his slit, moving smoothly with no lube and taking its sweet time slowly feeling over him. 

“Feel free to thrust,” Janus comments, playfully. “Or resist, if you’d like. I’ll get a lovely show either way.” 

Truly, there’s no winning for Virgil, but Janus would love to see him try. 

Through gritted teeth, Virgil manages to stammer “F-f-fuck you,” which has Janus laughing under his breath. 

He watches Virgil struggle, with Virgil trying pathetically hard to remain composed despite the hands pushing harder against his body, as though testing his might. Janus glances at Roman, before slyly looking back towards Virgil. 

“Does Roman touch you like this?” 

Suddenly, Virgil’s face is aflame, eyes wide. “What?!” 

“What about Logan? Patton, perhaps? You look fun to handle; surely your partners share the same sentiment.” Humming, Janus scans Virgil’s body up and down. “What would they think if they saw you being worked up by me of all people? Would they be shocked? Speechless, even?” 

Virgil looks distraught at Janus’s words, and not in any amusing way. His hands come to his chest as he tries with more shame to push Janus’s hands away, but the hands aren’t physical, and so his struggles are in vain. 

“Those pesky, anxious thoughts are going to ruin our fun,” Janus softly chastises. “I’m sure your lovers wouldn’t mind, after all. They’d understand you were doing this on their behalf.” Under Janus’s breath - just loud enough for Virgil to hear - Janus exasperatedly mumbles “they seem the forgiving type.” As Janus settles his gaze back on Virgil, he smiles rather softly, though it does little to make Virgil feel relaxed. “In fact, I bet they’d agree you look beautiful like this, squirming away from me, despite the fact you want nothing more than to just relax and give in.” 

Virgil fruitlessly struggles beneath the prodding hands, and yet his hips buck, thrusting against the palm down his pants, which finally causes him to moan loudly. 

It’s like a crack in a dam, because as soon as Virgil lets one noise through, plenty spill out soon after. Furthermore, the sensations rubbing him become more intense. 

Both of his nipples are harshly rubbed, being randomly pinched and pulled, catching him off guard with the intense pain and the pleasure that follows immediately after. The hand on his cock stays at a similar pace, but two other invisible limbs pin his thighs apart, giving Janus a lovely view of his achingly hard cock trapped beneath his skinny jeans. 

“Your little loverboys will be finding out about this shortly, won’t they,” Janus muses, chuckling softly. “Would you like to tell them just how pathetic you looked, all spread out for me? Or would you rather I do the honors?” 

Virgil curses, his head falling back as he struggles to keep his eyes away from Janus. His hips roll into the pressure around his crotch, achingly desperate for more and more despite the disgust he feels towards himself for craving it. But he’s so worked up. So worked up. 

Virgil tries and fails to bite back further moans, trembling as he fights to keep himself upright. The urge to just collapse back against the bed and let Janus’s hands overtake his flesh was ever-present. 

One of the many non-existent hands tangles itself in Virgil’s hair and forces him to look at Janus. 

Virgil glares at Janus, teary-eyed and overwhelmed. “What the- what the hell could you possibly get out of this?!” Virgil spits, a stray tear leaking from Virgil’s eye and traveling down his bright red cheek. His hips don’t stop, and neither do Janus’s many, many hands. 

Janus hums, cocking his head innocently to the side. The room is filled with Virgil’s noises, which bounce off the walls and even escape into the hallway. Janus’s house hasn’t sounded this exciting in ages! 

Smile stretching into an almost dangerous grin, Janus comments “I love playing with my food.” 

And in a moment of sudden, increased intensity, Virgil’s vision is filled with white spots, eyes rolling back into his head as he comes. He cries out pathetically loud, visibly shaking as Janus’s hands overwhelm every sensitive inch of skin, and continue rubbing his leaking cock, until finally Virgil can’t keep himself upright any longer. 

Filled with embarrassment, bliss, and vertigo, Virgil crumples onto the bed. 

His pants ring in his ears, Virgil staring sideways at a pillow, of which he stares at in a desperate attempt to focus. He feels the sensation of the hands slowly fading away, as though they were never there at all, and he rolls himself onto his side, curling up into a lazy fetal position. His body feels relaxed, but he tenses up quickly when he feels more physical hands against him. 

“Be calm,” Janus commands him, standing over Virgil with a relaxed smile. Virgil doesn’t want to listen, however he’s too exhausted to do anything but. 

He feels Janus’s hands slide under him, and in a quick motion Virgil’s being easily lifted up. 

Virgil’s hands reach out immediately to grasp the front of Janus’s shirt, but pull away again when Janus smirks at him, instead crossing them over his chest. 

There’s silence between them, as Janus somehow opens the door with nothing but the nod of his head.

As Virgil’s taken down the hall, he quietly speaks up. “Are… are you taking me to Patton and Logan?” 

Janus doesn’t look at him. “Not quite.” 

Instantaly, Virgil starts squirming. There’s a mixture of betrayal and anger in his voice. “You- you-” 

“Shh,” Janus soothes him, “I thought you’d want to change first. You look like a mess, and you smell like sweat.” Janus’s tongue flickers out of his mouth, as though drinking in Virgil’s scent. His nose scrunches up in dramatic disgust, but he smiles playfully afterwards. Virgil doesn’t see this situation anywhere near as humorous. 

Instead, he argues “I’m not letting you change me.” 

“You don’t have much of a choice.” 

Another door is opening, and as they walk into it, Virgil notices this one is significantly more decorated than the room he and Roman were left in. More paintings, more trinkets, and piles of books. Against a wall was a large, old cabinet, intricately carved, and filled with what Virgil can only assume are age-old bottles of wine. 

Very carefully, Virgil is laid back on silk sheets and warm pillows, while Janus heads towards a side room. He briefly disappears inside of it, before remerging holding a long, black nightshirt, and matching ankle-length trousers. 

“They might be a bit big on you, but I’m sure everything is,” Janus says, as he hands the clothes to Virgil, poking Virgil’s stomach to emphasize his point. Virgil scowls at the action, but holds the fabric close to his body, staring at Janus as Janus stares back at him. 

After a moment, Janus raises an eyebrow. “What? Do you want me to turn around or something?” 

“Yes,” Virgil grits, and Janus can’t help but roll his eyes. 

As he turns around, tapping his boot against the floor, Janus dramatically says “fine! But if you try anything - tackling me, running, trying to slink off - there will be repercussions.” 

“Ye of little fucking faith,” Janus hears Virgil utter under his breath, followed by the sound of his clothes hitting the floor. 

“Take your shoes off too, while you’re at it.” 

“No!”

“Take them off.” 

Virgil groans at the command, and shortly after his shoes are thrown at the floor beside Janus. Janus can’t help but snort at the childish behavior. 

When the sounds stop, Janus turns around, and sees Virgil resentfully dressed in Janus’s borrowed pajamas. As expected, his small frame is swallowed up even by Janus’s rather average sized clothes, but that’ll be something fixed with time, provided he doesn’t die first. 

He kept his hoodie, which is pulled tight around his chest. His hands are stuffed in his pockets. 

“Good boy,” Janus mockingly praises him, and he’s met with a frown in response. 

Janus guides him out of the room, and back near the way they came. A quick look at Virgil reveals his eyes are wildly darting around, as though he’s trying to memorize each patterned wall and wrinkle in the rug. He seems alert, despite his fatigue. 

Eventually, they come to a stop outside of a room, and to be courteous Janus knocks on the door before opening it, and holding it open for Virgil, who sees Patton sitting criss-cross on a bed beside Logan.

“Patton-!” Virgil exclaims, but is quickly and wildly shushed by Patton, who motions to Logan shortly after. 

As Virgil scrambles to get on the bed, falling into Patton’s arms where he’s tightly held, Patton quietly says “he just got to sleep. He’d been insisting he’d stay up until we could make sure you and Roman were okay. Are… are you okay?”

“He’s alive, right?” Virgil whispers. Patton squeezes him tighter in turn. 

“Just sleeping,” Patton reiterates. 

Virgil buries his face in Patton’s shoulder, and Patton carefully leans them both back against the pillows. Though he struggles slightly, he eventually manages to grab hold of the comforter Logan was tucked under, and toss it over their bodies as well. 

And as Patton pulls Virgil as close as possible, he looks toward Janus, with Janus swearing the smile Patton gives him is one of gratitude. With a curious expression, Janus backs out of the room, and shuts the door quietly behind him.

Chapter Text

“Do you even eat food?” Patton quietly asks, though his voice echoes through the large kitchen he’s standing in, while Janus - standing atop a beautiful dining chair - was digging through his upper cabinets. 

“I can,” Janus honestly replies, as his hands feel around the empty space. It’s quite dusty up there; he should really dust at some point. “I don’t often, though. It provides me with no nutritional value, so really I’d just be eating for the taste. And in that case, I’d prefer drinking to eating.” 

The chair Janus is on creaks, but as he looks down at it - worried such an antique might fall apart while he’s using it so recklessly - he sees Patton at its side, holding the chair firmly to help keep it steady. Patton’s eyes are lowered for a bit, as he figures out the best way to hold the chair, before he’s looking back up at Janus. Janus can’t help but smile at the surprise reflected in Patton’s eyes, as though he’s caught off guard by his own actions. 

Patton’s hands immediately release the wood, but remain hovering over it for a few seconds, before his fingers grasp it once more. He holds it, and as Janus shifts his weight from one foot to the other, there’s no moving, and no creaking. 

“Why thank you, dear,” Janus hums. Patton doesn’t respond. 

Though after a few seconds of more fruitless searching, Patton pipes up “are you sure you even have anything?” 

He sounds worried as he asks, and Janus can imagine why. If he wants to keep them alive - at least for a little bit - he’d need to keep them from starving to death. And if he wanted to use them as his meals, then he’d need to make sure one blood-sucking session wouldn’t end with them dead on the ground. 

“We could always go to the store,” Patton softly suggests, though frowns when Janus laughs outright. 

Turning to stare at Patton, Janus is smiling wide. “My, my, you really are quite funny,” Janus coos, reaching his arm deeper into the cabinet. “I can hardly trust the four of you in separate rooms with monitoring; do you really think I’m going to head to the shop and leave you in my house alone?” 

“Well- if- I-” Patton stammers, but he’s quickly shushed. 

“Not going to happen,” Janus states, with a slight chuckle. “If I don’t have anything, then I guess you’ll starve until you can get the other three to behave as well as you do.” 

Patton chews on his inner cheek, struggling with the moral implication that comes with fighting back the least. He wasn’t happy about this situation either; he was quite afraid, actually, but he saw Janus drain Logan in a matter of moments, and witnessed him take complete control of Roman. God knows what he did to Virgil. His obedience is bred out of fear for his lovers’ sakes. 

Suddenly though, Janus exclaims “aha!” before pulling out a rather hefty cylinder. It’s - unsurprisingly - covered in a layer of dust, but as Janus unscrews the top he grins. 

“Still fresh,” he comments, before turning to Patton, filled with delight. “Good ol’ reliable oats!” 

Patton bites his bottom lip as he eyes the container. “Are you sure those haven’t gone bad?” 

“They’re oats,” Janus shrugs, as he steps down from the chair. “I have some brown sugar somewhere. A dash of that, and they’ll taste as good as new.” 

Janus sets the oats on the counter, and moves his chair back towards his dining table, giving Patton the opportunity to thumb away the dirt caked against the side. As he wipes it as clean as possible, he finds that there’s a lack of an expiration date. 

“There’s no ‘best by’ date,” Patton murmurs, before jumping slightly as he feels Janus’s hand rest against his lower back. He hadn’t heard Janus creep up on him. 

Janus just looks tickled though. “Expiration dates weren’t printed on food until the 70’s, darling,” he muses, before setting an unopened bag of brown sugar on the counter. Afterwards, he proudly motions to the combo. 

“Satisfactory?” 

“Hardly,” Patton responds, pleadingly. “What about… what about some fruit? Or some meat, maybe?” 

“Dear, you’re the only meat around, and I doubt your flesh will taste as delicious to the others as it will to me.” 

Patton squeaks, stepping away from Janus as he pulls his arms towards his chest, while Janus merely watches him, amused. 

Once Patton is a few paces away from the cabinets, Janus crouches down, and pulls out a medium-sized metal pot. He fills it with water, before setting it atop his stove. Though this stove has had little use over the years, Janus can’t help but be relieved he switched from a gas stove to an electric one when they became more commonplace. He clicks it on, and fire flickers beneath the pot. 

He then lifts the container of oats, and pours some in, eyeing the ratio until he deems it “close enough.” Then, he’s closing the container, and washing his hands, uttering curses about needing to get some cleaning done. 

“Do you mind stirring that for me, love?” Janus asks, as he pulls open a drawer, and hands Patton a large spoon. “And add as much sugar as you’d like. You and the others will be the only people eating it after all.” 

He wipes his hands off on an old cloth, before huffing as it tosses it to the side. It felt like it was covered in just as much grime as the rest of the kitchen, which, as Janus steps back to look at it, looks derelict. Since he’s had no need to cook, he supposes he’s also had no need to clean. He frowns. 

Patton’s bright frame stands out amongst the rest of the otherwise dilapidated space, as he grabs the spoon per Janus’s request, and begins stirring. 

“You seem domesticated,” Janus comments, tapping his chin. “How good are you at cleaning?” 

“Decent, I guess,” Patton quietly responds. 

Rolling his eyes, Janus waves his hand. “Don’t be modest, dear. Do you have to pick up after the others often? Excluding Logan, the other two seem quite messy.” 

Patton doesn’t respond at first, but under his breath he laughs. He glances behind him, meeting Janus’s eyes, before hesitantly looking away. 

“Logan is just as guilty as the rest of them,” Patton claims, sounding rather… adoring. “When he gets mad, he’ll throw his papers everywhere, sometimes even knock his chair to the floor with how violently he pushes himself away from his desk.” 

“Mm. A tantrum.” 

“Oh,” Patton snorts, waving away Janus’s comment. “Not a tantrum. He’s just overwhelmed. Most of the time, he’ll clean it himself, but if he lets me, I’ll help him. Sometimes he just needs a break, but doesn’t want to admit it.” Patton reaches for the brown sugar, and opens it, before shaking a bit out of the bag and into the pot, as he watches the oats thicken. “And Roman and Virgil are similar stories. Constantly working and stressing themselves out…” 

Patton’s cheery demeanor falls, as he uncomfortably shifts his weight from side to side. Janus can sense there’s something more he wants to say, but the silence between them remains unbroken.

So, Janus generously changes the subject. 

“How do the oats look, dear?” he asks, coming up behind Patton to peer over his shoulders at the pot he’s stirring. The contents don’t look particularly appetizing, but it doesn’t look inedible either.  

“Fine,” Patton says, hesitantly. “I’m sure they taste better than they look.” 

“Have you tried them?” 

Patton makes a face, his spoon noisily squelching as he stirs a bit more brown sugar into the pot. He doesn’t seem too willing to try it, but with Janus watching him, Patton slowly lifts a small spoonful to his mouth. 

His lips wrap around the utensil, and he cringes as he pulls it away, but his slow chewing eventually speeds into a more vigorous swallow. 

“Huh,” Patton breathes after, licking his lips. “It’s… it’s not bad.” 

“Well then,” Janus smiles, crossing his arms proudly over his chest. “Isn’t that a blessing.” 

Patton hums, stirring the oatmeal some more, before he takes the pot off the heat, and promptly flicks the stove off. “Just because it tastes fine doesn’t mean it’s safe,” Patton then states, before sighing as he adds “but, I suppose it’s this or nothing.” Smiling slightly, as though trying to be playful, Patton then turns to Janus and says “best we not tell Virgil how long you’ve had these oats.” 

“You have my silence,” Janus promises, with a dashing smile. 

“Now… bowls?” 

Janus fetches a few spoons first, before grabbing bowls - enough for the four of them - out of another difficult-to-reach cabinet. The bowls look ancient, but are decorated beautifully. They don’t make flatware this pretty anymore. 

Using the spoon, Patton scoops out three average bowls of oats, and one filled up to the rim, presumably for Logan. Without thinking, he hands two of the warm bowls to Janus, and carries the other two himself, as though expecting Janus to follow him out of the kitchen and down the hall. However, after getting a few steps ahead, he slows considerably, and turns to Janus with a nervous laugh. 

“I uh… I don’t know where I’m going,” Patton admits, and so Janus takes the lead. 

Hallway after hallway, turn after turn, reminding Patton just how vast Janus’s house was. It definitely didn’t look this large from the outside, and it makes him dizzy trying to think about all these rooms crammed into such an otherwise average structure. Janus walks with confidence though, having memorized his layout after decades of living here, and so they reach the desired room rather quickly. 

Patton’s the one who carefully opens the door, his positioning a bit awkward with the bowls in his hands, before smiling as he sees Virgil, who’s upright and biting his nails. He was asleep when Janus came to fetch Patton that morning, so Janus can only imagine the amount of stress Virgil was in after waking up sans one of his lovers. 

“Patton!” Virgil quietly exclaims, though Logan stirs at his words, yawning, and turning so that his head rests against Virgil’s thigh.

“Hi,” Patton softly responds, moving closer to the two. “We brought breakfast.” 

Virgil’s excitement over seeing Patton falls immediately into a bitter glare. “I don’t trust anything he’s been around,” he spits, glaring at Janus. 

“I have a name, you know,” Janus responds, with a soft chuckle, “and Patton made it. I haven’t cooked in centuries.” 

“All your food is probably poisoned,” Virgil hisses, whisper-shouting. “Sadistic freak!” 

Logan’s hand gently hits Virgil’s thigh, followed by a muffled “shhh.” 

“Patton’s already tried it,” Janus muses, as Patton crawls into bed with them. Patton sets one bowl to the side, and hands the other to Virgil. 

Gently petting through Logan’s hair, Patton asks “is Logan awake?”

“Not willingly,” is Virgil’s response, and Logan raises his head slightly to meet Patton’s eyes. “I woke him up by accident after I realized you weren’t in bed with us anymore.” 

Patton gives Virgil an apologetic smile, and leans forward to kiss Virgil’s forehead, before pushing on the bowl in Virgil’s hands with a gentle insistence of “eat.” Virgil’s cheeks go pink, but he obediently lifts the spoon and takes in a mouthful of oats, with Patton then turning his attention to Logan. 

“I hate to keep you up, but you need to eat, too,” Patton says, as he gives Logan a gentle shake. Logan huffs, but Patton knows he agrees, and so after a few moments, he’s pushing himself up onto his elbows. 

Janus takes the opportunity to glance at Logan’s wrist, but is disappointed to see it’s covered by Logan’s sleeve. He’s hardly left his meals alive, and so is curious as to how Logan’s wounds are healing. Luckily, Patton appears to be just as curious, and helps Logan sit up fully before taking Logan’s arm into his soft hands. 

Being cautious, Patton works Logan’s sleeve up to his elbow, and sighs when he sees it looks fine. 

“You’re healing fast,” Patton comments, which has Logan looking past him and squinting at Janus, his glasses missing from his face. 

“I hypothesize he’s to thank for that.” 

Virgil’s grabbing Logan’s glasses from the other side of the bed - having taken them from Logan’s face at some point to keep him from rolling onto them and shattering them (the last thing they needed in their otherwise vulnerable position was for one of them to be blind) - and slips them onto Logan’s face, who blinks a few times, before adjusting them. 

Janus hums. “Guilty. I don’t know exactly how it works; I’m not a vampire-ologist, but generally speaking, the quick scabbing is my doing.” 

“I’d be more fascinated if I wasn’t two minutes away from passing out,” Logan deadpans. 

Patton reaches toward Janus, who hands him the bowl with the biggest portion. Turning back to Logan, Patton declares “let’s get some sustenance in you, then. How does that sound?” 

Logan grunts in response, but opens his mouth so Patton can feed him a bite. 

Glancing between the bowl on the bed, and the bowl in his hands, Janus turns and heads back to the door. However, before he can walk out, Patton’s calling to him. 

“Where are you going?” 

Janus is a bit surprised at his concern, and so turns to him curiously. “Roman needs to eat too.” 

Immediately, both Patton and Virgil are looking guilty, though Janus suspects it’s for different reasons. Patton, seemingly, for forgetting about Roman, if only briefly. And Virgil for not only leaving Roman, but for also letting Janus play with him so carelessly the night prior just so he could come see Patton and Logan instead.

“Take me with you?” Patton pleads, but Janus just shakes his head. 

“Logan needs you.” 

“I can take care of Logan,” Virgil offers, as Patton blindly holds another spoonful up. Logan has to lean forward to get it. “Someone should be with Roman.” 

Janus raises an eyebrow. “I’ll be with Roman.” 

Virgil scowls. “Someone but you.” 

Janus hums in consideration, before flatly saying “no.” 

“No?!” Patton exclaims, fumbling with the bowl in his hands. He almost drops and spills it, and so Logan takes it from him, silently feeding himself as Patton clambers to the edge of the bed. “Please; we haven’t seen Roman since last night!” 

“No,” Janus repeats, more pronounced this time. “You already have Virgil.”

“Well, we want Roman too,” Logan replies, finally looking up at Janus. His eyes are cold and narrowed, and Janus believes that if he holds his spoon any tighter, he might bend it! 

Janus’s smiles thinly. For a few seconds, there’s silence, until Janus just turns and leaves anyway, not bothering to entertain their begging any longer. He said no, and he meant no; he had other plans for Roman anyway. 

Once more, their door is shut and locked, though this time Janus hears the doorknob jiggle as Patton softly tries to barter with him through the wood. Janus simply lets him, cupping the bowl carefully in his hands as he makes his way down the hall and into Roman’s (temporarily designated) room. 

Upon walking in, Janus sees Roman curled up in bed, clutching a pillow to his chest and burying his face into the pillow case, the sheets tangled around his legs. 

“Are you awake?” Janus asks, approaching the side of the bed. Roman doesn’t answer, but Janus sees the way his grip on the pillow tightens, squeezing it hard. 

Janus sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Logan’s doing well,” Janus begins, stirring the bowl of oatmeal in his lap. “He’s sitting up, and eating. He probably won’t die.” 

“Why are you here?” Roman suddenly interjects, though his voice is mostly muffled. 

Janus clinks his spoon against the edge of the bowl. “Patton made breakfast. I’ve brought you some.” 

That has Roman shifting slightly, before sitting up. His face is red and soaked with tears; it looks as though he’s been crying since he woke up, and perhaps as though he’d even cried himself to sleep the previous night. Still, he silently takes the bowl from Janus, and then scoots as far away from him as possible, taking fast, desperate bites in order to finish quicker. 

Janus keeps his legs crossed over the edge of the bed and his head turned over his shoulder as he watches Roman eat, head lowered, tears falling into his bowl. In a matter of minutes, it’s empty, and then the dirty dish is being shoved back into Janus’s hands. Roman then falls back against the bed. 

Once again, Janus cradles the bowl, humming as Roman’s spit glistens off the smudged silver. Janus picks up the spoon and stirs it around the vacant ceramic, with a clink here and there echoing through the spacious room. 

“How would you like to go for a walk?” Janus suddenly proposes, standing once more. Roman doesn’t budge in the slightest. 

After receiving no response, Janus sighs. “You have no choice in the matter, but I’d be a lot happier if you at least acted as if you like the idea.” 

“I’d like it if me and my partners could leave,” Roman mutters, arms crossed over his chest. 

Janus sucks in a sharp breath of air. “Not an option, unfortunately. However, I have just the thing that can pry your mind away from those thoughts of escaping.” Janus claps twice, a thin, mocking smile spreading over his countenance. “Now, up! Come on!” Janus dramatically parades to the door, lingering in the door frame as he turns to look back at Roman’s slouched form. In a sing-song manner, Janus adds “if you’re extra good, I might even let you say hi to the others!”

That has Roman perking up, the same way the same offer piqued Virgil’s interest. How hopelessly bound they were to each other. Janus just might have to keep them separated permanently if it guaranteed their constant obedience! 

Roman slides off the bed, and trudges to the door, his arms still crossed, but more so near his waist. He was still upset - obviously - but at least he was more open to the idea of following Janus around. It was a good step in the right direction. 

Janus leads Roman to the kitchen, and then sets his bowl in the sink, before turning to Roman, who’s looking around the space with disdain. 

“Gross,” Roman mutters, glancing from dusty counter to dirty table. “Do you ever clean?” 

“I wasn’t really expecting guests,” comes Janus’s reply, causing Roman to bite his lip and look away. Janus lets him stew in that comment for a minute, before reaching under his sink, grabbing an armful of chemicals he’s collected throughout the years. “But… you’re right. I’ve let my house, and specifically my kitchen, fall into dereliction. It could use a good scrubbing. That’s what you’re here for!”

Immediately, Roman’s face falls into a childish pout. “What?” 

“My kitchen needs to be cleaned, you broke into my house; the solution is simple!” Janus waves to his kitchen, smiling smugly. “In order to make it up to me, a few easy acts of service is a good start!” 

“I’m not cleaning your kitchen,” Roman immediately refuses, standing up straighter. “You can’t make me.” 

Janus chuckles; he can’t say he didn’t expect this reaction. So far, they’ve all been rather stubborn, aside from the very pleasant Patton. He also supposes Roman might still be bitter over being made to upset Virgil, and then being left alone. Not that Janus really cares how Roman feels. 

“I can make you, love,” Janus responds, clasping his hands together. With a maliciously playful tone, he continues “you know I can. I’ve made you do plenty already; I can make you do more.” 

Janus takes a step forward, a rag in his hand. “In fact,” he starts, his shadow seeming to stretch behind him as he moves closer to Roman, creating a twisted, monstrous darkness to be cast from the wall to the ceiling. It makes the kitchen feel dim and cramped, and Roman’s nervous eyes flicker between the looming, inhuman silhouette, and Janus’s approaching form. “Why don’t I just?” 

Raising his hand to Roman’s eye-level, Janus commands “follow my finger,” and waves his pointer finger back and forth. He watches Roman’s jaw clench, as he tries to resist, but he’s incapable. 

Roman’s head is directed back and forth, and back, and forth, before finally Janus pulls his hand down, and forces Roman to bend with it.

“There we go,” Janus coos, “this is familiar, isn’t it?” 

Roman’s eyes gleam with frustration, and it’s clear he’s trying to direct them anywhere else , but he’s unable. Watching him attempt to combat Janus’s power is entertaining, though. 

“As you watch my finger move-” Janus slides his finger left, and then right, forcing Roman’s head to follow it, “-your body falls deeper and deeper under my control. Even if you don’t want to; you’re helpless to stop it.” 

He’d already messed with Roman’s mind; to some extent, he’d also controlled his body. But he liked how feisty Virgil was even when being toyed with, and he wants to experiment with that. Roman’s big and strong; how would he feel if he was unable to use any of that strength for anything other than what Janus wanted him to?

“Your mind is sharp. Your mind is intact. But your body - from your vocal chords, to your hands, to your feet - are all mine. They all heed my words, my instructions, my commandments; your body obeys, even if your mind refuses.” Janus drags his finger up, bending Roman’s head painfully back, before lowering it, forcing Roman’s head to face the floor. He looks as though he’s bowing.  

“Your body likes to obey; your body feels good when you obey,” Janus reiterates, placing his pointer beneath Roman’s chin and guiding his head upwards. “Do you like the feeling of my hands on your face, love?” Janus drags his knuckle along Roman’s jawline. “Say yes.” 

Though he grits his teeth, Roman’s unable to bite back the “yes” that unwillingly escapes his mouth.

“Good boy,” Janus purrs, watching a flush spread across Roman’s cheeks despite the bitter glare in his eyes. 

Janus brings both his hands to Roman’s face, allowing him to lean up slightly and offer relief to his lower back. His index fingers caress the sides of Roman’s face, travel upwards to his forehead, and circle around his eye sockets. Roman feels overwhelmingly feverish at Janus’s heavy pets, and yet they don’t stop. 

“You’ll listen,” Janus says, speaking truth into the air, and into Roman’s very atoms. “You’ll obey. You’ll listen. You’ll obey.” 

Janus’s hands pull away from Roman’s cheeks, before his finger circles briefly around Roman’s nose, before teasingly pressing on the tip of it and pushing softly, sending Roman stumbling backwards and falling flat on his back as if he’d been violently pushed. He lands heavily, and the wind is knocked out of his body. His mind feels fuzzy and foggy, and yet he’s hyper aware of Janus stepping over him, ankles resting on either side of Roman’s hips as he bends over him, grinning slyly. 

“Look how the mighty have fallen,” Janus teases, everything but his sharp teeth obscured in fuzzy shadows. “Shall we test out my new toy?” 

Stepping to Roman’s side, Janus commands “stand up,” and watches eagerly as Roman pushes himself up and off the ground to do so. The best part of the ordeal is that Roman’s eyes flicker to Janus’s frame, wide and worried, while his body moves without him willing it to do such. 

“Ah, I see you’ve caught on,” Janus muses, as he tosses Roman the rag with a simple, playful “catch.” Roman does, and his eyes dart between the cloth and Janus. “Even if you want to disobey - and I can see that you do - you can’t! Mentally, you can protest, and mentally, feel free! But, you can’t refuse my commands, love. You never could.” 

Moving behind Roman, Janus gives him a light shove towards the countertops. 

“Now, you don’t look like you’ve ever cleaned a thing in your life, so here’s a tip. Start from the top, and work your way downwards.” Janus points towards his cabinets, of which he needed a chair to reach. Roman’s tall, but not that tall. “You’ll probably need a chair to get up there. If you break one, I’ll break you.” Janus gives Roman a forced smile, before jutting his thumb towards the cluttered cleaning supplies. 

“One of those sprays is bound to help get the job done. I trust you won’t disappoint me.” Heeled boots clicking against the floor, Janus saunters towards the doorway, as Roman’s body unwillingly moves in the opposite direction, reaching for the chemicals to sort through them. “I’m off to grab you a broom and mop; we’ll end with the floor. Doesn’t that sound nice? Look at me.” 

Roman whips around, forcibly staring at Janus, who lingers in the space between the bright kitchen and the dark corridor behind him. 

“Doesn’t that sound nice?” Janus repeats, smiling prettily. “Say ‘yes, master.’” 

Roman tries to keep his lips glued shut, but fails miserably. “Yes, master.” 

“Good boy. Get to work.” 

Janus turns and leaves the room, hearing Roman begin to shift through the bottles, and spray some of the soap on his washcloth, while Janus begins to traverse his hallways. As he walks, he attempts to recall where he placed his broom and mop all those years ago. He really hadn’t been keeping up on his chores, but it’s not like that mattered anymore; not when he had a handsome maid in his kitchen guaranteed to do a surefire job at making the space look spotless. 

He peeks his head into a couple unused rooms, trying to rack his brain to see if he’d declared one of them an unofficial store room, but eventually pushes his way into a dark closet and discovers shelves full of cleaning supplies. Leaning against a corner are a broom - with a dustpan stuck to the long handle - and a mop. 

He grabs the duo, and a nearby hand-held duster for good measure, briefly gauges their structure, and - after determining they won’t fall apart with some firm labor - carries the tools back to the kitchen. 

Janus is then greeted to the lovely sight of Roman balanced on one of his chairs reaching both above and into the cabinets with his rag, spraying some surface cleaner and wiping both it and the layers of dust away with firm rubs. 

“You’re moving even faster than I expected you to,” Janus comments, as he stands at the chair’s side, looking up at Roman. Roman’s eyes cast downwards to meet him, but his hands don’t stop working. “Here; this might be easier.”

He holds the duster upwards, and Roman trades him for the rag, which is now grey. Janus dramatically holds the dirty cloth away from his body, before dropping it in the sink. While there, he lifts the bowl out and sets it off the counter, deciding Roman will wash that last. Looking around for a drain stopper, Janus manages to find one quickly, setting it in his sink before idly running hot water. He scans over his own chemicals, and discovers a hefty jug of dish soap. He dumps that in as well. It worked well on dishes, while he used them; surely, it’ll work just as well on furniture and floors. 

Then, Janus leans back against the counters, watching Roman dust within his bare cupboards, gathering the cobwebs and dust bunnies buried deep in the darkness, before climbing down the chair. 

Without acknowledging Janus at all, Roman grabs the rag, rings it out, and gets back on the chair, going back in to scrape out the remaining grime with surface cleaner and sheer strength. 

Janus’s eyes pay close attention to Roman’s muscles; the way they flex with each forward stroke and how they strain when he forces himself to lean in order to avoid having to scoot the chair over just a few tiles. 

Circling around the chair, Janus comes to Roman’s other side as he cleans within the final cabinet. 

“You’re handsome while you work,” Janus says, watching Roman’s eyes narrow. Roman’s lips press into a thin line, like he’s fighting to say something, but no words come out. “Are you enjoying yourself? Answer me.” 

“No,” Roman huffs, and seems pleased at the opportunity to voice his actual thoughts, even if his resentful monologue was reduced to one word. 

Janus, however, seems excited by his proclamation. Lightly dragging his fingers up Roman’s calf, he chuckles as he coos “oh, you will be soon.” 

Roman’s fingers dig into the rag as he scrapes the remaining dirt from the cabinets, but once he deems it done he suddenly feels a wave of pleasure overtake him. Janus’s hand tightens against his calf as Roman’s hands fall on either side of the cupboard to keep himself balanced, a moan spilling from his lips as he trembles. His knuckles go white with how hard he’s clinging to the edge of the cabinets; his forehead pushing against one of the doors. 

Lips quivering, Roman looks at Janus, confused and embarrassed. Janus smiles back at him. 

“I’m not a monster,” Janus starts, rubbing up Roman’s leg, before inappropriately pinching Roman’s ass. Roman squeaks at the action, but his body stays put otherwise. “I’m obviously going to reward your obedience. With each bit you clean, you’ll feel better and better.” 

Janus takes a step back, and waves to the floor, with Roman carefully stepping down from the chair and standing before him. 

“And by ‘better,’ I mean ‘more and more pleasured,’” Janus clarifies, standing on his tip-toes to wipe the sweat from Roman’s forehead. “Aren’t I so kind? Say ‘yes, master.’” 

“Yes, master,” Roman shakily replies. 

“Good boy!” Janus once again praises, before wiping his slick hand against his pants, ridding it of Roman’s perspiration. Then, he motions to Roman’s body. “Now, in order to prevent a trip to the laundromat, how about you pull your clothes off. Otherwise, they’ll surely be soaked with sweat by the time you’re done.” Roman’s face goes bright red, but he can’t argue. “Go on. Strip down to your boxers.” 

Slowly, Roman’s big hands slide beneath his shirt and pull it off, with his fingers moving to his pants shortly after. His eyes shine with tears as he’s forced to undo the buttons, and then the zipper, and then pull his pants completely down, stepping out of them and leaving them discarded on the floor. Janus is more than pleased. 

“There we are!” Janus cheers, shamelessly inspecting every inch of Roman’s body. His squishy pecs, his toned abs, his big thighs; Roman was a nice piece of eye candy! 

And his veins; he was more than healthy. Janus couldn’t wait to take a bite out of him. 

Circling around Roman, Janus drags his fingers over Roman’s body, watching him tense as he’s traced over, but delighting in the simple fact Roman can’t pull away. Then, Janus is slapping Roman’s rear and urging him to “keep cleaning,” before dragging his finger over the countertops. Pulling away, Janus grinds his index and thumb together and forces Roman to watch the dust crumble from it. 

“There’s still a lot that needs done,” Janus announces, before lifting himself onto the kitchen table, and sitting cross-legged atop it. “And remember, the more you get done, the better you’ll feel. And the sooner you finish, the sooner you’ll finish. And you want to finish.” 

Immediately, Roman feels determination course through him; a drive to finish cleaning fills his body. He dunks his rag in the sink, rings it out once more, and then begins to slide it over the counters, wiping them until the beautiful countertops seem to shimmer under the light. He’s firm with his strokes over the surface, and each squirt of the spray bottle seems to have Roman breathing a little bit harder. 

The rag dips into the crevices around the sink, against where the wall meets the top of the counter, and underneath where the counter spills a couple centimeters over the lower drawers. When that’s done, Roman’s moaning again, falling heavily against the counter. 

“I know, I know,” Janus says, playful sympathy thick in his voice. “You feel so good. Just imagine how much better you feel after organizing the lower drawers!” 

Roman drops to his knees, thighs spread apart. As Janus peeks over, he can see Roman’s half-hard cock pushing against his tight briefs. Roman can feel him staring, and flushes dark. Still, his hands open up drawers, cabinets, and the likewise, and is forced to take his time sorting through them. Dust is wiped away, chemicals, pots, and silverware are pulled out and reorganized, and even the drawers themselves are scrubbed clean. When that’s done, Roman’s hands are hitting the ground as he bends over and moans again, nails digging into the tiles. 

Janus watches his hips subtly jerk, in an attempt to roll them against the floor. In response, he snaps impatiently. “You’re not done yet, Roman,” Janus scolds, before waving towards the table he was seated on. “This still needs to be wiped down, the floor swept and mopped, and your dirty dish washed.” 

Roman whimpers, but pushes himself up anyway. 

“Apologize for being such a slut, Roman.” 

Roman’s countenance turns blood-red. Despite his embarrassment, his apology comes quickly from his mouth. “I’m sorry for being such a slut, master.” 

“It’s okay, love,” Janus replies, leaning back smugly. “You’re just… simple-minded. It makes sense that a bit of pleasure would distract you. Don’t worry; as soon as you’re done, I’ll take complete care of you.” Janus’s fingers then motion down towards Roman’s straining cock, leaking beads of pre into the fabric, darkening the front. “And your current problem” 

Roman aches to cover himself up, but unfortunately can’t, leaving his body exposed like a tall glass of water that Janus is eagerly drinking down. 

“Am I that pretty?” Janus suddenly says, snapping in Roman’s face. “Come on, love, you still have to clean off the table. There’s little time to stand and stare!” 

Water drips down Roman’s knuckles as he squeezes the rag, moving towards the table. And just before Janus can slide off it, Roman’s arm is wrapping around him, and Janus is being easily lifted up. Janus is seated against Roman’s elbow, with Roman’s hand resting on his upper, outer thigh. There’s no strain in Roman’s arm; no shaking, no potential of him dropping Janus onto the floor. 

Janus is surprised. 

“Why, this is a welcome surprise,” he comments, as Roman glances to meet his face. His eyes are wide, as though he’s horrified at how his body moved to hold Janus, despite not willing it to, and despite not being commanded to do so. “Is it just instinct for you to pick up the others when you need them to move? Answer me honestly.” 

“Yes, master.” 

Janus smiles. “Aw. Well, that’s cute. And you still have a hand free! Surely, you can hold me and clean at the same time, can’t you? Say yes.” 

“Yes, master.” 

“Get to it, then.” 

Holding Janus firmly, Roman pushes the rag against the table, cleaning the intricately carved top before running the rag along the side. It looks as though it hasn’t been used in years (just like the rest of Janus’s kitchen), but out of everything Roman has cleaned so far, it’d accumulated the least amount of dust. 

Janus seizes his new vantage point rather quickly, ignoring Roman’s grunts as he stretches his arm to reach across the table, and his whimpers when his bulge hits the edge (if Roman were able to move his body, Janus would be more worried about him humping the edge of the table like a mutt) in favor of admiring Roman’s body. 

He truthfully was sculpted so beautifully. 

Janus trails his hand up Roman’s arm, and down to his chest, where Janus shamelessly squeezes one of Roman’s pecs. It’s squishy while he’s relaxed, but just for fun Janus says “flex,” and Roman does, stiffening as Janus feels up Roman’s firmer breasts, and then runs his hand as far down Roman’s stomach as he can go. Roman moans softly, his pretty voice gracing Janus’s ear, though Roman rather intentionally avoids looking at Janus after, refusing to acknowledge how good being felt up feels. 

“Alright, ease up,” Janus then says after a moment, and Roman does, going back to cleaning off the table. 

Janus, however, decides to fill the silence. “You really are quite strong,” he begins, petting Roman’s arm as he speaks. “How often do you carry the others like this? Can you carry two of them at a time? All of them at once, even? They’re all small compared to you; they’d all fit within your arm span, I believe.” 

Roman can’t answer the questions, but he thinks they’re rhetorical anyway. Still though, Janus’s words make him flush, even if he despises the context. Instead of getting to hold his partners, he’s separated from them. 

He wants them badly, and Janus can taste his want permeating the air. 

“Do they voice their appreciation for your strength?” Janus suddenly inquires, once again running his hand along Roman’s chest. His finger shamelessly circles Roman’s nipple, teasing him with his light rubbing. “Do they tell you your body is gorgeous as often as you’d like them to?” 

As Roman finishes the table, his legs shake. And yet, his brain reminds him “sweeping, mopping, dishes. Sweeping, mopping dishes,” as if the self-made mantra is mocking him for craving the finale. Finishing and finishing , like he’s been promised. 

Janus snaps, drawing his attention. Roman had already started walking towards the broom, desperate to finish the list of chores he was given. 

“I asked you a question, handsome,” Janus reminds him, “I expect an answer. Do the others compliment you as often as you’d like them to?” 

“No, master,” is slipping from Roman’s lips before he has the opportunity to bite his tongue, and though he grabs the nearby broom with his hand (after tossing his rag into the sink), he looks ashamed at the admission. Even as he begins sweeping - which is a bit awkward with only one hand - he’s visibly guilt-ridden. 

“Oh,” Janus sighs, as the bristles of the broom scrape against his tiles. “Oh, you poor, poor thing. Are they neglecting you? Virgil certainly seems needy. I can tell you give them all this love, and they don’t return the favor.” 

Roman suddenly glares at him, as if fighting to tell him that’s not true, but he can’t. So Janus keeps talking. 

“I don’t know how they can be around you day-to-day and not tell you how beautiful you are! How your honey-golden hair looks so perfect against your strong cheek-bones, and how your green eyes gleam like the most envied emeralds.” Janus cups Roman’s face, pressing his lips to Roman’s red cheeks. Quietly, he continues “how can they lay with you at night and possibly keep their hands away from your body? Your chest has the perfect sized crevices for fingers to slide between them, and such nice muscles would feel so good pressed against any body. Anyone would be lucky to have you; it’s so disappointing they’re so… ungrateful.” 

Eyes brimming with tears, Roman can hardly see well enough to gather the dirt on the floor into a pile, and clumsily knocks the dustpan to the floor. As Janus thumbs beneath his eye, catching a leak on his thumb, Roman sweeps the dust into the dustpan, bends down to pick it up, and searches around blindly for a trash can. He looks to Janus pleadingly, and Janus points him towards a bin. 

“Poor, poor Roman,” Janus sings, softly. “Are you frustrated? Answer me.” 

“Yes,” Roman whines, a stuttering breath escaping his chest, “m aster.” 

“Sexually?” 

From where Janus is held, he can bend his foot and rub the front of his boot against Roman’s crotch. Staring into Roman’s face, Janus rubs Roman’s cock firmly, making Roman stumble and moan, though the noise is raspy and upset, and so, so pretty. 

“Start mopping, love. You’re almost done.” 

Roman grabs the mop, hand tight around the handle. He struggles even more with it, fumbling and almost dropping it due to only having one available hand. He manages to dip the mophead in the sink, before it lands on the floor with a wet splat. 

He works quickly to drench the ground in soapy water, scrubbing away coated grime and century-old stains. The area is vast, but Roman’s legs are long, and with Janus whispering encouragement into his ear, Roman’s driven to get it done. 

“You’re doing so well,” Janus praises him. “You look so pretty tamed like this. And the kitchen looks wonderful; you’re so, so helpful. So, so handsome. So, so gorgeous.” Janus grinds the front of his shoe harder into Roman’s cock, and Roman almost slips at the action, a proper cry being pulled from him. “And the noises you make are just as beautiful, as they echo through my kitchen. Do you hear yourself? Hear how good you feel? How good I make you feel?”

Janus drags his foot along Roman’s shaft for emphasis; Roman’s briefs dampen by the second, pre leaking into them. 

Roman finishes mopping quickly, and then the mop is being neatly propped against the counter. Roman makes long strides towards the sink. 

“Put me down, Roman,” Janus suddenly commands, and is gently set on the floor afterwards. Roman continues towards his dirty bowl, which he dunks into the water after lifting the drain stopper. The faucet is being turned on, and the bowl dragged under the running stream. Roman once more grabs his trusty washcloth and rubs it hard over the crust-covered ceramic. Janus slithers up behind him while he does. 

Roman’s body involuntarily shudders as Janus’s hands slide over his waist, rubbing over his hips, before dipping down to his briefs. Teasingly, Janus messes with the waistband, but ultimately keeps his fingers above the fabric, sliding his palms along Roman’s length. 

Roman bucks into his hand, body falling partially against the counter as he struggles to focus on washing the bowl. 

Then, Janus’s hands are sliding back up to the band, and slowly sliding Roman’s briefs down his legs. Roman whimpers, feeling more and more exposed as his last bit of clothing is pulled further and further down, before Janus gets them past his thighs, and the briefs fall around his ankles. With the simple instruction to step out of them, Roman does, and then Janus is tossing them near Roman’s other clothing, which had been left in a messy pile on the floor (pushed unceremoniously around by the broom and mop. Janus would probably have to wash them after all). 

Finally, Roman slams the clean bowl down on the counter. The water is being quickly turned off, and then Roman’s turning to Janus, moments before his legs buckle and he lands on the floor, crying out in pleasure. 

“Good boy, Roman,” Janus coos, standing before him. His shadow looms over Roman’s body, making Roman feel small and pathetic. He’s on his knees in front of his captor, cock straining for release. “Do you feel good, love?” 

“Yes, master,” Roman sobs. 

“Good. You should feel good! You did such a good job…” Janus looks around his spotless kitchen with genuine appreciation. Janus then turns back to Roman, his eyes gleaming with playfulness. “Would you like a reward?” 

“Yes, master!” 

Janus hums. “Be polite, doll. I don’t have to give you anything.” 

“Please!” 

Janus is silent for a moment, watching Roman’s hips jut with desperation. He’s needy and close and teary-eyed. 

“What a beautiful mess I’ve made of you,” Janus murmurs, cocking his head to the side. Drool dribbles past Roman’s gritted teeth, his eyes wet with unshed tears threatening to spill down his cheeks at any further stalling. So, Janus sighs. “Go ahead, Roman. Hump against the floor and come for me.” Janus snaps, his command ringing around Roman’s head, as though bouncing off of Janus’s walls and being shot back into his ears in a crescendoing echo. Over and over and over; come for me, come for me, come for me.

Roman’s cock slides against the damp floor; his palms are pressed against the tiles in front of him, attempting to keep himself steady as he rolls his hips against the ground, whimpering through the intense heat while Janus just watches. And Roman’s climax doesn’t take very long. 

In a matter of minutes, Roman’s orgasm is crashing onto him, crying out loud and pathetically as he comes, his nails digging fruitlessly into the flooring. Semen decorates the ground beneath him; a puddle signifying his shame and pleasure all at once. He humps through his orgasm, before finally his hips still, and he looks up at Janus with a tear-streaked face, and an open, panting mouth. 

But Janus isn’t done with him yet. 

Tsking, he looks almost disappointed, though teasingly so. 

“All this time spent cleaning the kitchen, and you’ve made a mess immediately!” Janus shakes his head disapprovingly. “You have to clean it up.” 

Whining, Roman looks down at his semen streaked against the tiles. He looks back up towards the sink, preparing to grab a rag, only to suddenly feel a force on his head. He barely has time to glance up before his face is being pushed downwards and into the floor. More specifically, into his mess. It smears over his nose and lips, and when he can finally strain his eyes upwards, he sees Janus’s leg outstretched, his boot firmly pressing into Roman’s hair. 

“Lick it up,” Janus orders him, a malicious, degrading smile on his face.

Roman can’t disobey. 

With his face against the ground, his tongue rolls out of his mouth and begins slowly licking up his come, swallowing it between licks. Humiliation eats at his body - and makes his cock twitch - but he keeps going until it’s all cleaned up. Only then does Janus ease up on his head, and allow Roman to sit up once more. 

Janus bends down and drags his thumb over Roman’s face, swiping over his nose, cheeks, and the corner of his lips. With a thumb-full of Roman’s semen, he pushes it into Roman’s lips, and after a simple command of “clean the rest,” Roman’s sucking it off. Then, Janus is pulling his hand away, wiping Roman’s spit against his pants, and snapping three times in Roman’s face. 

“You can move, and speak, if you’d like,” Janus tells him, stepping backwards and giving Roman the space to slowly stand up. He trembles as he does, before standing meekly in front of Janus. 

“Let… let me see them,” Roman softly pleads, his voice scratchy. 

Janus stares at him, looks him up and down, and then shakes his head, still smiling. “No.” 

“But-” Roman immediately gasps, stepping forward, “but you said you would!” 

“No,” Janus is quick to correct him, “I said I might. Tomorrow. I’ll let you see them tomorrow. Fetch your clothes, Roman; I’ll take you back to your room.” 

More tears fall down Roman’s rosy cheeks, but these tears are of heartbreak and disappointment. “You said you would,” he pleads, but he’s already moving to grab his clothes, holding them tightly to his chest. “I want to see them.” 

Janus is already walking out of the kitchen. After a moment, Roman shuffles behind him, sniffling all the while. He’s silent aside from the occasional snivel as Janus guides him back to his room, trudging past his doorframe as Janus holds the door open for him. Roman drops his clothes onto the ground, wrapping his bare body in sheets almost immediately, before looking back at Janus, bottom lip trembling. And strangely, Janus sighs. 

“Tomorrow,” Janus assures him, feeling a weird desire to quell Roman’s crying. As he stares at Roman, he can almost see Patton’s teary eyes looking back at him, as Patton begged Janus to let him see Roman in turn. “Tomorrow, you’ll see them.”

Roman looks away from him, and doesn’t respond. 

“I’ll bring you oats for dinner tonight. And then tomorrow, you’ll see them.” And then Janus is locking Roman in his room, both of them alone on either side of the door.  

Chapter Text

“I’m getting sick of the oats,” Logan states, in response to Janus’s question of “how are you doing this morning?” Janus chuckles at the answer, his hand on Logan’s lower back in order to guide him forward. 

Logan’s carrying a stack of bowls - three, to be precise - and walks with Janus into the latter’s rather pristine looking kitchen. Logan glances around the space, brows furrowing.

“Huh…” he breathes, eyes darting side to side. “Patton said it was incredibly dirty.” 

Janus leads Logan a few steps forward towards the sink. “Well, in his defense, it was. I had some help tidying it.” 

“Patton would have told us if he cleaned.” Logan sets the bowls in the sink, and - after a bit of prompting from Janus - frowns, and turns on the water. He grabs a rag that’s conveniently draped over the side of the sink, and uses it to wipe the dishes clean, scrubbing them fresh from that morning’s breakfast. 

“Who said I had Patton’s help?” 

Logan pauses his dish-washing, before he stiffens. When he eventually continues wiping down the bowl, he’s being noticeably rougher with it. Without looking at Janus, Logan curtly states “Roman hates cleaning.” 

Janus lets out a closed-mouth laugh as he steps closer, looming right behind Logan’s body. “I gathered such.” 

Logan isn’t quite as amused, and rubs his eyes, feeling strangely tired. 

He finishes washing the bowls in silence, and then finds Janus’s flatware cabinet, having to reach in order to get the dishes up there. Briefly, he pictures Janus having to crawl onto the counter in order to reach them, but the amusing visual is short-lived when he remembers Janus’s seemingly telekinetic abilities. It was such a shame Janus was so powerful; it’d be quite a bit more amusing if he wasn’t. 

“Did…” Logan begins, sounding almost unsure of himself as he trails off. However, as he turns to Janus, he clears his throat and begins again. “Did-” he enunciates, voice sharp and cold, “-Roman eat this morning?” 

Janus smiles, lips pressed thin. “Indeed he did.” 

“Have you gathered his bowl and washed it yourself?” 

“I have not.” Janus makes a waving motion towards the kitchen doorway. “Would you like to come with me to go collect it?” 

“Would I ever,” Logan breathes, actually hurrying a bit to stand at Janus’s side. 

Like all the others, Logan looks around the corridor they walk through, but unlike the others Logan’s eyes seem to take in a lot more detail, and seem overly observant. Out of all of them, Logan might be the one he’d have to be mindful of in terms of escaping. Janus can only imagine him memorizing the route to Roman’s room. Good thing he hardly leaves their doors unsecured. 

Once they reach the door, Logan stands before it, waiting for some grand gesture or motion to open it up. But Janus just nudges Logan instead. 

“It should be unlocked,” Janus says, raising an eyebrow as he looks at Logan, despite his amused smile. 

Logan doesn’t look nearly as tickled, as he responds “that’s a surprise,” but doesn’t hesitate in reaching for the knob, twisting it almost impatiently as he pushes the door open. 

What he’s greeted with is Roman sitting on the edge of the bed, yawning into his hand, as he faces the door. His bowl of oats is completely untouched; he instead looks hopeful and waiting, as though he was promised a meeting just like this one. 

Janus notes a visible shift in Logan’s body language upon seeing Roman. His shoulders fall, his posture relaxes, and Logan even stumbles slightly in his hurry to get to his lover, who he hugs tightly. Roman stands up to wrap his arms just as tightly around Logan, sobbing audibly into Logan’s shoulder as they rock back and forth. Logan’s face is tucked into Roman’s chest. 

“Are you okay?” Roman asks, sniffling as he guides Logan away from him to properly stare at his face. 

“Fine,” Logan answers, sounding breathless. His hand reaches up to caress Roman’s jaw, which is when Roman sees the scabbed puncture wounds on Logan’s wrists. Roman sobs again when he sees them, almost crumpling onto his knees as he brings Logan’s hand into his own, and guides Logan’s arm to his lips, where he kisses the injury excessively. 

“My poor Logan,” Roman mumbles between kisses. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Logan murmurs. “I volunteered.”

Roman shakes his head, before glaring at Janus. “I bet you didn’t.” 

“He did,” Janus says, leaning against the doorway. “Though if he didn’t, I would have just satisfied myself with Patton’s blood instead.”

Roman suppresses a gag, and then shakes his head back and forth. “Forcing them to choose at all isn’t volunteering. I’m sorry; you shouldn’t have had to go through that. We shouldn’t have come here.” 

“Roman,” Logan softly says, shushing him and guiding him to sit back on the edge of the bed, where Logan then pulls Roman’s head against his chest, cradling him in an overly affectionate manner Janus hasn’t witnessed coming from Logan before. 

“Shhh.” Logan’s fingers run through Roman’s hair, soothing his slowing cries. “It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay.”

Janus lets them hold each other for a few minutes longer, curiously observing the display, before he’s promptly clapping twice. 

“Alright, visiting hours are over,” he states, smiling prettily as Logan turns to stare coldly at him. “There’s much to be done today, Logan.” 

Roman’s hands wrap tighter around Logan’s waist, as Logan defiantly makes no effort to move. 

“Roman hasn’t even eaten yet,” Logan says slowly, as though approaching the topic carefully. “Didn’t we come here to fetch his bowl? It’d be kind of pointless to take it from him while it’s still full.” Logan turns back to Roman, and very quietly says “you should eat though. It’s not good to skip breakfast.” 

“We can come get his bowl when he’s finished,” Janus argues, with a thin smile. “Now, come here.” 

Logan still remains still, as Roman looks up at him. Roman’s mouth moves, but no sound comes out, as Logan looks between his lover and his captor. He’s not conflicted in the slighted; he’s solely observant. 

Until finally, Logan just turns away from Janus once again, ignoring him outright.

“Logan,” Roman mumbles, sounding nervous, but Janus just watches Logan bend down and rest his forehead against Roman’s. He embraces him so softly, softer even than he’s held Virgil or Patton, seemingly genuinely resistant to the idea of leaving him. 

And while the display is quite cute, it still makes Janus’s eye twitch. He outstretches his arm, and then flicks his pointer finger, and suddenly Logan’s being ripped out of Roman’s arms and pulled into Janus’s. With a possessive arm around Logan’s waist, Janus grabs his chin firmly, before sternly stating “I don’t like repeating myself, and you’ll find yourself a lot more unhappy if you continue to show such…” Janus stares towards Roman, before looking back at Logan, who’s standing still but glaring coldly, “ civil disobedience.” 

“You’ve misunderstood my intent,” Logan sharply responds, before raising his chin. “I wasn’t trying to be civil.” 

Janus holds him for a moment, before rather roughly pushing Logan out into the hallway, causing him to lose his balance and hit his knees against the hardwood. This sudden act causes Roman to rush to his feet, reaching to help Logan as Janus stands in the doorway separating them, looking less patient than before. 

“Sit back down, Roman,” Janus firmly demands, as Roman hesitates between pushing Janus away to get to Logan and doing as he’s told. “You don’t want to dig him an even deeper hole.” 

“Let me hold him just one more time,” Roman pleads. “Please.” 

“Go sit.” 

“Let me kiss him.” Tears fall down Roman’s pretty face as he stares at Logan, who’s looking up at him from the floor. His eyes are obscured by the light reflecting off his glasses, but Roman can see the way Logan’s arms are trembling. Janus can see it too. “Let me kiss him, please!” 

Again, Janus flicks his finger, and the motion sends Roman flying backwards, landing with more force than necessary against his bed. Then, he’s grabbing the door and pulling it shut, the reverb from it being slammed echoing throughout the corridor. Slowly, he turns to Logan. 

“You have an incredibly smart mind,” he begins, stepping towards Logan, who scoots ever so slightly back. “And yet you’re prone to making incredibly stupid decisions, like every other human.” Janus leans down, and grabs Logan by the chin, digging his fingers hard into the sides of Logan’s face. They press painfully into him, causing Logan to groan slightly as Janus degradingly wiggles his head back and forth, and back, and forth. 

“You really should know better than to test me, Logan,” Janus says, briskly. “I was so kind to let you see Roman. He hasn’t seen anyone yet. And now, because of your sophomoric behavior, it might be best to keep you isolated as well. Perhaps even drain you once more to make sure you’re too weak to try anything.” 

Tears prick Logan’s eyes at just how hard Janus is holding him, and so with a final, warning squeeze, Janus lets him go, and watches Logan slump onto the ground, Logan’s own hands coming up to his face to rub the tender area. 

“Why are you so intent on keeping us separated anyway?” Logan shakily asks, voice quiet. He’s propped up on his elbows, looking up at Janus with a strange amount of vulnerability. It causes Janus to take a step back and brush himself off, surprised at the question.

He stares at Logan, studying him, before smiling after a moment. “You don’t have an assumption?” 

“Of course I have an assumption, but that’s not an answer.” 

Considerably calmer, Janus explains “well, there’s power in numbers. And there’s weakness without. The four of you are already rowdy when in duos, or even alone. If I put the four of you together, there might be a mutiny!” 

Logan’s head falls at the answer, keeping his countenance obscured from view, before he raises his face once more. 

“I apologize for my disobedience."

That causes Janus's formerly poised display to falter slightly, with surprise clear among his features. “You’re… apologizing?” 

Logan pushes himself back to his feet, brushing his pants free of dust and dirt. “I am. I should know by now you’re cruel, and yet I intentionally resisted your orders. This was an expected outcome. I’m sorry it came to this.” 

Janus stares at him. He looks genuine, but Logan’s tone was the hardest to read. If he wasn’t acting cold, he was just acting… neutral. Shielded. 

“Would you like to see my garden?” 

Now it’s Logan’s turn to be surprised, visibly interested by the unexpected question. 

“You have a garden?” 

Janus gathers Logan up, wrapping a more affectionate arm around his waist. Logan seems stiff at the affection, but doesn’t try to pull away. “A beautiful one,” Janus then answers, as he guides Logan through a different hallway. Janus’s house was a mess of twists and turns; all the wallpaper blends together once you walk for long enough, and yet Logan seems obsessed with mapping out the house in his mind, his eyes back to observing each hanging frame and empty vase. 

They descend a set of stairs - different ones than the flight that led to the front door (for obvious reasons) - and reach a large set of wooden double doors. With golden hinges and a dark brown stain coating the masterfully carved woodwork, even Logan can’t help but admire the craft. And then Janus is waving towards them, encouraging Logan to do the honors and open himself up to the outside. 

So Logan does. 

He throws open the doors with an unusual amount of enthusiasm, but seems promptly stunned to see the dark sky shimmering with stars and a bright moon. Logan stares up at it, before turning to Janus with wide eyes. 

“But… but we were eating breakfast…” he says, and Janus just laughs. 

“By my terms, you were.” With a hand placed firmly on the small of Logan’s back, he’s led outside, and into the cool night air. 

“You lied.” 

Janus shakes his head. “No. Not in this case. Eating at this hour would be my breakfast.” 

Logan’s voice trembles with a strange amount of strain. “Not ours. You know that. Not ours.” 

Janus just chuckles at him. “It is now, dear. It’d be quite difficult if I could never go outside with you. After all, you humans need your fresh air… right? Lest you’d rather go stir crazy locked upstairs.” 

“It’s supposed to be day.” 

Janus sets his palm against Logan’s cheek, and turns Logan away from the sky and towards him. “It’s not day. It’s not going to be day. It’s night, and it’s calm, and it’s a little chilly out, so you better appreciate your time outside before I bring you back in. Go have a strawberry.” 

Janus sweeps his hand out towards his vast garden, fenced in by large wooden fencing that’s double their height and completely obscuring the entire yard. The large amount of land is covered in overgrown grass, clovers, and the twists and turns of vegetable and fruit vines. Logan follows Janus’s hand towards a collection of berry bushes rightly dotted with bright red strawberries. They’re thick and look as though they might burst; somehow looking way juicier than the store-bought processed ones. After multiple helpings of oatmeal for “breakfast,” “lunch,” and “dinner,” Logan can’t really resist shuffling towards the fruit and reaching for a handful. 

He picks a couple and feels their weight press into the palm of his hand. Slowly, he raises the fattest one to his lips, and bites down, suppressing a moan as juice immediately pours onto his tongue and down his throat. The berry mushes easily between his teeth, just soft enough to be pleasant but firm enough to be perfectly ripened. Logan pushes the rest of the berry into his mouth, before biting into a second, juice dribbling down his chin. 

Janus lingers back and watches him. Logan looks animalistic despite only being cooped inside a couple days; hunched over the berry bush and eating out of the palms of his own hands. Janus cringes as he thinks of the sticky, sweet liquid no doubt coating Logan’s arms, but thinks his hunger is rather fascinating. 

Momentarily, it makes Janus miss when he could enjoy such simple things as fruit. 

He watches Logan devour a handful - leaves and all - before licking his fingers clean. He keeps his back to Janus all the while, before turning around once he’s satisfied with his indulgence. 

“Full?” 

“Hardly.” 

Janus laughs. “I know the feeling.” 

Logan doesn’t respond, instead looking over the rest of the garden. From winding tomato plants to zucchinis tucked safely in leaves, it truly was a beautifully chaotic sight. 

As Logan wipes his mouth on his sleeve, he turns back to Janus. “Why’d you tell Patton you only had oats when you had a slew of food at your disposal?” 

“Oh, again with the oats.” Janus sighs in dramatic exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air. “They’re good for you, you know.” 

“Better than fruits and vegetables?” 

Janus shrugs. 

Logan frowns, but drops it, instead walking around the garden. Janus watches him run his fingers along the greenery, caressing the vegetables with odd care and being attentive to where he steps, as though avoiding bugs or small critters. 

Janus lets him circle most of the perimeter, before waving him over, and though Logan hesitates - something to be expected of him, at this point - he eventually returns to Janus. 

“It doesn’t look like you do any upkeep,” Logan comments, as he nears Janus once more. “How are these plants in such good condition?” 

“Dead bodies are excellent fertilizer.” 

Logan stares at Janus, and Janus stares back, before humming. “I suppose that makes sense.” 

Janus’s arm snakes around Logan’s waist yet again, before he pulls Logan close to him, so that they’re chest to chest. Logan’s hands stay limp at his sides, not bothering to return to the hold. 

As Janus’s fingers press into his back, Logan continues to admire the garden, before he slowly says “we have a garden. Back at home.” 

Janus’s eyes shine with interest. “Oh do you, now?” He hasn't heard much of their life at home. Even though they’ve only been with Janus a few days, he’s surprised he never asked. “What do you grow?” 

Logan hums. “A variety of things. Tomatoes, cucumbers, jalapenos. More vegetables than fruit, truthfully.” 

With his hands on Logan’s body, Janus slowly lowers them both to the ground, until they’re sitting together on the grass. 

“What else is… ‘home’ like?” 

Logan shrugs. “Well… there’s the garden.” 

“You’ve mentioned.” 

“And it’s a big place. It was Roman’s place, but he wanted us all to live with him after getting together. We all have separate rooms just in case we ever need alone time, but we also all share a master bedroom in case we ever want to cuddle or spend idle time together. Like Roman can write at his desk, Virgil and Patton can rest on the bed, and I can lounge and read in a comfortable chair.” 

“Less about the layout,” Janus interjects. “More about your relationship. What is home like for the four of you… domestically?” 

Logan’s cheeks go slightly pink. “It’s nice. Everyone’s affectionate.” 

“That’s it? Just… ‘everyone’s affectionate?’” 

Logan shrugs again. “We all have different love languages…” 

“What are they?” 

“Why do you care?” 

Janus smiles slightly. “I don’t. But entertain me.” 

“Virgil likes receiving quality time, and he likes giving acts of service. Patton likes receiving physical touch, and he likes giving gifts. Roman likes receiving words of affirmation, and giving physical affection.” 

“What about you?” 

“I enjoy quality time.”

“Giving and receiving?” 

Logan looks unsure. “I’m not entirely aware of what I give. I give what’s needed, I suppose.” 

Janus cups Logan’s face, thumbing over his cheek. “How attentive.” He simply admires Logan under the moonlight for a moment. His pale skin and black hair shine beneath the white glow, with the stars being reflected in the lenses of his glasses. 

“You’re awfully pretty, you know.” 

As if evasive to accept any compliment from Janus, Logan pulls his face away from Janus’s touch, and responds “so I’ve been told.” 

“Are you even prettier in bed?” 

Now Logan’s face goes bright red. It’s a surprising amount of emotion coming from him, with shock and embarrassment riddled on his features. He stutters “what?” but he’s already processed what Janus has said, and is trying to avoid answering.

Janus repeats himself anyway. “Are you even prettier in bed? I know Roman and Virgil are… sans the bed, of course.” 

Logan pales. “How do you know that?” he asks, but with the edge to his voice, Janus suspects he already has a guess. He smiles as opposed to answering, and immediately Logan's worst fears seem to be affirmed.

He shoves Janus away, pushing himself onto his back into the grass in a desperate attempt to get away. “You’re crazy!” Logan hisses, uncharacteristically angry as he tries to get away. Janus grabs his wrist and easily holds him back, as Logan struggles, grinning. 

“Why do you fight?” 

Logan’s nails dig into Janus’s hand, but Janus’s grip doesn’t waver. 

“They enjoyed it, you know. Both of them all red in the face and teary-eyed.” 

“No, no, no,” Logan shakes his head, and again tries to wiggle away from Janus, who finally pulls Logan back onto the ground, and against his body. He holds Logan close with ease. 

“Be calm, doll. They’re okay, aren’t they? They’re alive, right? All I did was play a few mind games; it’s not my fault they enjoyed that so perversely.” 

Janus’s lips brush across Logan’s, and though Logan tries to crane his head away, Janus’s fingers comb through his hair and hold him firm by the back of the head, forcing Logan still as Janus kisses him properly. Logan’s hands push against Janus’s chest, but he’s unable to get away, as Janus’s forked tongue slides over his lips and then slips into his mouth. 

And then Janus pulls away, watching Logan rush to wipe his mouth, trembling slightly. 

“This is violating,” Logan breathes, voice quaking. 

Janus smiles. “That’s the point. Tell me, Logan, what sexual things do they do with you? Patton and Virgil seem like they’d enjoy being taken care of. Roman seems like he enjoys taking care of them. Where do you fit?” 

“This is inappropriate.” 

“Answer me, pretty boy. What position do you play?” 

“This isn’t… this is…” 

Janus cocks his head to the side. “Here, I’ll make it more specific. When was the last time you had sex? Before coming here, of course.” 

“That’s none of your business.” 

“It’s entirely my business.” Once again, Janus grabs Logan’s jaw, forcing Logan to look at him. With more sobriety, Janus declares “You’re my property; I can know whatever I please. And I have the ability to pull the information out of you, willing or not .” Janus brings Logan’s face closer to his own, their mouths nearly touching as he continues. “You’ll find me incredibly persuasive, my pet. All I have to do is tell you that at any point and time I could lock you out here and go slaughter the others, and you’ll be a pleading mess! Or simply pry open your mind until you’re too dumb to fight.” 

Janus’s hand slithers down Logan’s front, easily undoing the buttons on his jeans. “Or you could tell me. It’s up to you.” 

“We didn’t do anything abnormal,” Logan grits, awkward and upset and feeling a whole slew of emotions he’s visibly trying to repress. “We just had typical, standard sex.” 

“What does ‘typical, standard sex’ look like for you?” 

“Somebody fucks somebody. Somebody fucks somebody else. We’re in the same room. Sometimes we switch.” 

Janus rolls his eyes. “Be more specific, my pet. The last time you had sex, were you topping or bottoming.” 

“Topping.” 

“Is that what you do normally?” 

“I guess.” 

“Are you solely a top?” 

Logan’s eyes dart away from Janus, even though his head is held still. “I’m versatile. If Patton or Virgil or even Roman want to… I don’t mind.” 

“So, you were topping the last time you were intimate. Who were you topping?” 

Logan chews his inner cheek. “This is inappropriate,” he repeats. 

Janus sighs, and lightly slaps the side of Logan’s face in a mocking, degrading manner. “I didn’t ask if this was inappropriate. I asked who you were fucking. You’re smart, Logan. Be a good, smart boy and answer me.” 

“Patton.” 

“Patton,” Janus repeats, drawing the name out like he’s rolling a caramel candy on his tongue. “How cute. What position were you in?” 

Logan’s face is bright red. “I don’t remember.” 

Janus can taste the lie, and frowns immediately. And yet… it gives him an idea. 

“I remember,” Janus suddenly says, causing Logan’s eyes to flicker to his, both irritated and curious. 

“No you don’t,” Logan states, matter-of-factly. “You weren’t there. You can’t remember something you didn’t experience; that’s illogical.” 

“Oh, but I was there.” Janus’s voice drowns out the buzzing ambience of the greenery around them. Every distant caw and vibrating beetle become muted as Janus talks, as Janus’s words begin to fill Logan’s otherwise reliable mind with very vivid pictures. “Don’t you recall, my pet? While you were tending to our beloved Patton, I was petting over Virgil’s thin, pale figure.” 

“No you weren’t,” Logan breathlessly replies. 

“I was, though. I was right next to you, even.” 

“No you weren’t.” 

Janus’s lips stretch into a slow, wry smile. He watches as Logan’s eyes look around, as though they’re about to roll back into his head and search his brain for this specific point and time. His ability to remember is being compromised, and he can feel it happening. 

“You- you weren’t.” Logan’s voice sounds meek… almost unsure. 

Janus jumps on the opportunity. “If I wasn’t there, then why can you remember it so clearly? Why can you remember my hand stretching over to pinch your thigh, praising you for doing so, so good.” 

“Stop,” Logan breathes, as Janus’s hand travels down to his thighs, spreading them open and pinching the fat through his jeans. “Stop- you’re- you’re lying.” 

“Why can you remember it so clearly then, hm?” 

“You’re-” -Logan gasps as Janus’s hand dips into his undone pants and rubs over his boxers, “-you’re doing something!”

Janus smiles innocently. “What am I doing?” 

Logan’s eyes brim with tears. He doesn’t know; he doesn’t understand , and so can’t answer Janus’s question. Logan raises his arm to hide his face in his elbow instead. 

“How about we think about something else, since you’re doubting the validity of this memory.” Janus slowly begins to work Logan’s jeans off his body, and seems pleased that Logan’s physical struggles seem to die out as he focuses on straightening out his mind. “You said you’re versatile, but I already knew that, of course.” 

Logan whimpers into his arm as Janus easily works his pants off with more hands than Logan feels is possible, but he doesn’t dare look down or anywhere at all in fear of seeing something that won’t make logical sense (like everything else Janus does, all of which doesn’t make logical sense). 

“Why don’t you describe a time in which you were used? Who was it by?” 

Speaking into his flesh muffles any intelligible words, which has Janus huffing. 

“Be clearer, Logan, unless you want me to go ask Patton.” 

“It was-” Logan pulls his arm away from his face, bracing his hands against the ground instead. His brows are furrowed as he attempts to keep himself composed, but Janus can see the humiliation and the guilt of betraying their intimate moments starting to bother him. “It was Virgil. He likes… he likes to be in control sometimes. I don’t mind helping.” 

“Oh, how kind of you,” Janus muses, before humming. “Though, Virgil doesn’t seem the dominant type. Mouthy and demanding, sure, but controlling?” 

“He needs a bit of guidance, but he settles into it fast. He’s okay with being vocal about what he wants if he knows you’ll listen.” 

“And you listen.” 

Logan bites his lip. “I try.” 

“Cute. Were you on your hands and knees?” 

“Back.” Logan’s eyes dart towards his legs, where he was left in just his boxers, specks of dirt and blades of grass sticking to the sweat on the underside of his thighs. An ant crawls across his calf. He looks back at Janus, who’s smiling at him. It makes him shiver, 

Janus runs his hand more forcefully over the front of Logan’s boxers. “Why back?” 

“How am I supposed to know?” 

“Because I know you do. I know you pay attention to preferences. Why back?” 

Logan stifles a moan. “Virgil likes intimacy.” 

“Virgil likes intimacy?” Janus repeats, in disbelief. “I would have never guessed. Honestly. He looks like he’d more so enjoy being a stand-offish brat.” 

Logan frowns at Janus’s words, but whines rather cutely when Janus’s hands pull away from his body. Though, it doesn’t seem like a complaint at all, as Logan rushes to scoot back as far as Janus will allow and close his legs, drawing his knees to his chest. His expression is one of annoyance as opposed to fear or discomfort, but his body trembles with nervousness, as though he knows this isn’t the end of it. Janus smiles; Logan truly was smart. 

“So, you were on your back,” Janus says, as he holds his arm out towards the wide open doors leaving back into his large estate. “And he was above you. I already knew that, though, because I was kneeling at your head. Don’t you recall.” 

Immediately, Logan’s stating “no. No, because you weren’t there.” 

“Yes I was. Don’t you remember my knees on either side of your face? You should feel privileged having gotten to see me nude, love. That’s not an honor granted to just anybody.” 

“You were never- I’ve never-” 

“What does my body look like? I know you remember.” 

Logan stares at Janus, suddenly confident. He’d never actually seen Janus’s body; he’s sure of it! Almost sure of it, at least. And yet, he’s able to picture Janus with ease - something he shouldn’t be able to do. 

Scales that cover the entire side of his body, spreading from his shoulders to his hip and lower back, and down one of his thighs. But what really makes Logan flush is the two cocks he sees so vividly in his mind. Logan covers his face with his hands. 

“You’re doing something,” he accuses, sounding meek and confused. “You’re messing with my mind!” 

“What’d you see, my pet? Tell me.” 

“No! It’s not real!” 

Logan’s voice raises an octave out of fuzzy desperation, his hands coming up to hold his head as his back falls against the grass. 

“You’re losing your composure, Logan,” Janus murmurs. “It’s rather embarrassing watching you struggle to deny the truth. What’d you see?” 

Logan makes a noise. Janus, in turn, slaps his hand roughly against his thigh, watching Logan’s light skin begin to display a bright red mark in the shape of Janus’s fingers, with some of Janus’s engraved rings leaving detailed marks. Logan moans in surprise at the pain, but covers his face with his arms, as if trying to protect his brain from further intrusion. 

“This is the last time I’m asking; what did you remember?” 

“Your cocks,” Logan eventually states, voice shaking with fear. Finally, a raw emotion spilling from Logan, and it only took Janus’s forceful invasion of his mind to emit it. “I… I remembered your cocks… above my face.” 

“Cocks? Plural?” 

“Two.” Logan sucks in a shaky breath. “A hemipenis.” 

“Well, how would you know I have a hemipenis if you’ve never seen me naked before?” 

Logan lets out a confused noise, and then muffles a conflicted sob. His head hurts , as though he has a brain bleed steadily filling his skull with intense pressure. As he looks at Janus with wet eyes and gritted teeth - his glasses beautifully askew on his face - he sees a small bottle finally fly into and fill Janus’s awaiting, outstretched hand. 

“What’s that?” Logan asks, sounding prettily unsteady. Janus pats his thigh to soothe him, though intentionally caresses the place he’d previously struck. 

“Lube.” 

Logan sits up, more alert now. “Lube?” he repeats, fixing his glasses and glancing between Janus’s kneeling legs. Janus laughs outright at him. 

“It’s not for my cocks!” Janus’s eyes press shut in pure, amused laughter, making Logan feel dumb and degraded. He shrinks slightly under Janus’s ridicule, only delighting Janus further as he sighs in delight. “My stupid, greedy pet. You think I would defile myself with the likes of you? With a human?” 

Janus swiftly pulls Logan’s boxers off, exposing his nethers to the breezy night air, and causing Logan’s ass to sit uncomfortably atop the grass. He tries to adjust his position to both get comfortable and hide himself, but Janus swiftly puts an end to that entirely, and instead tugs Logan forward and once again onto his back, with his legs spread. 

The lube is popped open, and Logan’s left to watch as a heaping helping is squirted onto Janus’s lithe fingers, which then circle Logan’s hole, his intentions clear but unsaid. 

“So, I was kneeling at your head,” Janus continues, crafting a narrative as he teases Logan’s lower half, watching Logan try to avoid watching, and even resist listening, though Janus’s voice fills his ears as though Janus was speaking directly into them. “Virgil was fucking into you, and you were enjoying it. Were you vocal?” 

“I don’t remember.” 

Janus believes him this time, and shoves two of his fingers suddenly into Logan’s hole, making Logan gasp and clasp his hand over his mouth. 

Janus smirks. “You were vocal. I know this, of course, because I was there.” It was an educated guess based on Logan’s current reaction, but even if it wasn’t, Janus’s words would do their work in altering the memory, and immediately it looks as though Logan’s flushing in humiliation, as though embarrassed of how loud he believes he was. 

“You’re doing something,” Logan whispers, the words barely escaping his throat. 

Smiling wide, Janus shakes his head. “You were loud, and it was beautiful. You’ll be loud for me again, won’t you?” 

In a silent but stubborn act of protest, Logan pushes his hand over his mouth, muffling any further noises. Janus rolls his eyes. 

“You really needn’t bother acting so childish,” Janus chastens. “It’s not a good look on you.” 

Logan squeezes his eyes shut, very clearly fighting to keep a moan suppressed as Janus’s fingers curl inside of him. Although he huffs at Logan’s disobedience, at least Logan wasn’t fighting, which was a pleasant respite considering all the wrangling he’s had to do in regards to Roman and Virgil in particular. Such strong, fighting spirits. But Logan was much less energetic, and though he was unhappy, he seemed to know deep down that he was never winning a fight against Janus. Smart boy. 

As Janus pushes his fingers deeper into Logan, he leans over the latter, and forcefully pulls Logan’s hand away from his mouth, and pins it against the ground beneath him. Rocks press into his knees through his pants, but he’s sure Logan’s feeling the brunt of the earth on his naked lower half. 

Looking over Logan fills Janus with a weird sense of power. It’s a position he shouldn’t be unfamiliar with; he had a life before he turned, after all, but this was a weird thing to be doing without the threat of being stoned or jailed looming over him. 

Janus doesn’t realize his fingers have slowed significantly until he realizes Logan’s other hand is slowly creeping across the grass. Janus watches it in his peripheral, though his eyes stay rather skillfully trained on Logan’s dark blue irises. 

“Do you remember what you did that night?” Janus asks, watching Logan’s eyes suddenly glimmer with hesitance, fear; they flash with uncertainty and confusion and yet stare back at Janus, as though refusing to give away his inner thoughts. “While Virgil was using you? While I was kneeling just above your head?” 

Janus’s fingers speed up inside of Logan’s hole, a lewd squelching sound reaching Logan’s ears - one of the few noises aside from Janus’s voice that he seems to process - and Logan finally moans outright. 

His eyes roll back into his head, and his eyelids flutter shut. If not for him clamping his jaw shut immediately after, Janus would almost believe he’s enjoying himself. 

“Answer me,” Janus coaxes, voice calm.

“No. No, I don’t remember.” 

“You begged me to touch you.” Janus’s hand squeezes Logan’s own, before running down his arm, over his shirt, and then down to his pelvis, which he caresses softly. “You cried out for me repeatedly, pleading for any bit of pleasure I was willing to give you.” 

Logan shakes his head, trying to deny such a thing, but can hear his own, needy voice ringing in his fuzzy mind. 

Please, he hears himself beg, echoing within the dark recesses of his mind. He sees Janus’s grinning face staring back down at him, and even feels the ghost of Janus’s finger tracing around his nipple, as if taunting him. please touch me. Touch me, touch me, touch me!

He’d never beg like that. Not unless one of his lovers wanted him to. Definitely not for Janus. But he had; he’d pleaded and bargained and begged to be touched by Janus’s confident hands, and stroked by his skilled fingers. At least, he thinks that he had. 

“I quite liked that,” Janus murmurs, as one of his fingers slides down to the base of Logan’s cock, which he then circles with the pad of his pointer. “Why don’t you do it again, hm? Beg for me, my pet.” 

Guilt fills Logan’s eyes, as he lets out a shaky breath. With Janus’s fingers pumping steadily into him, and the light teasing of his cock, Logan was being worn down steadily. 

“I… I don’t…” 

“You don’t have a choice. Beg.” 

Logan swallows the spit in his mouth, before doing what he did in his memory. “Please,” he starts, voice shaking, laced with shame and guilt. He doesn’t want to beg, and yet here he is, doing just that. “Please… touch me…”

“Touch you where?” 

Whimpering, Logan shakes his head. “I can’t. I can’t.” 

“You will.” 

“No- no, I- you don’t understand- I don’t understand-” 

Janus squeezes the base of Logan’s cock right as his fingers rub against Logan’s prostate, causing Logan’s back to arch off the ground. He cries out, spit dribbling down his chin, making Janus smile. 

“You’re so pretty, my pet,” Janus purrs. “A fascinating mind, and a delectable body. You fall apart so beautifully.”

A broken moan comes from Logan’s mouth, as his hand that was previously pinned against the ground comes to grip Janus’s shoulder. He looks like he just needs something to hold onto, but willingly touching Janus makes Janus lick his lips. 

“Beg, Logan. Things’ll be better that way.” 

“Please,” Logan tries again, more desperate this time. “Please, touch me.” 

“More.” 

Whining, Logan throws his head back so roughly against the ground that the familiar smell of Logan’s blood soon hits Janus’s nose. Immediately, Janus is pausing all movements to run his hand beneath Logan’s head, and frowns when he pulls it up to see a few drops of blood spilling over his fingers. 

“Idiot,” Janus breathes, before tucking his hand carefully behind Logan’s head, to keep it from the ground. The back of Logan’s hair feels fine aside from a small wet patch, where it’s bleeding only slightly. Perhaps just a cut in the skin. Sighing, Janus insists “you’re wasting good blood.” 

Logan mumbles “it only feels like a scratch” in response.

Since one of his hands is now preoccupied cradling Logan’s fragile human skull, he slides his fingers out of Logan’s slick hole and wraps those around Logan’s cock instead, stroking slowly. Logan pants at the change in pleasure, but flushes nonetheless. 

“Beg,” Janus prompts again, softer this time. “Beg for my generosity. For my mercy.” 

“Please,” Logan responds, just as meekly, though it’s unclear whether he’s desperate for his building climax or for this bit of intimacy to end. “Please, I need more. Go faster, please.” 

“So polite. Keep going, my pet. Keep talking.” 

Logan’s body shakes in Janus’s hands, beneath his gaze, in the cool wind. 

Words stuck in his throat, Logan’s silent for a few moments, but when Janus slows his pace, he’s quick to find his metaphorical footing. 

“I need it,” Logan slurs, sounding dizzy. “I need you to go faster, please.” 

“Touch you faster? Like I was that night with Virgil?”

Janus kneeling beside him. Janus’s cocks hard and resting humiliatingly against the side of his face, pre smearing against his glasses. Janus’s hands caressing his chest. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” 

Janus’s fingers teasing his nipples. Janus’s palm curling around his cock. Janus stroking him quickly, as Virgil fucks into him hard and fast and hard and fast. Virgil’s face is blurred. Was he even there? Was it just Janus? Just Janus? Just Janus? 

“So good for me. So good. Mindless and dumb and malleable. You’re much more fun when you can’t discern fantasy from reality. I was using you so wonderfully, wasn’t I?” 

Janus was using him. Janus wasn’t kneeling at his head. The last time he bottomed was with Janus, of course. He bottoms for Janus. 

“You belong to me, my pet. You all do.” 

Logan’s wrist is throbbing almost as badly as his head; both his temple and the back of his skull pulsate with different kinds of pain. He feels as though his brain is swelling, threatening to explode and leave a mess of gore stained against the dark green grass. 

Janus inside of him. Janus holding tight to him. Janus using him. Janus using him. Janus using him. 

“Pl… pl…”

Logan can barely get the words out of his mouth. He’s so confused and dazed and cold and hot; he doesn’t understand and yet his mind feels completely lulled into safety. After all, Janus has been in his room. Janus has been in his bed. Janus has been inside of him. 

Janus is stroking him so fast, pumping his length, working his own precome back over his shaft until Janus’s fingers are moving with ease. Logan’s overwhelmed, and Janus knows it. 

“Please,” Logan says, barely above a whisper, as he feels his lower half burning up. Whether it be due to the tips of the grass poking into his thighs, or the rocks leaving indents in his skin, it was all too much. 

“Good pet,” Janus purrs, but Logan can’t tell whether Janus is saying it aloud or within his mind. He can’t hear anything but Janus. He can’t see anything but Janus. Even with his eyes trained fully on the glowing night sky, he can only see the way the stars’ halos pulse around them in tandem to Janus’s hand movements. 

Janus doesn’t falter, nor does he stop as Logan’s orgasm comes crashing over him in an intense sensory overload, and as soon as he reaches his peak, every noise briefly being blocked from his ears floods into them, nearly making him scream with the mixture of shock and pleasure. The buzzing of bugs and the blowing of the wind and the sloppy sound of Janus working his cock through his spluttering orgasm. 

His vision dots with white, and if Janus wasn’t holding his head so kindly, he would have slammed it back down against the ground the moment he started to fall down from his high. Janus holds him through the entire duration. 

Finally, Janus is wiping his hand in the grass, feeding Logan’s mess to the plant life surrounding them. He carefully lays Logan back against the dirt, and pulls his bloody hand away from Logan’s head. His fingers are coated in red, and without hesitance he brings them to his mouth, sucking Logan’s blood from his fingers. Logan watches him do so. 

Though it’s subtle Janus hears Logan’s breath suddenly hitch. In his peripheral - in the hand Logan was so mindfully moving away - Janus sees Logan’s fingers curl. Clasping. Gripping. Holding tight. 

Until almost immediately Logan’s arm is swinging towards Janus, a short, fat stick in his hand. With ease, Janus grabs Logan’s wrist, with the tip of the branch mere centimeters from his throat. Logan’s panting; his knuckles are white. 

“Nice try,” Janus commends him, “but even if you did get further than this, it’d take a lot more than a stick to kill me.” 

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Logan breathes, struggling to catch his breath. 

Janus laughs under his breath, before twisting Logan’s arm painfully back until Logan’s groaning, and pulling the stick from him. He stands up, and Logan watches as Janus tosses the branch over his fence, and out of sight. 

He then turns back to Logan, and maneuvers Logan back into his clothes, with Logan laying limp all the while. 

“My name is Janus, by the way,” Janus himself then says, which has Logan’s head shooting up with surprise. He’s stared at for a few moments, before Logan just shakes his head and lays back down, refusing to comment at all on the revelation. 

Though a bit disappointed, Janus sighs, and moves onto something else. 

“Are you actually sick of the oats?” he asks, as he redoes Logan’s jeans.

With air finally circulating normally through his lungs, Logan sits up on his elbows, and then accepts Janus’s help in order to stand. With an arm around Logan’s waist, Janus helps steady Logan for a moment, before stepping back. 

Logan wipes his jeans free of dirt and bugs. “Very much so.” 

“All of you?” 

“Those of us I know of.” Logan narrows his eyes bitterly. “But Roman’s probably sick of them too.” 

“Hm. Well, even though you don’t deserve this - after trying to murder me in cold blood and all-” 

“Warranted.” 

Janus rolls his eyes. “-I suppose I can be a little generous.” 

Once more, Janus holds his arms out towards his house - both arms this time - and Logan watches curiously for a few moments as nothing happens, before suddenly two woven baskets fly into Janus’s hands, being summoned to him. Janus hands the baskets towards Logan. 

“Fill them with what you please. My fruits and veggies were bred to last.” 

“How long?” 

“Long enough that they won’t spoil for a while. Though, they’re not immortal. Few things are.” 

Logan looks at the baskets in his hands. “Two?” 

“One for Roman, and one for Virgil and Patton.” 

Logan frowns. “You’re going to keep us separated?” 

“I’m going to keep them separated. You may join whomever you please tonight, but I’m only permitting you to pick once, so I’d encourage you to think before making your choice.” 

Logan stares at Janus for a few moments, as though studying him. His head throbs steadily, though now it’s a more faded pain. Present, but not as paralyzing. After a minute or so, he nods, and quietly says “thank you,” before turning away and heading towards the strawberries.

Chapter Text

“Wakey wakey,” Janus quietly whispers, his lips hovering against Patton’s soft cheek. He watches Patton softly breathe in and out, and pets briefly over Patton’s neck, which his eyes seem to linger on for a few seconds longer than they should. Patton lets out a soft noise at the touch, as though he’s being tickled, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Janus continues to prompt him. “You’ve got to get up, love. We’re going out.” 

Patton stirs, and yawns, turning away from Janus in an innocently sleepy manner. He holds tighter to Virgil, whose face is pushed into his soft chest, and then mumbles something incoherent. It’s an excuse of some kind - a dismissal of Janus’s attempt to wake up, but Janus just smiles and persists.  

“Come on, doll,” He encourages, as he presses a soft kiss below Patton’s earlobe. “Up, up, up.” 

Patton shifts again, before his pretty blue eyes blink awake. He turns, and stares blearily at Janus, before looking a lot more surprised. He gasps, basically startling himself awake, and moves to sit up, being careful not to wake Virgil in the process. 

“You!” Patton whisper-shouts, as he scrambles to grab his round glasses from the nightstand. “We haven’t… you’ve…” 

“It’s been a few days, yes,” Janus quells him, laughing slightly as he sits on the edge of the bed. “I haven’t had much reason to see you since bringing you food.”

“Why not let us go, then?” 

Janus again laughs, before reaching over to pinch Patton’s cheek. “Nice try. I still need to eat, after all. Come. Come with me.” 

Patton pales at Janus’s words, but still slips out of the bed and onto the floor, shivering as his bare feet meet the cold wood. Janus does purposefully make a little pit stop at Patton’s shoes at the foot of the bed, which he encourages Patton to slip on, before they’re very quietly exiting the room. 

As Janus shuts and locks the door, Patton’s trembling voice pipes up. “Are you… are you going to kill me?” 

Janus turns to look at him, a smile on his face despite his narrowed eyes. “No. I’m not going to kill you. I just… would appreciate it if you were to accompany me.” 

“Accompany you?” 

Janus starts walking down the hallway, and Patton rushes to follow after him, flushing slightly when Janus uses that as an opportunity to link their arms together, formally and intimately walking arm-in-arm with Patton through the corridor. 

“Accompany you where?” 

“The basket of produce I had Logan pick is running low, isn’t it? Because you and Virgil are incredibly greedy.” 

Patton frowns. “We’re not greedy. We’re hungry.” 

“Right, yes. Same difference, really.” 

Patton’s frown deepens, but before he can argue, Janus is continuing his explanation. 

“Logan made a very excellent point when we chatted a few days ago. That the oats were… becoming unpleasant. And, truthfully - with four mouths to feed - I was running quite low on them. Another day or two and you guys would have been left with nothing to eat but each other!” 

Patton seems queasy at the comment. He mumbles “we would never,” under his breath, but Janus ignores this. 

“So, we’ll be off to the store.” 

That statement has Patton nearly tripping over his feet, relying solely on Janus for a few seconds to support him as he scrambles to regain balance. “Wh- what?” he’s quick to ask, searching for clarification, because there’s no way Janus could possibly mean that. 

But Janus just gives him a knowing smile. 

“You heard me. We’re going to the store. There’s a small, local place around the block. Not a huge chain or anything, and not many specific brands, but it should be suitable enough.” 

With a neutral smile, Janus’s eyes flicker towards Patton’s rapidly changing expression. Janus can clearly see that he’s surprised, and then plotting, and then settling on a plan. As Janus nears his front door, he grabs an umbrella from his umbrella stand, and then nudges Patton gently. 

“You wear your thoughts on your face, you know,” he says, and watches Patton swallow the spit in his mouth. 

“Do I?” 

Janus undoes the latch on his umbrella, and extends the rod, but doesn’t open the fabric just yet. “You do. Your eyes flicker, and your lips press together. And you’re thinking about sneaking off and getting help. Well, let me tell you something, love.” 

Janus jabs the tip of his umbrella into Patton’s round stomach, making Patton groan in pain and trip backwards, considerably more distressed than when they were just walking side by side. He lands on his backside, and stares up at Janus, his eyes wide behind his frames. 

“I’m faster than you,” Janus begins, stomping towards Patton, who cowers at the approach and attempts to scramble back. “I’m stronger than you. I’m smarter than you. The moment you even turn away from my side, I will come back to my house faster than your little human mind could possibly comprehend, and I will drain the life out of each of your lovers one by one. And I’ll make it slow. Do you understand?” 

Patton, trembling, nods his head, but that's not good enough. 

Repressing a smirk, Janus lifts his chin and repeats “do you understand?”

This time, Patton’s able to squeak out a jittering “y-yes!” 

Janus stares at him, just… watching. There’s a cramp in his stomach, which causes him to look away for a second, and then he re-steadies himself. He uses his umbrella as support to lean down, offering Patton his hand. Patton shakily accepts it - more out of fear than actual gratitude - and is pulled back onto his feet. 

Patton brushes himself off as Janus reaches for the door, but then he’s piping up. 

“Is… is it raining?” he asks, causing Janus to look at him funny. 

When Patton realizes Janus doesn’t understand why he’s asking, he motions to the umbrella, and continues with “do I get an umbrella too? I’d… I’d rather not get wet, considering I don’t have a change of clothes and all…” 

Again, Janus stares at him for a few seconds, before his lips quirk up into a genuine smile. That smile then morphs into an innocent chuckle, which has Janus shaking his head fondly. “Oh. Oh, dear,” he starts, still snickering. “No, silly. It’s not raining! It’s the middle of the day!” 

Patton stares at Janus in disbelief, before shaking his head. “No… no. We were… we were sleeping!”

Janus smiles sweetly. “I’ve been guiding you to sleep during the day, so that you can be awake whilst I am,” he explains, reaching forward to scratch under Patton’s chin. Patton backs away from the touch, and nearly trips again. “Of course, I don’t need to sleep at all, but I quite enjoy relaxing. There’s not much I can do outdoors when the sun’s out anyway. Horrid sunburn, it causes, and the idea of having to rub skin-soothing ointment across my entire body afterwards just sounds so tedious.” 

“It wouldn’t kill you?” Patton quietly asks.

Janus's eyes sparkle, and grins wide, purposefully showing off his fangs. “Interested in finding out?” 

Patton gulps, and quickly shakes his head, lowering his gaze to the ground. “No. Sorry.” 

Janus seems pleased with that response, and so turns to open his door, sliding his umbrella open at the same time. He steps into the glimmering sunlight, and is shielded by the dark, black fabric tightly webbed above him. Careful to keep his hand obscured in shade, he reaches his arm out towards Patton.

“Come on, dear,” he calls, watching as Patton lingers in the doorway. “Lest you want to starve.”

Patton takes in a deep breath, and then exhales, and slowly steps out of the door. He doesn’t want to touch Janus, but Janus affectionately links their arms together anyway, and with a flick of his wrist his front door is slamming shut behind Patton, causing the latter to jump. 

“Relax,” Janus soothes him, and watches Patton bite his lip nervously as he glances behind them at the house. 

“Are you sure we can’t bring the others with us?” Patton quietly asks, as Janus guides them out onto the sidewalk. As they step past his front gate - which unfortunately was left open and unlocked by his uninvited guests, (a fact that makes Janus frown) - Patton watches as Janus’s scales seem to sink into his flesh, hiding themselves from any passer-bys. His pupils - which were previously just slits - even round out. It’s unnerving, and almost disgusting in their recession, but once they’re all gone he looks incredibly… average. Until he knowingly smiles at Patton, which once again shows off his impressively sharp teeth. Guess it’s a lot harder to hide teeth than it is to hide physical markings. 

“Why would I need the others?” Janus lightly responds, his heeled shoes loud against the overgrown sidewalk. Patton nearly trips once or twice over the weeds that have grown beneath the cracks in the pavement. “They’re safely locked in their rooms, and will be able to feast on what little food you guys have reserved.” 

“Why do you need me?” Patton responds in turn. 

Janus glances at him. “I don’t need any of you. I assumed you’d want to come and pick out what foods the four of you would enjoy. I haven’t eaten in a century; I doubt you’d want me to guess what you would find edible.” 

“So you just… want me to shop? For all of us?” 

Smiling, Janus squeezes Patton’s arm. “Smart boy,” he coos, before affirming “yes, that was the plan.” 

“Do you have money?” 

Janus laughs outright at that question. “Of course I have money!” he answers, which makes Patton flush at the absurdity of his question. “And due to horrendous inflation, I’m basically indefinitely wealthy. I’ve had no need to spend since I turned, after all. Human food does nothing for someone like me anymore.” 

That has Patton looking a bit more interested. With no store currently in sight, he figures this is his chance to ask some questions. 

“So,” Patton begins, attempting to keep his voice from quivering. One would think after spending days locked up in Janus’s house, being visited by him daily in order to be given food or to trade their empty bowls with fresh ones - or for him to pull one of them away - he’d be less afraid, but he isn’t. But maybe if he knew more about Janus, he’d be less scared. People fear what they don’t understand - or at least, that’s what Logan says. “You used to be human once?” 

Janus eyes him with a bit of surprise. “Why do you ask?” he retaliates, which has Patton almost giving up and just walking the rest of the way in silence. But Janus doesn’t sound upset. More so curious towards Patton’s curiosity!

Patton looks down at his feet. “You said… ‘since I turned.’ As in ‘since you turned into a vampire?'” 

“Or something akin,” Janus replies, with a vague shrug, before smiling and adding “but yes. I was once human, but that was long ago.” 

“And you were turned into a… vampire-like creature?” 

Janus chuckles at Patton’s choice of words. “I was.” 

“Willingly?” 

Janus almost trips over his feet, before giving Patton a discouraging look. “You’re pressing your luck,” he answers, which has Patton meekly apologizing for the invasive question. Following this discouragement is silence, which Janus believes will persist for the rest of their walk, only for Patton to clear his throat minutes later. 

“You… you said you had a name, but never told us what it was,” he starts, glancing up at Janus in order to gauge his reaction, and relaxing a bit when he just sees Janus smiling back at him. “What is it?” 

Lightly, Janus asks “why do you want to know?” 

Patton makes a shrugging motion as they stop at a crosswalk. Janus nods towards the button fastened to the stoplight, and Patton presses it, leaving them both to wait for the light to turn red so they can safely walk across. 

“I’m just wondering,” Patton murmurs. “It’d be nice to refer to you as something other than ‘the vampire’ or ‘our captor.’”

“Aw, you talk about me?” 

Patton purses his lips. “Nothing good.” It sounds like a bitter comment, but Janus can tell it’s completely genuine. 

Smiling at the response, as though it’s a joke, Janus decides to answer Patton’s inquiry anyway. “Janus,” he says, and gives Patton’s arm a squeeze while Patton looks at him, as though comparing Janus’s face against this new revelation of his name. “My name is Janus.” 

The stoplight turns red, and the signal to walk turns green, so he and Patton walk across the crosswalk to the other side of the street, where, past a few houses, they see a grocery store in the distance. It’s on the corner of the block, almost small enough to be considered a gas station, with a parking lot only big enough to contain seven or eight cars. There’s only one actively parked though, which Janus finds relieving. 

Even Patton seems pleased when they finally walk into the store, almost as if he didn’t entirely believe Janus was taking him shopping. 

“Grab a cart, dear,” Janus instructs him as he slides his arm out of Patton’s and closes his umbrella. He sets it in the child seat, and then brushes his fingers along Patton’s forearm as a sort of praise, before walking forwards, expecting Patton to follow him. 

“Get what you think would be best,” Janus then explains, as they enter the first aisle, being filled with bread and pastries. “Anything the cart can hold, you may have. Anything more and I think I might pass out while trying to transport the load home.” 

Patton immediately grabs a loaf of bread off the shelf. “Because it’d be too much for the two of us to carry?” he asks, as he sets it near Janus’s umbrella, keeping the lower half of the cart open for what he decides to grab later. But Janus laughs aloud at his inquiry. 

“Heaven’s no. You think I’m going to carry your groceries home?” Janus pokes Patton in the chest and walks forward, with Patton following behind. “You’re free to carry things if you’d like, but I figured I’d get the bags home by… other means.” Janus makes a spinning motion with his pointer finger, as though implying something, but Patton can’t decipher what he means. Upon seeing Patton’s confusion, Janus just sighs and dismisses his befuddlement with “you’ll see after we check out.” 

Janus walks beside Patton as Patton pushes the cart. Patton tries to ask once or twice how often he’ll be able to actually cook, considering Janus had been pulling them out of their rooms less and less frequently, but Janus is distracted by actually inspecting human produce, and so Patton sighs and decides to shop as if Janus will let them make food. 

They move from the bread towards the fruit, where fresh berries sit beside veggies decorated with fresh beads of water. They seem to have been recently sprayed. Janus frowns as Patton picks up a bundle of carrots. 

“I have an entire garden, and you still want tainted produce?” 

Patton huffs. “Well how was I supposed to know your garden wasn’t off-limits?” 

Janus takes the carrots from Patton and sets them back by the rest of the vegetables, and grabs the front of the cart in order to steer it away from that aisle altogether. 

“All you have to do is ask to go to the garden,” Janus says, as he guides Patton to the cereal aisle. The bright colours have Janus shielding his eyes as he internally ponders the poisons humans willingly ingest. “I’ll give you the basket and everything.” 

“Why take me to the store then?” Patton asks, as he reaches for a few boxes of cereal. Plain wheat cereal for Logan, chocolate puffs for him and Virgil, and colourful fruity bites for Roman (though Logan will probably quietly request a couple bowls of that as well). He sets them neatly in the cart, and pushes it forward, looking queasy when he sees some flavored oatmeal at the end of the aisle. 

“I assumed you wanted something more… processed,” Janus answers, seeming disgusted by the snacks that surround them after they move past the cereal. Chips, crackers, and cookies adorn this section, and Janus wonders if there’s really enough demand for these no doubt unhealthy treats to warrant an entire section. 

He tries to remember if he enjoyed snacks like that. They weren’t as brightly advertised when he was human, but a particular sweet treat that sticks out in his mind is ice cream. 

He had an ice cream maker… It was operated by a hand-held crank. Milk, sugar, and ice all combined and churned together… 

Patton tugs on his sleeve. Janus stares down at him. 

“I tried walking ahead and you weren’t moving,” Patton explains, looking nervous. “I didn’t want to move on without you because I didn’t want you to… you know… hurt one of the others.” 

Janus blinks, and then sighs, and sets his hand on the small of Patton’s back. He smiles softly, and murmurs “good boy,” before pressing his lips to the top of Patton’s head, kissing his hairline. Patton looks uncomfortable at the affection, but his cheeks go pink anyway. His hands twist around the cart’s handle. He moves forward, and Janus walks with him. 

Coughing and clearing his throat, Patton says “you have a working stove, yeah? What about a working oven?”

“Yes, I have a working oven. A newer model, too. My older oven had lasted quite a while, but eventually started decaying with age.” 

“Is that why your kitchen is relatively modern?” 

“Modern” more so meant in relation to the rest of Janus’s house, which definitely looked like it was dressed in the eighteenth century, with Janus’s kitchen still seeming older than every other house in the neighborhood, but Janus still nods. “Everything there should be modern enough to be usable.” 

“Will I be able to use the kitchen? Will we?” 

Janus snickers. “Yes. If you want to cook, I will supervise.” 

“It probably won’t be me…” Patton steers them into the next aisle over. “I’m not a great cook. I have such a hard time idling around while waiting for food to fry. Logan or Roman are much better, though they have wildly different tastes. Roman would prefer to bake as opposed to cooking anyway.” 

“So Logan’s your main chef?” 

Patton smiles, his cheeks pink. “For the most part. We eat out more than we should. When we’re home, though, he insists on cooking, making sure we have proper portions of protein and carbs… he makes it complicated, admittedly, but it’s sweet that he cares about keeping us healthy.” 

There’s a cramp in Janus’s stomach, and his free hand comes to rest on his lower abdomen as his other presses harder into Patton’s back. 

“Why do you ask about the oven, anyway?” Janus asks, with a forced smile. 

“Frozen food would be good to have, and easy to make. Like a frozen pizza or something… or maybe ice cream bars.” 

“You eat ice cream?” 

Patton gives Janus a weird look. “Of course I eat ice cream. Not since we’ve been with you, of course, but it was always a nice treat.” Patton twists his head to the side, stretching his neck, and causing his curls to fall away from his throat. Janus stares. 

He continues staring as Patton walks through aisle after aisle, making their way through the small store rather quickly. The cart becomes more and more full as Patton picks out particular treats for each of his partners, and general food for the four of them, before moving to the next section. Of course, the frozen section is last, but as they near the foggy glass doors hiding uncooked pizzas and pot pies, Janus spots a restroom just a few steps to the left. 

Janus walks towards it and pushes open the door, relieved to see it’s a single person bathroom. As Patton comes closer to him - nervous to be too far away due to Janus’s prior threat - Janus grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him away from the cart, pushing him into the bathroom instead. 

Patton stumbles, and cowers as Janus steps in after him, slamming and locking the door behind him. 

“I’m sorry,” Patton immediately apologizes, worried he’s messed up somehow. Janus doesn’t respond, instead stepping closer to Patton, who backs up all the way into the furthest wall. Janus keeps approaching. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, I didn’t-” Patton gulps, stuttering over his words. Janus can taste his fear. “I don’t-” 

“Shh,” Janus quells, as his hands gently fall against Patton’s hips. Patton’s slumped so far against the wall that Janus stands at his height precisely, instead of Patton being a good few inches taller. “You’re not in trouble.” 

Swallowing the spit in his mouth, Patton stares up at Janus with wide eyes. “Then what’s going on?” 

Janus licks his lips, giving Patton an up-close look of his forked tongue. “I’m hungry.” 

Patton pales. 

“I haven’t had a bite to eat since Logan… and,” Janus cups Patton’s face, and easily maneuvers it to the side, thumbing Patton’s hair away from his jugular, “you look delicious.” 

Patton makes a sort of whimpering noise, and Janus can feel him trembling. Weirdly enough, his unspoken fear has Janus tense himself. 

“Relax,” Janus attempts to soothe him, as his thumb rubs circles into Patton’s waist. “Relax, you’ll be okay. I don’t want to kill you; I just want to feed.” 

Patton sucks in a shaky breath. “I’m scared.” 

Janus holds him tighter. “Don’t be scared. I don’t want a fight right now. Logan didn’t fight.” 

Patton isn’t going to fight him, but any sort of cry or struggle could cause Janus’s fangs to cut and sever a spot he doesn’t intend to. And he didn’t bring Patton all the way to the store just to kill him in a public bathroom. 

“Here,” Janus then says, as he leans closer to Patton, pushing their bodies together, “I can do something that will help, okay? You’ll feel better, and I’ll get to eat. Doesn’t that sound nice? Don’t you trust me?” 

Patton doesn’t answer, but holds his breath, clearly preparing himself for the eventual penetration of Janus’s fangs. And Janus takes that as acceptance, and so presses his lips to Patton’s neck. He kisses the area softly, practically salivating as his lips over above Patton’s carotid artery, before he bites. He gives Patton no countdown - not wanting him to flinch or tense - but Patton cries out anyway, gripping Janus’s arms just to hold onto something, but finds himself quickly feeling warm and fuzzy. 

He lets out a confused moan, as he feels Janus’s fangs still pushed into him, but where Janus bit doesn’t hurt, it just feels hot. Hot, hot, hot. 

Janus’s hand slides from Patton’s hip over to his crotch, which he presses on with surprisingly pure intentions. As he pulls his face from Patton’s neck - his fangs gleaming with fresh blood - he gives the vaguest of explanations by saying “I injected you with venom. Just a little, I promise. It’ll wear off soon. But for now it’ll make you feel relaxed and hot. ”

He typically didn’t use his venom on people; what did he care if they were afraid or uncomfortable while he drained them of their life? But Patton is different. Not only does he know that if he returned home without Patton in tow, the other three would be even more difficult than they already are, but Patton’s fear is just so pure. So… selfless, in the strangest of ways. Janus doesn’t want to kill him. Janus just wants to feed. 

“Janus,” Patton moans weakly, as Janus’s tongue licks over his fresh wound, only for his mouth to connect around it shortly after. He sucks the blood from the puncture as he fumbles with Patton’s pants, getting them unbuttoned and pushed partially down rather quickly. 

“Janus,” Patton meekly starts again, but Janus just wraps an arm around him, pushing their bodies together as he drinks. 

Patton’s blood isn’t as healthy as Logan’s. It’s thick, and sweet - almost syrupy, in a way, and it blesses Janus’s taste buds by the mouthful. Patton’s bigger than Logan, so Janus has no problem indulging in a bit more than he had previously, drinking down more and more until he’s full. And then he drinks a little more past that. 

His fingers slip Patton’s cock out from his pants, and delicately stroke it once or twice until Patton’s firm in his hands. Patton whimpers. 

Janus doesn’t pull away to assure him, but squeezes his arm around Patton instead in an attempt to soothe him. 

“This is wrong,” Patton mumbles, between soft pants as Janus slowly begins working Patton’s cock in his hands. “This is wrong, you shouldn’t… I shouldn’t…” Patton’s eyes flutter closed as he slumps further against the wall, both the venom and the blood loss making him feel drowsy and dizzy. And Janus’s hand is making him feel good. “I know you… I know you and Virgil… I know…” 

Janus makes a humming noise against Patton’s throat as he swallows down more blood. Some of it trickles down Patton’s collarbone and soaks into the front of his shirt. 

“The others too, I bet. Is that right? You’ve… you’ve done this to all of them?” 

Janus knows he’s not asking about drinking blood, and so squeezes Patton’s cock in confirmation, delighting in the way Patton’s hips weakly buck into his fist. 

Patton says nothing else, supposedly just wanting verification to his suspicions. Janus can guess he isn’t happy, but as he pulls away just enough to glance into Patton’s eyes, he sees that there’s some twisted sense of comfort Patton finds in knowing that it’s happened to each one of them . Janus would have supposed there’d be anger, betrayal, or some blame shoved onto the shoulders of those too weak to resist Janus, but there’s nothing. 

Patton doesn’t meet his gaze, instead letting his own flutter closed as he slides an arm around Janus to keep him close. The action almost surprises Janus enough to make him choke, but he’s quick to swallow down the last bit of blood and pull away, completely satiated. 

He licks over the wound a few times until the bleeding stops, and then cleans the blood staining the little hairs around Patton’s neck with his finger, which he sucks clean after. 

“Good job, my love,” Janus praises him, earning a soft noise from Patton who’s fully supported by Janus’s strong hold on him. He’s heavy and hot, relaxed and pleasured, completely open to receiving whatever Janus gives him, including soft, slow pleasure. 

Pre spills onto Janus’s fingers, which he just smears against Patton’s cock, causing his palm to slide with more ease. Having seen all of them flustered and sensual, it’s a lot easier to imagine them as a group playing together. And what a cute visual that is. Logan implied they switch who does what quite often, but Janus just can’t imagine sweet Patton on top of any of them! 

Janus kisses the forming scab on Patton’s neck, and Patton’s cheeks flush at the action. 

“Janus,” Patton moans, a little louder than he was previously. “Janus… ‘m so hot…” 

“I know, dear, I know,” Janus shushes him, “you’re so hot, and relaxed, and you did so, so good. I’m so full, you know. You helped me so much.” 

Patton whines, his head falling back against the bathroom wall. 

Sweat rolls down the side of his face as Janus keeps his own head resting against Patton’s shoulder, keeping them close while pumping Patton’s cock slowly. He doesn’t need to rush Patton through this, and he doesn’t seem like the type to enjoy such. Besides, he might as well give the venom some time to work its way through him. 

And Patton keeps saying his name. Over, and over, and over. He never would have expected that giving away something so valuable to some human would leave him breathless, but it does. Because there’s emotion and need behind Patton’s soft chirps of “Janus, Janus, Janus.” Emotion Janus can taste when his tongue flicks out of his mouth, mixed in with the scent of sweat and fresh blood intermingled into the humid air. 

“I’m hot,” Patton breathes, and this time Janus knows he means something different. So Janus works his cock a little faster, while slipping his other hand beneath Patton’s shirt to trace shapes into Patton’s back. 

Patton lets out a trembling moan as the venom works its way from his foggy head, to his sensitive chest, down to his aching cock, pushing relaxation and pleasure through his muscles and veins until his fingers are gripping Janus’s shirt - holding tight to Janus as though he was Roman or Logan or Virgil - and he’s coming with a barely audible call of Janus’s name. 

Janus works him wordlessly through his orgasm, and steps away when Patton lets out a whine of discomfort. He then grabs some rather uncomfortable paper towels and uses them to wipe his hands free of the mess. He wets another towel before pressing it to Patton’s face, blotting it free of sweat using cool water, and then washing his shaft and thighs down after. The motion is quick, but uncharacteristically affectionate. Patton tugs up his boxers as Janus tosses the dirtied, cheap paper towels into the toilet and promptly flushes it. 

He’s still buttoning his pants as Janus returns to him, with Janus gently guiding Patton’s hands away to do it himself, before helping Patton stand up straight. 

“How are you feeling?” Janus murmurs, as Patton pulls away from his touch and attempts to balance on his own. “I was careful not to inject you with too much; I understand we still have a bit more shopping left to do. But I know you might still be loopy.” 

“I feel relaxed,” Patton answers honestly. “I think I’m okay to walk.” 

Janus watches him take a step, and though it’s not like he’s going to topple and fall at any given moment, he’s still visibly unsteady. So Janus reaches for him, and interlocks their arms once more. “Let me help, I insist,” he says, as he gives Patton a studier figure to rely on. And Patton does, letting out a soft sigh of relief. 

Janus helps him out of the bathroom, and is himself relieved when there’s nobody around to speculate on what the two of them were doing in a single person stall together, and guides Patton back to their cart, which is right where they left it. As he guides Patton’s hands to the cart’s handles, he himself pulls his arm away. 

“I believe you were grabbing some frozen foods right before I rudely interrupted you,” Janus says, as Patton blearily stares at the glass doors holding the chilled produce. 

Patton takes a moment to process Janus’s words, and then nods, reaching into a door for a frozen pizza, and grabs three different types. He sets them in the cart, and takes a few steps forward, seemingly regaining his composure by the minute. He grabs some other frozen foods - like chicken nuggets or french fries; things that can be easily baked, as though assuming Janus won’t let him out to cook often - and then they get to the dessert section. 

Patton considers the different ice creams and frozen cakes for a bit, as though trying to remember what each of his lovers enjoy, but Janus’s eyes fall onto the standard vanilla ice cream. 

It’s just a pint in flashy packaging, and Janus is sure it won’t taste as good as home churned ice cream, but still, he stares at it. He’s not sure if it’ll even taste at all! The last time he had human food it was exceptionally bland, and that fact had remained true for every food he’d tried. In enhancing his taste buds’ ability to enjoy the nuanced flavors in blood, it had taken away their ability to relish in normal food. He hadn’t missed food since getting his first taste of blood, but now he feels an ache in his chest as he stares at it. Something about the idea of ice cream makes him nostalgic. 

He reaches past Patton - who is stacking cookies and cream atop cookie dough, atop strawberry cheesecake, atop moose tracks - and grabs a small case of vanilla. Just a simple four ounce container. Patton watches him with surprise as he sets it in the cart. 

“I thought human food didn’t do anything for you,” he asks, which has Janus almost plucking the sweet treat from the cart and putting it right back. 

His want for it is foolish - Patton’s right in this case, after all. But he keeps it in the cart anyway. 

“I can still feel the temperature,” Janus says, dismissing Patton’s confusion. “And it’s getting hot out. A bit of cold here and there will feel refreshing.” 

Patton nods as though he understands and sets his own ice cream in the cart, though he more unceremoniously drops it in as opposed to his earlier precise stacking. He cares less about keeping things organized, but Janus supposes they’re almost done, so Patton has no need to reserve space anyway. 

The ice cream seems to be the last of things, so Patton steers them towards a checkout aisle, where the single cashier looks like they’re falling asleep as they stand. They’re barely paying attention as they scan through the duo’s items, and read out the total while sounding equally as mentally absent. Janus fishes out an old but upkept wallet from his pocket and pulls out a handful of cash, which he gives to the cashier. The change he gives to Patton for “safekeeping,” though really it’s because he doesn’t care enough to slide a few measly dollars and pennies into the wallet he’s already folded up and put away. 

Patton pushes the cart outside and into the parking lot, stalling in the open space as Janus lingers in the doorway and slides open his umbrella once more, before joining him. 

“You said you had other means of getting the groceries home,” Patton begins, as he looks at the pile of freshly bagged items. “As opposed to carrying. Are we… We’re not stealing the shopping cart, right?” 

“I’d have no use for a shopping cart dear,” Janus huffs, as he glances around the barren lot to make sure no one’s around. “It’d ruin my home’s aesthetic. Which has taken years to cultivate, by the way.”

Janus snaps, and opens his hand so that his palm is flatly open. It’d be facing the sun, if his umbrella wasn’t in the way. It sits low at his abdomen, but as he raises his hand up, the groceries rise with it. Patton looks on in awe.

In the same way he’d pulled the baskets towards him in the garden while having his fun with Logan, Janus now pushes the groceries between houses and backyards in order to quickly but subtly get them back to his own house without straining to carry them all the way home. He has to focus for a moment on pulling his back door open and pushing the groceries inside, but he’s had years to memorize his house layout, and so visualizes the bags one by one floating through the grand backdoor and through his corridors, before he lowers his hand back down, picturing the bags settling gently on the ground. As his eyes reopen, he’s confident they’re home, and only a tad drained by the experience of getting them there. 

He turns to Patton, and smiles with a mixture of pride and smugness. “See? A lot easier than carrying them.” 

Patton smiles politely and nods his head and thanks before pushing the cart back towards the entrance. As he returns to Janus, he says “I thought you’d prefer things the old fashioned way, honestly.” 

“I prefer ease,” Janus clarifies, as he walks a few steps behind Patton, though neither of them are walking particularly quick. The sun’s raised a bit, and Patton seems to enjoy the heat radiating onto his skin. He’s still a bit clumsy on his feet, but he’s happy enough that Janus sees no active reason to pull him back and obscure him partially under the shade of his umbrella. 

He keeps up his current pace, letting Patton drift ahead of him. What first goes from watching Patton’s leisure enjoyment eventually morphs into looking around the town. Janus hasn’t really gone anywhere in years. He’s had no need to. 

Tires screech in the distance, but when Janus looks towards the source of the noise, he sees nothing. 

Of course he hasn’t been oblivious to the changes. He’s heard the demolition of some old houses, and been kept up by the construction of newer ones, but actually observing the colourful, tall streets being warped into more slanted, more bland houses situated too close to each other and looking unimpressive has him frowning. His own house was distanced from others for a reason. There was a big yard, big fences, and a looming feeling it had when you stood before it. Janus remembers when his father bought it, promising it’d be his someday. And Janus promised he’d keep it the way it was - no demolishing, no renovations - preservation in its purest form. 

Patton’s bright blue shirt stands out especially amongst the grey and dreary houses. Even Janus’s house doesn’t look that drab, despite its dark colours! Patton walks forward, stepping off the sidewalk and into the street, making his way onto the crosswalk before Janus. Janus glances at the stoplight, and sees it’s red, but still moves a little faster to catch up.

The number signaling their time to cross is still in double digits. They have plenty of time to move from one side of the street to the other. But a horn suddenly crescendoing speaks otherwise, filling both Janus and Patton with sudden anxiety. Patton’s head whips towards the truck that’s carelessly running a red light, but Janus’s focus is immediately on Patton. 

His hand reaches forward, plunging it into the bright sun so he can seize the back of Patton’s shirt in order to pull him backwards. The force of him tugging Patton away from the truck barreling by is violent enough to send both of them stumbling onto their rear ends near the curb they had just stepped from. 

Janus nearly drops his umbrella, but holds it firm over his head. His calves are exposed to the sun, but they’re protected by cloth - the sun peeking in through the miniscule fibers isn't going to do as much damage as clear, intense exposure. He used to wear gloves when he first turned as a precaution, but then he stopped going out. But now, as his pupils snap back into slits and scales start to flip back onto his skin, he tucks his wrist against his chest, staring down at it. 

“Fuck!” he curses, his voice cracking. His skin is broiling, with dark, bloody blisters and welts already bubbling over and spilling down the limb. He sits there for a moment, watching as the sizzling slows, and retching when the strong scent of burnt flesh hits his tongue. 

He hears Patton gag, and so looks over, watching as Patton holds his hand over his mouth. He’s staring at Janus’s hand, but looks up when Janus turns towards him. 

“Oh…” Patton gulps, before reaching towards him. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I felt so dizzy… I’m… I wasn’t even processing… I thought you just said you’d- you’d get sunburnt!” 

Hearing his stretched truths be thrown back at his face has him seething, and Janus pushes himself to stand, struggling a bit with his injured hand but eventually getting back onto his feet. Patton moves towards him, but Janus just straightens his posture, and tightens his grip on the umbrella. 

“Walk,” Janus orders him, before Patton can even get a word out. Patton shrinks in fear, and glances at the stoplight. It’s still red, but they have less time to go than before. Janus’s hand throbs. 

“But-” Patton tries to argue, as he watches the countdown tick into single digits. Janus raises his injured hand up, and winces as he waves it, causing Patton’s hand to slap over his mouth. 

“Walk,” Janus repeats, this time using his elbow to shove Patton further out into the street. He walks right by his side this time, and any time Patton slows at all, Janus is pushing him forward, until Patton’s basically skittering quickly down the crosswalk. 

They reach the other side with no more issues, but Janus is looming over him as they rush down the sidewalk. Janus has longer strides than Patton does, and so Patton frequently finds himself slipping behind, and has to jog to keep up. Tears prick his eyes as rotted flesh and strained spit fill his senses as he genuinely struggles to keep at Janus’s side, and basically stumbles through Janus’s front door when they get there. His legs burn as though he’s been running for hours, and with his fingers still tightly clamped over his mouth, he feels like he can hardly breathe. 

Both the door slamming shut and Janus throwing his umbrella onto the ground only add to Patton’s building, twisting panic, and he whimpers as he’s grabbed by the back of the shirt and pulled up Janus’s stairs, through the hallway, and to a door different than the ones he’s seen before. 

Without saying a word Janus kicks the bottom of the door and sends it flying open, revealing a dark room Patton can't even see a few feet into. Patton tries to ask what Janus is doing, but only sounds escape his muffled mouth, and Janus is carelessly tossing him inside without even giving Patton the chance to try and pry his palm away from his face. Patton cries in confusion.

He turns around on the floor, his eyes filled with tears, and looks up at Janus pleadingly. But Janus’s upper half is obscured in shadow. All Patton can see are his piercing, unfeeling eyes, and his injured hand, which looks as though his skin is falling in slats right off the bone. Patton reaches towards him, but he can’t get anywhere close before Janus is grabbing the door handle with his good hand and slamming it shut, leaving Patton in the shrouding darkness, barely able to breathe, unable to see, and hopelessly confused. His body is hot. His mind is fuzzy. And all he can do is cry. 

And all Janus can do is slump against the door on the other side, holding his wrist desperately in an attempt to keep his hand together, and quietly blink away the tears that rapidly swell within his eyes.

Chapter Text

“You son of a bitch! I’ll fucking kill you!” Virgil shouts, as he bangs against the door he was unfortunately still stuck behind. His fists hit the wood over and over, pounding so hard that Janus can smell his fresh blood from the other side, and he screams out “give him back! You fucking sicko!” 

Janus stands coldly on the other side. Just… staring at the entryway before him. He raises one of his feet and uses it to itch his calf, as it tingles with light, stinging discomfort. 

“I’ll kill you! If I find out he’s hurt, I’ll fucking kill you!” 

Janus’s injured hand clenches into a fist, causing pain to surge up his arm. The damaged, blistered, dried skin cracks as his knuckles fold, making a disgusting, squelching sound, and it has him scrunching up his nose in a mixture of disdain and pain. Patton? Injured? Maybe he should be. 

Virgil continues hitting the door. He’s been doing it for over an hour, if not longer, and Janus was sick of hearing the noise permeating his halls. 

It was like nails on a chalkboard - a horrid sensory experience only amplified thanks to Janus’s enhanced hearing. Each of Virgil’s screams were like overwhelming shrieks in his ears, and not even ones Janus could enjoy. 

“I’ll kill you!” 

No, Virgil’s words only served to make Janus frown deeper and deeper as his hand throbs with an unfamiliar, almost forgotten agony. 

Janus, sick of the noise, unfurls his fist and spreads his fingers in a sudden burst of movement, which causes the door to swing open as if it was kicked down, promptly thudding against Virgil’s face and sending him spiraling backwards. The smell of delicious, metallic blood wafts into Janus’s face as a result of the action, and Janus watches as Virgil quickly pushes himself onto his knees, red spilling from both his nostrils and down his lips. 

“You bitch!” Virgil seethes, as he tries to get onto his feet. Before he can even get off the ground though, Janus is swiftly pressing his boot against his chest and stomping, forcing Virgil to the ground so roughly the air is pulled from his lungs. 

“I’d watch it, if I were you,” Janus replies, voice void of any playfulness or mimicry. It’s a genuine warning, and one that Janus watches Virgil shrink at. 

Virgil opens his mouth to respond, and then closes it again, before he narrows his eyes and says through gritted teeth “where’s Patton?” 

“Dead,” Janus responds. “Or lost. Or safe in one of my rooms. Whatever you want to believe.” He watches the way Virgil’s expression flickers from shock, to despair, to hardened-over anger as he struggles between which of Janus’s truths actually have merit. 

Frustrated, he growls out “you-” but Janus promptly stops him. 

“Shut up,” he hisses, stopping Virgil’s words in their tracks. “Any immature insult your small brain could possibly come up with is one I’ve heard ten times over and in ten times more creative ways. I’m sick of hearing your scratchy voice echoing throughout my corridors. So shut up, or I’ll cut that tempest tongue right out of your mouth.” 

Fully aware that Janus’s threats aren’t to be taken lightly, he clamps his mouth shut, but his hands push against Janus’s shoe. Hearing Virgil’s labored breaths through his nose, he eases his weight off of Virgil’s chest, and sets it aside. Sitting up, Virgil looks over Janus’s body. Janus can imagine him searching for any sort of sign of Patton’s whereabouts, but Virgil’s eyes end up focusing on his hand, staring openly at the burnt flesh. 

“What…” Virgil nervously starts, glancing at Janus as though worried his words will get him hurt. When Janus does nothing, he continues. “What happened?” 

“It’s a burn, obviously,” Janus answers. “I have flesh, just like you.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

Janus scowls at him. “Would pressing your hand against a stove hurt?” 

Grumbling, Virgil mutters “geez, it was just a question,” before glaring up at Janus and saying “it’s not like I care anyway. I hope it fucking hurts.” 

Intense eyes pouring into Virgil’s skull, Janus can’t help but just observe him. Janus had just insulted him, threatened him, hurt him, and Virgil still acts like a brat? He’s silent, and watches as Virgil trembles beneath him, cowering in Janus’s shadow and looking almost nervous, as if he knows he’s messed up. 

And then, his lips quirk up into a small smile. And that smile turns into soft snickering. And that snickering turns into full on laughing, of which he tries to stifle with his normal hand as Virgil’s fear melts into a frown at his display, no doubt aware he’s the one being laughed at. 

“You’re a prick,” Virgil states, as he finally gets back to his feet, as Janus’s chuckling settles into an amused smile. 

“So you’ve told me,” he replies, before reaching towards Virgil’s face. Virgil steps back and away from him, but that just has him tripping and falling onto the edge of the bed. Trapped against the mattress and Janus’s looming form, he has no choice but to just tense his jaw as Janus cups his face and thumbs over his bloody upper lip. 

Scooping up Virgil’s blood onto his fingers, Janus shamelessly brings his hand to his mouth and sucks the digit clean, making Virgil grimace. Virgil’s blood tastes bitter and sour… definitely an acquired taste. Any other bloodsucker would probably dispose of Virgil quickly and without much enjoyment, but Janus quite enjoys the unorthodox and unpleasant taste. Plus… as it’s swallowed down, it has a rather sweet aftertaste. Surprisingly complex…

Virgil's shoulders rise as he watches Janus taste and savor him, in an attempt to protect his neck, as he spits out “if you’re thinking of drinking from me or something, then you can forget it. I’d rather die than let you suck me dry.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Janus responds, with a roll of his eyes, “but you needn’t worry about me indulging right now. I’ve eaten recently, and thus have no need to feed from the likes of you.” 

Virgil’s face scrunches up in distaste at Janus’s words, before it sort of falls in realization as he processes what Janus has said. 

“Did you-” Virgil sits up with more alarm, and approaches Janus with wide eyes, “did you feed from Patton?” 

“I might have.” Janus wipes the corners of his mouth, not realizing his tone was a lot less playful and a lot more tainted than he intended. Subconsciously still stewing on what had happened during his outing. “If I did, I’d be able to tell you he tastes quite delicious. He might even be my favorite so far, though I’ve only sampled two out of the four morsels I currently own.” 

Janus then grins and reaches forward to grip Virgil’s nose with his knuckles, wiggling his head back and forth and making Virgil gasp in sudden pain. “Three if we include the little taste I just got. Though, you might taste better in mouthfuls than in small droplets.” 

As soon as Janus lets him go, Virgil’s recoiling completely, holding his nose in distress while blood leaks through his fingers. But Janus just watches the tears pool up in Virgil’s eyes with a rather adoring sigh, before he grabs Virgil’s wrist and tugs him forward. 

“As much as I am fond of blood,” he starts, leading Virgil out of the room and down the hall, “I’d rather not have it decorating my otherwise pristine floors. Could you try to be less messy?” 

“Me?!” Virgil replies. “You’re lucky I’m even keeping my nose covered, after you’re the one who broke it!” 

“It’s not broken.” 

Virgil sneers at him. “It sure as hell feels broken.”

Janus smiles. “If it was broken, you’d be in a lot more pain, and I would have heard a significantly worse crack. It’s most likely a minor fracture; you won’t need much more than a nose splint.” 

“And you just happen to have one of those?” 

Janus guides Virgil into a rather extravagant bathroom - one that finally isn’t attached to a bedroom - though it looks like it hasn’t been used in a while. When Janus flips the lights on, they flicker, and when he pulls open a cabinet on the left-hand side, dust comes flying out. Virgil coughs, as Janus’s tongue briefly darts out of his mouth to taste the air, which he looks displeased at. 

Turning to Virgil, Janus jokes “how upset do you think Roman would be if I made him clean in here?” 

“He’d be pissed,” Virgil answers immediately, not even entertaining the thought. 

Janus looks through the shelves and finds a small, clearly unused first aid kit. He sets it on the sink counter and fumbles with the box, struggling to snap it open with just one hand. So, he very subtly flicks his fingers upwards and opens the kit that way, with the lid popping up with sudden ease. He tilts the box forward and peers into it, before grinning and plucking out a small jar and what looks like a strange bandage. 

“Sit,” Janus beckons him, motioning to the toilet seat, which Virgil sits on, still muttering pained obscenities under his breath. 

“Whatever weird vampire shit you’re going to smear onto me, I’ll pass,” Virgil groans, as he thumbs between his eyes, rubbing the top of his nose. “I’d rather just get this stupid splint on and get it over with.” 

“This salve will help you feel better,” Janus explains, as he tucks it in the elbow of his injured arm, and opens it with his normal hand. His rotted hand stays unintentionally and limply hanging in front of Virgil’s face, making Virgil’s countenance scrunch with disgust. “It was made years ago, but it works. I got it from a snake oil salesman… literally. Not a metaphorical one. He had a bunch of wares, and this ‘incredibly efficient healing salve’ was one of them. I used it once and remember it working wonderfully, so I’m hoping it’ll ease some of your pain as well.” 

Virgil slowly lowers his hands from his face, letting Janus see the blood coating his palms and his entire lower face - from the bottom of his nostrils down to his chin. “Why do you care?” 

Janus dips his fingers into the thick, light-purple tinted cream. He scoops a rather fine amount onto his fingers, and kneads it into the pads of his fingers. “I don't,” Janus answers, as he reaches forward to gently slide his hand along the bridge of Virgil’s nose, massaging the salve into his skin with a surprising amount of care. “I’d just rather not hear your incessant whining for the next week while your nose healed on its own.” 

Janus’s fingers travel down the entirety of Virgil’s nose, but focus mainly on the fractured area, which he correctly pinpoints as being between Virgil’s narrowed eyelids. He presses on that area, which earns a hiss of pain from Virgil’s mouth. He applies extra medicine to that area, before pulling away with a smile. 

He closes the jar and sets it aside, before holding out the splint and pressing it to Virgil’s face. It’s similar to a decently sized cotton bandage being pressed over Virgil’s nose, with tape barely reaching his cheeks to hold it in place. While Virgil’s eyes cross to try and get a better look at the thing, Janus pulls Virgil’s hands out and bandages his scratched knuckles, splintered by the wood he was ruthlessly beating against. He doesn’t bother wasting salve on it, as he has a feeling Virgil will be punching something else in a few days time. 

Once Janus releases his hands, Virgil’s running his fingers over the splint covering his nose. He’s visibly unhappy. “When is it supposed to stop hurting?” he asks, grimacing with a slight hiss when he pokes at his nose a bit too hard, causing pain to pulsate through his face. 

Janus rolls his eyes, and ignores Virgil’s question. “A ‘thank you,’ would be nice.” 

“I’m not thankful,” Virgil immediately argues. “Not only did you ‘fracture’ my nose, but you still haven’t told me where Patton is.” 

Fronwing, Janus replies “I told you to use your imagination.” 

He turns away from Virgil to begin packing up his medical kit with one hand, while his injured one dangles at his side. A lot of the supplies inside the box are still good, even over a century later, but have just been sitting in his cabinet rotting. 

Virgil seems unhappy with that response, but finds something else to complain about as soon as he licks his under lip, huffing “I also still have blood caked onto my face, thanks to you.” 

Janus shuts the medical kit rather loudly, watching Virgil jump at the sudden, startling noise, before Janus leans over him. He grabs Virgil’s face rather roughly by the sides of his cheeks, squeezing his jaw until Virgil whimpers in discomfort… and then licks him. 

Janus relishes in seeing Virgil’s fear melt into shock as his forked tongue swipes excitedly over Virgil’s lips, cleaning the blood from his face while simultaneously indulging in a brief treat - an action that quickly morphs from a funny, impulsive decision to a more intimate one as Janus tilts Virgil’s head to the side and kisses his lips properly, letting Virgil taste his own blood staining Janus’s mouth until Janus’s tongue is more messily sliding up Virgil’s face, traveling up his upper lip and right beneath his nostrils where the most blood had run over, which is when Virgil is finally pushing Janus away. 

“Gross!” he shouts, as he wipes his face furiously, cleaning the red-tinted spit mixture from his chin. “You’re fucking disgusting!” 

“You’re rather delicious,” Janus cheerily replies, licking his lips without a care. “And clean now. Any more complaints?” 

“I’m still kidnapped,” Virgil says, as he pushes himself to his feet. “And-” 

“My dear,” Janus cuts him off, as he holds up his injured hand to stop Virgil’s approach, “if you mention Patton’s name again, then I fear I’ll have to make sure Patton won’t be around anymore for you to mention. Do you understand me?” 

Virgil scowls, face twisted in sheer anger. He doesn’t answer, and instead grabs Janus’s hand to no doubt push him out of the way, but in doing so Janus suddenly exclaims in pain of his own, frantically tucking his hand to his chest and stumbling back, biting his tongue to muffle any further noises that might pour from his downturned lips. 

They end up a few feet apart, Janus bent over himself as he holds his wrist, hands shaking as he’s filled with intense pain. 

And Virgil gasps a rather shocked “what the hell?! I thought you said it didn't hurt!” 

Janus glares up at him. “I never said it didn’t hurt,” he snaps, “of course it fucking hurts! You even said you wished it did!”

He tightly grips his hand, feeling his fingers sink into the damaged flesh, sending burning, pulsating pain through his wrist. He tries squeezing it, desperate for any sort of relief, only for Virgil to grab him by his shirt and push him onto the toilet seat.

Seething, he starts “whatever you’re planning on doing, keep in mind that I can still kill you,” but his words seemingly roll off of Virgil’s back as he opens Janus’s medical kit himself, and grabs the very same salve Janus just used on him. Immediately, Janus pulls further away, and insists “what do you think you’re doing? Don’t waste that; it’s irreplaceable!” 

But Virgil just shoots him a look of annoyance. “If you’ve had it for one hundred years and hardly made a dent in the jar, I doubt using a handful now will really make much of a difference.” 

He dips his hand into the salve, and brings out a palmful of the stuff, before very gently taking Janus’s injured hand into his own. 

He massages the medicine into Janus’s broiled flesh, rubbing it over the exposed muscle and injured skin, petting over it until Janus’s entire hand shines with the salve. There’s a tingling sensation that makes Janus bite his lip in pain as the wound is cleaned, before Virgil is taking bandages and wrapping it rather skillfully around Janus’s hand, until it’s all covered aside from his fingertips. 

When Virgil pulls away, Janus curls his hand into a gentle fist. It hurts, but nowhere near as bad as it did before. 

He looks up at Virgil, who’s packing everything back into the medical kit, and asks “why would you help me?” 

His tone is genuine, laced with actual confusion. Sure, he would expect this sort of thing from Patton, perhaps even Logan who’d be smart enough to understand medical supplies and would no doubt want to observe the effects of the salve… but Virgil?

Virgil’s answer is immediate though, as he shuts the lid of the box rather loud. “Because I want you to take me to Patton.” 

Janus narrows his eyes. “So? You think that just because you bandage me up I’ll be inclined to let you see your lover? I’m afraid you mistake me for someone far kinder than I actually am.” 

Virgil growls, and grabs the medical kit, whipping it impulsively towards Janus’s head. Janus raises his fine hand to stop it midair, where it hovers idly for a few moments before dropping gently into Janus’s lap. He goes to scold Virgil, but Virgil is frustratingly stomping around the large bathroom, pacing angrily back and forth over the cream-coloured tiles. 

“What would it take for you to let me see he’s okay?!” he shouts, looking a mixture of upset and desperate as he throws his hands in the air. “You take him in the middle of the night, you come back injured, and you won’t even tell me where he is or if he’s alive! He is… he is alive, right? You drank from him, but you…” Virgil slows to a stop, before he raises one of his hands to his mouth. His teeth click against his blunt nails. “You didn’t kill him… right?” 

Staying silent, Janus watches with raised brows as Virgil slowly shuffles closer, and quietly repeats “right?” His voice trembles in a way Janus thinks is odd coming from his mouth. There’s no facade of bravery, no anger… just pure fear. 

Janus doesn’t answer at first, before sighing after a moment and shaking his head. “No, no. He’s unfortunately still alive. Perhaps still a bit drained,” Janus winks - though he doesn’t smile - as he adds “no pun intended, but he’s fine.” 

“I want to see him… I want-” Virgil rips part of his nail off, and shakes his head, “I need to see he’s okay. What will it take?” 

Both a mixture of amused and surprised at Virgil’s earnest pleas, Janus thinks for a moment. What could he have Virgil do for him? It’s apparent he means anything, and Janus can imagine Virgil slaving away completing any humiliating ordeal Janus orders him to do… but what was there for him to do? Logan gathered food from his garden, Roman had cleaned his kitchen…

Oh! His kitchen!

“What? What is it?” Virgil asks. 

Janus gives him a weird look. “What do you mean?”

Narrowing his eyes, Virgil explains “your eyes lit up. You have something in mind. What is it? What are you going to make me do?” 

“You’re a perceptive little thing, aren’t you?” Janus teases, before standing. He puts away the medical kit before taking Virgil’s hand in his and leading him out of the bathroom. He feels Virgil’s fingers stiffen and refuse to close around Janus’s rather light hold, but he makes no attempt to fight Janus’s guidance, resolved to doing whatever it takes to see Patton, the same way he’d fought to see Logan and Patton back when they were first sequestered. 

Once they reach the kitchen, Janus sneaks a glance at Virgil, who is clearly staring surprised at all the bags on the floor, most filled with groceries. 

“What the…?” he starts, which has Janus pushing Virgil further into the room while he sits back on a chair and watches. 

“It’s food,” Janus declares, though he says it in a way that implies he thinks Virgil’s words were quite dumb. “You see… I figured you humans needed a little… variety in your diets, so Patton and I went shopping together. He picked everything out, so if there’s anything you dislike, don’t blame me.” 

“You and Patton-”

Janus cuts him off. “I already put away the frozen things; I know easily your food begins to spoil. Unfortunately my hand started hurting before I could finish up, leaving a mess on my kitchen floor!” 

Shifting from side to side, Virgil looks indescribably inconvenienced. “How did you hurt your hand anyway?” 

“It got burnt,” Janus vaguely replies. He scratches at his calves, which feel properly sunburnt, as opposed to completely melted. “It’ll heal up in no time flat.” 

Virgil lifts a bag, and a small smile creeps onto his lips when he sees three distinct boxes of cereal, knowing exactly who gets what. However, as he trudges over to Janus’s cabinets, he hesitates, and turns around to ask “are there specific spots for things? Or am I just supposed to shove stuff wherever?” 

“Wherever,” Janus answers. “Food hasn’t been kept in those cabinets for years. The only people who will be using this kitchen will be the four of you. Perhaps you should organize it like you did at your previous home… It might make your acclimation more pleasant.” 

Rolling his eyes, Virgil doesn’t bother trying to mask his scoff, though he does repeat “we’re going to be allowed to cook?” 

“Why, of course! I’m not a monster.” 

Virgil drags a chair across the floor and settles it against the counters in order to reach the upper cabinets as he mutters “sure could’ve fooled me,” which has Janus chuckling in sheer amusement as Virgil rather neatly lines up the cereal in the leftmost side. 

“This would be easier if you owned a pantry,” Virgil complains, as he steps down from the chair and moves to grab another bag. He has to slide his chair slightly to the side before getting back on it in order to access more of the cupboard. 

“All this kitchen space, and you think I should have a pantry?” 

Glaring at Janus over his shoulder, Virgil grumbles “it’d be easier than climbing up and down all the time. This is so tedious; you can’t even put your own groceries away?” 

“And here I thought you wanted to see Patton…” 

Growling, Virgil curtly states “that’s not what I meant. Besides, I expected you to choose something more… horrific.” 

“You truly think so little of me.”

“You consistently tell me to.” Virgil packs some more non-perishables into the cabinets, and then once again has to step down from his chair in order to slide it over. Janus, meanwhile, enjoys watching him work. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love being told what to do,” Janus then comments, as he watches Virgil stand on his tiptoes in order to push a box into the back of the cupboard. Shamelessly, his eyes stare directly at Virgil’s ass as he stretches, rather enjoying the sight. “After all, you look like the type to get off on being controlled. I bet if Logan was telling you what to do right now, you’d be tripping over your feet to please him.” 

Scoffing, Virgil turns to argue, only for Janus to look like Logan. 

It’s so startling that Virgil nearly falls off his chair, and has to turn away and lean against the cupboard to recuperate. Virgil then slowly turns back around, mouth dry as Janus - who still looks like Logan - crosses his legs, grins, and waves his fingers in Virgil’s direction. In fact, the only difference in their appearances is the bandage packaged tightly around Janus’s palm. 

“How are you…” Virgil starts, but Janus answers before he can even get the question out. 

“I got the opportunity to get a good look at Logan’s body recently… committed it to memory. It’s not that hard of a body to replicate, in all honesty.” Virgil blinks, and suddenly Janus is back to normal, inspecting his nails despite Virgil’s gaping mouth. “I could probably do the same with Patton’s body. Maybe even Roman’s body. Perhaps even yours.” 

“What the hell are you?” Virgil asks, in a hushed tone. 

Janus chuckles. “My dear, that’s an excellent question.” Then, he motions towards the groceries on the ground. “You aren’t finished putting away the food, are you? There’s still so much left! And I’m sure Patton is so scared right now… completely alone… completely vulnerable…” 

“I hate you,” Virgil spits. 

Setting his hand on his heart, Janus lets out an obviously fake groan of pain, before quipping “you know, you’re awfully grumpy. Words can hurt, Virgil.” He unfolds his legs, and then refolds them, settling his elbow on his thigh. He rests his head in the palm of his hand as Virgil works. 

That comment has Virgil letting out an icy, sarcastic laugh. “Me? Grumpy? Maybe you should try being kidnapped. See how giddy you are then.” 

“Unlike you and your idiotic lovers, I’d never break into someone’s home. I only invade once I’ve been invited.” 

“Vampiric freak,” Virgil mutters, as he balls up some of the grocery bags and tosses them. Janus snickers at the comment. 

“Besides, you’re the only one who seems to be taking this hard. Patton’s been cheery, Logan’s been neutral, Roman’s been… Well, I haven’t actually seen much of Roman’s behavior outside of my influence, but I’m sure he’s still not as snarky as you are. Perhaps you should learn to accept this consequence, and understand that you wouldn’t be here if not for a decision the four of you made.” 

A box is being thrown at Janus’s head shortly after. With a sigh, Janus catches it with ease, and drops it onto the ground. 

“You’ve got quite the arm on you, you know,” he says, which has Virgil loudly groaning “piss off!” in response. 

Though, his scowling face has Janus tapping his chin, watching Virgil with a mixture of sheer curiosity and pure amusement. He behaves like a brat - he has his entire time here - and Janus can’t help but find it rather entertaining. It was fun to smother that fighting spirit the first time, but now he wonders what Virgil would look like with a different attitude. 

Silently, Janus pushes himself to his feet once Virgil’s occupied with organizing the filled cabinets. Most of the treats have been picked off the ground and put away, and whatever’s left can easily and neatly settle into a spot on the counter. So, he moves until he’s behind Virgil, and then rather carelessly kicks the chair out from under Virgil’s feet, causing Virgil to shout as he falls backwards and directly into Janus’s open, awaiting arms. 

Virgil’s hands instinctively cling to Janus’s shoulders as he reels from the feeling of falling, before he’s attempting to squirm out of Janus’s arms. 

“Asshole!” he declares, though Janus just holds him tighter, cradling him firmly. 

Without a word, Janus is blinking, and his eyes are changing into colourful, swirling spirals. Virgil doesn’t notice at first as he focuses on attempting to escape Janus’s hold, but as soon as he catches Janus’s eye in his peripheral, he’s involuntarily relaxing, and he’s giving Janus’s eyes his full attention. 

“What…” Virgil starts, though his voice trails off quickly. His body melts and softens until he feels like dead weight in Janus’s grip, with his eyes never even glancing away from Janus’s own. 

“There we go,” Janus softly praises him, voice hushed and amused. “Now you’re all nice and docile. But I want you more than docile. I’m sure you let your lovers see a happier, more giddy side of you, hm? Do you joke around them? Laugh around them? I’m sure you’re still a brat, but you’re likely a much more playful one with them.” 

Virgil lets out a soft, affirmative noise. 

Chucking in response, Janus murmurs “I thought so. You know… I’d like to see that silly, happy side of you. Not because I truly care about your happiness - you must remember that you’re about as precious to me as a medium rare steak would be to any hungry human -  but because I think it’d be quite entertaining. I can only imagine how amusing your stupid, mindless giggles will sound once your brain has melted right out of your skull…” Janus tilts his head to the side, and watches as Virgil mimics the action, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth. “Can you picture that? Being completely happy?” 

“Mmm.” 

“ Picture it. Imagine yourself incapable of feeling sadness, or stress, or bitterness… Think of yourself as being solely happy, and giggly, and affectionate.” 

Virgil’s countenance displays hesitation at first, and although the crease in his eyebrows is slight, it’s enough to impress Janus. Any sort of resistance this deep in a trance would be admirable if Janus didn’t desire complete and utter submission. 

So, Janus repeats “you’ll be happy, and giggly, and affectionate.” 

He watches as Virgil is still unresponsive for a moment, before his lips turn upwards, and he’s smiling hazily at Janus with cloudy eyes. 

“Does that sound good? Being a giddy little bundle of laughter?” 

“Mhm…” 

“Yeah? Do you want to be happy and giggly and affectionate?” 

“Yeah… yeah…” 

Grinning, Janus squeezes Virgil’s body, feeling rather gleeful himself. “Say it then. Say you want to be happy .” 

Virgil lets out a soft breath. “I want… to be happy.” 

“And you want to be giggly.” 

“And I want… to be giggly.” 

“And you want to be affectionate.” 

Virgil’s eyelids droop with complete relaxation, his body limp with submission. “I want to be affectionate,” he mumbles, and Janus guides him through that mantra over and over until Virgil’s words are whispered and slurred together in a mess of cheery obedience. 

Then, Janus is very carefully tilting Virgil and setting him back on his feet, though he keeps his hands on Virgil’s waist for good measure. When he squeezes Virgil’s hips, pain pulses in his bandaged palm, but it hurts less with the salve, and that makes Janus squeeze Virgil tighter for just a few moments. 

Virgil wobbles back and forth on his feet, completely unsteady. He still stares into Janus’s face, hardly blinking, completely entranced, until Janus is slowly counting back from three. 

“Three… two… one,” and then he blinks, causing Virgil to blink too. And as the spirals disappear from Janus’s eyes, as does Virgil’s anger disappear right from his body, leaving him wide-eyed at first, and then glancing over to the chair he just fell from. He stares at it for a minute, and then looks back towards Janus, cheeks pink. 

“Did I… did I fall?” he asks, as he remembers the rush that came with plummeting backwards, but seemingly not recalling the fact that balance was intentionally ripped from him. 

Janus nods in response. “You did. Quite the clumsy little thing, aren’t you?”

Virgil stares for a minute, before he’s bringing one of his hands to his face and giggling, his eyes briefly fluttering shut as he laughs softly, before nodding. “Yeah,” he answers, in such a way Janus would think it was genuine if he hadn’t given Virgil’s attitude a temporary overhaul, “I guess I am.” 

 Immediately, Janus finds himself interested. With his hands clasped behind his back, he circles Virgil with sheer intrigue. 

“I luckily managed to catch you before you could hit the ground,” Janus further explains, watching as Virgil twists to watch him move, though Virgil doesn’t take a singular step away from the spot he was set in. “If you’d fallen fully, your head could have been bashed in on the tile!” 

Virgil snickers, and rather shyly tucks his face into his shoulder. It seems like second nature to him - an embarrassed quirk, perhaps?

“You’re silly,” he mumbles, still noticeably grinning. His arms wrap loosely around his body in a relaxed, comfortable manner, as he spins on his heels, following Janus with his gaze. “Why’d you catch me, anyhow? Frankly, you don’t seem like the type!” 

Janus hums at the question. It definitely sounds like one Virgil would ask, though noticeably a lot nicer than he’d ask it. Even though it wasn’t his intention, it seems that Janus had kept a bit of his snark, though just caused it to bubble out of him in a much sweeter way. A more playful manner, instead of a hateful one. “Well, I didn’t want to clean up a mess. And I’m sure Roman would have been unhappy having to lick more bodily fluids off the floor.” 

Though he pauses for a moment, tensing up briefly at Janus’s words, Virgil quickly relaxes again, his mouth moving in a silent pattern that Janus easily recognizes as ‘I’m happy, and giggly, and affectionate.’ 

And, well, Janus can’t help but grin! His influence is already deep rooted in Virgil’s stubborn mind, which was an impressive feat as is, but Virgil seems willing to cement it further and further! 

“Especially since you just spent all that time putting away groceries,” Janus continues, as he stalks closer to Virgil, and slips his arms around Virgil’s waist from behind. He settles his chin on Virgil’s shoulder, and shamelessly lets his hands wander across Virgil’s front - from his borrowed shirt to his waistband. 

“Speaking of groceries,” Janus then murmurs, lips brushing against Virgil’s earlobe, “you’re almost done putting them away! There’s just a few bags left! You’re so helpful… and so obedient. Do you like being helpful and obedient?” 

Virgil snickers, and playfully responds “not for you.” 

That makes Janus laugh, shaking his head slightly as he wiggles Virgil back and forth. “Still a little spitfire, I see? I quite like that. Even when making you happier, you still like to be a little tease.” 

Chuckling, Virgil turns in Janus’s arms, guiding his own hands over Janus’s shoulders to squeeze them and keep them closer, as he repeats “tease?” clearly amused by the descriptor. His affection is clearly induced by Janus’s words, but it has Janus grinning nonetheless. The way Virgil leans against him is almost ditzy in nature, and has Janus shaking his head. 

“I don’t think I should have you put away the rest of the groceries,” he comments, which has Virgil giggling as he’s kept in a firm embrace. 

“Why? Am I not doing good enough?” Virgil responds, and though his words are playful, that too surprises Janus. Was that… insecurity? Creeping in through Virgil’s more lax demeanor? The playfulness can be easily attributed to how Virgil is when he’s more relaxed - Janus can easily picture his snarky banter given a lighter tone when messing with one of the others - but those words felt… different. 

Janus raises an eyebrow. “I think you were doing lovely, my dear, it’s just that I’ve been itching to give you a reward since you started, and I simply can’t wait for you to finish.” 

Though Virgil smiles and blushes, Janus doesn’t miss the uncertainty that flickers briefly in his dark brown eyes. 

So, Janus asks in a sing-song voice, “do you know who else couldn’t possibly wait for you to slave away putting away groceries? Do you? Go on and guess, sweetheart.” 

Virgil smiles happily. “Patton?” 

“That’s right. Patton. And if I had you finish up in here, it’d be even longer before you saw him! Do you really want to wait that long?” 

Virgil snorts, and shakes his head, still smiling wide. “Hell no!” 

Janus smiles in response, and has to turn away to chuckle, before guiding Virgil a few steps until he’s pinned back against the fridge. “Let me give you a nice treat,” he says, as he slides his hands over Virgil’s waistband, undoing his pants and pulling them down. Virgil goes dark red at the action - a lot more vulnerability and embarrassment than he displayed the first time around. “A sweet reward for being so happy, and giggly, and obedient. You are happy, and giggly, and obedient, aren’t you?” 

“Mhmm,” Virgil nods, as Janus pulls his cock out. “I’m happy and giggly and affectionate.” 

“And obedient,” Janus adds. 

“And obedient,” Virgil affirms. 

Smiling, Janus responds “yes you are. Still a bit of a hellion though, but I suppose nobody’s perfect.” He wraps his fine hand around Virgil’s shaft - around the mid point - while resting his bandaged hand on Virgil’s hip. “I could just walk you through another thick and deep induction and completely scrub away a bit of that brattiness, but I honestly find it rather endearing. You’d be no fun if you weren’t… well… you.” 

Virgil laughs as he shifts his hips, and then a soft moan escapes him. “Are you incapable of giving me a compliment unless it’s backhanded?” he asks, licking his smiling lips. 

“Do you think you deserve compliments any other way?” 

Giggling, Virgil’s hand rests on the back of Janus’s neck, unintentionally pulling him closer. “Doesn’t matter if I do. I wouldn’t want ‘em from someone like you anyway.” Virgil lowers his chin, but keeps his eyes positioned upward, in a sly, teasing manner. He’s testing the waters, and doing it in such a way that Janus wants to bite his lips and tear away the smug upturn of his mouth. 

“You’ve got a lot of spunk,” Janus murmurs. “It’s cute. When you’re not throwing things, at least.” 

Virgil laughs again, but Janus quickly interrupts his happiness with a firm squeeze around Virgil’s cock, making Virgil arch his back off the fridge and moan loudly. His fingers dig into Janus’s shoulders, and Janus holds his waist tighter in response. 

“This is your treat,” he explains, as he presses his lips to Virgil’s hairline. “But you have to work for it. I’m not going to do everything, after all. I have to conserve my energy, unless you want me to feed again so soon.” 

Virgil looks down at Janus’s hand. “What am I supposed to do?” 

“It’s a fist, isn’t it? Just tight enough to feel good around you, but loose enough that you’re not restrained. You’re supposed to hump, of course. Treat my fist like it’s a toy. I’m sure you’re familiar with those.” 

Chuckling, Virgil responds “you have no idea,” but his body obediently begins moving anyway. With a soft groan, Virgil bucks his hips against Janus’s hand, sliding his cock between Janus’s wrapped fingers. It’s similar to fucking a dryer cocksleeve, but Virgil doesn’t have the mind to complain. Instead, he lets out a shameless moan, and leans against Janus as he moves, relying on him completely to keep him upright and balanced. 

It’s a foreign feeling on Janus’s end - being solely responsible for someone else in such an intimate situation. He could step back and Virgil could crumble. He could have watched Patton crumble when he sucked the blood from him, too, but that situation was different. He was woozy from the bloodloss; he was impaired the way a drunk would be. But Virgil was entranced. His balance was offset because Janus wanted it so. His reliance is a byproduct of the mantra he mumbles softly into Janus’s ear. It’s completely fabricated. It’s completely fake. Virgil still hates him, and Janus would expect nothing less from him, it’s just that in this state of mind he craves happiness and pleasure and touch. 

“You’re about to fall over,” Janus whispers, and Virgil laughs. Virgil would laugh at anything like this. Janus isn’t so amused anymore. Instead… his chest tightens in an awfully human manner. 

“Good thing you’re here to keep me straight,” Virgil gasps, as his hips thrust forward, grinding against the ridges and bumps of Janus’s hands, smearing pre in the crevices of his folded digits. “Or, well, as straight as I could be.” 

“Funny little thing, you are.” 

Giggling, drool begins to seep out of Virgil’s grinning mouth and against Janus’s front, which Virgil’s clinging to. “I’m funny?” he snorts, a mixture of laughter and noises of pleasure fighting to escape his mouth. His hips move quicker as he fucks Janus’s hand with little restraint, not having the mindfulness to even try and hold himself back. “You should look in the mirror.” 

Janus’s hand pulses with pain. “Hah. Was that a joke?” 

“You’re a joke!” 

With no restraint whatsoever, Janus’s hands are both finding Virgil’s hips and roughly slamming them back against the fridge. Virgil makes a little noise of pain, and then looks dazed, as he begins mindlessly echoing “I’m happy, and giggly, and affectionate, and obedient. I’m happy, and giggly, and affectionate, and obedient.” 

“You also find some way to annoy me, even with half your mind turned to mush,” Janus says, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground as he searches Virgil’s eyes for… something. He doesn’t mean his words in the slightest, however. Virgil was entertaining him, there was just… something… eating at him. 

“I’m happy, and giggly, and affectionate, and obedient.” 

“Yes, yes, you are. And you’re a perfect happy, giggly, affectionate, and obedient doll. How are you feeling?” 

Though Virgil’s smiling, he still immediately responds with an honest “scared.” 

Janus rolls his eyes, though his injured hand clenches, making him hiss slightly in momentary discomfort. “Not subconsciously,” he clarifies. “How are you feeling physically?” 

“Good.” 

Reaching out, Janus gently thumbs away the hair obscuring Virgil’s eyes. His knuckles softly graze Virgil’s pale cheeks, coloured only by his dark flush and specks from the eyeshadow he was wearing when he first arrived. His skin is oily, and Janus traces his face down to his jaw, which he grabs and tilts upwards. He steps even closer, keeping their bodies close, while keeping Virgil trapped against the fridge. 

Slowly, his hand once again wraps around Virgil’s cock. “Keep going, my dear. I didn’t mean to startle you. You’re doing so good! If you feel good, you’re doing good. Can you repeat that for me?” 

“If I feel good, I’m doing good.” 

Janus smiles. It’s smaller, and softer, and it makes Virgil smile in turn, as his hands return to Janus’s body, desperate for them to be intimate in some shape or form. 

“And you’re happy?” 

“I’m happy.” 

“And giggly?” 

Virgil giggles. “I’m giggly.” 

“And affectionate?”

“I’m affectionate.”

“And obedient?” 

Virgil laughs, and teeters on his feet. “I’m obedient.” 

“Good job, my spitfire. Hump. Go on. Your reward’s right there for the taking.” Janus leans their faces close, and feels Virgil’s breath hitch. He then feels Virgil’s hips start to move again, dragging his cock against Janus’s slick fingers, and moaning at the feeling. Occasionally, Janus even squeezes his shaft to give him a bit of motivation. 

Then, he’s very gently slotting their lips together. Virgil doesn’t react with much more than a moan, letting Janus do as he pleases in his obedient state, but Janus doesn’t care. He kisses Virgil until Virgil breaks away to catch his breath, and then catches his lips as soon as he has air, which he gently bites down and tugs on, playing with Virgil’s mouth as if he’s obsessed with it, the remarks it makes, and the expressions it displays. Virgil’s noises are possessively swallowed down by Janus, who chases Virgil’s lips whenever he pulls away to gasp or breathe. 

“My name is Janus,” Janus says, in a hushed voice. “Say it. Say my name.” 

“Janus,” Virgil moans, before giggling softly, though his laughter comes between pants of pleasure. “You definitely have an old sounding name.” 

Janus chuckles, and mumbles against Virgil’s lips “watch yourself,” before he’s kissing Virgil again, as if he can’t keep himself away. After all, tasting Virgil’s blood on his lips from where they’ve been cut by his fangs was a great distraction from the pit in his stomach. 

Virgil’s hips stutter against Janus’s hand, and he’s letting out a higher pitched moan from the rest. 

“Janus,” he gasps, and Janus’s hand squeezes around Virgil’s cock in response, though he doesn’t move to help him get off. Instead, he watches sweat bead up on Virgil’s forehead and roll down the length of his flushed face as he’s forced to work for his pleasure. Perhaps if he was less of a brat, Janus would consider making this easy, but in Virgil’s ditzy state of mind, he doesn’t really care what he’s given, as long as it feels good. 

“Does it feel good?” Janus asks. 

“It does,” Virgil groans, before echoing “if I feel good, then I’m doing good.” 

“Good spitfire. Your voice sounds beautiful when it’s saying sweet things, such as your mantras, and my name.” 

“Janus,” Virgil whimpers, as his head suddenly falls forward. He’s trembling as he moves his hips, fucking Janus’s fist on shaky legs. His face falls against Janus’s shoulder, and Janus can hear Virgil let out a soft laugh as he gives short, needy thrusts into Janus’s fingers. 

His movements are sloppy and needy, and Janus can practically smell his desperation. 

Virgil pants against Janus’s neck as he moves, and Janus can tell his orgasm is rapidly approaching. But as Virgil reaches his peak, he whines, and suddenly looks towards Janus with wide, surprised eyes. 

“I can’t… I can’t-” 

Janus chuckles at his naivety. “You can’t come? Of course you can’t, pet. You’re obedient, remember?” 

“I’m happy, and giggly, and affectionate, and obedient.” 

“And that obedience means you will do as I say. If I tell you to deny yourself pleasure, you shall. If I tell you to cry for me, you shall. And if I tell you to beg for my generosity, then you will.” 

“Janus,” Virgil starts, sharply taking in air when Janus squeezes his shaft. 

“Beg, my spitfire. Convince me as to why I should give you the privilege of relief when you’ve been nothing but an argumentative, snarky, misbehaved brat.” 

“I- I-” Virgil interrupts himself with laughter. “I don’t know!” 

“Hmph. No excuses.” 

Virgil chews on his bottom lip, moaning drearily when he tastes his own blood from where Janus had been biting. “I’m… I’m happy…” 

“You are now. What else?” 

“I’m…” Virgil giggles, and then pushes himself against Janus, moaning against Janus’s neck. “I’m giggly and affectionate.” His hands push against Janus, grabbing him and keeping him close as his hips jerk messily over Janus’s fingers. 

Janus puts on an unconvinced look. “Is that all?” 

Virgil’s blunt nails dig into the black fabric of Janus’s clothes. He lets out a rather needy cry, before whining “please, Janus? Please, please? I’m… I’m obedient. I’m obedient. I’m obedient.” 

He says it over and over and over, his body unable to bend to his desires, and his mind willingly complying with Janus’s influence, leaving him needy and straining. “Please!” he begs, before his mantra continues, causing a smile to grace Janus’s lips as Virgil’s words ring like music in his ears. A much nicer sound than his earlier shrieking. 

Janus lets him say it for a minute or so, drinking in his desperation like fresh blood, before his lips connect with Virgil’s glistening brow. “Come for me, my spitfire,” he says, and Virgil does immediately, as if he truly had no control in the matter. 

His cries of pleasure are muffled as he pushes his face into Janus’s shoulder, holding to him with such reliance that Janus nearly stumbles and falls as Virgil’s load spills across his fingers and pants. And though Janus grimaces, he supposes this is partially a mess of his own making, and so represses his sigh as Virgil rides out an orgasm that’s pulled from him wave by wave. 

When he’s fully finished, Janus guides his dazed figure to be resting back against the fridge, before holding his hand up. 

“Clean up your mess, my dear,” he instructs, and Virgil lets out a soft snicker before leaning forward to obediently do so. 

His tongue drags between each of Janus’s fingers, scooping up his own salty mess with his wet tongue, and sucking Janus’s fingers clean when they’re pushed into his mouth. Just for fun, Janus jabs his fingers back in Virgil’s mouth, and grins at the harsh gag and teary eyes he gets in response, though Virgil moans as well. Cute. 

Once he pulls his fingers out, and throws a rag to the floor with disinterest to lazily wipe up the few drops that landed on the tile with his foot, Janus raises his hand to Virgil’s face. 

“Now, I’m going to count back from five,” he says, and muses at the fact Virgil gives him his complete attention. “With each descending number, you’re going to feel more and more tired, as you creep closer to a nice and deep tranced state. You’ll feel relaxed, and calm, and good. And when I snap my fingers, you will be released from my influence, with your mind fully intact and your memory unaltered. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Virgil breathes. “Yes, Janus.” 

Janus feels a shiver run down his spine at the soft way Virgil breathes his name. He shakes away the distraction, and wiggles his fingers. 

“Five,” he starts, and Virgil stares at his hand. Though he’s leaning back against the fridge, he’s not fully slumped against it. It’s just there for him to use if need be. 

“Four.” Virgil blinks. He feels a wave of heaviness begin to press on his body. He blinks again, and his eyes stay shut for longer this time. He laughs softly, and he rocks softly on his feet. 

“Three.” Licking his dry lips, Virgil finds it hard to focus on Janus’s fingers. Though he can’t pull his eyes away, he feels his eyelids getting heavier and harder to keep peeled open. He lets out a soft noise that has Janus smiling at him, and he’s smiling right back, even if his mind is too cloudy to truly understand what’s going on. 

“Two.” Virgil leans fully against the fridge now, as his legs threaten to give out. 

“One.” Virgil’s eyes are barely open, drool spills down his chin, and he’s dizzy and hazy. He can’t speak, can’t think, and feels completely lax and lazy in the most blissful way possible. 

Janus’s hand curls into a fist, and then he’s snapping, causing Virgil’s knees to rather harshly hit the ground. He lets out a grunt of pain as his head falls, hanging down between his knuckles which are braced against the floor, before he’s shouting and quickly scrambling to put his cock away and zip his jeans back up. Janus laughs at his priorities. 

“You-” Virgil starts, turning to Janus with an embarrassed face and a seething expression, but Janus promptly cuts him off. 

“Oh, come on,” Janus responds, dismissively waving his hand. “It got you out of putting away groceries.”

“I’ll kill you!” 

Rolling his eyes, Janus mutters “so you’ve said.” He offers his hand for Virgil to take but Virgil slaps it away and stands on his own. He looks about ready to brawl, but Janus knows he wouldn’t dare. 

“You know, I think I liked you better when you were a happy little doll,” he lies, and Virgil bristles at his quip. 

“Die,” Virgil hisses, and goes to stomp off while wiping his mouth feverishly with his hands, though Janus catches him by the wrist before he can even get a few steps away. 

He moves quickly to Virgil’s side, and though Virgil immediately goes to thrash again, Janus quickly quells him with “you wanted to see Patton, remember?” His words have Virgil’s eyes going wide, and him looking guilty immediately, realizing that his quick-tempered reaction of stomping off angrily wasn’t going to lead him to his lover. “I don’t think you’d manage to find him while sulking around my corridors.” 

“Whatever.” Virgil still pulls his hand away from Janus’s hold, and crosses his arms over his chest, though he looks towards Janus expectantly. 

Janus begins leading him away. “You did say you’d do anything,” he says, which has Virgil scoffing. 

“You technically had me do two things. And I didn’t even get to finish the first one, thanks to you.” 

Shooting him a toothy grin, Janus asks “well, would you like to go back and put away the rest of the groceries?” which has Virgil shutting his mouth and quickly shaking his head no. “That’s what I thought. You were done much faster this way, and whether you want to admit it or not, you feel more relaxed after my help.” 

“‘Help?’” Virgil repeats, though nothing more is said on the subject. 

Janus moves slowly through the halls as they near Patton’s temporary room, though Janus lingers outside of it. He stares at the door, and Virgil stares at him. 

“Well?” Virgil huffs, impatient. “Open it.” 

“Don’t be demanding,” Janus scolds him, as his injured hand subtly curls into a fist at his side, “it’s rather rude.” 

Virgil glares at him, but seems to soften when Janus turns the doorknob. He stands closer to Janus than he ever has willingly in order to peer over his shoulder. He lets out a shaky, concerned breath when he’s met with only darkness, barely allowing him to see past the glowing rectangle of light that beams in through the hallway. 

“I thought…” Virgil starts, but Janus interrupts him. 

“He’s in here,” he mumbles, and steps inside. He blinks a few times, but he’s sure his vision is much worse than Virgil’s is. So, he clicks his tongue, and feels the noise bounce around the room. Then, he grabs Virgil’s hand and skillfully guides him through the pitch black space, until he’s pushing Virgil down. Virgil almost goes to shout at him, before he lands quickly on a bed. 

His landing causes a gasp to ring out into the darkness, and the noise of movement followed by a sudden “who’s there?! Janus…?” 

“Patton!” Virgil exclaims immediately, as he reaches beside him, towards where the noise is the loudest. 

Janus, meanwhile, clicks his tongue again, and then heads towards the back wall. He slowly turns a dial, and the wall-mounted gas lamp he was messing with begins to brighten, gifting them all with the ability to see. 

“There we go,” Janus proudly says, before giving both Patton and Virgil a closed mouth smile. One of his feet lifts to scratch his calf. “Not all of my rooms are lucky enough to be up-to-date. This is unfortunately a rather old-fashioned one.” 

Virgil and Patton are cuddled close to each other, having found each other regardless and held on tight. Though, while Virgil keeps his face tucked into Patton’s neck, Patton looks towards Janus with wide eyes that carry noticeable guilt and sadness. His cheeks are red, and his eyes are puffy.

“Janus…” Patton starts, his voice rather rasp, but Janus’s eyes narrow, and Patton is quickly pressing his lips together instead. 

Slowly, Patton’s arms wrap tighter around Virgil, and he tears his eyes away from Janus so he can give his lover all of his attention. “What’s that thing on your nose? Are you okay?” is the first thing he whispers to Virgil, which has Virgil shakily whispering back “I should be asking you that.” And Janus feels that face guttural discomfort. So, he leaves. 

He’s sure they hear him do so, but he doesn’t spare them another glance as he shuts the door behind them, and instead just stands in the hallway outside. His bandaged hand tingles, burning with pain, but it’s not as bad as it was yesterday. He wiggles the fingers on that side, and has to admit not feeling his skin pull and shift with each movement is nice. What Virgil did was… nice. 

Unsure of how to feel, Janus chooses not to feel anything, and pushes the interaction to the pack of his mind as he strolls down the hall. However, Janus quickly finds that his calf hurts more than his hand at this point - supposedly thanks to the salve rubbed into his hand, and simultaneously thanks to how often he’d been on his feet - and so he decides to retreat to his bedroom, which he’d rarely been in since the arrival of his intruders.

As soon as he’s in the privacy of his chamber, he’s sitting on the edge of his bed and pulling his pant leg up, hissing when small fibers from his clothing get stuck in his red skin. 

“Fuck,” he curses, seemingly having mistaken the severity of his leg injury. Though nowhere near as broiled as his fingers, it’s still noticeably burnt. And though it peels like a meager sunburnt, it feels much worse. 

Janus stretches his leg out on his bed, and runs his fine hand over it, hissing softly at the feeling, but at least relieved that his skin isn’t malleable to the touch. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so preservative with the salve… it helped his hand, after all, and that was much, much worse. Though, as Janus rubs his leg, he can already feel certain spots beginning to solidify. And he shakily exhales as he knows that it’s only a matter of time before those spots begin hardening even more, and turning a glittering shade of yellow-green.

Chapter Text

Janus may be mostly unfamiliar with most modern foods - he really has no need to observe or sample them, considering the only food industries he visits are to pick up the drunkards being forcibly kicked out and away from the sit-in bar - but he’s not entirely ignorant. After all, cereal had always been simple, and always been paired with milk, though it’d obviously evolved since its simple start as “granula.”

Now though, instead of hard, dried dough that needed to be soaked overnight in milk, Janus found that most humans actually detested letting their cereal idle in liquid, as it became soggy and unpleasant. So when he fills the bowls with cereal, he doesn’t add the milk right away, and instead pours it into four individual cups for his captives to use as they please. 

Janus knows that Patton got three boxes of cereal, and so filled three of the bowls with each separate kind. However, there were four of them, and Patton hadn’t exactly told him if he’d gotten the cereal specifically for one of his lovers, or if all three boxes were to be shared amongst all of them. 

So now Janus was faced with the decision of what cereal to decide on for the final bowl. 

Knowing all of them for a bit has led to him assume Logan would probably want the plain cereal, and perhaps Patton the chocolaty kind… but Virgil wasn’t really open about his “likes,” and, well, Janus didn’t know much about Roman outside of him being in a dizzy, tranced state!

Momentarily, Janus thinks about just not feeding them anything. If it was going to be this difficult to gauge their interests, then clearly it wasn’t worth trying to give them what they liked. 

But… Patton picked three boxes out specifically. Janus watched him look over them intently… he knows there is a reason behind each of his choices. 

And so, with a sigh, he fills the last bowl with the chocolate puffs. Everyone loves chocolate, don’t they? This was the safest option. 

He packs up all the boxes and shoves them back into his cabinets, before groaning as he stretches his body. His arms are lifted all the way above his head, pulling at his muscles as he sighs, before three more sets of arms begin to protrude from his body, along his sides and above his waist. Hands push at the fabric of the thick turtleneck he was wearing, and the cloth seems to warp and stretch around the limbs, making way for them, before eventually opening up near the wrist to allow his fingers to pop out. 

With these extra arms, Janus can now carry all four bowls, and all four cups, without risking dropping any of them. Eight hands for eight items. These humans better be grateful. 

He drops spoons into each bowl, before scooping them up and walking with practiced poise whilst he balances the various food and drinks skillfully in his palms. His first stop is at the room Virgil and Patton were currently sequestered in, as it’s a lot closer to the kitchen than Roman and Logan’s room. He arrives quickly, and uses the bottom of his foot to easily push the door open. With another flick of his foot, the light snaps on, startling Patton and Virgil who are very much awake. 

“Jesus!” Virgil huffs, shoulders raised with a mixture of fear and surprise. “Do you always have to make such a sudden entrance?” Though, any other complaints he has die quickly on his tongue when he sees Janus’s many additional limbs. He’s hit with a wave of embarrassment as he sees them, and forces himself to look away. 

Sympathetically, Patton pats Virgil’s back, assuming his reaction is based solely on Janus’s sudden appearance, but he doesn’t say anything, even though Janus can tell he’s a bit stunned as well. 

“I brought food,” Janus says, as he hands both Virgil and Patton milk, before offering the two of them all four bowls. “Patton picked the cereal out,” he explains to Virgil, watching them pick their breakfast closely. “I don’t know what kind of junk the four of you specifically like, so I made sure to keep the options diverse.” Rolling his eyes, Janus adds “Patton grabbed three boxes anyway, so it’d be quite a waste to only empty one from the get-go.”

Both Virgil and Patton immediately grab the chocolate cereal from his hands, and Janus is internally thankful he decided to make two bowls of it. 

“Thank you,” Patton says, as he’s quick to dump his glass of milk into the bowl. He doesn’t even bother stirring the cereal, and instead gobbles up a hearty mouthful. This time, Virgil says nothing, and merely grimaces as four of Janus’s now-empty hands recede back into his body. 

“Are the other two bowls for Logan and Roman?” Patton then softly asks, after he’s scarfed down half his food. 

“No,” Janus replies sarcastically. “They’re for me.” 

Patton looks a little downcast at the answer, and so lowers his head to stare at his bowl, which he scoops up slowly. Virgil meanwhile sets his bowl on the bed, and his milk to the side. 

“How are Logan and Roman?” he asks, which has Janus looking vaguely annoyed. 

“They’re starving,” he curtly answers, “and if I don’t rush to their rooms, then their stomachs will consume them from the inside out!” He’s already backing up to leave as Virgil scowls at him, and before he can be bitched at, he’s kicking the door shut and settling back into the hallway. 

He then crosses his rather large manor towards Logan and Roman’s room, which he admittedly hadn’t visited in quite some time. Perhaps it was less of a lie that they were starving, as he could assume the basket of food they were granted surely couldn’t have lasted this long. At least for the past few days, they likely had nothing…

In a similar fashion, Janus uses his foot to edge this door open as well, though this time he’s not met with any sort of gasp or shock. Instead, he sees Roman, shirtless, laying across the comforter and watching Logan pace and ramble. Though Logan’s voice stops when Janus walks in, Janus can tell he’s been ranting for a while. 

Roman lets out an embarrassed “eep!” when he sees Janus, and rather clumsily lunges for the covers, which he pulls over his body. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Janus asks, smirking slightly, as he stands smugly in the doorway. 

Logan peers curiously towards what he’s holding. “Not particularly,” he answers, as he steps towards Janus with little caution. “What’d you bring?” 

“Logan,” Roman weakly warns, as his eyes dart between each of Janus’s hands. 

“It’s just food.” Janus shows Roman the bowl, before offering them to Logan. Logan takes one - the plain wheat kind - and a cup, and sets it to the side. He then grabs the other set, and sits next to Roman, handing him the bowl of fruity cereal and glass of milk. When Roman leans up to take it, his blanket falls away, and his face goes red as his body is on display once more. 

Janus sits on the edge of the bed as Roman and Logan begin to eat, observing them as they do so. “Were your clothes dirty, Roman? Is that why you’ve decided to strip yourself of them? Or were you just showing off for your lover.” 

Roman grumbles in response. “It’s not all my clothes… just my shirt. And it’s hot in here!” 

Janus presses his lips together. That is true; he doesn’t necessarily produce his own body heat, and so tends to keep his house fairly warm to compensate. “You could have always asked for a lighter shirt or two,” Janus responds, playfully. “You will be staying for a while, after all, and your current wardrobe has frankly started to smell.” 

“Well it’s not like we’ve been directed towards any sort of shower,” Logan interjects, brows furrowed. “Nor have we been given any alternate clothing. And judging by your body type, I doubt you have anything that’d fit anyone but Virgil. What extra shirts could you give Roman that he wouldn’t stretch out and rip anyway?” 

Janus grins. “Maybe that’s the point, Logan. You can’t honestly tell me that watching Roman rip through cotton fiber wouldn’t be attractive, can you?” 

Roman’s eyes go wide, and he looks towards Logan with pink cheeks. But Logan just mutters “it’d be a waste of a shirt,” before dumping his milk into his bowl, and beginning to chow down on his cereal. Roman’s head tilts down towards his food in response, and Janus watches him torpidly drag his spoon through his cereal, looking suddenly uninterested in the idea of eating despite the empty produce basket Janus can see out of the corner of his eye. 

With a soft hum, Janus reaches forward and raises Roman’s bowl by pressing his fingers beneath it. 

“You need to eat, my dear,” Janus says, eyes searching Roman’s countenance for any insight into his thoughts. “You won’t look very pretty if you’re thin and starving.” 

“What’s it matter to you anyway?” 

Janus stares at him, and then looks towards Logan. He expects Logan to say something - perhaps agree with Janus that if Roman were to starve, it’d be quite bad - but Logan stays silent. In fact, he almost looks like he’s zoning out, mind elsewhere while he eats. So, with a sigh, Janus pushes himself up and off the bed, and leaves the room. Neither of the duo seem upset with that decision. 

Janus spends the rest of his day idling around his manor like he did when he was alone. Though now as he walks through his halls doing quite a lot of nothing, he feels strangely… unchaperoned, in an ironic way. It’s not like he always has a human at his side, but he does more often than not. 

He tries to busy himself with chores, but there’s not much that needs tidying. He could go grab their breakfast bowls, but who knows if they’re all done. So, as he itches at the bandages compressing his palm, he heads back to his room. 

His fingers drift over a variety of old, worn novels, stacked neatly in a wooden bookshelf, but he moves past all of those as he comes to rest on one particular book not aligned with the rest. It’s laying horizontally, and rather clean compared to the others, which have accumulated their own dainty layers of dust. He plucks that specific one up, and tosses it onto his bed, which he sits on the edge of shortly after.

With the book rested on his thighs, he stares momentarily down at his legs, and thinks back to his captives. 

Then, his nose scrunches up in disgust. 

They really were starting to smell, but Logan and Roman did have a few valid points as to why, those of which being no shower, and no clothes. 

While Virgil could fit into Janus’s clothes (not perfectly, of course, as Janus was aware Virgil was a touch smaller than him, but an inch doesn’t really make much of a difference), the others could not. Patton and Roman were both too tall and too wide, and while Logan was his height, his healthy, pudgy stomach would no doubt stretch and strain against Janus’s wardrobe. 

He’d have to go to the market to get them some clothes… probably not many outfits - he doesn’t know how long he plans to keep them, after all, and he doesn’t know their exact measurements - but a few changes couldn’t hurt. Though, more clothing means Janus will have to visit that wretched laundromat… He stretches himself out, and lays back on his bed, at least glad he doesn’t sweat anymore. He never liked feeling smelly. 

Well… there’s nowhere he could look for clothes right now - it’s evening, after all, a bit after sunset - so this would have to be a daytime chore, while his humans were resting. Guess he’d have to deal with their pungent odors for at least another day. But for now, he had time to rest, assured that the group won’t be starving at least. 

He settles his head back on his pillows and thumbs open his book, rubbing his fingers on the familiar pages. He lets out a deep breath as he plans to relax for the next few hours.

***

Pages turn and flip until Janus has made his way through the novel, and then he simply stretches out and relaxes for a bit after. Though, he can only lay lax for so long before his mind starts to wander. 

He thinks about food, and about how he’s still decently full. Luckily, Patton had provided him with a hearty amount of blood, enough to last him days more if he wanted. But humans need to eat a lot more often than he does, and Patton did buy a lot of different items and ingredients for the four of them. So it’d probably be best to use them before they expired. 

Though, as Janus pushes himself out of bed, he finds himself lingering in his doorway. 

He had planned on grabbing Patton to cook, but he doesn’t really want to be around Patton right now. Virgil would just bitch and moan the whole time… Roman and Logan, perhaps?

But Roman is who stays at the forefront of his mind. 

He was picking at his breakfast despite being undoubtedly hungry, so Janus can only imagine what stirring on an empty stomach all day feels like. Maybe… maybe if he brings Roman out to cook dinner, he’ll be more inclined to make something he’ll eat, and thusly won’t die atop Janus’s sheets (if Roman passes in his house, not only will he have to clean it up, but he’ll absolutely have to deal with hell from the other three).

With that idea in mind, he heads straight to Roman and Logan’s chambers, knocking on the door this time before opening it. 

Inside, he sees that Roman’s put his shirt back on, and that he’s still curled up on the bed. He’s laying atop the covers, and Logan lays next to him. Logan’s resting on his back, arms resting on his chest as his breath steadily rises and falls. His glasses are folded up and set to the side on the nightstand. Janus can guess he’s asleep already. Roman, however, is wide awake, just staring at the wall in front of him, back turned to his lover. It’s weird not to see them snuggling, considering how affectionate he’s seen them all be with each other thus far.

Janus quietly approaches the bed, and circles around to Roman’s side. Nervously, Roman’s head shoots up the moment he catches Janus moving, but he quickly sighs and falls back against the sheets once more. 

Janus very lightly glides his hand across Roman’s side, up and down the thick curves of his body. “My dear, your eyes seem heavy… You look awfully tired,” he comments, keeping his voice low so as to not wake Logan. 

Roman blinks slowly.  “Is that an insult?” 

A bit surprised at the question, Janus rapidly shakes his head. “No, my love, it’s not. Just an… assessment.” He sits on the edge of the bed, back pressed against Roman’s stomach. His fingers gently stroke the side of Roman’s face. “Admittedly, I came to fetch you. I figured you’d perhaps want to go for a walk and stretch your legs a bit…” He looks over, and sees Roman’s full bowl of cereal set to the side. “And, I was hoping you’d help make dinner for your partners. I haven’t cooked in decades, after all.” 

Making a face, Roman skeptically asks “this isn’t just some ploy to get me to clean your kitchen again, right?” 

Huffing out a soft bout of laughter, Janus soothes him with “no, of course not! I genuinely just want you to come cook. Patton picked out a hefty amount of produce and meats that I frankly have no idea how to utilize.” Roman looks a bit more convinced, and so Janus sweetly butters him up with an added “I figured since you’re clearly very caring, helpful, and no doubt considerate, you’d jump at the opportunity to create a delicious meal for your lovers. I’m sure they’d adore you for making them a proper dinner… I can only begin to imagine all the compliments they’d throw your way.” 

Roman chews his inner cheek, before he pushes himself up. He glances Logan’s way, and then bends down to gently kiss Logan’s cheek, before he slides out of bed. He barely spares Janus a glance, but nods as he says “okay. I’ll make dinner.” 

Janus is quick to link their arms together and guide Roman out of the room, and as they head down the corridor Janus is very firmly reminded that Roman is a lot bigger than he is. 

He’s taller, and stronger… at least physically. Most of the others are around Janus’s height (or one or two inches derivative), but Roman requires him tilting his head back to even gaze at his jaw, which is screwed tightly shut as unspoken thoughts swarm Roman’s mind. Whatever’s afflicting him, he keeps it well buried, but Janus wants nothing more than to watch it spill over and have his own curiosity be selfishly satiated. Though, Roman doesn’t seem too in the mood for any of Janus’s games, and Janus decides he’s spent far too minimal time with Roman in his right-mind. It’d be nice to know a bit about each of his captives! 

He leads Roman to the kitchen, and then pulls away and motions to the fridge. “Any food in there is yours,” he says, casually settling himself atop the counter. He pats his stove lovingly with his hand. “And I semi-recently fashioned my kitchen with a modern oven, so both the stove and oven portions should be familiar to you.” 

“Pots and pans?” 

With his heel, Janus kicks a cabinet beneath his feet. “Stored in here.” 

Roman looks hesitant, but then nods. “Okay.” He pulls open Janus’s fridge, sorting through the many food items Patton purchased. When he checks the freezer, he sees a similar assortment. Meats, fruits, eggs…

“What about seasoning?” Roman then inquires, closing the fridge doors partially as he looks over Janus’s cupboards. “Nothing’s going to taste good without a bit of salt and pepper.” 

“I have seasoning,” Janus insists. “Perfectly ground, thank you. No bottled garlic; I have freshly minced.” 

“Logan did tell me all about your garden,” Roman mumbles in reply, as he pulls out raw chicken breasts from the fridge. He sets it on the counter, and then digs around the rest of Janus’s kitchen for more food and seasonings. Next to the chicken, he sets down olive oil, salt and pepper, honey, soy sauce, minced garlic, and red pepper flakes. He also finds a box of rice, though he turns to Janus as he shakes the box back and forth in his hands. “You don’t happen to have cilantro and limes in your garden, do you?” 

Janus chuckles. “Dear, any fruit or veggie you can think of is cultivated in my garden. Why? Do you need me to go gather some?” 

Roman chews his inner cheek. “Mhm. For the rice.” 

Eyes sparkling, Janus regards Roman sweetly. “Alright. I’ll go get that for you. Surely I can trust you to stay put in the kitchen, can’t I? After all, you’ve clearly got a recipe in mind, and if I’m excited to see what you make, then your lovers would surely be salivating.” 

Roman shifts his weight back and forth on his feet, and his cheeks go pink. “I’ll stay put,” he mumbles, still fidgeting with the rice box. He’s clearly weighing the potential punishment Janus would have in store for him if he tried to leave and wasn’t able to make it out in time. “I’d rather not let everyone go hungry.” 

“Good boy!” Janus pats the side of Roman’s face softly, and then slips out of the kitchen. He’d know if Roman attempts to escape (though Janus was sure Roman wouldn’t be able to find his way out of Janus’s manor, even if he tried) , but has a bit of faith in his obedience. He was given a task, and one that both benefited him and his partners. If Roman leaves and doesn’t make it out, then he can assume Janus will promptly remove him from the kitchen, and then no one will get dinner! Simple cause and effect! 

Janus grabs an umbrella before stepping out into his garden. The sun hadn’t completely risen yet, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared for an early dawn. 

He strolls over to his cilantro plants and plucks a few stems worth, intending to bring the whole plants inside and let Roman pluck and chop the cilantro to his liking. Then he moves over to his fruit trees, which essentially shade the backyard in its entirety, with different fruits mystically growing plump and ripe, even if they wouldn’t normally be able to persist in such conditions. He circles his lime tree slowly, observing the swollen, green fruits bending the thin branches they decorate, and plucks the juiciest few he can find. Then, he heads back inside. 

As he nears the kitchen, he can hear Roman clanking his pots and pans around, and when he peeks around the corner he sees both a large pan and a medium sized pot settled on his stove. He’s pouring olive oil into the pan - the heat not turned on yet - but the pot that’s further back seems to have already been filled and left to boil. Janus sneaks up behind Roman, and wraps his arms around Roman’s waist. Roman jumps at his sudden presence, but seems pleased at the cilantro and limes that Janus then sets on the counter. 

“What are you making?” Janus then asks, as he slides himself up against Roman’s side. Roman looks briefly uncomfortable with their proximity, but quickly tilts the pan to show Janus the oil. Then, he flicks the stove on, and sets the pan down to simmer. 

“Honey garlic chicken,” Roman explains, in the most basic of ways. “And rice. The chicken will be served over the rice.” 

“Sounds… delicious.” 

Roman gives Janus a look. One that reeks of insecurity. “You say that like you think it sounds disgusting.” 

Janus laughs. “No, no, it’s not that at all! In fact, if I remembered what chicken tasted like, I’m sure my mouth would be watering at the thought of eating your cooking!” Janus rubs one of his hands up Roman’s chest, assuring him softly. “You have to keep in mind that all food tastes incredibly bland to me. I get no nutrients from it. Blood, however, I can taste every little flavorful nuance. Not just from blood type to blood type…” Though Roman looks queasy at the mention of blood, Janus continues, explaining “people like me have the unique ability to detect rather delectable flavors within human bloodstreams. To me, your blood might taste like sugar cookies and cake!” 

That last part is a bit of a stretch, as it probably wouldn’t taste one-to-one with normal food, but Janus has had blood sweet enough to basically be considered a dessert, as well as blood so sour it’s like fresh citrus was gracing his tongue once more. 

“I don’t want you to drink my blood,” Roman murmurs, brows furrowed together as he pulls the chicken from its plastic prison. He lays the breasts on a cutting board, and skillfully chops the meat up into cubed pieces, which he then slides off the board and into a large bowl. 

Janus watches as Roman salts and peppers the chicken, before lathering it in a few splashes of soy sauce. With his hand, he kneads the chicken around the seasoning and sauce, making sure it’s all coated. 

“You tease me,” Janus replies, playfully, as Roman then dumps the chicken into his oiled skillet. “I’ve tried everyone else’s blood. Are you really going to leave me curious?” 

“For as long as I can,” Roman answers, voice weak. He keeps his eyes away from Janus, and trained on the food. While the chicken browns, he rinses out the bowl previously used to season the chicken, and then begins making the glaze. 

He adds honey and soy sauce to the bowl first, whisking it around until it’s all properly mixed together, making a rather beautiful, thick, golden sauce. Then, he adds some minced garlic, and a few shakes of red pepper flakes. He mixes all of that together until it’s all been blended into an aromatic glaze befitting of a fancy chicken dish. 

Roman checks the chicken in the pan with a spatula, and hums when he sees it. Then, he opens the box of rice, and pours it into the boiling pot in the back, which Janus can see is filled with steaming water. 

Sniffing deep, Janus is rather swayed by the way the food smells. His tongue flicks out of his mouth to fully appreciate the wafts of savory, sweet, home-cooked food. It’s almost deceitful just how amazing the chicken smells, especially considering Janus knows the taste would disappoint him. 

“Roman, honestly, that food smells tantalizing,” Janus admits, staring at the bubbling pan. He watches the chicken begin to brown, and Roman flips it around with his spatula to let all sides cook, before flinging some butter into the rice pot. He then sets a lid atop it. “You’re making me wish I could eat normally again, at least for one night. What I wouldn’t give to enjoy a meal made by your hands… your lovers must be insanely lucky. Do you cook for them every night?” 

Red in the face, Roman glances at Janus. He bites his tongue, wanting to say something, but nothing comes out. 

“Surely you must…” Janus leans over the pot, breathing in deeply. “With food like this, I’m surprised Patton didn’t encourage me to have you cook the oats! I’m sure you would have found a way to make them taste ten times more magical.” 

Roman brushes his hair off his forehead, which Janus then sees is glistening with sweat. Leaning closer to Roman, Janus can tell he’s perspirating intensely beneath his clothes. He had said he was hot earlier, and hovering over a stove for a while probably wasn’t cooling him down much. 

“I try to cook when I can,” Roman eventually stammers out. “But we end up ordering takeout more than anything.” 

“Really?!” Janus expresses genuine surprise for a moment. “Your partners prefer that… processed junk to your home-cooked meals?” 

Roman’s shoulders sag. “I… I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think… I think maybe we just get busy sometimes, and we don’t have time for dinner. Sometimes I’ll offer, but then Virgil will interject he’s craving McDonald’s fries, and now Patton’s in the mood for a McFlurry, and I don’t know how to make a McFlurry! So now I’m stuck watching the ribeye in the freezer slowly waste away while eating a greasy burger. If I wanted a greasy burger I could just make my own…” Roman bites his bottom lip, and then sighs. “But I’d be the only one that’d eat it.” 

“I’m… a bit stunned. Even Logan? I feel like he’d appreciate home-cooked food.”  

“He’s definitely the one that asks me to cook the most, but if we eat at home, he tends to make things. And they’re good! I like the food he cooks! But I’m relegated to baking when I was in the mood to spoil them a little…” 

Roman’s eyes fill with sudden tears, of which he rapidly blinks away. 

“Sorry. That’s stupid. I sound so selfish.” He laughs at himself. It’s a bitter, deprecating laugh that leaves Janus a bit speechless. “What kind of guy complains about his boyfriends making dinner, or ordering out instead? Anyone else would be grateful to be relieved of such a chore.” Roman’s spatula pushes at the chicken with much less enthusiasm now, as though instead of the plastic utensil swiping through oil, it’s sliding through tar. “I’ve only asked to cook once or twice… sometimes when I’d do it out of the blue, everyone would insist they weren’t hungry or they’d already gotten dinner because they assumed it wasn’t going to be made at all. But when I ask, I’m often told they’ve already ordered from somewhere, or that Logan already had meals prepped for the week, so my cooking wasn’t… needed.” 

“Or wanted?” 

Roman’s head snaps over, rubbing his palms quickly over his glistening eyes. 

“Cooking is more Logan’s thing anyway,” Roman meekly objects. “Logan cooks, Patton cleans, Virgil plans, and I… pay.” 

Lifting the bowl of sauce, Roman pours it into the sizzling chicken pan, and gives all the chicken a good stir, coating it all. He then moves to the other side of the stove to stir the rice. 

Steam bellows up once the lid is lifted, and Roman seems deflated as the wooden spoon he’s using flips over spoonfuls. 

“Do you have a lot of money?” Janus asks. 

Roman sighs. “Yeah. I was born into it. And while I love buying things for my boyfriends, I just… I feel like it’s not enough. But whatever I make isn’t good enough either.” 

“What do you make?” 

Sauce pops in the pan, and Roman shifts his attention back to the chicken. “A lot of things. Food, art, poetry, songs… but it’s not really appreciated or… or even acknowledged unless I bring it up over and over. And it’s stupid to give gifts just so you can be told you’re thoughtful, or helpful, or a good partner every now and then. It’s selfish.” 

“Well… I’m sure it doesn’t mean much coming from someone as evil and heartless as me, but I think you’re incredibly helpful.” Janus reaches up to cup Roman’s face, and pulls his eyes away from his food, and towards Janus instead. “You cleaned my kitchen for me, didn’t you? Only someone helpful would do that.” 

Roman’s nose scrunches up. “You made me do that.” 

“But it still got done, didn’t it? And right now, you’re making dinner! It’s incredibly generous of you to be doing this!” Janus flicks his wrist and pulls a chair over, of which he dramatically falls into, stretching out with a tired groan. “Because if you refused to make supper, then I would have to do it! And not only am I not a skilled chef like you are, but I’m also not creative in the slightest! You and your boyfriends would be getting cereal again!” 

“I’m not a skilled chef,” Roman mumbles. 

“You truthfully could have fooled me.” Janus pulls his legs up into his chair, sitting criss-cross near Roman’s side. “You’re making my kitchen smell so good… and you look beautiful while doing so. I’m almost bitter that you decided to put your shirt back on!” 

Roman’s forearm slides over his forehead at the reminder. He is burning up beneath his clothes. 

“You can always take it back off,” Janus then encourages. “At least while you cook. If you pass out from heat exhaustion, then your food’s just going to burn… and I don’t think anyone wants that.” 

Roman’s free hand grasps the lower part of his shirt. 

“And I’d love to see you. A gorgeous piece of eye candy, you are. You’d make a lovely decoration amongst my other expensive, prepossessing, and priceless trinkets.” 

“I’m not an object,” Roman mutters, though he’s already shuffling out of his shirt, panting as he does so as though he might actually collapse due to overheating. In the blink of an eye, his torso is bare.

“Of course not, sweet thing. But you deserve to be appreciated like one.” 

Balling his shirt up in his hands, Roman holds the damp fabric awkwardly, glancing towards Janus with a nervous expression. The majority of his chest is angled away, but with a quick wag of Janus’s finger encouraging him to come closer, Roman turns fully to face him. 

Janus smiles, and his head leans comfortably back in his chair. “There we go,” he praises, voice sickeningly sweet. “Beautiful. You’re so strong… but you don’t need me to tell you that.” 

Roman squeezes his shirt between his palms. 

Testing the water, Janus lets his feet stretch, and then he crosses his legs, one over the other. He leans forward, specifically signaling interest. “Would you mind flexing for me, my dear?” he asks, and is overly amused at the way Roman’s eyes seem to shine with the reminder of their last kitchen endeavor. But Janus isn’t controlling his body this time. He’s just asking. 

“Why?” Roman asks, voice soft. It has Janus raising an eyebrow, though he remains smiling. 

There’s something interesting about the way Roman’s questioning him. It’s not curiosity or inquisitiveness… it’s instead more like Roman’s searching for a justification. An excuse. Janus’s smile stretches wider as he’s hit with the sudden realization that Roman wants to show off for him, even if Roman doesn’t want to admit it to himself. 

So, Janus gives him an answer. “Because I want to admire you. As you finish your cooking, I want to watch your hips sway and your back ripple with each movement. You leave me completely enraptured whenever you’re around.” Leaning forward, Janus clasps his hands together, looking almost like he’s begging. “Please flex for me, darling? You don’t know how torturous it’d be to deprive me of such a pretty sight…” 

Face red, Roman briefly hesitates, before nodding wordlessly. Visibly embarrassed, Roman drops his shirt carelessly to the ground, and then raises his arms up and flexes, his muscles solidifying and glistening with sweat. His abs are pronounced, as are his biceps, and of course - Janus’s favourite - his pecs. All inviting Janus to squeeze and stroke. 

Cautious, Janus quietly asks “may I touch?” 

Roman sucks in a deep breath, but shyly nods with little thought. Though he insists “quickly. I need to check the food.” 

Leaping out of his chair, Janus is quick to set his hands on Roman’s body, petting over his skin as though Roman’s a fragile display. Fingers sliding along the curves of Roman’s body and gathering up the beautiful beading perspiration which decorates his body like glittering jewels. His bandaged palm runs over Roman’s nipple as he squeezes at Roman’s chest, which finally has Roman stifling a moan and pushing Janus’s hands away. Respectfully, Janus steps away. 

Though he breathes heavily for a few moments, as though he’s struggling to compose himself, Roman finally relaxes his body and turns back to the food. 

He stirs the rice a bit more, before pulling it forward and turning the stove off. He cuts up the pieces of cilantro Janus got for him and drops it in the pot, following it up with cutting the lime in half and squeezing plenty of juice over the rice, mixing the food up as he does so. He then scoops a bit up with his spoon, and tastes it, giving Janus the pretty sight of Roman’s eyes fluttering shut and him exhaling in pure delight. It’s so subtle, and the moment is brief, but Janus finds his own cheeks going pink as he watches. 

“Is it good?” Janus quietly asks, and watches Roman set the spoon back into the pot of rice. Roman nods. 

“It’s good.” 

“Wonderful. Is it done?” 

Stirring the bubbling chicken a bit, Roman nods, and turns that stove off as well. 

Janus grabs four plates for him, gathering forks as well, and watches as Roman spoons a mound of rice onto each, and then tilts the pan of chicken over top one by one. Each plate gets a decent amount of chicken resting atop the rice, with the honey-garlic sauce drizzling down the pile. He then goes back over each plate and uses the remaining sauce in the pan to fully drench the chicken and rice. When he’s done, he sets the dirty dishes in the sink, and steps away from the counter, letting Janus see the beautifully plated supper. 

“That looks amazing, Roman,” Janus earnestly compliments. “Are you excited to serve up the fruits of your labor to your lovers? I’m sure they’re going to be incredibly grateful when you bring them such a delicious dinner.” 

The faintest of smiles graces Roman’s face. “Yeah. I hope they like it.” 

“I’m sure they will.” Janus assures him. “Now grab those plates! The longer we dawdle, the less time everyone will have to eat before bed.” 

Roman nods, and begins balancing all four plates within his hands, only for Janus to quickly grab his forearm. 

“Only bring three plates,” Janus instructs him. “Yours can wait here until we decide where you’re going to eat.” 

“I’m not eating with Logan?” Roman asks, though he’s already moving to do what Janus told him, letting one plate slide away from him and back onto the counter, and reorganizing the remaining three. “I figured you’d just lock me back in my room with him after dinner.” 

“I thought I’d give you the option of deciding who to dine with.” Janus grabs his chair as he turns and walks, and scoots it back up to his table, before leaving the kitchen altogether, expecting Roman to follow. He lingers in the doorframe for a few seconds, and is more than pleased when Roman comes out shortly after, skillfully holding onto all three plates.

Janus leads Roman back to his own room first, which he opens for Roman, watching as Roman sets all three plates down on the bed, before lovingly picking one up and settling himself at Logan’s side. 

“Logan,” Roman softly greets, setting a hand gently on Logan’s stomach and shaking him awake. “Wake up, baby. I made dinner.” 

Logan stirs quickly, and immediately moves to push Roman’s hand away. “I’m tired, Roman.” 

Looking immediately discouraged, Roman’s shoulders slump, and he looks towards Janus almost as though he’s asking for help. Janus just motions back in Logan’s direction. 

So, Roman just dejectedly insists “I made food for us. And Virgil and Patton. We need dinner. Cereal isn’t very filling, Lo.” 

Letting out a groan of disdain, Logan finally pushes himself upwards. His eyes blink open, and he grabs his glasses, before looking rather judgmentally over the plate of food. 

“Are there any vegetables?” he asks. 

Roman swallows the spit in his mouth. “There’s cilantro.” 

“Cilantro’s an herb.” He takes the plate from Roman’s hands, and immediately stabs his fork into the chicken. He twirls it curiously on the tip of his utensil, with glaze dripping off it and onto the rice with each rotation. “It smells good though.” 

He brings a piece to his mouth, and chews it slowly, leaving Roman rather literally on the edge of his seat. Once he’s swallowed it, Logan sighs. “It’s really good, too. And while I don’t appreciate being woken up, I am glad to have a bit more food inside of me.” Shooting Janus a dirty look, Logan curtly states “after all, my stomach’s been empty for a while.” 

“Oh, hush,” Janus huffs, waving his hand dismissively. “I brought you breakfast, didn’t I?” 

Logan frowns deep, and takes another bite of  his food, refusing to entertain Janus’s logic. 

Though, just because Logan wants to act bothered doesn’t mean Janus is going to be deterred from asking what he’s really interested in hearing. 

“Logan, my sweet, do you want Roman to eat dinner with you tonight?” 

Logan looks Roman up and down - with Roman looking wide-eyed back at him - before he turns back towards Janus. “Roman doesn’t even have a plate with him” 

“He has a plate waiting for him in the kitchen. Assume he’ll have it with him. Would you want Roman to eat dinner with you?” 

“I mean… yeah, of course I would.”

“Why?” 

A bit surprised at the question, Logan goes quiet for a moment, his fork limp in his hands. He clearly has to think for a few minutes, before he brings another forkful of food to his lips. Before he draws it in, he states “because I don’t like the implied alternative that he’d be eating with you instead.” 

Janus hums in response, before saying “alright, Roman, let’s leave Logan to eat in peace. You still have to bring Virgil and Patton their dinners, after all.” 

Roman nods. “Okay.” 

He lifts the other two plates from the bed, and follows Janus back out the door. 

Extending the courtesy of privacy to Virgil and Patton, Janus knocks upon reaching their door, though he does open it up immediately after. Both Virgil and Patton are still stretched across their bed, with Patton brushing his fingers through Virgil’s hair as Virgil sleepily cuddles up to his side. He’s clearly awake, signified by his open eyes, but he doesn’t look like he wants to be. 

“I brought dinner,” Roman meekly presents, as he holds the plates down at his waist, letting Patton and Virgil observe the meal. 

“He made dinner,” Janus corrects, as he sets his hand on Roman’s lower back and guides him closer to the bed. “And it looks delicious, doesn’t it?” 

“Hell yeah it does,” Virgil grunts, as he pushes himself up from Patton’s lap and reaches over to greedily snatch a plate. 

Patton’s handed one, but he seems less focused on the food and more interested in Roman. “You’re shirtless,” he comments, his brows furrowed together in concern. 

Roman blushes. “Yeah. It got hot right next to the stove.” 

Weakly, Patton offers him a thin-lipped smile, and outstretched arms, of which Roman happily leans into, though he’s careful not to accidentally overturn Patton’s chicken and rice. “You poor thing,” Patton soothes, hands combing through Roman’s sweaty hair. “Have you already eaten? I don’t see a plate for you.” 

“About that,” Janus interjects, worming directly into their conversation. “Do you want Roman to eat dinner with you tonight?” 

“Obviously,” Virgil bitterly hisses, through a mouthful of food (he’d already been shoveling the rice into his mouth). 

Patton gives Janus a softer look as he replies “yes, we’d love it if he stayed.” 

Smirking, Janus asks “why?” 

Virgil looks irritated at the question, chewing with a scowl, so Patton answers first, saying “because we’ve missed him. And we love him. We’re a family; we’re all supposed to eat together.” 

Rushing to swallow his mouthful, Virgil’s answer is blunt and jagged. “Because fuck you, that’s why,” he spits, and then flips Janus off after to fully punctuate his words. Janus just gives him a toothy smile in response. 

As Roman pulls away from Patton’s affection, Janus is there to set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it firm. “Come on, Roman,” Janus directs him, “let’s go get your plate.” 

As he’s led away from Patton and Virgil, Patton blows him a sweet kiss, before he digs into his food. Beside him, Virgil’s body is bent over his meal as he quickly tears through his plate. And then the door is shut once again. 

As they arrive back in the kitchen, Janus hands Roman his plate, and then urges him to set it at the table.

Roman does so, but says “I thought you said I’d get to pick where I ate.” He’s standing beside his plate, hands nervously fidgeting with each other. Janus’s back is turned to him, as he instead climbs onto his counter and reaches up into a specific pair of cabinets, separated from everything else in his kitchen. 

“I did say that,” Janus responds, as Roman hears the clinking of glasses. “Do you drink?” 

“What?” 

Janus turns his head slightly to smile at Roman’s immediate fluster at the question, as he’s clearly caught off guard by it. “Like alcohol, silly. Do you indulge every now and then?” 

“Sometimes. I don’t understand what that has to do with what I just said though.” 

Pulling a large, unopened bottle of wine from his cupboard, Janus smiles as he shows it off. In his other hand are two wine glasses. 

He’s careful when coming down from the counter, and then has to rummage around for a corkscrew, but once he finds one the wine is opened with a rather satisfying pop. 

He pours the red liquid equally into both glasses, filling them halfway, and then sets the bottle on the countertop. He holds one glass outstretched, offering it to Roman, and sips the other happily. There’s a gleam in his eyes, and quite a bit of excitement in his smile. 

“I only drink on special occasions,” Janus explains, as Roman cautiously takes the cup from his hand, “and I figure there’s no occasion more special than dining with you.” 

“What?” 

“What?” Janus echoes, playful as ever. “Don’t I get to plead my case?” 

Roman’s cheeks go pink, as he holds the glass of wine close to his chest. “You… you want to eat with me? But… but you don’t even have a plate of food… and… you…” 

“Shh,” Janus soothes him. “I’m not intending to eat anything necessarily, but I would enjoy basking in your company. Call it weird if you must, but I’d even find enjoyment watching you eat, so long as it meant I got to be near you.” 

Drinking a bit of wine, Janus grabs the bottle and moves closer to Roman, setting the drink down next to Roman’s food. He then snaps his fingers, and the kitchen lights dim. It’s not completely dark, but it’s drastically moody. 

“I’m also addicted to hearing you speak,” Janus continues, as he pulls out a chair for Roman, and then one for himself. “I wish you’d conversate more; every word that comes spilling past your lips leaves me on the edge of my seat, waiting to hear what brilliance will be said next. And your voice is so tantalizing, I feel teased and flustered even when listening idly!” Janus leans forward as Roman sits down, listening intently to Janus’s words. “Has anyone ever told you that your voice is incredibly smooth and soothing?” 

Roman, face red, shrugs, though it’s clear he cares less about the question, and more about the compliment. 

Janus smiles. “Hm. Do you sing?” 

Roman sits up a bit. “I do. Sometimes. I try not to unless I’m home alone, because I don’t want to disturb anybody. Virgil gets frequent headaches, and Logan works from home.” 

“Pity. I’m almost saddened that they’re missing out on all the dulcet melodies you could bless them with. You should sing for me sometime… if you’d be willing, of course.” Janus watches as Roman brings his glass of wine to his lips, and takes a small drink. “Though, being graced with your talent might have to wait until after dinner, considering your food’s getting cold.” 

Pushing Roman’s plate a bit closer to him, Janus motions towards it. 

“After all the work you put into making such a delicious meal, it’d be a bit unfair if you weren’t able to eat it, huh?” Janus’s foot stretches forward, and he caresses Roman’s ankle with his boot. “Though, Roman, if I may… conclude my persuasion, I would like to ask if you’ll stay and dine with me.” Janus smiles, and downs the rest of his wine. It’s flavorless, but that doesn’t negate the pleasurable sting buzzing throughout Janus’s throat and the warmth that floods his veins once it’s swallowed down. 

Staring at Janus, Roman’s eyes flicker with consideration, and then guilt, and then a bit of embarrassment. His face is red, and his leg is bouncing, as he sips slowly on his own liquor, stalling quietly. 

Janus can tell he’s considering his boyfriend’s reasonings, and even though Roman may be trying not to, it’s impossible trying to resist comparing their words to Janus’s own. 

Until eventually, Roman quietly croaks out “okay.” 

Utterly thrilled, Janus’s delight is shown clearly on his countenance. “Wonderful!” he exclaims, clasping his hands together. “Now, hurry and eat. The faster you fill up, the quicker I’ll be able to hear you talk... provided you’ll join me for a bit of relaxing in the den after dinner? I’ll even start up the fireplace while we drink.” 

Roman nods immediately, working quickly to begin shoveling food into his mouth, and washing it down with wine. 

“Is it good?” Janus asks, as Roman swallows mouthful after mouthful. “I know I’ve seen and heard already that your lovers think it is, but I want to hear it from you. I trust your judgement above all else.” 

Sheepishly, Roman chokes down what’s currently filling his cheeks, and nods. “Yeah it’s… it’s great.”  

Janus audibly sighs, loud, and purposefully. “I wish I could taste it.”

Roman doesn’t say anything at first, but then watches Janus pour himself a second glass of wine. When Janus brings the cup to his lips, Roman finally - curiously - asks “can you taste the alcohol?” 

Raising an eyebrow, Janus pauses mid-drink. 

Rushing to clarify, Roman begins to ramble, explaining “I just thought you couldn’t eat actual food, and I thought that extended to drinks as well. I thought you only ate… blood.” 

Laughing outright, Janus brings his palm to his mouth, attempting to subdue his entertainment. When he can tell Roman feels immediately dejected at Janus’s amusement, he forces himself to calm down. And after clearing his throat, he answers “well… you’re not wrong. In fact, you’re completely right. I get no nutrients from any standard human food, and it all takes incredibly bland.” Janus swishes his wine around in his glass, creating a red whirlpool in his hand. “And, to be fair, alcohol doesn’t taste like anything to me, either. I can still feel the burn of it going down my throat, and the warmth as it lowers my inhibitions, but admittedly even the effects of alcohol are limited when I’m just consuming it from the bottle.” 

Around the food he’s chewing, Roman says “that implies that there’s another way to feel the full force of it.” 

Janus smiles, wide and earnest. “Very good,” he praises, which visibly excites Roman. “You’re incredibly smart, you know that? And you’re completely right. Drinking wine straight from the glass will get me tipsy if I drink enough of it… but if a human were to drink alcohol, it’d mix right into their bloodstream. And drinking that would get me nice and buzzed.”

Gasping, Roman protectively holds his glass to his chest. “You… you’re not trying to trick me just to drink my blood, are you?” 

Laughing again, Janus is quick to quell his fear. “No, my dear, that’s not my goal here. I offered you a drink to help loosen you up, and to share one of my favourite activities with a very special person.” Janus brings the bottle of wine closer to Roman’s glass, and slowly fills it up again. “I won’t drink your blood unless you let me, my songbird. Though… I’m sure you taste delicious.” 

Roman shifts in his seat at the comment, and finishes up his food. When he’s done, he tilts his plate towards Janus, as though showing off how much he’s eaten. 

Seizing the opportunity to further butter Roman up, Janus immediately coos “good boy! Have you filled up nicely?” 

“Yeah.”

Janus chuckles softly, taking Roman’s plate from him. As he drops it in the sink, he comments “I know what that’s like,” and pats his stomach to signify he’s full himself (and after the blood he’s gotten recently, he probably should be). He then comes back over, and fills Roman’s glass once again, making sure to keep it constantly full and flooding. He tops his own glass off as well, though mentally decides right there it’ll be his last cup.

Then, holding tight to his glass and the bottle of wine, he encourages Roman up, and they leave the kitchen together.

Janus’s den had been quite unused since the arrival of his new guests, so Janus feels rather nice getting to step into it once again. It looks like any other stereotypical living room, filled with books, paintings, a couch, and Janus’s beloved fireplace. As he sets down his wine on the coffee table, he moves towards the brick pit, already giddy.

There’s a thin grate in front of the dry wood to keep the ashes and flickering flames away from anything that can burn. 

Immediately, Janus is pulling it away, checking the wood, and then using a match to light the wood ablaze. 

The sudden and intense fire casts warm lighting over the room, and Janus can’t help but sit and bask in the warmth as it beats against his scales. He sighs as the scent of burning wood hits his nose, and only backs away once he starts to feel pleasantly hot. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Janus hums, as he turns to Roman. “I’ve always loved fire. A dangerous thing, it is, and not so easily tamed.” 

“Poetic,” Roman murmurs, as he downs his glass of wine. 

“The glow somehow makes you even prettier,” Janus then compliments, admiring the way the warm lighting from the fire makes Roman’s hair shine and sparkle, and his skin glitter brightly. “Please, don’t let me keep you standing. You deserve a break after working so hard in the kitchen.” 

As Roman sits back on the settee, Janus joins him, sitting affectionately close to Roman’s side. 

“Isn’t it nice to decompress,” he says, and watches as Roman relaxes at his words. “You deserve a bit of relaxation… and I selfishly wish to enjoy the view.” 

“What view?” Roman asks, voice hushed. 

Janus smiles, and uses his hand to affectionately cup Roman’s cheek. He tilts his face over, and rubs his thumb over Roman’s tan freckles. “This view,” he states, his voice just as soft, and then he’s kissing Roman slowly. It’s a lot more gentle than he’s been with any of them, but that’s the point. And Roman - whose lips are stained with wine and whose ego has been repeatedly stroked - leans into it, giving in to Janus’s temptations. 

While their faces are pressed together, Janus pours Roman another glass, and then guides it to Roman’s lips once he’s done with them. 

“Drink,” he implores Roman, the word sounding all too sultry on his tongue. “For me. Savor what I can’t.” 

Roman gulps down a mouthful at Janus’s request, his face now flushed dark red. Though, Janus can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or his actions making Roman so warm. 

“Do you miss alcohol?” Roman breathes, and then drinks more as Janus moves the glass back to his face. When he’s not speaking, he’s swallowing, until Janus has spent half the bottle vitalizing Roman’s thirst. 

“More than anything,” Janus answers. “I can’t remember most foods, most sweets, most… anything. But alcohol? I still remember tasting my first mouthful. It was a pint at a tavern, and it was nothing to write home about like wine, but it was warm. I’d never tasted anything so disgusting and yet so addicting. Of course, when I tried wine for the first time, it was much better than stale, earthy beer. It became my go to.” Janus pours Roman some more, as he sadly adds “I have plenty of bottles aging fine in my cupboard, but I have no reason to bring them out anymore. It’s not like I can savor it unless a human gets wasted, and the drunkards stumbling around local bars only fill their bodies with cheap and bitter trash.” 

Roman’s breaths are hot and heavy, panting softly as he gulps down more and more wine. He’s full on food, and full on liquor, and he can feel himself becoming more and more dazed as he drinks. 

“Does drinking blood hurt?” Roman asks, voice quiet. 

“Only if you struggle.” Janus’s hand runs up Roman’s chest. “Otherwise, some say it feels pleasurable.” 

“Janus…” Roman starts, and Janus has to look away, his own face going red upon hearing Roman say his name. He should have assumed Logan would tell him what it was, but it still makes his chest tighten with excitement. “Didn’t you say you were full?” 

Janus can’t help but grin. “I can always drink a little more.” 

Roman swallows the spit in his mouth, before his head tilts ever so slightly to the side. “It’s not fair you can’t enjoy your own alcohol,” he says, as though he’s trying to justify his decision. “Just… just promise me I won’t see any blood.” 

Delighted, Janus nods, responding “you have my word,” while already moving to slide onto Roman’s lap. 

His hands rest on Roman’s chest to steady himself as he straddles Roman’s thighs, petting Roman’s face affectionately with his hand in order to keep him calm, while Janus happily buries his face in Roman’s neck. He can hear Roman’s heartbeat as it pulses through his arteries, and as he leans fully against Roman’s front, he’s selfish in soaking up plenty of Roman’s warmth. 

“You smell good,” Janus whispers, and he feels Roman shiver beneath him. Roman smells like a mixture of honey, garlic, and general sweat, but Janus finds himself enjoying the combination. As he presses his lips to Roman’s neck, he gets a taste of his delicious skin, and can already feel himself excited at the concept of filling up further, and getting drunk. Call him greedy, but honestly when do blood-suckers like him ever get to indulge? Getting two meals (and one little taste) back to back to back is unheard of for someone like him! “And I’m sure you’ll taste even better.” 

Roman hardly has time to reply before Janus’s fangs are piercing his skin. It hurts at first - as any puncture would - but Janus is very quickly slipping a bit of aphrodisiac into his bloodstream to loosen him up further, and then pulling his fangs out so he can get to drinking. 

Roman’s blood is thick and healthy, similar to Logan’s, but like Patton’s, Roman’s tastes rather sweet. It’s not like syrup though… as there’s a kick to it at the end, like tajin sprinkled onto sweet fruit. Mixed with all of that is bitter alcohol, and the richness of wine, which comes through infinitely clearer within Roman’s blood. It has him moaning against Roman’s jugular, relishing in the familiar taste. 

He drinks down mouthfuls as Roman whines and squirms, not bothering to try limiting himself, until his stomach feels completely full after just a few minutes. He pushes past his discomfort for a few more sucks, before finally he forces himself to pull away with a groan, already feeling pleasantly buzzed. 

Keeping Roman’s plea in mind, Janus licks over the leaking wound, causing it to scab until no more blood is spilling out, and then wipes his mouth on his sleeve, guaranteeing there’s not a drop in sight. 

Then, he falls back onto Roman’s lap, holding Roman’s shoulders as his head lolls backwards and he smiles. 

“That was amazing,” Janus sighs, earnest and thankful. “And you do, in fact, taste wonderful. If I wasn’t already full on Patton, I don’t know if I’d have been able to restrict myself.” 

Roman’s flushed face shyly tucks itself into his shoulder. He seems more embarrassed than he should be at such a basic compliment, but as Janus’s eyes trail down over Roman’s muscular chest and sculpted stomach, he eventually sees the all-too obvious tent in Roman’s pants. 

“Oh,” Janus chuckles, his voice breathy and light. “Oh, you poor thing. Here you are, all worked up, and I’m just selfishly satisfying my own desires.”

His hand slides down Roman’s front, and gets to Roman’s bulge, which he rubs teasingly. “Well… as cute as you are all red in the face, I suppose I should take care of this, considering I’m the one that caused it. It’s only fair, isn’t it?” 

Roman doesn’t answer, so Janus grabs his face, playfully squeezing his cheeks together as he repeats “well? Shouldn’t I take care of your arousal?” 

And Roman nods, whimpering softly as Janus palms over his pants. 

“Smart songbird,” Janus whispers intimately, as he slides back on Roman’s lap. Roman’s hands rush to grab his waist before he can move completely away, which has Janus laughing softly. “My sweet, I can’t very well please you if you don’t let me,” he comments, which has Roman stuttering. 

“But-” Roman stammers, rushing to defend his impulsive grip, “but you’re leaving.” 

“I’m not leaving. How could I ever leave such a pretty thing alone? My dear, let me show you what I’m doing.” Janus slides Roman’s hands away from his hips, and holds them gently as his feet hit the floor once more. He stands tall before Roman for just a few seconds, in a sort of see? I’m staying right here motion, before he very slowly lowers himself down to his knees. 

Janus finally releases Roman’s hands in order to spread his legs apart, and then his hands quickly undo Roman’s pants, both of them too buzzed to pay attention to how he briefly fumbles with the buttons. 

Once his pants are unzipped, Janus doesn’t bother pulling them down, and instead moves quickly to pull Roman’s cock out. “Scoot your hips forward just a bit,” he instructs, and once Roman does he’s rewarded by Janus curling his fist around his shaft, and stroking him nice and slow. 

“Now,” Janus begins, voice sweet but stern, “I’m going to be sweet, and I’m going to suck you off, okay? But you’re going to be nice and obedient and hold back your orgasm until I give you permission. You can do that for me, can’t you, Roman? You’re so good at listening, after all, and you’re surely strong enough to restrain yourself for just a bit, right?” 

Roman nods. “Yes- yes, I can.” 

“Good. Good boy.” 

As his fingers work carefully over Roman’s shaft, Janus leans forward, and -  while maintaining eye contact with Roman - lets his forked tongue slip out of his mouth and glide over Roman’s length. He’s teasing as he mouths over Roman’s cock, knowingly kissing and licking ever so slightly just to rile Roman up, until finally his lips graze Roman’s leaky tip. 

“I’m truly flattered-” Janus starts, voice breathy with excitement, “-that someone as pretty as you would get off to someone like me.” 

“You’re… you’re gorgeous,” Roman breathes, his voice so quiet that Janus is almost convinced he misheard him at first. But Roman’s looking away as though he’s ashamed with his own thoughts, and so Janus knows he’s heard Roman correctly. 

So, to keep the mood light, Janus grins and playfully walks two fingers up Roman’s thigh as he rebuttals with a teasing “look who’s talking,” before pressing a light kiss to Roman’s slit. Then, he finally takes Roman’s cock into his mouth, his tongue sliding over everything he can reach before he pulls away. 

Above him, Roman whines and moans, impatient, eager, and incredibly embarrassed, as Janus goes slow with his movements. 

With each descent of his head, he pulls up and fully off after just a few seconds, teasing Roman purposefully until he’s softly pleading “Janus, please,” which may or may not encourage Janus to go just the slightest bit faster.

So, Janus finally sinks his head down further, swallowing down more than just the tip. He’s still slow - he enjoys playing with Roman far too much to risk ending their fun early - but every few seconds he takes more and more of Roman’s shaft into his mouth. He doesn’t gag, but he does moan, letting Roman watch as his eyes flutter shut and he sucks lovingly, making Roman feel incredibly good in periodic waves. 

“Janus,” Roman moans again, as his head falls back against the couch cushions. He’s relaxed, fully lax due to both the alcohol and the pleasure, and his body reflects such outright. One of his hands squeezes his thighs, itching to pet Janus's hair, but only briefly thumbing through the latter’s locks before he restrains himself and goes back to gripping his leg instead. “Fuck.” 

Janus has to slide an arm between his legs to keep himself focused, ignoring how warm he feels at Roman moaning his name so earnestly as he instead directs all his attention and energy to sucking Roman off. His sucking is lewd and practiced, and his tongue explores the extent of Roman’s shaft before focusing on his slit. Janus’s hand wraps and squeezes the base of Roman’s cock, stroking off the small amount he doesn’t swallow down yet. Until he decides to stop teasing altogether, and he takes in Roman’s cock all the way, groaning around Roman’s length as his nose presses against Roman’s pelvis. 

“Fuck!” Roman cries again, pushing his head further back into the couch. “Feels so- so-” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t need to, as Janus finds himself amused at the slurred praise all the same. 

One of Janus’s hands rubs soothingly into Roman’s leg, as a sort of silent praise for him being so obedient, and so good. Janus almost wishes he could keep praising him, but unfortunately his mouth is full. 

He bobs his head slowly, pulling up until he’s teasing just Roman’s tip, and then sinking back down, finding the process easier as he goes on as Roman’s shaft becomes slick with both pre and spit. Each ascent has Roman whining, and each descent has him gasping, his hips twitching and bucking with involuntary need. 

As Janus glances up at him, he sees Roman’s lips are shining with saliva , and he’s still clutching his wine glass, as he was unable to put it down before Janus sunk to the floor. He’s equally as unable to hold the glass straight, and his hand was stained with wine as a result. It’s almost amusing just how messy he’s become in just a few short moments. Added onto this was the glistening sweat that beads in pretty orbs across Roman’s forehead and chest, building up before dripping down.

Each swipe of Janus’s tongue milks more and more pre out of Roman, filling Janus’s mouth with salty arousal. Janus squeezes his own thighs around his wrist, as more of Roman’s noises fill his ears. 

He feels hot himself, though he blames the fire beating against his back, while Roman’s hips thrust upwards and he cries out pathetically, a mixture of soft noises and Janus’s name. 

And then, Roman’s grabbing Janus’s hair, tugging it ever so slightly with the cutest whimper of “I’m close,” spilling from his breathy mouth. And that admission has Janus pulling away completely, causing Roman to let out a desperate sob. 

“Janus,” he needily complains, as a thin streak of spit connects Janus’s lips to the tip of his cock. “I was- I’m close.” 

“I know, sweet songbird,” Janus coos at him. “I can’t give you permission to come with my mouth full, can I?” 

Roman whines at the logic, and again when Janus stands up, leaning over him. He uses his hand to fully pleasure Roman’s cock, wrapping his fingers around the base and sliding his fist up and down Roman’s shaft, though he makes sure to angle Roman’s cock upwards. His movements are fast and firm, easily making Roman lose himself in pleasure once more. 

Roman doesn’t hesitate to grab Janus’s hips in order to keep himself grounded. He’s almost trying to pull Janus back onto the couch with him or back onto his lap, but he makes no definitive decision in guiding Janus closer as if he knows it isn’t his place. 

“Close,” Roman repeats again, tears pooling in his pretty green eyes. 

Janus breathlessly strokes him, drinking in each slight jerk of Roman’s body and the way his face creases in complete ecstasy. 

“Please!” Roman moans, desperate for Janus’s permission. Janus’s approval.

Holding out for just a few more seconds in order to fully delight in Roman’s neediness, Janus finally nods, and quietly murmurs “go on, my love. Come for me. You deserve it, after being so wonderful, so beautiful, and so helpful all day.” 

And Roman - obedient as ever - does exactly as he’s told. With a shaky moan, his head falls back against the couch and he comes, letting Janus work him through his orgasm with his experienced movements, petting and squeezing Roman’s cock until his orgasm’s spilling out of him in streams. 

Most of it splatters against his chest, mixing with the sweat already glistening there, with the rest dressing Janus’s hand and Roman’s thighs. 

When Roman starts to whine in overstimulation, Janus finally pulls his hand away, but does take a moment to wipe Roman’s own climax on his pants. 

“So pretty,” Janus coos, as Roman lays fully lax against the couch, panting heavily. The steady rise and fall of his chest causes most of his come to slide down his front, and pool at the base of his cock, further adding to the mess. “Did you have fun?” 

That question spurs on only a guilty look, and Roman can’t bring himself to respond. Janus doesn’t need one though; Roman’s answer was clear in the way his now-limp cock is completely slick with remnants of his enjoyment. 

Then, Janus bends down, spurred on by his own tipsy impulsivity. At first, it’s sweet, as he tucks Roman’s messy cock back into his boxers (another reminder that he really does really need to get them new clothes), but then he brings his face closer to Roman’s stomach. 

Roman looks down at him with half-lidded, curious eyes, only to flush dark when Janus’s tongue slides out of his mouth and against Roman’s chest, licking a stripe up the length of his torso. He gathers up plenty of Roman’s bitter orgasm into his mouth, and then stands tall once more. He grabs Roman’s chin with his thumb and gently pries his lips apart, as off-white semen spills down from the corner of Janus’s own mouth. Roman, albeit humiliated, lets Janus do what he pleases, and simply moans when Janus pushes their mouths together, filling Roman’s mouth with the embarrassingly familiar taste of his come. 

Swallowing between kisses, Roman is left breathless as Janus doesn’t grant him respite until he’s cleaned Janus’s mouth out with his own tongue, and then he’s released, leaving him to catch his breath. Janus just pets through his hair though, mimicking the sweet affection Patton was giving him earlier. 

“Good boy, Roman,” Janus purrs. “You did so well. I bet you feel nice and relaxed, hm?” 

“Mm.” Roman slings his forearm over his eyes, struggling to regulate his breathing between his ego being stroked and coming down from his orgasm. 

Janus merely chuckles at him, though. “While normally I’d give you as much time as you needed to rest - and while I do still intend on letting you recoup - I’d prefer if you followed me elsewhere. Napping in the den probably won’t be too befitting of royalty like you, and I can show you someplace more special.” 

Roman peeks at Janus from beneath his arm, and then slowly stands up, having to be supported by Janus who lets Roman lean against him as they walk. Roman, who perhaps had a bit too much wine, stumbles through the corridors with unbalanced stupor, but Janus doesn’t mention it. In fact, he instead praises Roman for helping him walk, claiming “I haven’t had good alcohol in a while… you’re so sweet to have let me taste it, my dear. And it was so wonderful mixed with your blood. But after all I drank, I feel so utterly clumsy. Thank you for helping me walk, sweetheart.” And Roman looks proud at the praise, believing he is actually aiding Janus in traveling across his manor. 

Pulling them to a stop in front of one particular door, Janus opens it for Roman, and lets him step inside. 

“Woah…” Roman breathes out, as he’s met with decorations far beyond what he’s seen in Janus’s house thus far. Janus keeps the lights dimmed for the two of them as he reaches for a shirt he doesn’t care much about, and uses it to wipe Roman clean. Roman stands rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as Janus scrubs him down. “Who’s room is this?” 

Janus laughs at the question. “My room, silly. Do you like it? I’ve spent centuries cultivating a relaxing and soothing environment for me to rest in. My bed is of the highest quality; same with my pillows and sheets. They’re perfectly fit for a king like you.” Janus pulls Roman towards his bed, and pushes him onto it. He watches the way Roman’s eyes immediately flutter shut, relaxing into the warm comforter. While he lays, Janus is quick to begin undoing Roman’s pants, tossing those to the side as well. When Roman questions him, Janus insists he’s helping Roman get comfortable. 

“I just assumed you’d need a nice, good sleep after such a long day,” Janus sweetly insists, as he helps Roman under the covers. He cuddles up next to him, pulling Roman’s head against his chest as he pets and caresses Roman’s hair and back. “You spent all day tending to everyone else. Making food for them, serving food to them… You’re such a good partner, that you must need a break! And here you can take one! Relax, my songbird, take nice deep breaths. You’re so pretty, and so helpful, and so amazing…” 

Janus keeps talking into Roman’s ear as Roman quickly drifts off, letting Janus hold and praise him without complaint. His post-orgasm bliss combined with the alcohol means he’s out nearly immediately, and sleeps nice and deep. Janus never stops complimenting him, making sure Roman’s dreams are filled with his voice. 

His voice, assuring Roman he’s so good, and helpful, and obedient.

Chapter Text

Janus, of course, doesn’t bother sleeping throughout the day.  

He doesn’t need to rest, and he’d be foolish to risk a nap that could potentially result in Roman waking up before him and slipping out. He might navigate his way to the front door, and out onto the street if he wasn’t under watchful eyes! 

However, Janus soon learns he could have let himself drift off, because it takes Roman hours to finally awake from his slumber. 

Not just eight or nine hours. Around fifteen, if Janus is keeping track! He basically wastes the whole day snoozing, and Janus - unwilling to risk his room being ransacked and one of his victims escaping - is forced to just lay by his side. 

His gentle petting down Roman’s back and arms eventually seizes, and after a while Janus gives up on doing anything but lounging for the time being, and so after tossing Roman’s dirty clothes somewhere deep into one of his closets, he chooses to flips through a book while waiting for Roman to stir. If any of the others complain about their late breakfast (or late lunch at this point), Janus will make sure to let them know their beloved Roman apparently needed his beauty sleep. 

When Roman finally does begin to shift and turn, Janus closes his book and sets it to the side, rubbing over Roman’s head as if to encourage him to finally wake, though he stops shortly after Roman’s eyelids finally part. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Janus coos, which has Roman’s face scrunching up in dramatic disapproval. 

“Logan told me it’s night, actually.” 

Janus chuckles softly. “Good night, then?” 

Roman’s bottom lip juts out. “I don’t like that. Good morning works fine.” He rubs his eyes as he pushes himself onto his elbows, before groaning and falling back onto the bed, pressing the back of his hands over his face. 

Janus laughs again, though he keeps his voice low. “Headache?” 

“Mhm.” 

“From oversleeping, or the wine?” 

Frowning, Roman rolls onto his side. “How am I supposed to know?” 

“Right, right…” Janus brushes some of Roman’s hair from his eyes, and then turns to slide out of bed. “How about we go and get you some water, yeah? And you can help me put together a quick lunch for your lovers.” 

“Did I sleep through breakfast?!” 

“You did.” 

Roman lets out a sad sounding moan, ever histrionic. He lays in bed for a few moments more, before sighing and sitting up fully. He rubs his face rather hard, as if trying to massage away the pain pulsing through his forehead. He lingers on the edge of the bed, before glancing down at his legs and suddenly going red in the face. 

“Uhm…” Roman clears his throat, “can I- uh- have my clothes back? Please?” 

“You’re in boxers, aren’t you?” 

Roman turns to pout at Janus over his shoulder. “You know what I mean. My shirt and my pants.” 

“Those smelly pieces of fabric? You’d like to keep sweating in those already-stinking articles?” 

“It’s not like you’ve given me any alternatives.” 

“Walking around as you are now is a perfect alternative,” Janus counters. “Besides, you look pretty this way. It’s a nice body; I’m shocked you’re not always stripped down! And imagine your lovers getting lunch and a show! It might help them forgive you for sleeping through their mealtime.” 

Roman chews his inner cheek, before standing. “Okay,” he eventually resigns, and trudges after Janus who leads him into the hall. 

The walk to the kitchen is slow and leisurely, with Roman still trying to wake himself up as they traverse Janus’s corridors, before he’s pushed towards the fridge. 

“Make whatever you think they’ll like,” Janus encourages him. “But make it quick. The less time they have to actually focus on their hunger, the less I’ll have to hear their complaints about it.” 

Roman ends up grabbing some cheap deli meat Patton had picked out, and making simple turkey sandwiches, politely asking Janus if he’ll go fetch “a tomato, some lettuce, and an onion,” which Janus does without question. Roman also grabs a jar of pickles from the fridge, which has Janus frowning as he realizes that must have slipped past him when they were checking out. He’d have to lecture Patton about not trusting Janus to pickle his own cucumbers. 

Each of the four sandwiches is made a bit differently than the others. All of them have mayonnaise, turkey, and cheese on them, but one is made with all vegetables. Lettuce, tomatoes, onion, and pickles. The next one is made with just pickles and tomatoes. The third with everything but tomatoes. And One is made with just the pickles added on. 

Janus can’t help but snort as he stares at the sad looking sandwich. Though, he’s very quickly surprised by Roman adding the other vegetables onto the plate beside the sandwich, instead of on it. 

“Why not just put them on the sandwich?” Janus asks, as Roman puts all the ingredients back into the fridge. 

Roman shrugs. “Logan prefers to eat his vegetables separately. I don’t think he likes the taste of them all pushed together, but he’s fine with the way they taste separately. He eats them one by one.” 

“Odd.” 

Roman doesn’t respond to that sentiment, but he does frown, assuming Janus’s judgement to be negative. 

Then, Roman is passing two of the plates to Janus, and carrying the other two himself, sleepily saying “lead the way,” and following a few paces behind Janus as Janus takes him to Patton and Virgil’s room. 

Janus knocks twice, and this time waits a few minutes until Virgil hesitantly pulls open the door, staring in disbelief when it actually opens. Janus can see the shock briefly flicker in his eyes as he wonders if the door had been unlocked the whole time, but before Virgil can say anything Janus pushes his way inside, and kicks the door shut behind Roman, causing Virgil to stumble as he’d been holding tight to the knob. 

“We’ve brought lunch,” Janus sweetly sings, waiting for Roman to set the plates down and take one of them from Janus, which he dutifully hands to Patton. 

Patton accepts it, but he’s staring wide eyed at Roman. “What happened to your clothes?” he softly asks. 

“Janus’s bitchass probably took them,” Virgil spits, as he steadies himself. “Just like he took mine.” 

“I took yours because they were messy,” Janus lightly chastises. “Same with Roman’s, The last thing I need is you two tracking a disgusting mess through my well-kept manor.” 

“All messes that you caused,” Virgil argues, rubbing at his nose. His pushing makes him wince, but he’s unable to stop itching, before eventually circling behind Roman to glance at the plates. Roman holds one out to him, and Virgil takes it once double checking there’s no tomatoes on it. He sits on the bed beside Patton, and digs in, though Patton doesn’t touch his food. 

Instead, he turns to Janus. “Do you have any clothes his size?” 

“I don’t have clothes in any of your sizes,” Janus answers. “Virgil’s the one exception, and even still my clothes clearly don’t fit right on his body. Perhaps they would, if he gained a couple pounds…” 

“Fuck off,” Virgil hisses, mouth stuffed full of chewed-up sandwich.

Patton frowns, and pokes his finger into his bread. The digit sinks into the soft food. 

Roman stands rather awkwardly. With Patton seemingly lost in thought and Virgil devouring his food like Janus hadn’t fed him in weeks (which is rather dramatic, considering they were fed a hefty dinner the night before), Roman seems almost as though he’s expecting to be escorted back out of the room. But that never comes. 

“Give me your remaining plate, Roman,” Janus says, as he simply takes the plate from Roman anyway. “I’ve got to make sure Logan eats up.” 

Roman’s eyebrows raise. “I’m not coming with you?” 

Chuckling, Janus says “I thought you’d like to spend some time with these two! I know Patton hasn’t gotten to spend much time with you lately.” 

“We would love to be with you for a bit…” Patton softly implores, though he quickly sighs and adds “though, I’m sure Logan also adores being with you. It might be best for you to return to him, anyhow.” 

“Nonsense,” Janus counters, as he sets his hand on Roman’s lower back and gently urges him forward, closer to the bed. “He’ll stay. I insist.” 

Roman looks nervous to leave Logan alone, but upon being reached for by Patton and Virgil, he very quickly falls into the bed and into a tight snuggle with both of them. Though, Virgil does very quickly stick his tongue out and mention that they’re all starting to smell, making Patton chuckle and Roman tuck his face into his shoulder. 

At this, Janus glances around the room. It was one of his older rooms, with lamps as opposed to light fixtures (not that they were any more inconvenient to Janus; he can turn them on with a simple movement anyway), but if he remembers correctly, he had made a point to update almost every bathroom in his house, including going through the hassle that was plumbing. Think him spoiled, but he enjoyed getting to just drop whatever he was doing and soak in a bath anywhere in his house, anytime he wanted!

So, Janus slowly moves towards one of the doors inside the room. There were two. One is a closet, but the other should be a bathroom…

The door is pushed open, and Janus slowly turns one of the old lamps until the space is illuminated, before laughing quietly when he sees that this is indeed one of his modern bathrooms. He throws the door open completely, and motions to the empty tub. 

“You’ve had a shower here this whole time,” Janus says, acting as if they’re the foolish ones for never thinking to check the doors. “Have you never explored? I’m kind of disappointed!” 

He gets a pillow promptly chucked at his head. He steps to the side, and it lands on the floor with a soft thud. 

“Just wanted to make sure you were aware,” Janus sings. 

“It’s not like it’ll do any good,” he hears Virgil curse. “What’s the point of bathing if we’re just going to have to wiggle back into our dirty clothes anyway?”

Fair enough, Janus supposes. He really would have to find new garments for them. 

But alas. That would be an issue for another day, as for now Logan needed feeding. So Janus adjusts the plate in his hand, and gives the three cuddling lovers a smug nod before walking out, hoping for his sake they’d just suck it up and shower anyway. With his enhanced senses, Janus couldn’t only handle so much sweat at a time!

Logan’s door is eventually knocked on, but Logan doesn’t give him the satisfaction of opening it up. Instead, when Janus finally caves and opens the door himself, he finds Logan sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the doorway. He doesn’t look particularly smug or anything, but Janus knows that Logan delighted in that smallest ounce of control. Amusing. 

“Roman’s made you a sandwich,” Janus says, as he offers Logan the plate. 

Logan stares at it. “I see Roman didn’t come to deliver it himself?” 

“He’s busy with the others. He hasn’t seen them in ages, you know.” 

“Neither have I.” 

Without another word, Logan takes the plate. Janus watches him eat in silence, watching as Logan at first takes a singular bite of the sandwich, and then one bite of each of the vegetables. He seems to think for a moment after, before eating the vegetables one by one, and then returning to the sandwich. 

Intrigued, Janus inquires “why do you eat like that?”

Logan swallows the bite in his mouth. “Like what?” 

“Sampling everything and then…” Janus struggles to put what he saw into words, “and then seemingly eating things in a specific order.” 

Logan looks a bit surprised, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing that, but has an answer for it anyway. “I want to save what tastes the best for last,” he mumbles, as he takes another bite of food. “That way I’m ending my meal on a pleasant note. It’s incredibly dissatisfying to enjoy a meal, only for it to end on a less-than-satisfying bite. It sort of ruins the whole meal.” 

“How… particular.” 

Logan doesn’t respond, and finishes his food quickly, before wiping his mouth on his sleeve and setting the plate to the side. Then, he just sits, keeping his hands folded in his lap and his eyes trained on Janus, as if expecting him to do something. 

Janus just stares right back. 

“You know… I introduced your lovers to a shower today.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Janus grins. “God knows they need one.” 

“I need one too. It’s been at least a week since I’ve had one, though I’m honestly quite convinced it’s been much longer.” Logan’s fingers squeeze together, causing his skin to briefly whiten. “Though, a shower of any sort seems rather inconvenient without clean clothes to change into afterwards.” 

Snickering softly, Janus replies “funny. That’s exactly what Virgil said.”

“Well, he’s right. It’s counterproductive.” 

Janus steps forward, and takes Logan’s face into his hands. “So you’re saying you’d rather not bathe if presented with the opportunity? Pity. Here I was, generously about to offer you the opportunity to get nice, and clean-” 

“You have bandages on your hand.” 

Freezing, Janus stops, surprise written all over his face. He glances down at his bandaged hand, and then looks back into Logan’s eyes. Logan’s gaze is settled on Janus’s fist. 

“I- I do. You’re correct.” Janus retracts his hands, and holds his injured one gently. He’d almost forgotten about his injury… It stopped hurting at all at some point during the day, while he was talking Roman to sleep. In fact, his hand hadn’t even crossed his mind in a while. 

“How’d you injure it?”

Frowning, Janus lightly slaps the side of Logan’s face. It’s not hard or harmful, but it is done with the purpose of startling Logan, which seems to work. “Quit deflecting, my dear. Your quite ill-mannered interruption and shift of the topic aren’t simply going unnoticed.” 

Logan’s brows furrow. “It wasn’t intentional. I’m just curious.” 

“Well, curiosity killed the cat, as they say.” 

“What?” Logan blinks at him. “That’s not- that doesn’t make any sense. How can a feeling possibly murder an animal? Emotions aren’t physical beings; they can’t wield any sort of weapon.” 

“It’s- it’s merely an idiom, love.” 

Though he frowns, Logan seems to understand after, and so shakes his head. “Fine. I’m sorry for interrupting you; I understand how my interest in your hand may have felt rude. What were you saying?” 

“I was asking-” he was not asking, but he might as well now. Logan might appreciate the choice, “-if you’d like to take a nice, warm, bubble bath.” 

Looking a tad more interested, Logan raises an eyebrow. “Today?” 

“Right now, if you please.” 

“What would I have to do?” 

Janus’s hand comes to his mouth as an amused laugh spills from his lips. “Oh-!” Janus chuckles, unable to stifle his dramatized reaction, “oh Logan! My, my, my! It’s almost insulting that you think our entire relationship is transactional! Why, I’m merely offering you a gift! You needn’t do a thing to earn it!” 

Logan’s eyes narrow. “Our ‘relationship’ is transactional. You get blood, and I get fed. Sometimes.” 

“Hey now. It wasn’t my fault you skipped breakfast. Blame Roman for that.” 

“I’ll be doing nothing of the sort. Last I checked, you could walk yourself to the kitchen just fine.” Logan smooths out his jeans. “Besides. The last time you took me somewhere, I ended up with a horrid migraine.” 

That has Janus looking a tad guilty, and he rather genuinely presses his hand to his heart. “My sincerest apologies for that, my dear. I haven’t exactly scrambled someone’s mind in centuries, so I didn’t think about the uncomfortable process of your memories shifting themselves back into place.” 

“Well. It was unpleasant. I’d rather you not do it again.” 

Janus crosses his fingers over his chest, mimicking the childish action of making a sincere promise to a close friend. “I swear, I will not mess around with your memories.” 

Logan, again, looks suspicious. “You’re just swearing off that one specific thing?” 

“What? Are you trying to prevent me from having any fun?” 

“Taking into account what you find ‘fun,’ absolutely.” 

“Oh, pish-posh.” Janus sweeps Logan’s arms into his and pulls him up from the bed. “Quit worrying about all that nonsense and come enjoy a bit of cleanliness. And if I decide to partake in any funny business, I will promise you this time it’ll be something you enjoy. Physically, at least.” 

Logan scoffs, but doesn’t fight Janus’s guidance, and lets himself be pulled from the bed and out into the hall. 

One of Logan’s hands is tightly held, with the bandages on Janus’s palm rubbing against Logan’s fingers. 

Janus leads Logan down the hall, and near his bedroom. His room was huge, honestly, and there was a bathroom within it, but as much as he… enjoys Logan’s company, it wouldn’t exactly be wise to lead a bitter man into his rather pristine space. Though unlikely considering Logan’s character, Janus was privy to the chance that any of his prized valuables can be grabbed and smashed at any moment, and he’d rather not have the things he cherishes become a mess on his bathroom floor (especially since a lot of those things were irreplaceable nowadays). 

He pushes his way into a separate bathroom near his room, which means this one is well-furnished. A nice rug in front of a lavish sink, and a deep tub with golden faucets pressed against the wall. Even the toilet looks expensive! 

Along the inner rim of the tub are a variety of products. There’s the obvious shampoo and conditioner, but next to that is some sort of shimmering, gold body scrub, and other ointments and lotions with unreadable labels. 

“Huh,” Logan comments, as he leans over the side of the bathtub and squints at one of the bottles. It’s covered in symbols and runes unrecognizable to him. “What are these?” 

“Skincare products,” Janus vaguely explains, as he reaches past Logan to twist the bottle round and round. “There aren’t a lot of products made specifically for scales, you know. I’ve had to search far and wide for certain creams and formulas that don’t irritate the hell out of my body.” 

Though he’s silent for a moment, Logan eventually tilts his head up to look at Janus. “Don’t all vampires have… scales?”

“What?” Janus stares at him, before chuckling. “No? Why would they?” 

“Why do you?” 

Janus’s amused expression settles into a simple smile, as he turns and sits himself down on his fuzzy toilet-seat cover. “How am I supposed to know?” 

Logan splutters, and sits back on his knees, giving Janus a completely bewildered expression. “Because you have them? And since humans don’t typically have scales, I assume yours only formed after you became… whatever it is you are now.” 

“Well, yes, that is what happened. But just getting scales doesn’t mean I automatically know why I have them.” Janus smooths out his clothes, before folding his hands together on his lap. “In fact, every person I’ve met who’s… like me… has had some different affliction. Some have dog tails. Some have eight legs. Some have poison slime coating their skin. This… symptom is different from person to person.” 

One of Logan’s hands comes to his mouth, as he murmurs “fascinating. And you have no idea why?” 

“Well… okay. I have a hypothesis about the animal thing. And I know what caused my scales to form. Not why scales specifically formed, or why my teeth grew into fangs, or why I can do most of the things I can do… I just simply can. But the scales specifically - while animalistic - only formed on very specific areas.” 

“What areas?” 

Lips pressing into a thin smile, Janus holds out his bandaged hand. The lack of pain can really only mean one thing…

Slowly, Janus slides his fingers beneath the bandage encasing his palm, and unwraps it piece by piece. Beneath the murky, blood-stained cloth, is not the broiled skin and melting muscle that someone like Patton would expect. There’s not even a dark red scab or wrinkled scar! Instead, Janus’s knuckles and palm are lined with glimmering, yellow-green scales. 

“Woah,” Logan exhales. “Those weren’t there before.” 

“No they were not.” 

As Janus offers his hand to Logan, Logan gladly takes it, flipping it over and inspecting it thoroughly. “Attentive thing, you are,” Januus coos towards him, as Logan’s fingers delicately press against his scaly skin. “I don’t think any of the others would have spotted the difference. Well, maybe Patton would have, since he saw my injured hand. And perhaps Virgil, who bandaged it up. But Roman would have brushed right over it!” 

“So your scales form in the places you’re injured?” 

Janus nods. “They formed on the places I’d even injured before I turned. Every scar or scab suddenly became overgrown with snake scales. It was quite the sight to wake up to!” 

“How do you go out and drink blood without people seeing them?” 

Smirking, Janus waves one of his hands over his face. “What? Are you saying I’m not pretty enough to pick up people already?” 

“No, I’m just saying that the average person would be freaked out by a man that’s half-snake. Especially if that man was trying to approach them and drink their blood.” 

“Aw. So you do think I’m pretty.” 

Frowning, Logan looks more than annoyed at Janus’s words. “That is not what I was implying.” 

“I know, I know. Just a bit of teasing, love. As for the scales, well, they can be… repressed. It takes quite a bit of energy though, so I only really do it when I’m forced to. Most of my… physical changes can be hidden in this way, though not all of them.” 

“Which ones can’t be hidden?” 

“My fangs, for one. I don’t understand how my teeth shaped this way, but I do know it took a solid year, completely changing the structure of them. I could shave them down myself, but it’s rather difficult drinking with dull canines. A lot of younger… vampires are rather brutal with their hunger, because they have to exert more force on humans in order to feed. There’s significantly more human casualties earlier in a vampire's life because of this.” 

“Don’t you kill people?” 

Janus crosses one leg over the other, smirking slightly. “Depends on the person. Sometimes, if they’re submissive sweethearts who let me feed with little fight, I’ll lay their drained bodies somewhere noticeable and wipe their memory. They’re often found in a matter of minutes, and obviously make full recoveries. However, I don’t like to work for my meals. Anyone too unruly gets roughly subdued and eventually disposed of. Most of them are bad people anyway. Creeps. Pigs. Lowlifes.” He waves his hand back and forth dismissively. “No one that’ll be missed.” 

“How can these vampires have such a wide variety of animalistic traits?” Logan then inquires. “You said that most of them resemble other animals, and that you had a hypothesis as to why. So… why?”  

Humming, Janus contemplates Logan’s question for a moment. “You know, you’re sure asking quite a lot.” 

“You just told me that your kind come in a variety of different species, and you expect me not to ask questions?” 

“You and I are supposed to be bathing. Not poking and prodding at one another.” 

“Last question. And then we can get in the bath.” Logan says it like he’s making a deal. Like Janus bathing with Logan is ultimately his end goal… as if it’s something Janus is looking forward to. And that, in order to get it, he has to answer Logan’s probing. 

Again, Janus regards him skeptically, before shrugging. “All right. Here’s my hypothesis. But before I tell you, I’d like to reiterate that this is my guess. I’m not a scientist, or biologist, or… veterinarian. Got it?”

“Understood.” 

“Okay.” Janus stands from his spot on the toilet lid, grabs a washrag from one of the sink drawers, and then walks Logan over to the bath. He drops the drain stopper in, and then drapes the washrag over the faucet, before he starts the water. Then, as he picks up one of the bottles and starts squirting it into the steaming bath, he begins explaining, “my theory is that humans very, very, very long ago shared significantly more of our DNA with animals. Our genetic code was similar, if not simply derivative of the life that was already present on Earth. Over time, as we continued to evolve and adapt, our genes became more and more mixed, with more of the human properties overtaking the animalistic ones.” 

With his newly scaled hand, Janus reaches into the warm water, and stirs around the soap he poured into it. Bubbles begin to form and emerge, lining the surface with sweet-smelling, translucent orbs. 

“Did you know that disorders like diabetes are typically already present in one’s genes? Just not ‘activated.’ And when exposed to a certain variable - like excessive sugar, for example - it can cause the gene containing that diabetic code to activate.” 

“Yes, I knew that.” 

“Wonderful. That’ll make explaining this next part easier.” Janus pulls his fingers from the tub, and finally shuts the water off, as it’d risen more than halfway, with the bubbles nearly reaching the tub’s lip and spilling over. “My guess as to why vampires like me exhibit these animalistic traits is that humans were never able to fully breed out certain animal-adjacent codes. And when bitten and turned, our human DNA is exposed to this hellish variable that activates everything in your body that you don’t want it to. And you change. And you change slowly.” 

Logan’s silent for a moment, before he quietly asks “did you ask to be turned?” 

Quickly, Janus’s hands dip back into the water, and smoothly slap a handful of soapy liquid at Logan. Logan’s quickly splashed, and then promptly soaked by the action, with his glasses being littered with droplets and the front of his shirt dark and damp. 

Huffing, Logan slides his glasses off his face, and wipes the stray water from his eyes. “If you didn’t want to answer, you could have just said that,” he mutters, but Janus merely chuckles and moves to pluck Logan’s glasses from his hands. 

Those are set on the sink’s ledge, and then Logan’s being guided out of his clothes. Though Logan doesn’t help Janus strip him down (purposefully not lifting his arms or legs), he doesn’t fight it either, and ends up naked rather quickly. 

“Let me help you in, love,” Janus sweetly says, as he wraps an arm around Logan’s waist and aids him into the bath. 

As soon as Logan’s feet hit the water, he winces, but sinks into it anyway. 

“How’s the water feel? Too hot?” 

“A little,” Logan hisses. “But it’s bearable. And it’ll cool with time.” 

Janus supposes that’s a fair enough answer, and he personally loves hot water. It always felt wonderful against his skin and scales when he soaked in a scalding tub!

And then, Janus is shedding his own clothes, slow and sensual whilst pulling the fabric from his body. “How much can you see without your glasses?” Janus inquires, as his shirt and pants fall to the tiled floor beneath his feet. 

“Shapes, colours. Everything’s blurry, and I can’t make out finer detail, but I can use environmental context clues to make most things out.” 

“Hm.” Janus taps his foot against the ground, smiling slightly as he considers something. “So you can see the bubbles?”

“Of course I can see the bubbles.” 

“Good. Good. Now scoot forward for me, won’t you, dear?” 

Begrudgingly, Logan does just that, and Janus strips away his boxers and steps into the water himself, sinking beneath the soap and sliding behind Logan’s body. His knees are bent on either side of Logan’s body, but they’re close enough for Janus to run his hands over Logan’s shoulders, and then down his arms, lightly massaging away the noticeable tension present in his body. 

“Doesn’t it feel nice to soak?” Janus asks, as he drips water along Logan’s flesh. He watches Logan rub the healing wound on his wrist. 

“I suppose.” 

Janus chuckles. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying getting nice and clean.” 

“I do enjoy washing up. I don’t enjoy sharing the tub with you.” Logan uses the soapy water to lightly wipe himself down, rubbing his hands over his thighs, arms, and body. Janus happily enjoys the show. “I’m sure you understand.” 

“Was that sarcasm?”

“Hardly.” 

Janus can feel him eye rolling, and is incapable of stifling a laugh. 

“Yes, yes, I suppose I do understand.” Janus reaches past Logan’s body to pop a few bubbles, before he spins his finger around one, and lifts it up into the air, causing the bubble to float idly above them. Logan watches it rise. Then, he watches as quite a few others do the same, drifting into the air and then bobbing up and down their decided positions, staying perfectly formed. 

“Neat trick,” Logan sighs. “If you ever wanted to do something not illegal, you’d make a pretty decent children’s entertainer.” 

Janus snorts. “No thanks. I hate children. And I already have plenty of money.” 

“You can’t do something just for the fun of it?”

“My love, I already do things just for the fun of it. Why do you think you and your little group are still living and breathing?” 

Logan reaches up and pops a bubble right in front of his face. “Touché. Does that mean you’re playing with the bubbles just for the fun of it?” 

“Oh, sure, yes,” Janus dismissively replies. “I sent them up there because it’s so relaxing when they’re inevitably… popped!” 

As he says it, Janus reaches forward and pops another bubble, Logan watching him do so. 

“Imagine the bubble is… a manifestation of stress… or frustration… or negativity in general! And when that bubble is popped, all that negativity dissipates along with the soapy orb! It’s rhythmic, and inevitable… Why don’t you go ahead and pop another, Logan? And as you do so, picture that bubble as being something you find distasteful, and imagine you’re whisking it away.” 

“I’ll try,” Logan says, as he reaches for another bubble. There’s one he has to raise his arm a bit to reach, but when he pops it, he’s letting out an involuntary sigh. 

“There we go,” Janus coos. “Don’t you feel more relaxed already?” 

Logan shifts in the water, before nodding. “I do.” 

“Wonderful.” Janus raises a few more bubbles into the air, just to keep Logan occupied, as he reaches for a cup sat on the ledge of the tub. Call him old fashioned, but he much preferred pouring water over his face and hair with a cup of some sort instead of having to submerge his entire body at once. Why risk getting water up his nostrils when he could just scoop and pour? 

“Tilt your head back for me, dear,” Janus instructs Logan, as he fills his cup with the soapy bathwater. He wraps one of his arms around Logan’s head in order to place his hand along Logan’s forehead, hoping to keep as much soap and water out of Logan’s eyes as possible. Then, he dumps the water along Logan’s hairline, wetting it thoroughly. He repeats this a few times, until Logan’s hair is nice and soaked. 

“Keep your head back, if you will, but feel free to pop a few more bubbles to keep yourself entertained,” Janus then says, as he reaches for his shampoo. “And you can continue to imagine yourself bursting all those horrible, strenuous, metaphorical balls of stress keeping you weighed down, if you so please.” 

Slowly, Logan reaches up and pops another bubbles, before sighing out a rather pleasant “mmm.” 

Janus fills the palm of his hand with some of the sweet-smelling shampoo, and then rubs it between his palms, before sliding his fingers against Logan’s scalp. 

As the pads of his fingers rub soap into Logan’s roots, Janus asks “how’re you feeling? Cleaner?” 

“Yes. Even if I’ll still have no clothes by the time we’re done.” 

“Oh, hush. It’s a pain to always dwell on the negatives.” 

Logan pops another bubbles, and lets out another sigh. “I’m not being negative. I’m being realistic. And it’s not that realistic to have us just constantly naked. We should be provided underwear, at the very least.” 

Janus snorts. Though Logan is demanding clothes from him, he doesn’t sound demanding. He sounds like he completely and wholeheartedly believes that they are deserving of underwear. That they should have decency, at the very least. And Janus can’t help but find Logan’s priorities… kind of endearing. 

“Well then… I’ll see if I can get the four of you underwear.” 

“I’d sincerely appreciate it, considering you’ve left us with the same pair for quite a bit.” 

Janus supposes that’s fair, and scrubs the last bit of shampoo into Logan’s hair. Then, he says “shut your eyes,” and reaches for the cup once more. 

More water cascades down Logan’s hair and back, and soap falls with it. Janus continues to scrunch and slide his fingers against Logan’s head. Logan lets him, one of his hands mindlessly playing with the water they’re sitting in, while the other floats upwards and stretches towards another bubble. The pop sends shivers down his spine, and causes him to moan as Janus’s nails lightly trail down Logan’s neck, and further down his spine. 

Unable to repress his amusement, Janus murmurs “you’re getting a bit too relaxed, I see.” 

Logan doesn’t respond, but another bubble pops shortly after, as if Logan can’t stop himself from soaking in the bliss that comes with serenity. 

Once the shampoo is rinsed from Logan’s hair, Janus goes back in with conditioner, repeating the process. He scrubs and massages and scratches, cleaning Logan completely. And then he slides his hands over Logan’s shoulder once he’s been rinsed clean. 

“Do you want to do me a favor, and grab the rag for me, my love?” 

Logan does so wordlessly. 

Janus dips it deep into the water, and then nearly submerges the rag in his body scrubs, completely covering it in bubbles and products, before he begins to wipe down Logan’s body. 

He’s very attentive in making sure he hits every spot on Logan’s body, from his back to his pits to his stomach. Washing Logan’s front is a lot more difficult considering their position, but Logan seems to have no qualms laying back on Janus to allow him ease of access. However, once Janus’s hand travels further, he’s rather pleasantly surprised by Logan letting out a quiet moan, and his hips rolling up into Janus’s touch. 

“Why… it looks like you feel even more comfortable than I expected,” Janus teases. 

He hears Logan snort. “I do.” 

“Are you feeling clean and relaxed?” 

“I am. And I appreciate you not messing with my memories this time.” 

Janus’s hands pause on Logan’s body, and he’s glad Logan’s turned around… so he doesn’t see the look of momentary shock that crosses Janus’s face. Though, Janus quickly shakes off his bewilderment and coos “nothing gets past you, does it?” 

“Not typically.” One of Logan’s soapy hands comes to rub at his eyes. “Not if I can help it, at least. Besides, you implied you were going to do something. I guessed this was it. And you confirmed my suspicions.” 

“Smart boy.” Janus’s lips kiss Logan’s neck, beneath his earlobe. “Would you like my help? Honestly, since it’s my fault you’re so worked up, it’s the least I can do.” 

“Your question is pointless,” Logan sighs, as he turns his head slightly to make eye contact with Janus. “Regardless of what I say, you’re going to do whatever you please.” 

Janus smiles, and drops the rag in the tub, to then run his hand down the length of Logan’s pudgy stomach. “You’re right, I am,” Janus affirms, his voice more than playful. “But isn’t it so pleasant to have at least the illusion of choice?” 

“It’d be better to have actual choices.” 

“Well, here’s one.” Janus wraps his arms around Logan’s midsection, tucking his face affectionately in Logan’s neck. “You can either get off in the tub, or we can get out and retreat somewhere cozier and have our fun there.” 

Logan frowns, and is silent for a moment, before muttering “I’d rather not be forced to sit in a semen-infused bath.” 

Janus laughs. “Noted! And I won’t make you do so.” 

Frankly, Janus was rather pleased with Logan’s decision, as Janus would have been stuck gritting his teeth as he and Logan temporarily marinated in the dirty water. 

So, Janus slowly pushes himself to his feet behind Logan, and sweetly asks “will you mind pulling out the drain stopper, doll? And then turn the shower head on.” 

He hears Logan sigh again, but this time it’s a rather pleasant noise. “Thank god. I didn’t know if you were hygienic enough to do a rinse after baths. That water can get rather disgusting as it washes you free of dirt.” He pulls the stopper from the drain, and then slowly makes his way up, turning on the water and lifting up the diverter, causing water to spray from the showerhead. It’s lukewarm, and Janus grimaces and shivers, but Logan rather lazily rinses his hair, and wipes the water down across his body, assuming Janus is doing the same behind him, before the water is shut off completely. 

While standing, Logan’s head is surrounded by bubbles, and he pokes a few more just for fun. Janus watches him do so happily, though does eventually wave his hand and pop them all, causing Logan’s legs to give out beneath him as he’s overwhelmed immediately by relaxation and lethargy. 

Janus catches him flawlessly, saving him from cracking his head open on Janus’s lavish tub. 

“Careful, doll,” Janus murmurs, “the last thing your lovers need to hear is that you’ve accidentally caused your own demise!” 

Logan lets out a half-hearted “mm,” as Janus helps him back to his feet. His legs are unsteady, and embarrassingly his cock is hard thanks to Janus’s petting and washing (and no doubt thanks to the bubbles themselves), but Janus doesn’t seem too bothered by either of those things. Instead, he steps out of the tub and onto a fuzzy bath mat, before temporarily disappearing behind a small door. When he returns, he’s holding two black towels, looking incredibly soft. However, Logan’s staring at him wide-eyed, with his lips pressed thinly together, and his cheeks tinted a rather exciting shade of pink. 

Curious, Janus raises an eyebrow. “What’s got you looking so shocked, my dear?” he asks, glancing behind him momentarily, checking to make sure there’s nothing fascinating behind him, before his gaze returns to Logan.

Visibly nervous, Logan looks away. “Can you… can you give me my glasses, please?”

“What?”

“There’s… I think I’m not seeing something correctly. I’d like to be sure.” 

Janus grabs Logan’s glasses from the sink, and hands them back. Logan’s quick to push them onto his face, and then he’s tucking his face into his hands. 

“You weren’t lying,” he groans, though Janus can’t exactly read his tone. 

“Well that’s a surprise,” Janus comments, though he’s still quite unsure of Logan’s words. “What exactly was I honest about?” 

“Your… your…” Logan again wobbles on his feet, and has to lean forward over the tub’s ledge, holding onto Janus’s forearms for support. His fingers squeeze into Janus’s skin and scales, and Logan’s eyes stay downcast, trained on the towels Janus is holding. “You actually do have a hemipenis. That wasn’t just something you added to my memories for fun.” 

Amused, Janus shakes his head as he says “now, why would I fabricate something like that?” 

“I don’t… I don’t…”

“Shh, you needn’t struggle to express your arousal. I’m plenty flattered already.” 

And, honestly, that was the truth. Because Janus’s nude body was on complete display, and while he had a rather typical build - average height nowadays, and a pretty normal sculpt - he can tell that Logan finds it quite… interesting. Abnormal, even. And Janus supposes that his scales or mutated genitalia have something to do with that. 

“Were you… born with those, or were they an effect of your transformation,” Logan barely whispers.

Janus smiles slyly. “Which one would you rather believe?” he coyly responds. 

Logan isn’t sure, and so doesn’t answer, and ends up watching as Janus wraps one of the towels around Logan’s body, tucking it in against his chest despite the fact Logan doesn’t have breasts, causing the towel to act more like a short dress that rather obviously shows off a bulge against the cotton, while Janus wraps his towel around his waist. Similarly to Logan’s, he folds it in to keep it on his body while not having to hold it, and then immediately grabs Logan and pulls him out of the tub. 

Still feeling incredibly relaxed, Logan doesn’t fight or squirm, though he does avoid making eye contact, seemingly still processing what he’s just seen. 

Though, Janus can’t help but comment “what a familiar position we find ourselves in. Seems like you fit quite comfortably in my arms.” 

Hesitantly, Logan’s hand slowly rubs over his scabbed wrist. He says nothing. 

Janus carries Logan through his corridor and back to his room, where Roman had stayed the night prior. Similar to Roman, Logan’s quick to look around, but finds his eyes settling on Janus’s lavish mirror, which reflects both of their bodies rather nicely. 

Before Logan can even say a word, Janus chuckles. “I can read your expression, dear. They haven’t made mirrors backed with silver for decades. Most mirrors nowadays are backed with aluminium… or even mercury!” 

“Uh-huh.” Logan looks away. 

He’s placed gingerly on the edge of Janus’s bed, as Janus carelessly drops his towel to the ground. He cares naught about exposing his body, and admittedly quite enjoys the feeling of Logan’s eyes on him as he flippantly scours through his drawers, searching for a pair of boxers that’d fit Logan’s pudgy frame. He makes sure he bends over plenty, just to be a tease. 

But instead of any sort of anger or embarrassment or even intense fluster, Logan’s voice rather softly inquires “you said your scales only formed over scars, right? Scars and new wounds?” 

Janus pauses, mid search. Then, he slowly turns to look at Logan. “Mhm.” 

“Why are you half-covered in them?” 

Janus stares at Logan. Logan stares back, searching Janus’s face for any answers, and then looking over his body again. And then, with a simple flick of his wrist, Janus wills Logan’s hand to his mouth, keeping it there. 

Logan’s immediately annoyed at his predicament, and narrows his eyes at Janus. But he doesn’t bother wasting his breath screaming into his palm, and just sort of huffs in disappointment. 

Though it takes a few minutes, Janus does eventually find a stretchier pair of underwear. It’s dark grey, and it might be a little tight, but it’s not like there were many alternative options.

So, Janus comes back over, holding the fabric teasingly. 

“See? Clean clothes.” 

He’s sure that if Logan could talk, he’d be pointing out that it’s a singular clothing item, and not multiple articles, but honestly Janus can see him resigning himself to accepting what he’s given, albeit alongside expected chagrin. 

“However… we are still planning to get a bit dirty… so it might be good to hold off on these for now.” 

Janus tosses the boxers onto the bed behind Logan, and then confidently drags his palm along the front of Logan’s towel, directly over the small tent being made in it. Logan groans against the palm of his hand, but is ultimately too drained to do anything more. Maybe relaxing so much wasn’t such a good idea after all…

“You truly do make such enticing noises. What’s an interest of yours, Logan? Something that you’re knowledgeable about. Something that really fascinates you.” 

Suddenly able to finally pull his hand away from his mouth, Logan responds “why do you care?”

Janus shrugs. “Just name anything, so long as you’re honest.” 

“Space, I suppose.” Upon receiving a curious look from Janus, Logan sighs and explains “it’s the fact that we think we know so much about it, but really we’re unsure about so much. It’s a supposedly infinite amount of space that stretches on indefinitely, far outside of our galaxy, far past hundreds of thousands of other galaxies, with no way for us to know what’s out there.” 

“Incredible,” Janus mutters, as he slides Logan’s towel off his body. Logan is visibly displeased, but says nothing, as Janus guides him to lay back on the bed. He spreads Logan’s legs apart, and guides them to be wrapped around his waist. “Keep talking.” 

Though Logan gives him a weird look, he does as he’s told, and clears his throat. “Well… most of the stars we see in our night sky have already died. But because it takes light-years for their light to actually reach us, they’ve already burnt out by the time we can see them.” 

“Wow. That is fascinating!” Janus wraps his hand around Logan’s cock, and begins to stroke it slowly. 

Shivering, Logan lays flat against the bed and turns his face away. He sucks in a deep breath, and his relaxed body sinks deep into Janus’s mattress. Briefly, his mind fades into blissful serenity, silencing his mind and banishing away all of his typical, overstimulating thoughts. But when his talking ceases, Janus is squeezing his shaft incredibly tight. 

Logan cries and jerks up, and Janus tuts at him. “What’s the matter, love? Too distracted to keep talking? Well, that’s unfortunate, because I’m thoroughly interested in what you’re talking about, and I’m desperate for you to educate me! Surely you understand, being incredibly intelligent and all, that when you’re thirsting for exquisite knowledge it’s sometimes difficult to focus on anything else!” 

“So- so-” Logan curses, “so what you’re saying is you want me to talk while you touch me?” 

Janus grins. “Smart boy. That’s it! It’s easy; someone as capable as you can do something so simple, can’t you? Because if you can’t, I might just have to do something about this distracting cock of yours. I’m sure I have a knife around here somewhere…” 

“What?!” 

“Oh, hush up. I’m joking.” Janus winks. “Or maybe I’m telling the truth. Do you really want to risk it and call my bluff?” 

Logan’s mouth closes tight, and then opens, and then closes again. He looks hesitant, but finally just shakes his head no. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll try to keep talking.” 

“Good. Now, you were saying something about dead stars?” 

Swallowing the spit in his mouth, Logan blinks slowly and then nods. “The… the concept of light-years is something that’s a mixture of interesting and horrifying. Being so, so far away from something that if you were being shot towards it in our fastest rockets, with unlimited fuel, you’d still be long dead before you could ever reach it. And chances are that whatever you’re moving to is also long dead.” 

Janus guides his hand up and down Logan’s shaft, while his free hand rubs Logan’s thigh. Logan’s body is lax under his touch. “A real melancholy fact. How does it make you feel?” Janus makes a popping sound with his mouth, and he sees Logan’s eyelids twitch as another wave of relaxation washes over him. A placebo brought on simply from the noise. 

“It’s… it’s both scary, and very cool. If the universe is so big that it can fit an infinite number of galaxies, infinite number of stars, and have these things be an infinite number of lightyears away, then it really makes you wonder what’s out there.” 

“Hm… that is sort of mystifying. I feel it can become very existential if pondered for too long… What does Virgil think about such a concept?” 

Logan suddenly frowns, biting back a moan at Janus’s strokes over his shaft as he mutters “he doesn’t like it. I can’t really talk about space with him because it freaks him out.” 

Janus raises an eyebrow. “What about Patton? He seems willing to listen to anything.” 

“Yeah. But all he does is smile and nod, and I know he’s not actually understanding what I’m saying. I’m honestly not that convinced he even is listening, so much as just letting his mind wander.” 

“Need I even ask about Roman?” 

“Roman likes stars. He thinks they’re romantic.” Logan’s eyes stay shut for a moment as Janus touches him, but a quick squeeze has him hissing and continuing “he likes the moon, too. But I mentioned spaghettification to him once, and he got so squicked out that he basically avoids talking about space altogether.” 

“Spaghettification?” 

Logan perks up a bit, but only slightly. “It’s the-” he gets cut off by a moan as Janus begins working his cock faster, though a warning look from Janus has him desperately attempting to recover, “it’s the process that- that occurs when you’re pulled into a black hole. You’re basically stretched thin indefinitely, pulled thinner and thinner until you’re hundreds of miles long.” 

“Would one be alive throughout all that?” 

“Oh. No. Absolutely not. Electricity is slower than light, and you’re basically being pulled into that black hole at light-speed. By the time the spaghettification process even happens your electrons have long since stopped being able to send signals to your brain. You’re dead before you’re stretched, but your body ends up stretched nonetheless.” 

Grinning, Janus leans closer to Logan, and pulls his hand up the length of Logan’s cock. His thumb rubs and presses over Logan’s slit, making Logan groan beneath him. “Well, I think this is all so, so interesting. I could listen to you talk about your interests for ages!” 

“Mm,” Logan’s fingers dig into the comforter beneath him. “The sun is also magnificent. It’s going to explode in about five billion years, when it runs out of the hydrogen it needs to keep burning.” 

“Lucky that you won’t be around to witness that, hm?” 

“Will- will you be?” 

Janus’s smile falters, but only momentarily, as he firmly presses his fingers into Logan’s length. As his hand drags upwards, pre spills out from Logan’s slit, and becomes lubricant for Janus’s hand. “Hopefully, I’ll be long gone by then. If not though, I doubt even I could survive such an event.” 

“It would be wonderful to witness, though. To see something so catastrophic. To see the end of the word… The end of our galaxy, even.” 

Chuckling, Janus asks “you really think so?” 

Logan nods. 

Now, Janus finds himself just as fascinated as Logan is. So much about space that Janus hadn’t really thought about in his lifetime. He remembers the moon landing; he was alive during the space race. He never understood the desire to explore such a deadly, unknown, vacuum, but that’s why he never became an astronaut. Still, so much of what’s been described to him has all seemed tragic, and Logan’s complete starstruck by each and every factoid. 

Logan’s eyelids screw shut in pleasure, and Janus knows he’s nearing his climax. 

“Would you like to go to space someday?” he asks, out of the blue. Logan’s eyes snap open. 

“I- I would. But that’s not realistic.” 

“Think of this like a hypothetical. Hypothetically, would you like to explore the stars?” 

Swallowing the spit in his mouth, Logan presses his head back into the mattress to try and picture his ideal dream-job. “No… no. It’d take forever to get to the stars. I’d like to go- go to the moon. Just to experience what it’s like to stand on it. What it must have felt like for Aldrin and Armstrong. And then I’d want to study Mars.” 

“To colonize it?” 

“No. God, no.” Logan seems disgusted at the mere idea of overtaking Mars for such reasons. “To observe it. To learn about its properties. To find out why the water dried up and see if I can discover any details about past organisms that used to inhabit it. And then-” Logan gasps. His voice goes up a pitch. More pre leaks from his cock. Janus’s eyes are fixated on the gorgeous sight, as Logan struggles to stay composed enough to think between his relaxed mind and pleasured body. “And then I’d leave it alone. To continue on as a planet. One that humans shouldn’t live on. We have Earth. And when it dies, so should we.” 

“Profound.” 

Logan manages a half-laugh, but quickly moans again, back arching off the bed. Janus hears Logan whisper his name, but he can tell it just slipped out. 

Janus leans down to kiss Logan’s jaw, before grabbing Logan’s hand and pulling it up. With one hand working Logan’s cock faster and faster, Janus’s other caresses Logan’s scabbed wrist, before Janus brings it to his mouth. His lips gently press against the wound, and then Logan’s coming. 

His orgasm is sudden and soft, with Logan weakly moaning as ecstasy overwhelms him. He’s too lethargic to try and fight back anymore noises, and so pants and whimpers slip past his lips as he’s pumped through his climax, until Janus finally stops. 

Though half-tempted, Janus avoids commenting on the mess Logan’s just made, and how counterproductive it is to the bath they just took. Instead, he grabs Logan’s discarded towel, and wipes it gently over Logan’s front until he’s all clean, and then reaches for the boxers he tossed. He gets them slid up Logan’s legs, and they do fit, even if they are noticeably tight. Logan’s thighs bulge against the leg holes, but they’d unfortunately have to do. 

“Are you too lax to stand up and walk?” Janus then asks, as he dips into his drawers once again to grab himself clothes. He foregoes his typical skin-tight attire in favor of a looser and more comfy pair of pants and shirt, though both are still dark in colour. Logan groans from the bed, but Janus watches as he lazily pushes himself up with a sigh. 

As he adjusts his glasses, he inquires “where would we be walking to?” 

Janus grins. “It’s a surprise.” 

“I dislike surprises.”

“You’ll like this one. I guarantee it.” Janus grabs Logan’s hands and pulls him off the bed, having to basically pull Logan behind him as Logan struggles to stay balanced. He’s hardly even walking, too sluggish to try. But inevitably, they reach a door. 

Janus gives Logan an excited smile, before knocking twice on it, and then opening it up. Inside, Logan’s greeted with Virgil, Patton, and Roman, all staring wide-eyed at the door. 

There’s nothing for a moment, before Virgil groans “are you going to bring all my boyfriends back naked?” 

Chuckling, Janus pushes Logan into the room, where he immediately moves towards the bed and falls onto it. His glasses are pulled away by Patton, as Virgil immediately moves to bundle Logan up in their blankets. 

Nervously, Patton pets through Logan’s hair, before asking Janus “is this… is this for real?” 

“Is what for real?” 

“The four of us. Together again.” 

Janus shrugs. “Unless you do something to prove the four of you can’t be trusted together, I don’t see why not.” 

Roman grabs up Virgil and Logan, and rolls them over on top of him, where Logan hardly moves an inch and Virgil immediately seizes the opportunity to get comfortable. Patton lingers to the side. 

And then, after a moment, he quietly says “thank you.” 

Curiously, Janus asks “for what?”

“For Logan. And Roman. And Virgil. And for bringing them to this room… to me.” Patton tucks a loose curl behind his ear. In a lighter tone, he’s quick to add “and for showing us this room had a bathroom. We never would have tried that door otherwise.” 

“Legit!” Virgil groans from Roman’s arms. “I was about to just give up and piss on the floor if this room didn’t have a bathroom like all the others!” 

“Oh. I forgot you humans needed a bathroom for more than a bath.” 

This time, Virgil’s not in reach of a pillow to chuck one at his head, but he’s sure one would come his way if he was. Instead, he watches as Patton sort of laughs, and then turns to his lovers, snuggling up next to them and getting wrapped up in Roman’s arms too. All together like this, they sort of look like one creature. One being. It feels… right seeing the four of them all at once. Janus dislikes the feeling. 

So, he leaves again, this time heading to the bathroom to fetch Logan’s clothes. He checks the size on them, and then ponders whether or not he could guess the other’s sizes. He knows Roman’s shirt is around here somewhere… Maybe he could just ask Virgil and Patton? They’d need new clothes if they were to be staying… If Janus weren’t to kill them soon. 

He brings Logan’s shirt to his room, and just holds it. He stares at it. 

And he stares, and he stares, and he stares. 

And then, he makes a popping sound with his lips, and falls back against his bed with a sigh. 

Chapter Text

“Breakfast!” Janus sings, as he butts into his captives’ room holding a box in his hands. As he shows it off to the bleary-eyed, half-asleep conglomerate of bodies, those who don’t require glasses are able to see it’s a container of pop-tarts. “At least, I think these are a breakfast food. It looks rather dessert-like, if you ask me…” 

“Yeah, they’re breakfast,” Virgil groans, as he rolls over to get a better look at the box. He squints at it, and then turns away. “You didn’t get any brown sugar and cinnamon ones?” 

Patton yawns. “Hm?” 

“What flavor are the ones Janus is holding?” Logan asks, as he sits up. He stretches his arms above his head, scratching at the hypertrophic scar decorating his wrist. Hopeful, he adds “Are they blueberry?” 

“They’re strawberry,” Virgil huffs, folding his arms over his chest. Roman’s shut eyes open just a touch, and look towards the box. When he sees they are indeed strawberry flavored, he smiles happily. Though his face quickly falls as Virgil continues with “it’s not fair. You only picked out the one Roman likes.” 

“There weren’t a lot of options,” Patton gently argues, “but I thought I grabbed a few flavors…” 

He looks expectantly at Janus, who can’t help rolling his eyes. “Did you really expect me to bring in every box you bought and bless you with a wide selection?” 

Logan reaches over to the nightstand, and grabs his glasses. As he slides his glasses onto his face, he says “well, you did with the cereal.” 

“That’s true…” Patton hums, “so I would have assumed you’d grown to be a bit more… considerate?” 

Janus’s eye twitches, but he can’t help smiling. “Me? Considerate? I lock you in a room for weeks, and you badger me over pop-tart flavors. I’m a bit amused by your priorities.” 

“Just because we can’t leave this room doesn’t mean I’m going to start liking strawberry pop-tarts,” Virgil hisses. “I’d rather starve.” 

“Don’t be dramatic.” 

Turning to glare at Janus over his shoulder, Virgil then raises his middle finger into the air, though his wrist is quickly grabbed by Patton and pushed back into the mattress with a hushed scolding of “be nice.” 

“Do you have a toaster?” Roman eventually pipes up, though he still looks comparably sleepier than his lovers. “I like my pop-tarts toasted. A nice, warm treat to wake you up for the day… It’s like I’m eating a home-cooked breakfast without having to actually cook anything.” 

Janus stares at him for a moment, judgemental, but eventually settles back into a soft smile. He steps partially out of the doorway and reaches his hand out, just holding it there for a moment, before suddenly a toaster floats into view. It’s small and visibly old, but as it lands in Janus’s hand he holds it out proudly. “This should do,” he declares, as he sets that, and the box of poptarts near Virgil, who’d turned to watch Janus’s mystical display. 

Virgil’s look of offense is clear, as he spits “you could have just summoned a different flavor in here!?” 

Shrugging, Janus answers “yeah,” watching as Virgil kicks the toaster to the edge of the bed. Roman immediately sits up with a pout, grabbing the toaster and poptarts, and keeping them both protectively in his lap. ‘

“Then why didn’t you!?” 

“I didn’t hear you ask.” Childishly, Janus sticks his tongue out at Virgil, before stepping forward to scratch under Roman’s chin. “Besides, I really only care about Roman’s preferences. He seems to have good taste.” 

Roman ends up unintentionally leaning into the affection, but once he sees Virgil’s seething face he quickly cowers. Before Virgil can launch into some sort of “justified” tirade, he’s being grabbed and snuggled by Roman, who Janus hears whisper “just ask nicely if you really want a different kind. Don’t… don’t get everything taken away.” 

Virgil’s anger bubbles for a few seconds more, before fizzling out, into more resolved irritation. “Fine,” he sneers, before glaring at Janus. “Can you please summon a flavor that isn’t fucking berry?” 

“I’d like to counter Virgil’s inquiry,” Logan immediately interrupts. “I kindly propose calling forth two flavors. One of which being blueberry… If you have it on hand, of course. And the other being whatever Virgil wants.” 

“Well, what does Virgil want?” 

“Brown sugar and cinnamon, obviously,” Virgil huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a dick, not deaf. I know you heard me.” 

“Heard your pathetic whining over a pastry flavor? Yes, indeed I did.” 

“Fuck you-” 

Virgil gets a pillow pushed into his face, and promptly shoved back into the mattress. He squirms for a minute, before Patton pulls the pillow away, frowning disapprovingly. “Well now he’s not going to get it for you,” Patton scolds, “after I put in the effort to make sure I grabbed the flavors you guys enjoyed.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Janus asks “what flavor do you enjoy, Patton?” 

Startled by the question, Patton nearly jumps where he sits, though he quickly settles back on his calves and plays with the bottom of his shirt. “I don’t really… uh… have a preference. Anything’s good!” 

“You have a preference. Everyone has preferences.” 

“Well, I think most of them are good! I’d be just as happy with strawberry as I would be with blueberry!” He looks towards Virgil and runs his fingers through Virgil’s bangs, before adding “but right now, I think I’d enjoy some brown sugar and cinnamon ones. Those are especially good toasted, and seeing as we now have a toaster, it’d be a real shame to miss out!” 

Janus smiles, and then reaches his hand out, beckoning Patton off the bed. “Then come with me to grab them.” 

“What!?” Virgil immediately protests, “you’ve already shown you can just… float them in here! Why does he need to go with you?” 

Rolling his eyes, Janus merely replies “shush, love. I’m getting sick of your constant complaining,” and then flicks his wrist, forcibly silencing Virgil for his own benefit. Virgil immediately struggles, fighting fruitlessly to pull his palm away from his lips, but he’s unable, and so quickly turns away to bitterly sulk in defeat. 

Patton sympathetically gives his back a few pats, but ends up scooting to the edge of the bed and sliding off it, moving to Janus’s side. 

“Consider bringing him back with his clothes on, if you wouldn’t mind,” Logan says, before they can step out the door. “I’m sure you enjoy seeing us all nearly-nude, but it’s not practical. And I’m not convinced your floors are clean enough for us to walk around without socks on… The last thing any of us need is to develop athlete’s foot from walking atop century-old carpet.” 

“I’ll consider it,” Janus hums in response, as he gives Roman’s chin a few more scratches before stepping away. “There should be an outlet here somewhere… I know it’s an older room, but there must be something for that toaster to hook up to. If not… try using it anyway. It might just work anyway.” 

“That doesn’t seem logical.” 

There’s a pop, and a relieved groan, before Virgil’s verbally grumbling “neither do floating pop-tart boxes, L.” Logan sighs, but just moves to grab the toaster and search the room for a wall outlet. 

Though Janus is half-tempted to stay and watch Logan crouch and bend due to his lack of clothing (and frankly, Patton looks tempted too), there is something more important than silly pop-tart flavors that requires Patton’s attention. So, Janus grabs Patton’s wrist, and drags him out of the room, kicking the door shut behind them. 

“I really don’t see why I have to go with you to grab the boxes,” Patton softly says, no sooner than they’ve stepped out into the hallway. “I’ve seen you guide pounds of groceries down streets back to your house. And I saw you bring the toaster into our room!” 

“I need you for more than fetching food,” Janus quells him. “You’ll see if you’re patient.” 

Of course, that only fuels Patton’s curiosity, and Janus can see him brimming with the urge to ask questions… but he stays silent. 

It isn’t until Patton’s guided into a common area that he notices a few bags laid out on the ground. 

“Your… living room, I presume?” 

“One of them. This is one of the less interesting ones.” Janus taps the couch with his foot, and then lazily falls onto it, stretching over the cushions possessively. “It’s not had a proper update in a few decades. Old couch. Old recliners… You should have seen the room I showed Roman. Lovely fireplace. Very romantic.” 

“Don’t worry, he told us all about it.” Patton steps over to the bags as Janus nods towards them. They’re typical trash bags, but they’re all full. He hesitates over their knots, not wanting rotting garbage to come spilling out and over his hands, feet, and the floor, but Janus is watching him expectantly. “There’s not… There’s not like… old food in here, right?” 

“Open it and find out.” 

Frowning, Patton stands up straighter, holding the bag by the edges. “As much as I find your games… interesting-” Patton’s straining himself, trying to be nice, “-I’d rather not get trash everywhere. It’d just be a lot for both of us to clean up, and-” 

“Just open the bags, Patton.” 

Though he’s unhappy, Patton sighs, and does as he’s told, bracing himself for the horrid stench that no doubt is going to begin seeping out the open hole… but it never comes. 

So, he hesitantly peeks an eye open, and instead of being met with spoiled garbage, he instead sees… fabric?

Janus watches with casual interest as Patton reaches into the bag and pulls a shirt out… and then a pair of pants, and then a sweatshirt. There’s no organization to the clothes stuffed into the bag, as they’re a variety of different colours, sizes, styles, but it is clothing. 

Patton grabs the second bag, and just dumps this one out, finding more clothes. The third and final bag contains more of the same, and soon enough he’s standing in the middle of a rather large pile of clothing. There’s everything - jeans, pajama pants, hoodies… Everything. 

“I know Roman and Logan’s sizes; that’s the benefit of bringing them back nude. Virgil’s I’ve also gathered, seeing as he’s currently flaunting my wardrobe. Yours… I had to guess. You’re not a lot taller than me, but you do weigh quite a bit more. I sort of had to play it by eye… but there’s four main sizes. I tried to pick out clothes I thought you guys would enjoy, so don’t say I never do anything for you.” 

As Patton picks up a dark purple shirt, he slowly looks up at Janus. “Why… why didn’t you have one of us go with you?” 

“The last time I took one of you out, he almost got run over by a car.” Janus holds his newly-scaled hand up to the light, and looks over his knuckles. “And yours truly ended up with new hand decorations.” 

Guiltily, Patton stares at Janus’s fingers, before quietly murmuring “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. It happened, and it’s past. If I held grudges, I wouldn’t have ever let you out of that room. I would have left you to starve, not even making you useful because I felt you didn’t deserve to be. But here you are, being useful.” Janus’s hand dips into his pocket, and he manifests a nail file, which he then begins dragging over the sides of his nails. “Speaking of being useful, why don’t you go ahead and sort those clothes for me. By size, of course. There should be a pile for each of you.” 

“Where’d you get these?” 

Janus shrugs. “Yard sales. Thrift stores. I just went out yesterday and spent the entire day and night grabbing whatever looked like it might fit.” 

Patton frowns. “Is that why you didn’t bring us breakfast?”

“Oh hush; you still got dinner!” 

“I thought you were punishing us.” 

Janus’s file comes to a sudden halt, as he turns his body to stare at Patton, as Patton stares down at the pile of clothes. Shame is written all over Patton’s face, while confusion is present on Janus’s. “Punishing you? Punishing you for what?” 

It’s Patton’s turn to shrug, as he finally folds up the shirt he’s holding and steps out of the pile. He sets it on the ground, all the way to the left of the rug he’s standing atop. “For… the hand thing. I thought you were still mad.” 

“Why would you think that?” 

“You haven’t said otherwise. And… I don’t know… Logan told us all about the scales and the biology stuff.” Patton looks at Janus, and then away. “Stuff I don’t really understand. But the scales form on injured places. And I didn’t think you’d like having more scales over your body. I don’t know.” 

To Janus, it’s a weird train of thought. If he was truly still mad, then Patton wouldn’t have been reunited with all of his lovers. But he has them all. And Janus even told them where the bathroom was!

Janus goes to laugh, but Patton’s nervous expression keeps him from reacting much at all. 

“Why does it matter?” Janus eventually asks, the question surprising both himself and Patton. 

Patton opens his mouth, as if he has an answer clearly in mind, but nothing comes out. There’s just silence heavy in the air between them, and eventually Patton just closes his mouth to swallow down a thick buildup of spit. No words come; no revelation brought to light. Just a void containing Patton’s extreme but indiscernible feelings, and Janus’s utter fascination. 

Eventually, Patton just bends down and grabs another article of clothing, leaving Janus’s inquiry unanswered. Janus doesn’t ask again. 

Instead, he watches Patton fold each piece of fabric meticulously, as if he’s done it millions of times before. Each shirt pressed in half, and rolled into thirds. Each pair of pants matched leg to leg, and trifolded. Every piece of clothing compressed into smaller, neater versions of themselves. 

The sorted piles start out small. As Patton looks through every tag, he’ll walk towards a specific one whilst folding, and by the time the shirt or the sweater has been perfectly packed up, it’s being set down in a pile. One looks warm. One looks purple. The other two have a mixture of neutrals - blacks, greys - but one in particular has hints of light blues. 

“You know, you did perfectly match our styles,” Patton eventually says, voice strained but sweet, in a gentle attempt to ease the tension. “Tight fitting, decorated clothes for Roman, moody shirts and ripped pants for Virgil… It’s almost perfect.” 

“They were easy to figure out. With a body like Roman’s, who wouldn’t want to show it off? And Virgil… I mean, look at what he showed up in. You and Logan were a bit harder to pick a certain style for, so I went with ‘comfortable’ and ‘business’ respectfully. It fits your personalities, I feel.” 

Patton chuckles. “Well, you’ve really hit the nail on the head! It’ll be nice to get out of our usual wear…” as Patton bends down again, he lifts up a pair of boxers, looking as though they’d suit Virgil. “And look! You were even considerate enough to pick us out some underwear! God knows we’ve been needing a few new pairs.” 

“I know. Yours have started to reek.” 

Embarrassed, Patton stares at the floor, and goes back to folding. “You wouldn’t happen to have a washer or a dryer, would you? Half of your mansion looks just like our house, and the other half looks like it was pulled straight out of a history book, so it’s really a gamble…” 

“I don’t need in-unit machinery. There’s a laundromat right down the road.” 

“Right. Sorry for asking.” 

Janus shifts his position, and pushes himself up fully. He raises an eyebrow as he says “you know, Patton, you needn’t apologize so frequently. It’s not like you’ve done anything sinful.” 

“I know. I- I just…” Patton’s eyes flicker to Janus’s scaly hand, and then away again, and in that instance Janus is immediately clued in to Patton’s odd demeanor. He’s guilty. “I never want to annoy you too bad, you know? You could kill us… at any moment… so it’s best to stay on your good side. Ha… ha…” 

He tries to laugh like it’s a silly joke, but it’s not a joke. He’s strained. 

As Janus’s healed hand combs through his own hair, brushing it from his face, he watches Patton’s eyes follow it. It’s only after he realizes Janus is staring that he looks away, and tries to get back to folding clothes. But there’s a slight tremble to his body as he stands. 

Janus almost wants to sigh. Humans and their fickle, complicated emotions… But to some extent, he understood Patton’s guilt. 

It’s not like Janus’s injury was Patton’s fault. In fact, it was entirely Janus’s for reaching out to save him, and consequently that idiotic driver who decided to blow through a red light that caused the whole thing. And as much as Janus does enjoy blaming the few days worth of pain he suffered on Patton, he knows logically he can’t. But Patton feeling bad about it? Noticeably bad? 

“Would you like to touch my scales, love?” Janus suddenly asks. In his peripheral, he sees Patton nearly drop the pants he’s holding, as he pulls the fabric tight to his chest. 

“Wh- what?” 

Janus holds his hand out, daintily flicking his wrist as he rolls over onto his stomach, kicking his legs up behind him. “My scales,” Janus repeats, “you know, the ones you caused me to develop? Fresh scales are always smoothest; they’re not yet chipped or scratched by external friction. You may feel, if you’d like.” 

Patton finishes folding the fabric he’s holding, but his eyes stay fixated on Janus as he does so. After he sets the dark blue jeans down in Logan’s pile, he gulps and moves forward. 

“Why?” he eventually questions, as he obediently lowers himself onto his knees without being asked, so that he’s level with Janus’s fingers. 

Janus hums. “Well… you haven't been able to stop staring at my hands, you’ve begun stammering and stuttering, and you won’t meet my eyes. So, clearly, you have a little fetish for hands.” 

“What!?” 

Of course, that’s quite a stretch, especially because Janus knows that Patton’s “hand fetish” is not why he’s acting so strange, but saying such is way more fun. And Patton’s flustered, embarrassed reaction is quite the amusing sight! 

“Oh, no need to be embarrassed, Patton,” Janus soothes him, as he taps his fingers gently against Patton’s face. “Considering Roman’s into licking up his own mess off the floor, I’d say this is the most normal thing you and your lovers enjoy!” His pointer pets down Patton’s cheek, and then dips beneath his chin, which he uses to tilt Patton’s face upwards. “My hand has almost completely healed, you know, but newly formed scales are rather sensitive. Perhaps a tongue lapping against them will feel like a nice, sultry massage. And of course, I’m sure sucking my fingers will get your little cock hard. You humans are simple in that regard.” 

“I’m not… I don’t have-” 

Janus pushes his fingers against Patton’s lips, teasingly shushing him. “No need to lie, my dear. You needn’t be embarrassed. Do I honestly seem like the judgemental type?” 

“Well… Honestly, kinda,” Patton squeaks around Janus’s fingers, which pull away from his mouth shortly after as Janus snickers softly. 

“You’ve got me there,” Janus mutters, before he uses his pointer to guide Patton’s lips apart. “But I’m not judging this. In fact, I’m rather pleased with it! It’s always a pleasant stroke to my ego whenever any of you otherwise reserved humans drool over me. Logan thinks I’m pretty, and you think my hands are pretty-” 

“No, I-” 

“Shh, shh, shh,” Janus shoves his pointer and his middle finger into Patton’s mouth before Patton can argue, making Patton gag, “I despise liars, Patton. I’m incredibly good at pinpointing them, too. It’s like I can taste their dishonesty in the air… and it’s bitter and revolting and incredibly unsatisfying. Too much dishonesty on my tongue and I might just have to wash it out of my mouth with a bit of blood! And you remember what happened the last time I took blood from you, don’t you?” 

Patton shrinks slightly. He can taste what happened afterwards as the scales push against his tongue. 

The pads of Janus’s fingers press against Patton’s tastebuds. He expects to taste something - blood, maybe, or at the very least sweat - but Janus just tastes like nothing. It’s odd. Another reminder that he’s not human, and hasn’t been in a long time. 

But when Patton finally remembers he can just pull his head away, his face is flushed, and his hands have been pushed between his legs. 

“Still going to try and convince me you aren’t a quirophiliac?” Janus teases, as he smells Patton’s faint arousal wafting through the air. “Because I’m afraid your body will betray any weak excuse you spout.” 

Patton looks away out of embarrassment. He just sort of sits for a minute, before nervously looking back. 

“Is it… is it true you can taste lies?” 

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Maybe. Do you really want to find out?” 

“No- no! I’m not trying to… to test you or anything! Just curious. Did that come after you turned into a vampire?” 

Snorting, Janus asks “is it something humans are able to do?” 

“Well, not taste. But Logan’s good at identifying tells. He can typically tell when I’m lying.” 

“My dear, I’m afraid that’s hardly a feat. You wear your heart on your sleeve, your emotions in your eyes, and your empathy as a suit of armor.” Janus pokes Patton’s squishy cheek with his hand, still wet with Patton’s spit. “Though… that does make me curious. Why must you lie to Logan?” 

Patton’s eyes go wide, and he swallows a mouthful of spit. “Well, I- I don’t often lie to Logan! I’ve only done it once or twice, and they were teensy weensy little white lies! I’ve hardly lied to any of my boyfriends! And when I do it’s really for their benefit, and I’m not causing any harm , so-” 

Janus’s hand clamps over Patton’s face yet again, and gives him an unimpressed look. “Your frantic rambling makes it seem like that’s not the case. Do you frequently lie to your lovers?” 

Patton’s muffled voice comes immediately, frantic and shameful. “No! No, I-” 

Janus shakes his head, sighing. “You’re lying,” he says, as clicks his tongue in disapproval. He pushes his fingers back into Patton’s mouth, and this time Patton doesn’t pull away. It’s as if he’s hoping keeping his mouth occupied will further prevent incriminating himself. “It’s quite pitiful to say you barely fib and then attempt to deceive me in the same breath. How many times have you done this exact thing to your lovers? Said one thing, meant another? Dishonestly proclaimed one fact, and then falsified it?” 

Patton tries to argue Janus’s claims, but Janus just turns his position so that he’s sitting upright now, and plants his other hand on the back of Patton’s head, preventing him from pulling away. When Patton realizes he can’t, he just squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers. 

“Don’t try and wish yourself someplace else solely because you refuse to confront your own hypocrisy,” Janus scolds, though his voice reflects anything but disappointment. In fact, he’s actually quite amused. “But, if you want a distraction from your immoral actions, then I’m more than happy to oblige. See, all you need to do to stop feeling the immense guilt your gut is no doubt swelling with is to focus on my fingers, alright? That should be easy for you, considering how much you already like them, but really direct your attention solely to them. Okay, love?” 

Patton whines, and gags softly, but slowly one of his eyes peek open. He meets Janus’s gaze, but only briefly, before letting out a soft moan of affirmation. 

“And really think about the motion of sucking. Pushing your head down, pulling your mouth up, and then repeating it over and over. It’s so repetitive. It’s tedious.” 

Though his face is scrunched up slightly, Janus watches as slowly Patton’s guilt, hesitance, and shame melts into relaxation and ease. His body visibly loosens, and his head is easier to guide. It’s always such a surprise seeing which of them are more or less susceptible to Janus’s influence. And how much more susceptible they were when feeling bad. 

How horrid must their feelings be to rely on Janus to keep them mindless and relaxed? 

Human problems seem so absurd. Janus briefly tries to recall if he’d ever experienced a quarrel or complication that had him feeling so intensely bad, but in trying to remember he just feels… sick. 

His grip eases in Patton’s hair, but Patton moves on his own anyway. His tongue slides over Janus’s scales, teeth only lightly scraping against the smooth, sensitive plates. Janus almost scolds him, but he restrains himself, aware that Patton’s not doing it on purpose. He’s just lost in his own mind; lost in blissful mindlessness, desperately clinging to the thing that keeps him away from the harsh truth. 

The truth that he’s a liar. 

“Have you ever sucked on your lovers’ fingers, dear?” Janus asks, as Patton swallows Janus’s fingers down to the knuckle. “Or do you just spend your time worshipping their cocks?” 

Patton’s face goes red at the question, but it’s not like he can answer anyway. And when Janus pushes his face back down seconds after pulling up, his eyes just roll back into his head. 

“Don’t think I can’t tell you’re experienced with your mouth. No self-respecting slut would do the things you’re doing with your tongue. It’s honestly quite the shame such talent is wasted on my fingers. Though, I guess I can always have you do something about that…” 

Janus pulls his hand away, and Patton follows it, with Patton’s lips being connected to Janus’s fingers through a thin string of spit. But after being pushed back slightly with Janus’s foot, Patton seems to snap back to attention, and more shyly wipes his mouth and looks away. His hands are politely folded against his knees. 

“Let’s play a game.” 

Though his cheeks go pink, Patton softly argues “wasn’t I supposed to be folding clothes?”

“Well, you were, but someone couldn’t keep it in his pants.” Janus kicks Patton gently again, mostly to keep him from countering Janus’s (rather preposterous) statement, before continuing with “but you can always finish doing that when we’re done. You might need a change of clothes afterwards anyway!” 

“I figured I would,” Patton numbles, “we’ve all been needing new clothes, lately. Especially coming from ‘visits’ with you.” 

Janus smiles, delighted. “So I sometimes make a mess of my toys; it’s just a bit of fun every here and there. And speaking of fun; let’s play a game.” 

“I… I- uh- don’t think you’re giving me much room to refuse.” 

Smiling wider, Janus leans forward to pet over Patton’s hair. “Smart cookie,” he coos, though his sweet tone is clearly condescending. “Here’s the rules. I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to answer it honestly. With each question you refuse to answer, you will strip off a piece of your clothing.” 

“I don’t suppose I’ll earn anything for answering?” 

Janus raises an eyebrow, and then hums in consideration. “Good point, love. Let’s see. I could pull off a piece of clothing per question answered, but something tells me you wouldn’t care too much for that.”

“Logan’s described your body as ‘fascinating,’ but the only people I enjoy seeing nude are my boyfriends.” 

“Yes, yes, I figured. I could go back to the store and get some more specific foods you’d like…” 

Patton makes a face. “I’m pretty sure I grabbed plenty the last time you took me grocery shopping, and it’s not like you consistently remember to feed us. Or bring us snacks.” 

“I always forget you mortals need to eat so frequently. My mistake.” 

Janus taps at his chin, pondering what exactly he can offer that’ll be worthwhile. Not that he has to offer anything, but if Patton wants to barter then who is Janus to deny him? 

“What if…  I went to your old place of residence, and fetched one item per question. Surely you have some sentimentals that you or your lovers have been dearly missing; I will generously go and retrieve one item for every question you answer truthfully. That way you have motivation to actually participate.” 

Patton’s eyes light up at the idea, but he quickly asks “but how will you find our house?” 

“I assumed you’d tell me the address.” 

Though he frowns, Janus can see Patton recognizing that that was the obvious answer. 

“And before you even think about lying, the moment I taste a fib coming from your lips, I’ll end the game right then and there, and set your old house ablaze, guaranteeing you get nothing from your old life.” Janus twirls one of Patton’s curls with his pointer. “Does that sound fair?” 

“That sounds… horrible…” Patton gasps, but Janus just smiles. 

“Wonderful. Then I guess we’re good to get started.” 

Patton doesn’t look nearly as eager as Janus does, but as Patton wipes the spit dribbling from his mouth, Janus can see a bit of relief flashing in his downcast, blue eyes. Sure, he’s still pressing his thighs together as a result of sucking Janus’s fingers, but that doesn’t mean he loved it. 

“Now, when-” 

“Wait!” 

A bit annoyed, but mostly curious, Janus’s jaw screws shut mid-speech. “Yes?” he asks, assuming this might be a plea of some kind. 

He’s already preparing to dismiss or ignore Patton’s words entirely, only for Patton to softly implore “can I ask you questions as well?” 

And that has Janus promptly shutting up. 

If this were a question from Logan, Janus might have expected it. After all, Logan had spent their entire last encounter asking questions, digging into Janus’s biology and physicality. But Patton seemed more go-with-the-flow! 

“What could you possibly gain from asking me questions?” Janus presses, voice low. He leans forward where he sits, elbow pressing into his thigh as his chin rests on his clenched fists. 

Patton shrinks, but still stammers “well, what do you?” 

Patton grimaces seconds after saying it, as though he regrets his words immediately, but any sort of shock or strike he may anticipate never comes, as Janus just… stares. Janus watches Patton squirm, and hears him nervously utter an apology or two, but then a smile spreads onto Janus’s face. 

“I suppose you’ve got me there,” Janus blithely responds, though he’s aware of how fake the cheery tone sounds. “I will humor you this time, my sweetheart. You may ask me questions, and the same rules still apply to me. We’ll play fair.” 

“There’s really no need,” Patton immediately insists, cheeks going pink, “I have no interest in potentially seeing you stripped to your underwear.” 

Janus waves his hand dismissively, visibly smug in his decision. “Nonsense. We play fair. I am an open and honest person, after all! Who says I’ll even be short a sock by the end of this?” Chuckling as though he’s the funniest man ever, Janus uncrosses his legs, and then recrosses them, before clicking his tongue. “I’ll start, and we’ll take turns. When was the last time you lied to your lovers?” 

Instantaneously Patton says “pass.” 

Janus raises an eyebrow, and then laughs. “My dear, you only have so many ‘passes.’ What all are you wearing right now? A shirt, some pants, and a pair of boxers? If I really want to stretch the definition of clothes, then I guess your glasses may count, but that only totals four questions you can skip! And you have no idea what I may ask next, or how many questions I’m going to ask.” Janus taps his fingers rhythmically against his knee. “And once you run out of clothes, you’ll be forced to answer everything; willingly, or no.”

“Through your… vampire magic?” 

“Yes. Through my ‘vampire magic.’”  Janus rolls his eyes. “Now, again, when was the last time you lied to your lovers?” 

Patton hesitates. “I don’t… remember specifics. It’s not easy to know how many days go by cooped up in our room.” 

“Alright. Fair point. When was the last time you remember lying to your lovers?” 

“I guess after we went grocery shopping. They saw the wound on my neck and…” Patton’s hand comes to rub the scar on his jugular. “Obviously, they were worried. I told them you didn’t take that much.” 

“Was that the lie?” 

“Yes, that was the lie. You took… a lot. I remember feeling woozy and bleary. Like I was going to pass out at any moment. And after we got back ho-” Patton cuts himself off abruptly, looking almost frightened, before shaking his head slightly and rephrasing “when we came back here, I fell asleep almost instantly after being tossed in my room. I don’t even know how long I slept, but I still didn’t feel well-rested after what must have been hours…” 

Well, that was an… uninteresting answer. But Janus is a bit surprised as to why Patton would lie about something so inconsequential! What was the purpose of telling them Janus stole less than what he actually did? “Noted. Now it’s your turn.” 

“My turn?”

“To ask a question, dear. Duh.” 

“Oh. Uhm.” Patton looks to the side, thinking for a moment, before asking “what’s your real, full name?” 

“Really? That’s the question you want to lead with?” 

Frowning, Patton huffs “you never said my questions had to stick with a certain theme. And I’m curious!”

“Well. My first name is Janus… but you already knew that.” 

“I asked for your full name.” 

A smile tugs at the corner of Janus’s lips. “I have no middle name. My last name was Dolion.” 

“Was?” 

“Was,” Janus repeats, “but I have no use for a last name now. It’s not like I’m a registered individual anymore. In fact, I might even have a death certificate somewhere. If anyone even cared enough to register me as dead.” Janus glances at his hands, and stares at his scales for a moment, before shrugging. “Though, I’m sure there’s nothing about me around anymore. No death certificate, no memory, no… no record I even exist at all.” He smiles, though his smile is tight-lipped. “Do with that information what you will.” 

Patton doesn’t look entirely pleased with Janus’s answer, but that is the honest answer. In fact, the only reason Janus has kept his first name is as a formality. He doesn’t really have anyone to refer to him by name day-to-day. 

“What’s your favourite pop-tart flavor?” Janus then asks, which has Patton a bit surprised. 

“My favourite pop-tart flavor?” Patton repeats, as though he can’t believe the question. “Why in the world would you care about that?” 

“I don’t, truthfully,” Janus replies, with a casual shrug, “I’m just curious as to why you would choose to lie about something so menial. You said you didn’t have a preference, and I had to taste that bitter, rotten lie while generously bringing you your breakfast preferences. I was half tempted to take back the pastries I’d already given you four and walk off!” 

Patton shrinks. “Sorry…” 

“I know you are. Now answer the question.” 

“It’s confetti cupcake…” comes the sheepish answer, with Patton smiling almost shyly. “I like how sweet it is. There are obviously a few other flavors I enjoy too, but that one’s my favourite.” 

Janus can’t help the look of astonishment and disgust that appears on his face. “‘Confetti cupcake?’” he repeats, in awe. “For a breakfast food?” 

“It’s just a flavor,” Patton’s quick to explain, “and pop-tarts themselves aren’t really much of a breakfast food. I mean compared to eggs or hashbrowns, there’s not a lot of nutritional benefits. It’s just supposed to be something quick and yummy you can grab and eat on the way out the door.” 

“And you seriously bought those instead of something more… nourishing?” 

Patton clears his throat “is that… uh… is that you’re next question? I sort of thought we were taking turns.” 

Janus lets out a laugh of disbelief, before leaning back into the cushions behind him. “I suppose not. Consider it rhetorical, and ask away.” 

“Do you… do you still plan on killing us?” 

Ah. This question was expected. 

Slyly, Janus smiles, showing off his fangs. “Pass,” he says, proudly. “I’d rather not bless you with assurance, or scare you into acting out. The longer I keep you on your toes, the more obedient you are.” And then Janus raises his feet, and strips away one of his socks. He throws it at Patton’s face, and Patton immediately scrunches his nose and tosses the fabric away. “Now, at the store, you grabbed three boxes of cereal, and three boxes of pop-tarts. Twice is a coincidence, but I’m sure I’d find another trio e if I skimmed the kitchen… which makes me think. There are four of you. You’re all different people with clearly different interests, and yet you make purchases in threes.” Janus holds up three fingers on one hand, and four on the other, simply emphasizing his words. “Logan likes the wheat cereal, and Logan likes the blueberry pop-tarts. Roman likes the fruity cereal, and Roman likes the strawberry pop-tarts. Virgil likes the chocolatey cereal, and Virgil likes the brown sugar pop-tarts.” 

Janus pauses for dramatic effect, taking note of how Patton’s arms have crossed over his body, tightly hugging his stomach. 

“Why do you always grab stuff for them, and never for yourself?” 

“Well, because I love them, of course-!”

Unconvinced, Janus smooths out his pants. “That’s vague. Elaborate.” 

“You never said I had to be detailed,” Patton starts to argue, but a warning look from Janus has him sighing and nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I- I do love them. That’s sort of the whole reason. I want them to have the things they like.” 

“You can have your cake and eat it, too, you know. In this situation.” Janus motions towards the hallway. “I told you to get whatever you pleased. There was no financial limit, and no limitations period! You made the conscious decision to forgo your own desires for truly no reason. But that’s illogical! People don’t just do things for no reason.” 

Patton plays with his hands. His eyes are wet. “I. I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve never been good with words; that’s Logan’s field.” 

“So if I asked Logan why you seemingly neglect your own wants, he’d have an answer?” 

“No!” Patton immediately insists, before laughing awkwardly. “I mean, I don’t think so. But you really don’t need to burden him with something so trivial. He doesn’t do well with… uh… ‘emotional nonsense,’ as he’d call it.” 

That has Janus leaning forward a little. “Would Roman or Virgil have an answer, then?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want them to be bothered with these either. Roman… he’s sweet, and he’s very sensitive, but he doesn’t do well with negativity. When things are good, they’re great, you know? But if you’re in a bad mood, and he’s in a good mood, he can become so easily soured. And then he’s in a bad mood all day, and you feel bad because you shouldn’t have even felt bad in the first place! I don’t like upsetting him much; his fits can last hours. ‘Passion is powerful,’ I think is what Logan says, and Roman is nothing if not passionate.” A small laugh comes out of Patton’s mouth, but he doesn’t seem very amused. “And Virgil already has so much to handle. Having anxiety is hard. I don’t have anxiety! So I shouldn’t be worried! And he needs a solid foundation when he has attacks, because if you’re too emotional and get too caught up in how bad the world is or how bad you feel, then you make him feel worse by proxy!” 

Patton tugs on his shirt collar, like it’s hard to speak. “So basically, you can’t feel bad, because then everyone will feel worse. And nobody wants to deal with you anyway. And so I do everything I can to keep them happy. I get them their favourite foods. I let them pick their cuddle positions. I watch their movies and listen to their music and-” 

Janus raises a hand. “I still don’t understand why all of… that means you can’t get your own food.” 

“I just… I don’t want to be selfish, I guess. Because what if I grabbed my own box of pop-tarts, and Virgil suddenly loved his pop-tarts and so ate them constantly, and ran out! And now he has to force himself to eat mine, even though he doesn’t like them, when I should have just gotten two boxes of the brown sugar ones in the first place.” 

“But that’s a hypothetical. And it’s not like his gluttony is your responsibility.” 

“But he’s my boyfriend.” Patton shrugs, as if he’s rolling his emotions off his shoulders, down his back, and into the floor where he doesn’t have to think about them. “Besides… I don’t do much. I don’t really…” he hesitates, and then rephrases “the things I do don’t really warrant any sort of reward. And snacks I like are rewarding.” 

Janus’s eyes gleam with curiosity. “So… in other words, you feel you don’t deserve nice things?” 

Patton forces a smile. “Well, when you put it like that it sounds depressing!” 

“That is depressing.” 

Patton stammers for a minute, before just shaking his head and deflecting with “it’s my turn to ask a question now. You already asked more than one…” 

“My apologies. I can’t repress my interest when it comes to you humans. It’s been so long since I’ve been one that I seem to have forgotten the…” Janus trails off, briefly touching his hand to his heart. It beats, but slowly. Slower than a human’s heart would beat. He sighs, and doesn’t bother finishing his sentence. “Alas, you may ask now.”

“Do you remember when you turned into a vampire?” Patton asks, voice soft. 

Janus hums, looking away for a moment, before smiling prettily and answering with a simple “yes. My turn. Do you-” 

He’s quickly interrupted by Patton desperately flailing his arms around. “Hold on!” Patton gasps, eyes wide, “that’s not fair! You made me explain my ‘vague answer.’ You have to explain yours!” 

“I don’t have to do anything.” 

Though Patton looks a little discouraged, he doesn’t back down this time. “You told me you’d play fair.” 

Again, Janus considers Patton’s words. He did say that, but he does so often lie… It’s hard to remember when he’s actually telling the truth, and when he’s stretching it to have a bit of fun. But, he supposes Patton pouting is quite persuasive, and so Janus sighs as though he’s been personally inconvenienced and says “alright, alright. I’ll go into detail.” 

It’s Patton’s turn to perk up, more than interested in what Janus has to say. 

“It’s sort of silly to think I wouldn’t remember something so… influential. I mean, if I hadn’t turned, then I wouldn’t be alive today. I would have gotten old and wrinkly like a normal person, and perished through any variety of means! Like getting hit by a newly made automobile, or being stabbed on the street…” Janus’s hand navigates to his stomach, where his fingers press into the fabric slightly. “I was turned by someone I knew. I had known he was a… vampire, but I had neglected to believe just how intense their hunger really gets, and how desperate they are to satiate themselves in those periods.” 

“So… so you didn’t want to be turned?” 

“Tsk. That’s another question, Patton. You should know it’s my turn now.” Janus taps his chin thoughtfully. “Hm. Here’s a fun one. When you and your lovers have sex, do you prefer to be on the top, or the bottom?” 

“Pass!” 

Patton’s voice is so high Janus is convinced it could break glass. Though amused, Janus still looks at him expectantly, and watches as Patton’s face immediately goes red with shame. 

“This isn’t a very fun game,” Patton murmurs, as his fingers slowly mess with the bottom of his shirt. With a deep breath in, he slips it off, and sets it to the side. 

Janus coos at him immediately. “Aw, come on. You have to admit it’s at least interesting. Logan would kill for an opportunity like this.” 

“Logan wouldn’t kill anything,” Patton stubbornly argues. “And my next question is why are you making me play this anyway? I was supposed to be sorting laundry, per your own words.” 

“A nice break from work is always fun,” Janus counters, as he stands just long enough to grab Patton and pull him off the floor and into his lap instead. Patton’s flesh is warm to the touch as Janus’s hands run over his hands, down his pants, and to the sole of Patton’s foot. He gives Patton’s bare foot a brief stroke, more curious than anything to watch as Patton’s toes curl and feel Patton shiver on his lap, but then Janus adds “and I was curious about you. It’s not often that I have a fellow liar in my midst.” 

Patton’s nose scrunches up and his bottom lip juts out as he pouts “I’m not a liar.” 

“You’ve lied to your lovers. You’ve lied to me. Ergo, liar.” 

“Look, I may not know where air is going, but that doesn’t make me a liar.” Janus’s confusion is disregarded as Patton crosses his arms over his chest. “In fact, I despise liars almost as much as you do! The things I say are… inconsequential! Little white lies never hurt anyone, and it’s not like they’re concealing anything important.” 

Janus snickers. “Huh. Funny you say that. Because my next question was what’s the biggest thing you’ve ever lied about?” 

Immediately, all of the morally righteous fire out of Patton dissolves, and he hunches over slightly. “Uhm. Pass.” 

“Pity. I was looking forward to learning your secrets.” 

Janus’s fingers slip into the waistband of Patton’s jeans. He doesn’t do much yet, but he doesn’t have to, as Patton’s flustered reaction is intense and immediate. “Careful, love,” Janus warns him, voice low, “you’re running out of clothes to spare. Now, would you rather lose your pants, or your glasses?” 

“You’re asking two questions in a row.”

Unable to repress his laugh, Janus’s face leans close to Patton’s own. His eyes flicker between the crowded freckles on Patton’s face. “Seems my sweet thing has decided to be a bit more sour today,” Janus teases, watching Patton’s cheeks go pink. “Here I am, giving him a choice on what piece of clothing goes next, and he’s deciding to get smart with me. Rather dumb of him, I might say.” 

“I don’t have a preference,” Patton mumbles, after a few seconds. His shoulders are slumped. “I lose my sight or my trousers. I feel like it’s equally as… unfortunate.” 

“Hm. I’d argue otherwise. Sure, not being able to see is disappointing, but what do you really need to see around here? If you need to go anywhere, I will lead you. If you need something, I will fetch it for you. Meanwhile, if you take your pants off, I get to see much more of my plumpest snack.” 

Patton huffs. “That’s not very convincing!” 

“It’s convincing me to choose for you,” Janus sings. “I’ve seen all your lovers naked. Your body is the only remaining mystery. Sure, I can make a guess; I already know what your crotch and upper thighs look like, but what about your calves? Your rear? Are they just as hairy as your arms? Covered in purple stretch marks like your stomach?” Janus’s fingers run over the dark lines decorating Patton’s gut with admiration. Such a body is more than appealing to Janus, and it has him licking his lips as he recalls just how sweet and fatty Patton’s blood had tasted. “The curiosity I feel is immense, my dear. But, despite your sass, I will leave the choice up to you.” 

Though he’s silent for a moment, Patton’s soft voice eventually questions “you’re… actually interested in what my body looks like?” 

Immediately, Janus’s hands squeeze Patton’s hips, where the fat of his stomach spills over the waistband of his jeans. “Incredibly,” Janus answers, sounding hungry. “A pretty thing like you staying so bundled up in comfortable, baggy clothes tortures simple souls like myself. And your flesh is so warm…” 

Patton stares at Janus’s hands, looking a bit conflicted, and so Janus continues. “I don’t produce my own body heat. I very rarely feel hot. It’s miserable being so chilly all the time. But I could stay cuddled up to you for hours, soaking in your warmth, appreciating the comfort you bring.” Janus brushes the hair from Patton’s face, and cups his cheek, bringing Patton’s lips closer to his own. “Do you comfort the others? Hold them in times of stress? Coddle them in the midst of their agony?” 

“I try. I love them.” 

“I’d give anything for that sort of affection.” 

“Have you… have you had anybody love you like that? Since becoming a vampire?” 

Cheekily, Janus pulls away, startling Patton whose half-lidded eyes snap open, and his tilted face jolts back, as if he’s just now remembering he shouldn’t get as close to Janus as he is. “You don’t get the answer to that question until you’re a bit more naked, my sweet,” Janus taunts, sliding his hand into Patton’s boxers. “Tick tock, Patton, we haven’t got all night. Virgil’s still expecting those brown sugar pop-tarts, after all. And I know Roman will be thrilled to get some new clothes.” 

“Right. Sorry. Uhm… my pants can go. If you- if you really want them to. And you really seem to want them to. So-” 

“Shh. I got the memo.” 

Janus guides Patton to sit up slightly in order to pull his pants down to his knees, and then - with a bit of awkward maneuvering - gets them to Patton’s ankles, and then off his body entirely. Patton’s visibly hard in his boxers, and Janus can guess it’s from sucking his fingers earlier. 

“There we go,” Janus praises, “beautiful thing, you are. Now, I haven’t had any sort of relationship since becoming a vampire. Other than the transactional predator and prey dichotomy I have with my food.” 

Patton shivers, and starts “so…” but he’s quickly cut off. 

“Ah, ah,” Janus tuts, “my turn. What’s something sexual that you enjoy, but have never brought up to your partners?” 

“Oh. Ha. Well-” Patton looks more nervous than he has previously, embarrassment pulsating through his body language, as he leans forward slightly. His fidgets with his hands, unable to maintain eye contact with Janus. “It’s. Well.” 

“Go on. Spit it out.” 

“You’re just-!” Patton buries his face in his hands, shaking his head back and forth. It’s like he’s weighing the options between losing another item of clothing or admitting something utterly humiliating. “You’re just… going to enjoy the answer too much…” 

Janus raises an eyebrow, more than captivated. “Oh? Do tell.” 

Patton’s silence is to be expected, but he can’t stay silent for long with Janus’s hands casually petting and pinching at his skin, as if encouraging him to speak. And eventually - whether it be due to Janus’s silent persuasion or his own urge to tell someone about this secret - the words come spilling out of him. 

“Hypnosis,” Patton eventually meekly confesses. “I- you- there’s just so much mind-control media out there! And I’ve always liked the idea of being told what to do specifically, that way I know I won’t disappoint Roman, or Virgil, or Logan. But I always figured they’d think I was weird or asking too much of them if I told them, so I just…” 

Patton chews his bottom lip, and then whispers “and then… and then they told me what you’ve been doing to them. And it’s bad, and immoral, and… and…” 

“You got a little jealous?” Janus teases.

“No! No… just… curious. And I shouldn’t be! That’s so messed up; this is all so messed up. I shouldn’t want to know what that’s like. I’m not dating you and you’re hurting them and I’m basically an immoral adulterer!” Patton’s fingertips dig into his face hard enough that the skin he’s pressing into goes deep red. “I’m an awful partner.” 

“Oh, hush. You’re not awful. You’re human. You’re allowed to have interests.” 

Patton shakes his head. “You don’t get it! I shouldn’t be interested in-” 

He cuts himself off with a sharp intake of air, and stares momentarily at Janus. Janus can see his eyes have welled up with tears. He lets out a shaky breath, and quickly blinks away his negative emotions. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “that was awfully dramatic of me. But… yeah. Hypnosis is my answer. I always…” a shaky breath escapes him, “I always liked the idea of being able to just… make my partners happy. Even if it meant the loss of my autonomy.” He goes quiet for a few minutes, and Janus gives him the time to gather his thoughts. “That might be for the best anyway, considering I’ve already been proven to just hurt people with my use of free will.” His fingertips brush over Janus’s scaled hand, which caresses Patton’s thigh in turn. 

Janus says naught. He doesn’t know what to say. 

But Patton speaks before he can attempt to come up with something. 

“Have you ever thought about… ending your… immortality?” 

Janus - caught off guard - again stays quiet for a moment, before distantly responding “how do you know my immortality isn’t indefinite?”  

Patton deflates. “I guess I don’t. Sorry, that was a stupid question.” 

Janus hums. His nails lightly drag up and down Patton’s skin, sinking just barely into his flesh enough to leave red marks in their wake, but being careful not to pierce the top layer and draw blood.

“When was the last time you cried?” Janus then asks, voice soft. “I’ve seen your teary eyes countless times, but outside of being here, when did you cry last?” 

“Uhm… the day we arrived, I think. Before we even left our house. I don’t even remember what happened… It probably wasn’t important anyway.” 

“So it was hurtful enough to cry over, and yet you're oblivious to the cause?” 

Patton swallows a mouthful of spit. “I always cry over silly things. Logan says I’m just ‘sensitive,’ and that some things aren’t that big of a deal. I make mountains out of molehills, you know? Somebody probably just wasn’t listening to me and it made me feel a tad dejected, but I’m sure they didn’t do it intentionally. They never intentionally do anything hurtful. They love me.” 

“But do they show it?” 

“Of course they do! Just…” Patton’s arms wrap tight around his form. “I just wish they’d say it more. But that’s so small that it’s not worth focusing on. I shouldn’t need the verbal assurance anyway. Has anybody ever told you they loved you?” 

Janus snorts. “Of course they have. Plenty of people, in fact. Nobody specifically worth remembering, though…” 

“Everybody’s worth remembering.” 

“I’d have to disagree with you there. Some people aren’t worth it at all.” Janus cups Patton’s face, before smirking slightly. “Here’s an easy one. Do you think I’m pretty?” 

“What!?” Patton immediately squeaks out, “that’s- that’s quite an odd question to throw in!” 

“I was just wondering. Forgive my narcissistic curiosity.” 

Patton’s hands nervously grab Janus’s, and lightly move them away from his body, slow enough not to anger Janus but fast enough to put distance between them (as much distance as possible whilst seated on Janus’s lap). “I mean… you’re a guy. I’m attracted to guys!” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“I don’t- I-” Patton’s overly embarrassed, “I’ll pass on this one. Here. You don’t even have to ask for them.” Patton slips his glasses off his face, and pushes them into Janus’s hands. Janus folds them carefully, and sets them on the arm of the couch. 

“Shocked that that was the question to revoke your sight,” Janus sighs, feigning disappointment. “Here I was looking forward to a compliment…” 

A bit more playful, Patton makes a dramatically stubborn noise, before a small smile appears on his face. His tense, stiff body relaxes slightly, and Janus is pleased to see they’ve seemed to move on from the heavier topic that was previously plaguing Patton’s mood. 

“What was it like drinking… blood for the first time?” 

Janus blows a raspberry with his mouth, waving his hand dismissively. “Nothing special. In regards to taste, I mean. I had attacked a neighbour's cow; it was the freshest blood I could convince myself to drink, and I’d already been advised against drinking rotted, decaying red cells. They taste horrendous.” Janus presses himself back into the couch, briefly closing his eyes as he pretends to search for what Patton was really wondering. “My first human though… was… interesting. I was stronger than I thought I was. A quick hit rapidly devolved into a caved-in skull… and… and there was blood everywhere… and he was limp and silent and I felt-” 

Janus stops himself suddenly, before taking in a deep breath. “I could smell him in a way I’d never been able to smell people before. Humans have unique scents, specific to them and them alone. Their blood is the same. It smells similar to the human it comes from, but the taste is where it differs. It doesn’t taste like any specific food - or if it does, I just haven’t been able to taste food in so long that I’m incapable of comparing - but it does taste. Yours tastes sweet. Impeccably so. Roman’s tastes rich. Virgil’s bitter. Logan’s healthy. All unique.” Janus licks his lips, solely to watch the way Patton shivers. “Drinking blood straight from the source also produces much more intense flavors. Having to scoop it off the sidewalk is a lot less delicious. But puncturing an artery or drinking from the veins… not only is it tastier, but it also allows me to control the feeling. After all… you seemed to like when I bit you.” 

“That wasn’t my fault!” Patton immediately insists. “You were using some fancy-shmancy vampire tactics to make it feel good!” 

“But it did feel good.” Janus grins. “I can also make it torturous and agonizingly painful… if that’s any further motivation not to upset me.” 

“As if we needed any further motivation,” Patton argues, “it’s not like you’re constantly threatening to kill us all, or anything.” 

Janus laughs outright, and then leans closer to Patton. “Alright, you’ve got me there. Now… let me ask something a bit more fun. Do you actually like worshipping hands? You seem to have enjoyed it quite a bit…” Janus flicks Patton’s cock through his underwear to emphasize his point. 

Patton stammers. “I… it wasn’t… well-” 

“Don’t lie to me, sweet thing. Answer, or pass. You do still have one article of clothing left.” 

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Janus watches as Patton deeply contemplates his current options. Skip and be completely nude, or answer this embarrassing question. 

“I mean… I guess. I’d never tried it until today.” 

Hm. The truth. Janus smiles, and pinches Patton’s cheek. “I’m flattered that I was the first to indulge you in your cute little finger fetish.” 

“I don’t have a finger fetish,” Patton mumbles, humiliated. “Do you have any embarrassing… kinks?” 

“Pass,” Janus answers immediately, scratching under Patton’s chin. “I shall avoid providing you or your lovers with any ammunition against me, and that includes revealing my own… interests. It’s much more fun to keep surprising you anyway.” 

Janus peels his other sock away (though grabbing it is a bit difficult with a man on his lap, and tossing it to the side. With his feet exposed, he shivers, as even the warm air filling his house isn’t nearly hot enough to keep him comfortable. 

“Ah,” Janus then suddenly says, eyes sparkling with mischief, “here’s a pressing question. What’s… let’s say… Virgil’s most humiliating turn-on? What’s the one thing he wouldn’t want you sharing with anyone, especially me?”

Patton splutters, looking briefly worried, before pouting outright. “You’re cheating! You know I won’t share his secrets like that!” 

“Do I know that? I mean… he’s not here, and it’s not like I’m going to tell him you betrayed his trust.” 

Patton crosses his arms over his chest. “No. I refuse. That’s his private information. It’s not my secret to tell.” 

“So you’d rather be naked on my lap then tell me the most shameful thing he’s into?” 

“That’s not- that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t want to be naked anymore than I want to share Virgil’s secrets, but if I had to choose one, I’d choose to keep his private information private. He… he trusts me with that information. It’s my job to keep it safe.” 

“Even if it causes you discomfort?” 

Patton’s teeth sink hard into his bottom lip. “My comfort doesn’t matter. His does.” 

Janus stares at Patton for a moment, his hands already moving to slide Patton’s boxers down, before smiling. “Well, I’m sure Virgil would be more than appreciative that you’re so careful with his secrets. He’s lucky to have you.” 

“I’m lucky to have him.” 

Janus coughs to cover up a snort, and focuses instead on tossing Patton’s boxers away, leaving him naked in Janus’s hands. 

Patton’s embarrassment is momentarily subdued by his own relief and pride over preserving Virgil’s apparent trust in him, though it quickly resurfaces when Janus’s fingers curl around Patton’s cock. The scales are a new feeling rubbing against his shaft, and Patton stifles a moan as his hips instinctively rock into Janus’s fist. 

“It seems I’ve won our little game,” Janus states, though his voice is more than playful, “and yet you’re still the one getting rewarded. How selfless of me.” 

“I didn’t ask for a reward, to be fair,” Patton whines in reply, his eyes fixated on Janus’s hand. 

Janus laughs outright at him. “You don’t seem to be minding it too much. Seems your love for my hands overrides your silly, pointless moral compass. Does the way my fingers squeeze your cock turn you on? Are you getting off on watching my palm slide up and down your length? Are you wishing my hand was in your mouth instead of fondling your genitals instead?” 

“I’m… I’m not…” Patton moans softly into his hand, and falls forward, resting his head on Janus’s shoulder. Janus shivers as Patton’s warm breath fans against his neck. 

“You’re not opposed?” Janus finishes for him, even though they both know that’s not what Patton was going to say. And yet, Patton doesn’t correct him. “Honestly, this might be more for me than for you. I do enjoy watching my meals squirm, and feeling you squirm on my lap has been rather tantalizing. If I had lube nearby, I doubt I’d be able to resist your tempting flesh.” 

Patton moans again, louder this time. His previously neglected cock now excitedly leaks with pre as Janus massages it out of his shaft, moving slow but squeezing firm. 

Sluggishly, Patton’s hands come up and grab Janus’s upper arms, gripping him tightly as he pushes his body further against Janus’s. It’s almost like they’re cuddling. Almost.

“Are you this affectionate with all your lovers, or just me?” Janus asks, voice low. 

Softly, Patton answers “pass.” 

It’s an answer that Janus would find himself laughing at if not for the way Patton says it. His voice is… unreadable. So Janus doesn’t comment on it all aside from a firm squeeze to the base of Patton’s cock, making Patton whine. His hips rock, but slowly, as if he’s fully conscious of his actions and ashamed of himself for committing them. Janus doesn’t point that out, either. 

He does however pull Patton away from him by his hair, guiding him strictly but petting Patton’s face when Patton obediently leans back.

“Here, love,” Janus coos at him, “a treat for being such a good participant in my game.” 

Patton’s eyelids - previously lightly pressed shut - crack open just the slightest amount, and he goes dark red when he sees Janus’s free hand hovering close to Patton’s mouth. Embarrassed, Patton does nothing for a few seconds, but eventually parts his lips and guides his mouth down onto Janus’s fingers. Despite fighting against Janus’s many claims of him being a quirophiliac, Patton shamefully moans around Janus’s pointer and middle, squeezing his eyes shut as he sucks. 

But his humiliation quickly melts away after a few simple bobs of his head… as he mimics the repetitive, tedious actions he was committing earlier, guiding his head up, and down, and up, and down, and letting everything else fade into the background…

He focuses on just the feeling of Janus’s fingers pressing down on his tongue, and the feeling of Janus’s palm rubbing over his shaft. 

He feels hot in his face, in his chest, in his pelvis. His cock throbs with pleasure as it’s stroked with consistent rhythm. 

“There we go,” Janus coos, “so simple-minded. You just need some guidance. Some rules. Some assurance that you’re making the person you’re with happy. How cute… and yet, how primitive” Janus watches Patton’s eyes roll back into his head before they’re fluttering shut again. “Well, I’m more than pleased at your current display. You’re quite fun to play with… physically, or mentally. And you’ve provided me with some much needed insight into that small brain of yours. I’ll be sure to hypnotize you properly at some point… perhaps in front of your lovers. Then they’ll see how much you like it.” 

Patton lets out a noise that Janus has trouble deciphering, believing it to sound both nervous and needy. 

“Because I know how much you like it. Your truths taste like ripe fruit sweet on my tongue, with dripping juices of explanations pouring down my throat as you so easily confessed some of your darkest desires, and deepest fears. I wonder if everything was said out of fear, or if part of what you admitted had been fighting to come out for months.”

Patton sinks his head down further on Janus’s fingers, gagging sweetly around them. A muffled whimper emits from his throat. Janus continues his smug analysis. “Truths like yours don’t do well when repressed. If you just shove everything down…” he starts, as strokes Patton’s cock quicker. Pre wets his hand completely. “...then it’ll just build, and build, and build, until it all comes bursting out.” 

And as he speaks - almost as if he timed it perfectly - Patton’s cock spurts out semen, with Patton choking himself on Janus’s finger as his cock twitches and empties his load all over Janus’s hand and lap. Tears prick Patton’s eyes as he gags over and over on Janus’s fingers, before Janus finally pulls them from Patton’s lips, and wipes the spit on Patton’s chest. 

“See?” Janus says, motioning to the mess Patton’s just made, “do you understand the analogy?” 

“I’m too tuckered out for analogies,” Patton murmurs, as he leans back against Janus. He pants against Janus’s neck. “Can I have my glasses back, please?” 

Janus chuckles softly. “Why? What could you possibly need to see… especially if you don’t think I’m pretty. It’s not like you want to stare at my handsome countenance. Though… I suppose you’d want to stare at Roman’s. Now there’s a pretty fellow. Is that why you roped him into your polycule? You needed a piece of eye candy?” 

“He’s more than just ‘eye candy,’” Patton insists, as he finally pushes away from Janus’s body. He squints, and looks around, before staring closely at the arm of the couch… no doubt wondering if that blurry black blob he sees are his spectacles. “And if you want me to finish sorting these darn clothes, then I recommend letting me see while I do so.” 

“Hm. You almost sound as demanding as the rest of your little quartet. I’m starting to see what you all have in common.” Janus reaches towards Patton’s glasses, and unfurls the arms, before sliding them onto Patton’s face. “But you make a fair point. Now, pick some clothes out of your pile and get dressed. And toss me your dirty shirt, will you? I need to use something to wipe your… fluids off me.” 

Patton flushes. “Okay. Sorry.” 

“And stop saying sorry,” Janus quickly adds, his voice a touch sharper than he intends it to be. “I’ve heard that word come out of your mouth nearly a hundred times in the past hour. If I hear it again, my ears might just start bleeding.” 

Though his mouth opens immediately, Patton quickly shuts it once more, definitely repressing another instinctive apology. He sort of stands awkwardly for a minute, before just nodding, and then reaching for his discarded shirt.

When passed to Janus, it’s used to dab away Patton’s orgasm, and then again tossed to the side. And when Janus finally stands - shivering as his bare soles press against the floor - and brushes himself off, he’s pleased to find Patton dressed in a cozy - albeit itchy-looking - sweater, and a comfortable pair of khaki-coloured pants. His feet remain bare, but Janus assumes he just hadn’t found any socks for himself yet. 

“I’ll go grab Virgil’s pop-tarts and a few more bags for each of your lovers’ clothes,” Janus announces, as he runs his fingers through Patton’s hair. “Do I even need to warn you not to run off?” 

“I suppose not.” 

Smiling, Janus coos “good boy,” before walking off.

The distance between that room and the kitchen is quite large, but Janus walks quickly to hopefully arrive quicker. And it’s not like Patton’s the type to run off without his partners, especially considering everything Janus has learned about him. 

Once in the kitchen, the brown sugar and cinnamon pop-tarts are easily found alongside the blueberry ones, both of which Janus grabs. A few more garbage bags are torn off their roll as well, and all of that stuff is carried back to the room Patton’s in. 

Upon his return, Janus is pleased to find most of the clothes have been sorted into their four respective groups, and Janus wordlessly bags up the piles until no more clothes remain on the floor.

“Roman’s, Virgil’s,” Janus begins, as he hands the bags to Patton in a specific order, “yours, and Logan’s. Each of you should have at least a few changes of clothes. So I shouldn’t be forced to smell you anymore.” 

“So-” 

Patton cuts himself off with a startled “eep!” as Janus glares at him over his shoulder, and gulps. He says nothing in response. And when Janus starts walking, Patton scrambles to keep up with him. 

“You have a shower, clean clothes… and I suppose I’ll run your old outfits down to the laundromat when I get the time, even if you guys don’t really need those drab garments anyway.” 

“We’d sure like to keep them, though,” Patton softly encourages. “Stuff that’s ours has become rather sentimental… especially in a place where nothing else belongs to us.” 

Janus smiles, and balances both boxes of pop-tarts on one hand as he uses the other to lightly scratch the back of Patton’s neck while they traverse his corridors. “My dear,” Janus starts, voice smooth as ever, “nothing, not even your clothes, nor your bodies, souls, or thoughts, belongs to you anymore. Everything under this roof is mine.” 

Patton’s polite smile falls quickly into a more downcast frown, and his head falls slightly. Janus is quick to raise his chin with his fingers. 

“No need for that depression, my love,” Janus immediately soothes him. “You’ll eventually come to find I take very good care of my possessions. Especially the more valuable ones.” 

And then they’re arriving at Virgil, Roman, and Logan’s door before Janus has the opportunity to further elaborate. 

Chapter Text

Janus looks at the array of items spread across his bed, in varying styles and representing various people. 

These were the items Patton requested after their game a few days ago. He had to hound Patton for their address, which he refused to even discuss in front of the others, and seemed to want Janus to avoid mentioning that he was promised their address at all! So, Janus had to pull him into the hallway and tell him sternly that if Patton didn't give up the location to his house, then their deal was forfeit, as Janus can't make good on his promise if he can't get to his captive's house to gather their items!

That seemed to scare Patton into compliance, as he nervously forked over their street name and house number, finally allowing Janus to make his way over there. 

The walk was long enough to be inconvenient, which caused Janus to wonder what brought them so far away from their safe space and onto his block, but he doesn't really care much. And when he got to their house? Well... it was quite a cozy little place. 

He had been in and out quickly, gathering the exact items Patton wrote out for him on a small notepad (paired with scribbles on where each item should have been stored), and packed them into a bag he brought with him. 

And now, as he looks over them, he starts to get... suspicious. 

There are three onesies that stand out the most, more because of the number of them than the articles themselves. There are four lovers, so why are there only three onesies? 

And why - more importantly - does Janus get the feeling Patton purposefully excluded himself. 

The three onesies are very different in style; there's a skeleton one that obviously belongs to Virgil, and a Disney-themed one that must be Roman's due to its size. Then, there's a unicorn onesie, which Janus would attribute to Patton... if he hadn't found the fabric stuffed deep into the back of a closet, in a room neatly stacked with books, beakers, and astronomy research and artistic renditions stuck to the walls. A room that definitely does not seem to belong to Patton. 

Furthermore, the other three items were a paint set, an MP3 player with headphones already conveniently plugged into them, and an Agatha Christie novel. 

The paints could be Patton's as well, but Janus has a sneaking suspicion they're Roman's. The MP3 player and headphones are both black and purple, which scream Virgil. And the novel is a murder mystery, which seems like something Logan would enjoy. 

And the seventh item isn't personalized at all! It's an old DVD player! Though, now that Janus stops to look at it, he realizes Patton never asked him to grab any DVDs to play in it. Janus sighs as he debates going back to their house to grab DVDs, if they even have any. Patton had originally asked for a gaming console, but Janus had refused to grab it, insisting that anything that required the internet simply wouldn't work within the walls of his house. He was rather against all this newfound technology, and he wouldn't compromise that solid view regardless of how much Patton tried to bargain with him. 

But a DVD player reminds Janus of the wonderous plays he'd see in theatres, and the eventual black-and-white silent films that'd make him laugh, as Charlie Chaplin made his debut.

It'd be nice for the four of them to have a group activity; Janus can only imagine their boredom eating at them. How generous he was to continuously bless their otherwise monotonous existences with his entertaining presence. The pleasure he's giving them must be a welcome bit of fun amongst their captivation. At least, that's how he chooses to see it; he's sure his captives might have different opinions on his actions, and he supposes they're entitled to it. But with these gifts, hopefully they'll be a bit more subdued. Janus has rather liked their calmer attitudes lately; the last thing he needs is the four of them together believing they're strong enough to perform a mutiny. 

They'd fail, no doubt, and Janus would be forced to kill them, which would be a damn shame considering how delighted he's been to spice up his own day-to-day life. 

Having live-in humans he can come fetch and observe at any given moment is much more fun compared to the drunken idiots Janus would watch when he got too intensely bored. And while yes, those bumbling, frothing idiots were amusing too, their drunkenness also inspired their aggressiveness, and more than once Janus left a now-closed bar peeved after they were forced to shut down directly after a bar fight. 

With a wave of his hands, Janus levitates the many gifts into the air. Seven total, and yet none for Patton. At least, that's what Janus assumes. Perhaps one of these things belonged to the sweetheart, though considering the conversation they had sparked by Janus's little game, Janus assumes Patton would continue that nauseatingly selfless behavior. Only this time, if he did, Janus has a solution for it. 

He doesn't come to their room with food this time, as he'd actually remembered to feed them breakfast this morning. He'd spent most of lunch time looking over the items he'd gathered to make sure he didn't forget anything, as he figures he'd never hear the end of it if he did. Now that it was nearing suppertime - and the sun was set to rise in a couple hours - Janus figures he'd make their night by bringing them these sentimental objects. He's sure Patton has been waiting eagerly for him to do so; Janus wasn't blind to the hopeful, wide-eyed stare Patton would give him every time he stepped into the room for something, or how his gaze would flicker to Janus's hands, as if expecting something to be there. 

As per usual, Janus gives them a warning knock before opening the door. He finds Virgil in the bed, half-asleep, Patton organizing the dresser, and Logan and Roman in the bathroom together. Roman's fretting over himself in the mirror, while Logan appears to be warming up a bath. 

Virgil is the only one who seems tense by Janus's presence, as Roman merely looks at him, flushes, and looks away, Patton gives him a small smile, and Logan doesn't acknowledge him at all. 

"Good evening," Janus greets them, before turning to Patton. He sees Virgil bristle in his peripheral vision when he runs his fingers through Patton's curls. 

"Did you just get back from washing the dishes?" Virgil mocks, as his eyes dart to Janus's hands. Janus has donned a new pair of skin-tight, yellow, latex gloves. And while Janus thinks they're fashionable, it seems Virgil has a conflicting opinion. 

Raising an eyebrow, Janus playfully responds "yes," before cupping Patton's face as he announces "I come bearing gifts." 

"We don't want your stupid fucking gifts," Virgil spits immediately, curling up further on the bed. "Whatever it is, you can shove it up your-" 

"Wait!" Patton interrupts, before staring up at Janus with excited eyes. "Are they... Did you..." 

Chuckling softly, Janus scratches underneath Patton's chin. "Yes, my sweet, these are the items you specifically requested. The ones from your house." 

Slowly, everyone turns to look at Patton. Roman and Logan fully emerge from the bathroom in order to stare, and even Virgil sits up, letting blankets fall from around his shoulders. Now that they're all in the same space, Janus can tell they're all wearing some of the clothes he got for them. And they all seem to fit perfectly. 

"You told him where we live?" Virgil suddenly hisses, his voice laced with more than just anger. It's thick with betrayal. "Now, even if we do escape, we're fucked! He can just show up to our place of residence, make his way inside, and kill us! Did you even consider that before forking over our address like it was nothing?" 

Patton shrinks, as Logan and Roman look at him, awaiting his answer. Stammering, Patton replies "of course I thought about that. I just... Well, I just assumed vampires couldn't enter unless invited. That's what movies say..." 

"If that was the case, then who was there to permit him entrance when he showed up there?" Logan asks, an edge to his voice. 

Patton's face falls. "Oh..." he breathes, "I didn't even... think about that..." 

Logan's lips press into a thin line as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Of course you didn't," he mutters, before he steps to the side, facing away from Patton and staring at the wall as his arms cross tightly over his chest. Patton looks at him pleadingly, but Logan never returns his gaze. He then turns to Roman, who is the only one to step forward. 

"It's okay," Roman soothes him, "you didn't know better." 

"He should have known better," Virgil insists, "you wouldn't tell a stranger our address, so why would you tell the guy literally threatening to kill us over any minor indiscretions!?" 

"He promised to get us stuff," comes Patton's meek explanation. "I just wanted you guys to be happy, and more comfortable, and not as... not as bored." Patton leans into Roman's grip, but even Janus can see the loose way Roman holds him, as if he's too upset himself to fully commit to comforting him. "You're all so miserable, and it's heartbreaking. I just wanted to do something good. I just wanted to help." 

"Well, you've helped guarantee our captivity," Virgil huffs, before falling back into the bed. This time, he lands on his shoulder away from Patton, so he's not looking at him either. "If we escape, he'll find us. If we ever get home, he'll know how to get there too. We're doomed..." 

Virgil curls in on himself in a manner Janus hasn't witnessed before, fully doubling over and condensing his body into the smallest possible shape imaginable. Janus can see the way Patton yearns to comfort him, but he doesn't move to, instead staring at the floor, blinking away tears. 

So, with a sigh, Janus kicks the door fully open. 

"Patton's blessed you all with gifts-" he starts, a judgemental tone evident in his voice, " relics from your home, and you shame him for it? He wants to give you security in materialistic junk, as opposed to being in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar clothes, and an unfamiliar - but charming - man, and all you do is catastrophize." Tutting, Janus pulls Patton away from Roman, but still pets his fingers over Roman's chest as he directs his words in Roman's direction. "Honestly, I expected better of you. And here I thought I was the monster, when you're the ones turning on your lover for having pure desires to bring you nothing but happiness." 

Janus makes a show of looking out into the hallway. "I should just dump all the items you asked me to bring into the trash," he mumbles, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

That has Logan's eye twitching. "You've already brought them here," he grits out, "it'd be pointless for you to carry them elsewhere." 

"Well, sure, but it's just as pointless to bless a room full of hellions with rewards they clearly don't deserve." As Janus's nails lightly trail over Patton's back, he adds "though, you've been nothing but kind, my dear, so why don't you tell me what things you've picked out for yourself, and I'll hand them over." 

Patton goes pale. "I- well-" he stutters, biting his lip. "I guess the DVD player. So... so we could all watch movies together, and-" 

"The DVD player is a group item," Janus corrects him. "That's not something only one of you can use at a time. Surely one of the other objects must be yours." 

Patton basically goes limp in Janus's grip, face falling until he's staring dejectedly at Janus's chest. "No..." he breathes, voice quaking, "everything else is for... is for them." Biting back tears, Patton's hands slowly rub up and down the length of his arms, as if he's trying to massage away his pressing discomfort. "I just wanted them to be happy." 

"My, my," Janus coos, "how thoughtful of you. You used up every slot I allotted you on your lovers, and they act like ungrateful brats. It's not your fault they can't see how considerate you are, nor is it your fault that all of their most favourite things will be disposed of." Janus presses a showy kiss to Patton's forehead. "But alas... cause and effect is sometimes an awful thing. Wouldn't you agree?" 

"No, please," Patton immediately begs, "please don't throw that stuff away. It's important to them!" 

Logan mutters a curse under his breath. "What'd you have him grab, Patton?" 

Gulping down the spit in his mouth, Patton nervously turns to look at Logan. "Your favourite items," he whispers. "I... I wanted you guys to be happy." 

"Your favourite items are rather menial," Janus immediately cuts in. "Honestly, it's all junk anyway. Some paints, an Agatha Christie novel, and an MP3 player? Honestly, I've seen a more interesting array of items at local yard sales." 

As he lists the options, he sees all three of the others perk up, and suddenly looks a lot more worried at the prospect of Janus dumping these things in the nearest trash can. 

"Oh. And some onesies," Janus adds, as the little cherry on top. "Personally, I think they're a bit tacky, but they're trash anyway, so who really cares how they look." He adjusts his gloves, fixing the way they sit on his wrists despite the fact there's nothing wrong with them. He's really just giving them time to stew on this bad decision they've made. 

After they all look varying levels of distressed - and, oh, is Virgil on the verge of tears? - Janus turns Patton around in his arms before grabbing Patton by the chin and wiggling his face back and forth. "Unless," Janus starts, "you all give Patton a well-deserved apology, and thank him for being so considerate. Especially since he's the one insisting I spare your trinkets, despite how condescendingly you've bashed him." 

 "Well, Janus, they have a bunch of valid points," Patton argues on their behalf. "They're right in saying I shouldn't have been so careless in telling a stranger where we lived." 

"I'm not a stranger," Janus soothes him. "You know me very well by now. Intimately so." 

"Not willingly," Virgil mutters, as he bitterly rubs the splint on his nose. 

"But my offer still stands. If you're willing to apologize and show your gratitude, then I'm willing to spare your human trash. Otherwise, you might as well say bye-bye to it all, as I'll make sure to set my trash cans alight after shoving these items down." 

While Logan and Virgil visibly bite their tongue, Roman immediately insists "we're sorry, Patton. You're really so thoughtful, and I know you had good intentions." 

"Thank him," Janus echoes. 

Roman, a bit pink in the cheeks, adds "and thank you, for thinking about us. And for knowing us enough to grab stuff you knew we'd like."

Pleased, Janus flicks his fingers out, and the Disney-themed onesie and paints soar into view. The onesie lands on the floor, but Janus is careful to individually guide every paint tube, small paint can, and paint brush into Roman's hands, until his arms are full of art supplies. 

Once Roman's been given his gifts, Janus praises him. "Good boy, Roman," he says, a thrilled smile on his face, "you're so good at doing what you're told! And such an amazing lover to be able to admit when you're wrong and appreciate the good things that are done for you. Your other boyfriends could really stand to learn a thing or two about humility..." 

"I know plenty about humility," Logan sighs. "And plenty about home safety and security. How'd you get past the locked door?" 

Janus smugly raises an eyebrow. "What makes you think I wouldn't have taken your keys in the midst of stripping you out of your disgusting, dirty clothes? One of you had the front door keys stuffed casually into the front pocket of his jeans... and it wasn't Patton."  

That fact has Logan biting his lip and looking away in shame, before he swallows his pride and says "I'm also remorseful of the way I was behaving. You were so focused on bringing us joy that you neglected to consider the consequences. And while - perhaps under different circumstances - this would be incredibly dangerous... there's really going to be no harm that'll come to us as a result of Janus having this information. No more than what's already being inflicted on us, anyway." 

"That's more than true," Janus says. "Now, what do we say?"

Through gritted teeth, Logan states "thank you, Patton. For getting us stuff we've... we've really missed." 

Janus hums. "Well, you sound a bit strained, but not dishonest, so I suppose I'll let it slide." He waves his hand towards the door, and in comes floating a novel, and a brightly-coloured onesie. While the book sets itself neatly in Logan's awaiting hands, Janus grabs the onesie himself, and holds it up. 

"This is yours, correct?" he asks, showing off the unicorn-themed clothing in a teasing manner. "It looks more like something Patton would wear, but it's not suited to his measurements at all." 

With his face turning a noticeably red hue, Logan mumbles "yes, it's mine," before basically ripping the comfy clothes out of Janus's hands and neatly draping it over his arm. He turns to sit on the bed, and Roman moves to join them, both of them thumbing over their respective items with fondness, as if they've truly been longing to have these belongings with them for weeks. 

Virgil is the last of them, who stubbornly stays facing away from Janus, despite the fact Janus saw how interested he was in getting back his music player. 

"Come on, Virgil," Janus urges him, "you're the only one left who hasn't repented for his heinous behavior, and I'm feeling rather impatient today. Either you say you're sorry, or you say goodbye to your silly little electronic device." 

Virgil mutters something into the pillows. Janus can't discern what exactly is said, but has a guess it's an insult considering the tone of his voice. 

Janus taps his foot against the floor. "Hurry up; I'm not in the mood to play these childish games." 

"Then get in the mood," Virgil snarkily replies, as he sits up to glare at Janus. Janus raises an eyebrow at his tone of voice, and Virgil's face quickly falls when Janus just shakes his head and turns away, wagging his finger back and forth. 

"Tut, tut," Janus tsks, opening their door wide with enough force for it to slam against the wall. The knob hits the wall with a thud loud enough that all of his captive's jump, fear evident in their eyes. "I'm not dealing with this today, Virgil. And if you're not going to appreciate the wonderful boyfriend you have, then I might as well take him and your stuff out back." He grabs Patton's arm tightly, and starts to wrangle him out into the hallway, which seems to scare Virgil straight. 

"Fine- I'm sorry, okay?" Virgil pleads, shifting his position so suddenly that he gets tangled in the blankets and falls out of the bed. He lands in a pathetic heap on the floor, a mess of baggy clothes and wrinkled sheets, with his bangs tangled against his forehead. He looks up at Janus with scared eyes. Fear and Virgil weren't mutually exclusive, but pure fear, in a form free of anger or spite? That was somewhat new. Virgil liked to hide his nerves behind irritation or annoyance, but now that that's gotten him into trouble, it's all melted away! "I'm sorry I got mad. Just don't take him, please." 

Janus taps his chin, tightening his grip so hard on Patton's upper arm that Patton winces. "I don't know... That doesn't seem too convincing. I don't taste any genuine remorse coming from your lips, Virgil." 

"I'm being genuine," Virgil begs, "please don't take him. I don't..." he swallows a mouthful of spit, his voice shaking, "I don't think I could handle us being separated again. I don't care what you do to my stuff, but leave Patton. Please." 

"Aww." Janus wiggles Patton back and forth dramatically. "Look at him. He's willing to sacrifice his music for you! How cute..." 

"I don't want him to lose his music," Patton protests, tearing his arm from Janus's grip. Janus lets him, which gives Patton a brief boost of confidence as he kneels by Virgil's side to pet through his hair and help him off the floor. "I specifically wanted you to grab his MP3 player because I knew it'd help him regulate. Things have been stressful... so it's not entirely his fault." 

"It is his fault, though," Janus corrects him, motioning to Virgil's trembling form. "Do you do this every time he gets mad at you? Excuse his misplaced anger because of the 'circumstances' surrounding him, or the 'environment' he's in?" Narrowing his eyes, Janus looks significantly more judgemental as he states "regardless of what's going on around you, you're still responsible for the way you behave. The things you choose to say and do are choices you made nonetheless. And if you refuse to take accountability, then I'll be forced to teach you cause and effect." 

Janus summons Virgil's MP3 player into the room, and grasps it tightly in his palm. The dangling headphones drip down between his thumb and his pointer. He holds the device in such a manner that Virgil can easily see the front screen, and the little buttons to control it. 

"For example," Janus starts, as he begins to squeeze either side of the music player, "the cause in this situation is Virgil's obstinate attitude. He's causing me to lose my patience. The effect this will have on his MP3 player will be rather unfortunate." He tightens his grip, and a noticeable crunch is heard, as a sharp crack shoots across the device's screen. Virgil flinches as he sees it, as if the pain inflicted on his beloved item is physically hurting him as well. 

Patton rushes to grab Janus's wrist, but Janus pulls his hand out of reach. "Sit down, Patton, he needs to be held responsible for his misbehavior." Janus gives Virgil a pointed look. "He knows what he needs to do in order to get me to stop." 

"I already said I was sorry," Virgil breathes. "What more do you want from me?" 

"I don't want anything from you." Janus gives him a disingenuous, toothy smile. "It's what Patton deserves. And since he was so thoughtful as to pick out your MP3 player amongst your houseful of items, he should get a..." He wiggles Virgil's item back and forth tauntingly, threatening to break it further. "Go on, Virgil. You're not an idiot." 

Though his frown is palpable, Virgil's nervous eyes flicker between his music player and Patton, and eventually he seems to shove down his dignity as he murmurs "thank you for getting us our... stuff." 

Smiling proudly, Janus tosses Virgil his device, which Virgil fumbles with before holding it tightly. He clicks it to make sure it still turns on, and lets out a sigh of relief when he realizes it still does. 

"Don't look so worried," Janus soothes him, "I was careful not to do any internal damage... unlike the internal damage you've caused to your dear boyfriend." Janus pets Patton's face sympathetically, but doesn't bother trying to stop Patton from stumbling rather far away from him. "You know, Patton, if you ever want to be treated right, I've been described as a gentleman by all my past lovers. Perhaps even Roman himself would attest to my thoughtfulness and passionate lovemaking." 

"Janus!" Roman exclaims, nearly dropping the paints in his hands as he whips around to stare at Janus with an embarrassed expression. 

Janus laughs at him as he guides Virgil's onesie into the room, dropping it onto the floor before kicking it in Virgil's direction solely to watch Virgil have to crouch down to snag it before he settles himself back on the bed. Following this, he also guides in the DVD player, which he then hands to Patton who happily takes it. With just that in his hands, the others slowly start to look more and more confused, before Logan finally clears his throat and asks "where's Patton's stuff?" 

Feigning confusion, Janus replies "what stuff?" 

Virgil waves his device back and forth, with the glowing screen catching Janus's eyes. "His one item, and his onesie." 

"You all weren't guaranteed one item and your onesie," Janus scoffs, "Patton was only able to pick out seven items." 

Roman looks between all of them, as if counting every item they've gotten, before softly saying "that means he could have at least gotten himself something. There's no way that you chose our old DVD player over some sort of comfort item.... right?" 

Sheepishly, Patton looks at the floor. "I wanted you all to be happy," he meekly explains. "And I wanted to give us all something to do to pass the time."

"So you got us a DVD player with no DVDs to go with it," Logan interjects. 

The colour drains from Patton's face as he brings his hand to his mouth. "Oh no..." he gasps, "I totally forgot we needed actual movies. I'm so used to streaming services that I forgot movies don't just come pre-installed. I'm so, so sorry. I should have picked out something better-" 

"You should have gotten something for yourself," Roman argues. "Especially considering you probably had to do something to earn these items in the first place." 

Janus winks towards Roman. "Aww, you know me all too well," he teases, before looking directly at Patton. "And honestly, Roman, you're incredibly smart too. I can't help but agree with your sentiment! Patton should have thought of himself when writing down a list of items to grab! Now, he has nothing! And that's just not fair, is it?"

"Not at all," Roman affirms, at the same time Logan nods in agreement. 

Virgil says nothing, and looks nowhere, but Janus isn't oblivious to the look of guilt that crosses over his countenance.

"Lucky for Patton, I have the perfect solution for this problem." Janus pinches Patton's cheek, before circling around to Roman, who he guides off the bed. Roman rushes to set his paints down beside Logan so his hands are free for Janus to grab. As he pulls Roman to the doorway, he explains "Roman is the romantic one, right? Surely he would know just the things to please Patton." As Janus reaches upward to scratch Roman's chin, he teasingly asks "wouldn't you, Roman? If I took you to your house, could I trust you to be a good, obedient lover and grab Patton's favourite things?" 

Unable to repress his smile, Roman nods and stammers "yeah... yeah. I think I can do that." 

"Jesus Christ, Roman, he's obviously manipulating you," Virgil groans. "Haven't you heard about secondary locations? The moment he gets you out of this house, he's likely going to kill you." 

Janus raises an eyebrow. "I didn't kill Patton when I brought him to the store, did I?" 

"You nearly did," Virgil curtly replies. "You locked him in here. He said he almost got hit by a car."

"Him almost getting run over was hardly my fault," Janus huffs, "and he wasn't the only one who suffered as a result. I'm being completely sincere in my offer to Roman. You guys must want to reward Patton's thoughtfulness and selflessness, right? Unless you're all still feeling ungrateful." 

"I'm more than grateful," Logan states, as he already begins re-reading his novel. "Murder On The Orient Express," is the title, and from what Janus can remember about Agatha Christie, he's sure it's a mystery book of some kind. "I think Roman going with Janus is fine. I would enjoy it more if we all could go..." 

Janus snickers. "Nice try. It's hard enough to wrangle just one of you; I don't need to deal with the four of you running around, hiding, and trying to escape. That'd just be a mess for everyone." 

"Well, I don't care what you claim, I'm not letting you take Roman." Virgil stuffs his MP3 player into his pants pocket, and pushes his headphones so that they rest around his neck. "I don't like how... accustomed to you he's gotten, and I refuse to let you continue to use your shitty vampire magic on him." 

"Are you jealous that he seems to prefer being with me than with you?" Janus taunts.

Roman's face falls and he's quick to reach for Virgil. "That's not true at all-" he starts, but Virgil just disregards Roman's hands in favor of standing up to Janus. It seems his fear has been repressed once again, and stubbornness takes its place. 

"I'm not jealous of you," Virgil spits. "And I'm not letting Roman go alone. I'm coming with." 

That declaration has Janus a mixture of surprised and intrigued. Virgil? Taking initiative? "Fine," Janus says, as he grabs Virgil by the collar of his shirt and tugs him forward. "Four eyes is much better than two. But that's the max I'm taking, so don't get any funny ideas, Logan." 

Logan licks his thumb and turns to the next page in his book, back still facing the door. "I don't ever have 'funny' ideas," he replies. 

Patton smiles softly, and gives both Roman and Virgil a brief kiss on the cheek before moving to cuddle next to Logan. Logan wraps one of his arms around Patton, and shares the book with him, holding it between the two of them while Patton doesn't really pay attention to the words, and just focuses on Logan quietly beginning to read them aloud. 

With the two of them settled, and Roman and Virgil in tow, Janus leads them out of the room and down the hall towards the front door. 

"I expect you two to be on your best behavior," Janus says, as he sets a firm hand on Virgil's lower back while simultaneously taking Roman's hand in his own, and affectionately linking their fingers together. "Remember that me taking you out of the house is a privilege, and that I do know where you live now. Perhaps I'll continue to reward you for your obedience by fetching you more items, and bringing you comfort that comes with familiarity. And perhaps I'll punish your disobedience by - let's get extreme for a moment - setting your house ablaze." He turns to Virgil as he speaks, and watches as Virgil's hands ball into fists at his sides. "That's sure to keep you in line, right?" 

As he looks up at Roman, Roman nods his head as though Janus's question was anything but rhetorical. He knows they'll listen, because Janus has more than just fire at his disposal. He still has two of their lovers locked up in his house. And it wouldn't be his first time running from the police if they were to try and report him. 

They stand before the front door with Janus hesitating only briefly. 

He could trust Roman not to make a run for it. Not only was he quite partial towards Janus's compliments, but he was also a coward at heart. Virgil however was a lot more concerning. He shifts between being subdued enough to spend time with, and irrational enough to cause problems. His rampant anxiety brings forth both his resistance and his compliance in an odd pattern that Janus hasn't yet been able to understand. But Janus had already led him out of his room, and it'd waste precious moonlight escorting him back up... ignoring the obvious tantrum Virgil would throw if Janus changed his mind on a whim. So, Janus releases Roman's hand, and nods towards the front door. 

"Go on," he urges Roman, "open it up." 

Roman rushes to do as he's told, unlocking the front door and pulling it open chivalrously, holding the door ajar until Janus has guided himself and Virgil through it, before he steps through himself. 

"It's a rather long walk to your residence," Janus announces, as they step onto the sidewalk. Virgil squints up at the moon while Roman resumes his position at Janus's side. "But I'm sure you guys already know that." 

"Of course we know that," Virgil grumbles. 

"What in the world brought you all the way to my neighbourhood?" Janus then asks. "Since you're aware of how far away I am from your house. I'm not near any supermarkets or landmarks. In fact, I'm quite out of the way of everything." 

Roman rubs his hands together, nervously replying "well... your house is kind of notorious." 

"Notorious?" Janus repeats, incredulously. 

"It's a historical landmark in of itself," Virgil mutters. "It's been there for centuries, and as far as anyone in town is concerned, it's completely abandoned. Your closest 'neighbors' are a ten minute walk in any direction. The closest store to your house is still an inconvenient trip away. Everyone believes your place to be haunted." 

"Including you four, it seems." Janus presses his fingers harder into Virgil's back. "Is that why you guys broke in? Were you ghost hunting?" 

“Not necessarily ‘ghost hunting,’” Roman sighs. “Logan brought it up that morning. Said he was curious about the abandoned house, and wondered if it was filled with any antiques. He loves old stuff like that… and he got so excited thinking about any old books or flatware.”

A small smile spreads across Virgil’s face, though it quickly morphs into a scowl as he adds “Roman’s everyone’s hype man, so he was all over Logan like ‘yes, we should go explore it,’ and ‘I’ll make sure nobody falls through the old, broken floorboards.’ And look where his encouragement got us.”

Roman frowns. “I just wanted Logan to be happy. And it wasn't just me saying we should explore; Patton wanted to go, too.”

Janus hums in confusion. “Patton wanted to come along?” he echoes, making his curiosity evident. “Why in the world would a man like that want to explore what was assumed to be a broken-down, abandoned, haunted house? He doesn't seem the type to enjoy any sort of dangerous or potentially-scary situation. Much too soft for horror, that one."  

"I think he wanted to make Logan happy, too," Roman says, offering an unsure explanation. 

Virgil, however, refutes his words. "That's not why. I mean, that's probably partially why, but that's not his main reason. He said he wanted to find any remnants of the people who used to live here before the house was abandoned. He wanted to gather pictures, paintings... any sort of reminder of those that were." Virgil's cheeks go a bit pink. "He's sentimental like that." 

"What about you?" Janus then asks, squeezing Virgil's waist. "You seem to have plenty of opinions regarding how foolish it was to come exploring... but I'm pretty sure you're just as captive as the rest of your lovers. So why did you join them if you disagreed with their adventure?"

That inquiry has Virgil looking uncomfortable, as he shoves his hands deep into his jacket pockets. He doesn't have his original jacket - the one he's wearing now is a standard black-and-grey plaid zip-up - and Janus makes a note to find his dirty one somewhere and give it back. He doesn't answer at first, and initially Janus is annoyed he might have to pry, but before he even has to worry about repeating himself or coming up with some vague threat, Virgil's answering "I felt like I couldn't say no." 

Roman immediately pales, his expression contracting into one of extreme guilt. "Oh, Virgil," he breathes, immediately crossing behind Janus in order to grab one of Virgil's hands. Virgil lets him pull one of his fists from his pocket, but doesn't mean Roman's eyes. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know you felt pressured. You didn't have to come with us." 

"I know. But it didn't really feel that way." 

Janus's hand caresses Virgil's side. "Well, why not?" 

Virgil gives him a look that Janus really has to study in order to decipher. At first, he's irritated, which Janus isn't surprised by. But then, he looks sad, followed by discomfort. "I don't know. Reasons," Virgil responds, trying to avoid giving a clear answer. 

Janus pinches Virgil's side to show his disapproval as he scolds him, saying "that's vague, and you know it. You've caused Roman to worry, and you've inflicted me with curiosity. Why do you feel unable to elaborate? It feels like it's a little more than just bitterness keeping you silent." 

Glancing in Roman's direction, Virgil shakes his head. "It's not worth explaining." 

"You seem to be the only one here who thinks so." 

Virgil's face twists into a scowl. "Yeah, well, I'm right. It's not worth breaking down; it'll just make things worse. We should all just shut up and focus on getting us home, so we can get Patton his shit and get this over with." 

Deciding to take a page out of Virgil's book, Janus suddenly stops where he stands, which pulls both Virgil and Roman to a stop as well. Though Virgil immediately opens his mouth to complain, Janus doesn't give him the chance, and so instead interrogates "what exactly are you afraid of making worse?" 

Nose scrunching, Virgil insists "none of your fucking business." 

Though it seems Roman is also on Janus's side, as he wraps his arms around Virgil's waist and gently urges him to be honest. "I care about you, Virgil," he says, voice heavy with what Janus can clearly see is guilt. He already knows them deciding to explore Janus's house - and consequently becoming stuck inside of it - was Roman's idea. Knowing that Virgil didn't want to come along at all no doubt makes him feel even worse. "It's also not... it's not okay for you to feel worried about saying no to me. To us. You shouldn't ever feel pressured into doing stuff with us..." 

"You can say that, but that doesn't change the fact I still do. Sometimes the three of you want to do stuff, and it's either I join in or I end up the odd one out, left alone in my room." Virgil pulls his hood up, and pulls it tight around his face with a groan. He tears his arm free of Janus, and keeps walking, angry as ever. Though as he stomps, he keeps ranting. "You guys always want to go out. We're at the store every other week, the park every other day, and then it's visiting libraries, gyms, yard sales, families. We never just sit at home. There's not a single day we sit at home. And when we do it's typically because there's tension. And when I want to go somewhere it's always 'well, Patton doesn't like the tarantula terrariums at the alt store down the street,' and 'roman gets uncomfortable walking into Spencer's because of the toy section in the back,' and instead of us splitting up or something you all choose to stick with each other. And I get left alone, oftentimes unable to even go places or have fun because I'll be alone." 

Virgil's knuckle lifts to his mouth, and he bites the skin in an attempt to ground himself. It has Roman immediately rushing to his side to pull his hand away from his lips, which he then kisses gingerly. Sweet whispers of "it's okay," and "things are okay," reach Janus's ears, but Virgil appears to be blocking them all out. 

"Just shut up, Roman," Virgil grits, constantly attempting to side-step Roman's comfort. "You didn't seem too sorry whenever you guys voted against me, so don't pretend you are now." 

Roman's left speechless and sad as he tries to keep up with Virgil's quick pace. Janus strides alongside him, and can't help asking "why did you never bring this up to them before now? Clearly it's been bothering you." 

As he bites his bottom lip, Virgil's pace slows, and he sighs as he slowly looks towards Roman. "I don't know..." he starts, before rolling his shoulders back. "I just figured that... if I was too needy or high-maintenance, they'd leave me. I was last to join their polycule; it'd be fitting for me to be the first ejected from it." 

"Oh, Virgil," Roman begins, "that's not true at all. Your needs are just as important as the rest of ours. Relationships are about compromise." 

Janus hums. "Don't act so hypocritical, Roman. As far as I'm aware, you don't communicate your needs either." 

Virgil's eyes go wide. "Are you hiding stuff from us?" he immediately inquires, which has Roman looking like a deer caught in headlights. He looks to Janus for any sort of saving grace, but Janus just keeps walking, with his hand linked in Virgil's arm to lead him forward too. Meaning Roman's left constantly trying to keep their pace. 

"Nothing important," Roman immediately tries to deflect. 

Janus scoffs. "Now where have I heard that before?" 

Frowning, Virgil huffs "you can't tell me my shitty complaints are important and then turn around and disregard your own. You either think all of our problems are significant, or you think all of them are pointless. That's how it works." 

"That's not how it works at all," Roman immediately argues, "things are more nuanced than that. And being afraid to say no because you think we're going to break up with you and getting sad because you guys won't let me cook dinner every once in a while are two wildly different things. With one of the two being a lot stupider than the other." 

"Your problems aren't stupid, Roman." Virgil's firm with his words, but his tone doesn't read as comforting as he probably intends it to. "Do you want to cook us dinner more often?" 

"I want to do stuff for you guys more often. Not just pay for things. I want to make a hamburger, and suddenly I'm being casually expected to drive over to McDonald's and get everyone a large fry and a Big Mac, when I just wanted to treat you guys at home. And when we do eat at home, it's either restaurant leftovers, everyone's just eating snacks so they're not hungry for a meal, or you've already planned meals for the week so Logan hogs the kitchen to make sure everything's made to your liking." 

Virgil scratches his knuckles. "But... but you bake almost every other day." 

"Baking and cooking aren't the same thing, Virgil. Sometimes I get good deals on nice ribeye or wagyu and I want to treat you guys to romantic, candle-lit dinners, where you're served rich meats and beautifully dressed veggies, but instead we just have to eat grilled chicken and spaghetti that have already been pre-packaged into microwaveable tubs for us to just grab whenever. We don't eat dinner as a family anymore. We hardly do anything... relaxing..." 

Roman's hands come to his face, and he runs them through his hair. With a soft groan, he says "I... I agree with you, actually. We never just stay at home anymore. We never just... exist in each other's company. It's like we always have to be busy, or we all have to do our separate things... and so we're not really 'together' unless we're all actively traveling somewhere together." 

Virgil nods. "You're always in your room, Logan's always in his, I'm always in mine; Patton's the only one who ever tries to get us together..." Virgil pauses to swallow the spit in his mouth, before quietly inquiring "do you think he's constantly inviting us out because he thinks we're getting bored of each other?" 

"Well I didn't think that until now." Roman's fingers dig into his scalp as he whimpers, before saying "I always thought he just liked doing those things. I thought you did too. In my mind, you plan everything because you enjoy planning. Patton says 'let's go to the waterpark,' and you come up with an entire day's schedule. You remember we need to pack food, and you remember to bring sunscreen, and you make sure we get gas before we leave town. I guess I thought you liked going out places because you seemed to like preparing for them." 

"I don't like preparing; I do it because I get nervous. Because what if we didn't bring food, and we end up out of energy because we haven't eaten, and we drown because we're too fatigued to swim to the surface of the wave pool. And what if we leave the sunscreen at home, and we end up so burnt that our skin peels off, and we all get skin cancer and die. And what if we don't get gas before we start driving, and then we end up stranded on a side road with no signal, and we either bake to death beneath the sun or some strangers pull up to 'help' us, only to end up kidnapping and murdering us." Virgil stims, his hands hitting hard against his thighs. His breathing is heavy. "I don't like thinking about that stuff, Roman, and yet I always do because we're always doing something. There hasn't been a single day that's gone by in months where I haven't had to think about you guys dying somehow. And I hate it. I hate it, Roman." 

"I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.”  

"Don't say you're sorry. You being sorry doesn't change the fact that we ended up here. With him." 

Janus - who's now being looked at - smiles wide. He gets a scowl from Virgil, and a pleading look from Roman in response. 

"He must scare you, huh?" Roman sympathetically asks, rubbing his hand up and down Virgil's back in a comforting manner. 

Virgil rolls his eyes at Roman's question. "Of course he scares me. It's not like he's threatening to kill us every other day, or anything." Virgil glares at Janus, who's arm twists away from Virgil's, and his hand slides down to Virgil's rear instead, where it rests solely to tease him. As Virgil frowns in his direction, he utters "you're such a prick," which has Janus laughing outright. 

"My dear, at least I haven't actually acted on my threats. That should alleviate some of your anxiety." 

Puffing his chest out in annoyance, Virgil spits "that only makes it worse. Because not only are you potentially planning to murder us, but you're also being vague about it, which makes it harder to prepare for." 

"Maybe that's my intention." 

Virgil shoves Janus away. "Obviously that's your intention. You wouldn't be a good serial-killer-psychopath-monster-thing if you announced we were going to die seconds before actually trying to kill us. Then we'd be able to properly retaliate, which... you could probably counter anyway, but it'd be annoying." 

Janus swoops back over to Virgil's side, where he places a sweet kiss to Virgil's cheek. "You four are already annoying. Well, actually..." Janus pulls away from Virgil in order to circle around to Roman's side. As he leans up to stroke Roman's face, Roman instinctively bends down. " Three of you are annoying," Janus corrects. "One of you may or may not be my favourite..." 

"Roman," Virgil scolds, which has Roman suddenly twisting out of Janus's affectionate grip. 

"Sorry," Roman whispers. "He's just... sweet." 

"He's manipulating you." 

Roman plays with a strand of his hair, meekly avoiding Virgil's eyes. 

Virgil's frown deepens as he judgmentally adds "and it's working." 

Roman doesn't bother trying to defend himself, because there's nothing he can say that would properly explain his enjoyment of Janus's attention. The reason he likes it is because he likes it; it's as simple as that. And it also makes Roman feel disgusted in himself, and guilty as Virgil again steps away from Roman, and walks a little ahead of them, pulling his hood tight around his face. 

By the time they reach Roman and Virgil's house, all three of them are sick of walking, which is a fact Virgil lets them know. 

"Ugh," he groans, as his hand slides across the unused car sitting in their driveway. It's become a victim to the elements in the time they've been stuck at Janus's house, as it's covered in a noticeable layer of dust. "I hated that walk this time almost as much as I hated doing it the first time. Why'd we choose to walk somewhere so far away?" 

Roman sheepishly answers "you got worried someone would call the police on us for trespassing, and they'd be able to use the license on our car to identify us." 

Virgil winces. "Right. Yeah." 

They head up to the front door, which Janus opens without resistance. 

"Did you leave our door unlocked?" Virgil hisses, but Janus just pushes him inside. 

"Why does it matter?" he nonchalantly replies, a grin on his face. "It's not like you live here anymore. Nobody's going to break in and murder you if you're not here for them to murder." 

Virgil - seemingly displeased with Janus's casualness - storms down the hall, while Janus leads Roman upstairs. 

"You know," Janus starts, as they pass a few open doorways, "I haven't seen many relationships where members have separate rooms. Not since The 1950s. That's a tradition that's been lost to time. It's a shame, too, seeing as sometimes people need their own spaces." 

"That's exactly why we did it," Roman declares. "When we all moved in together, we were set on getting a house with enough rooms for us all to decorate and make our own. We're four wildly different people, if you haven't noticed." 

"Oh, I've noticed." 

Janus pushes open the first door he passes, which just so happens to be Roman's room. Roman absolutely melts when he sees it, and steps inside happily. "I assume this space is yours?" Janus asks, even though he's well aware of the answer. "Don't tell the others, but in my opinion this is the prettiest room. Where you've put the bed, the dresser, the vanity... it's all so perfectly organized. And the colours? Red, white, and gold are so royal, my songbird. Truly a room befitting a prince." 

"You really think so?" Roman swoons. He moves towards his bed, which his hand rubs over happily, caressing the plush comforters. 

Janus chuckles at him. "I know so. But we're getting sidetracked, my sweet; this visit was for Patton, remember?" 

Roman's shoulders slump, but they immediately raise again as Roman nods with determination. "Yes. And I'm going to get him something he'll adore." 

"Do you already have something in mind?" 

Hesitant, Roman replies "no... but I'm sure being in his room will help me decide. He doesn't seem the type to hide stuff he loves; he probably has his favourite things strewn prettily across his bed, so he could hold them close at night." 

Janus raises an eyebrow. "I beg to differ," he says, as he follows Roman out of his room and down the hall. He'd peeked into Patton's room when looking for the items, of course, but he only went in there briefly to properly dig around for the unicorn onesie, before realizing it wasn't there. "After speaking with Patton, I believe he may be a bit more reserved than you think." 

Roman's face falls a bit. "Is that... is that true? Does he hide stuff from us?" 

Sympathetically, Janus rubs Roman's arm. "Yes. It's true. But don't take it personally; he thinks he's doing a good thing, because he doesn't know any better. That's why we're here grabbing him something." 

"Where do you think he'd put the things he values, then?" 

As they reach Patton’s room, Janus looks around as though he’s considering all the different spots something valuable could be stored. 

Patton's room is very soft and bright. It's very reminiscent of a father's room, with a bunch of family photos hung around the place, as if Patton's surrounding himself with the people that he loves. There's also handmade blankets draped over his bed, and little items that seem like they've come from each of his lovers - a bracelet made of twisted wires and soda tabs, a carved wooden doll sculpted and painted to look like Patton, and a book that clearly has sticky notes labeled throughout it. Those things are clearly on display; Janus is looking for things that wouldn't be as obvious. 

While Janus's eyes scan the space, Roman crouches down beside the bed. As he reaches beneath it, Janus's face lights up as though he’s come to a realization. 

"What're you reaching for under there?" Janus asks, coming up behind him. His hand rests on Roman's back. 

"DVDs," Roman replies. "Patton did bring us our old DVD player, but didn't ask for any movies to go along with it. Or he couldn't ask." Roman shyly brushes his hair out of his face. "But, uh, I remember when we switched to using streaming services, he set our old movies under his bed. He always got sentimental thinking about them; some of our earliest dates involved Logan teaching us how to burn CDs and us pirating movies online. Patton was initially against it, but he seemed persuaded after we let him decorate the discs with a sharpie." 

Roman grabs a small tub, and pulls it out. Inside is a singular, black binder that looks like it's made of fabric. After pulling it out, Roman flips it open, and Janus sees it's filled with tiny plastic slots, with DVDs inserted in nearly every one. There are four slots per page, and there seems to be a lot of pages. 

"Here it is," Roman sighs, before handing it to Janus. "Honestly, I don't know if he'd want this above all else... it's not super personal, you know? But, if you'd be so generous as to permit us one extra item, I'm sure it'd make everyone really happy to have something to do while you're not... interacting with us." 

Considering Roman's words, Janus flips through the DVDs, looking over them. Most of them have titles, but some of them just have silly, simple drawings. Everything is scribbled on in sharpie, but it's not just solid black. Plenty of colours are used, with the four most used being baby blue, dark blue, purple, and red. Flipping through the book suddenly causes Roman to inhale sharply, and he grabs Janus's hands, momentarily stopping Janus from inspecting the discs.

"I know what we should grab for Patton," he suddenly declares, eyes shining with an idea. "Have you... have you thought of where Patton might keep things most precious to him?"

 "I have, in fact," Janus responds, as he sets the black book to the side. "I believe whatever it is you're thinking of may be under this very same bed. Think about it; Patton loves those DVDs. If he didn't, he wouldn't keep them so close. And yet, he's started to feel insecure in your relationship, very much like yourself. So what do you do with something you're too attached to to throw away, but looking at it resurfaces memories of earlier, happier times?"

"What?" 

Janus smiles, and pets the side of Roman's face. "You sleep on it. It's somewhat a pun, but it's entirely practical. Close enough to be comforting, and yet out of sight so it doesn't have to be thought about. Does that make sense?" 

Nodding, Roman softly says "I suppose so." 

He reaches back beneath the bed, having to bend down far in order to see underneath the wooden support keeping Patton's double-stacked mattress lifted, before a smile crawls across his face. He crams his upper half under the bed in order to grab something, before wiggling out and proudly showing it to Janus. 

It's another book, though this one appears to actually be a book. It has a pastel blue cover, with flowers drawn on the front cover. Curiously, Janus opens it up, and is immediately assaulted by brightly coloured scribbles, all reading out different love notes along the inner page. When Janus finally opens to the first proper page, he softens. 

Glued to the paper are photographs of varying sizes, with notes written close to them and other little things taped to the paper. Janus hears a loud sound from downstairs, but doesn't think much of it, as he peers at the pictures in his hands. 

The first photo is of Roman and Patton from what must have been a decade ago, standing side by side holding a small egg between the two of them. It's captioned 'Home Economics: First Meeting' with little drawings of eggs and egg yolks next to it. The photo beneath that is of Roman again, proudly holding up a medium-sized canvas and a second-place ribbon. It's titled 'Second Place In The Town's Art Contest!' with small writing in glittering pen beneath it reading 'I'm so proud of you.' Janus stares at those photos, and the other photos glued within deeper pages, before looking back up at Roman, who's smiling wide. 

"A picture album?" Janus asks, to clarify. Roman nods. 

"He started it when we met. He told me he'd always wanted to track important moments in his life, but didn't know how. I told him to start taking photos. A picture holds a thousand words." Roman turns the book back to the beginning, and taps the photo with the egg. "That's where Patton and I first met. We were ten... maybe eleven. We were paired together to tend to an egg. It's supposed to be a lesson about parenting, but babies are a lot less fragile than eggs, if you ask me. They're easier to hold, and can be laid in cribs. Eggs are small, easy to drop, and a lot less cute." 

"A lot less annoying, too." 

Roman laughs, before closing the book, and taking it from Janus. He holds it almost protectively. "I think... I think Patton would really appreciate having this. What do you think?" 

"Why are you asking me?" 

Biting his lip, Roman averts his eyes. "It's just... You knew where to find this. Honestly, you seem to know more about Patton than I do. More than any of us do. So maybe you'd know whether or not he'd actually like getting this over anything else." 

"I hardly know him as a person," Janus counters, "I just know his problems. The same way I know your problems. Or Virgil's problems. You all do a pretty poor job at hiding the fact things are wrong, and I think everyone is constantly searching for an outlet to that negativity. All I have to do is ask - very rarely pry - and you eagerly share your secrets with me as if I don't want to just drain your pretty body of blood until you're as flat as a bear-skin rug." 

Cringing, Roman gags "ew!" before shaking his head and moving to stand. "Speaking of Virgil, though, I think he might know whether or not this is good enough. Is he up here with us?" 

Janus feels a weird pit form in his stomach. "No. He stayed downstairs. And headed down the hallway." 

"His room's not down there," Roman breathes. 

Already getting to his feet and sprinting down the stairs, Janus hisses "I know that," already heading the direction Virgil went. He moves through the hallway, passing a downstairs bathroom and closet, before ending up in the kitchen, where Janus spots the back door wide open. 

"Virgil," Roman gasps, already looking out down the sidewalk. 

"He can't be far," Janus spits, hands balling into fists at his sides. This door being pulled open must have been what he heard earlier, which means Virgil decided to bolt just minutes ago. Seething, Janus tears the photo album from Roman's hands and tosses it carelessly onto the kitchen table, before shoving Roman hard in the back. "Go get him."  

Startled, Roman looks down at Janus with wide eyes. "What... what?" 

"You heard me," Janus repeats, "go get him. And bring him back. Unless you'd rather accompany him to the police station... though I must warn you that if you do that, you'll end up with just one boyfriend instead of three." 

Janus watches the way Roman quickly flits through a variety of different emotions, before he just nods and jogs outside. Roman watches him from the doorway as he runs down the street, and then he himself turns back into the house. 

He sets the photo album on a table near the front door, and then brings down the DVD binder as well, which he stacks atop the pastel blue book. Then, he goes back upstairs, and digs through each of their rooms individually. He'd seen their collection of explicit things, all hidden in different areas. Logan kept lube so shamelessly in his nightstand, Roman had lingerie hanging in the very back of his closet, one of Patton's stuffed animals vibrates when squeezed in a specific way (something Janus found out by kneeling on it by accident). And Virgil? Well, Virgil had a little black box sitting at the bottom of his closet, which Janus had opened to satiate his curiosity. And it was filled with all kinds of rope.

He grabs the entire box and carries it to the very end of the hall, which has a room unlike all the others. It's the biggest area, and it contains pieces of all of them. Photos, posters, trinkets, a large television. And, of course, a huge bed, big enough to fit all four lovers with ease. 

Janus tosses the box onto the bed, and then brings up a chair and a serrated knife from the kitchen, both of which he sets near the bed right as he hears footsteps reenter the house. And lucky for Roman - and for Patton and Logan, whose lives were on the line - Janus hears two sets. 

"Come upstairs," Janus orders, shouting from the room he's in, and he smiles arrogantly when he hears wrestling and loud thumps as Roman struggles to pull Virgil's thrashing body to the second floor. 

He sees Virgil's flailing form before he hears him curse, though the moment Virgil and Janus lock eyes Virgil is screaming at him. 

"Did you hypnotize him again, you bitch!?" he shouts, kicking into the air. 

"No," Janus bluntly answers, as Virgil's brought into the master bedroom. "Roman, push him into the chair."

"Janus, he's just scared. He was acting on impulse," Roman rushes to defend, but a quick, impatient snap from Janus's fingers has Roman swallowing the spit in his mouth and nervously forcing Virgil into the chair. "He didn't interact with anyone. He didn't say anything-!" 

Rolling his eyes, Janus opens up the box beside him, and pulls out a thick, black rope. Virgil pales when he sees it. "Recognize this?" Janus tauntingly asks. 

Virgil's eyes flicker between the item and Janus. "Of course I do. You stole it from my room." 

"I did. I should have known just how into bondage you were after you came so hard from being restrained by my hands, but I still found myself surprised the first time I came across all these. Different ropes, ribbons, strings; do you tie up your lovers, or do you ask them to use these on you?" 

"Go fuck yourself." 

Frowning, Janus begins to wrap the rope around Virgil, looping it around his torso and arms over, and over, and over again. A second rope is then used to bind his legs, until Virgil's squirming hardly even moves the chair he's on. 

"You're stupid," Janus then says, as he pets through Virgil's hair. "You know that, right? I could be back at my manor, sinking my fingers into the flesh of your lovers and pulling their hearts out before you could even get a stranger to answer their door. You left Roman here with me. You have no idea what could have happened to him the moment you stepped out that door. What if I'd gotten so angry that I killed him? Hm? What then?" 

Virgil's face falls a little, and Janus can see that that's something Virgil had considered before he ran out. 

Eyes shining with recognition, Janus grits his teeth, and Virgil drops his head completely. As he picks up the knife, Janus hisses "see that, Roman? He was willing to gamble your life on a chance." 

Roman's mouth curves downwards, but he quietly says "I don't believe that. He was just trying to help." 

Janus glares at him. "Two things can be true at once." 

"I was right, though," Virgil croaks. 

Raising an eyebrow, Janus pushes his knife beneath Virgil's chin to raise his head. And Virgil - with more confidence than Janus has seen him yield - narrows his eyes defiantly. "Elaborate," Janus commands him, and Virgil obliges. 

"You like him. You make it very well known you like him. Roman's obviously your favourite, because he listens to you." Virgil says the words icily, worsening Roman's guilt. "You wouldn't hurt him like you'll hurt me. You only have one of us tied to a chair, and it's not Roman." 

Janus's glove lets out a harsh squeak as he tightens his grip on his knife. "That doesn't mean he's safe. None of you are safe." 

Virgil lets out a sarcastic laugh. "He's considerably more safe. You broke my nose, you fucked with Logan's mind, you locked Patton in a dark room. What have you done to Roman? Made him lick the floor?" 

A bit more hurt, Roman softly says "Virgil... everything's been bad.”

"You've sure as hell had it better." 

Janus looks between the two with increasing aggravation, before he suddenly grabs Roman's hand. "So what you're saying is that you're sick of the inequality?" Janus asks, though the question is clearly rhetorical. Roman's hand begins to tremble as Janus holds him tighter. "Because if that's the case, all you had to do was say so." 

He brings his knife to Roman's hand just slow enough for both Virgil and Roman to process what he's doing, before he swiftly cuts the blade over Roman's palm, slicing horizontally over the length of Roman's hand. Roman immediately lets out a cry, and suddenly crumples to the floor, holding his red, gushing wound with wide eyes. Janus feels sick as soon as he does it, recalling Roman's hemophobia, but he doesn't comfort him. Nor does he drop the knife. 

Instead, Janus just motions to Roman, who Virgil is staring at with a sickly expression. "Now look what you've made me do," Janus musters, but his voice is less intimidating than he would have liked. 

He stands there, as tears fill Virgil's eyes and Roman curls in on himself, tucking his bloodied fist against his shirt as he sobs, with his horrified, hyperventilating breaths filling the room. 

"Still think you've had it worse than him?" Janus asks, holding Virgil by his hair to make him acknowledge what he's caused after Virgil tries to turn his face away. "There are plenty of other places I could sink this knife into." 

"No," Virgil immediately cries, panicked as ever. "No, I haven't. I didn't mean that. I didn't mean to say that. I don't think that." 

Janus’s voice is void of any clear emotion. "You said it like you believed it." 

"I'm angry," Virgil heaves. "He listens to you and I hate it. Why does he listen to you, when he never listened to us? When he never listened to me? What do you have that we don't, other than our lives in your hands? "

Roman cries hard. "I listen to him to keep you safe," he answers, though his voice is thick with muddled emotions. "He says things to me you guys never would, and I like it, but I don't like him more than you. He's not you, Virgil. I love you. But it feels like you hate me. You've hated me since I brought you here." Roman starts to struggle to breathe, and isn't able to catch his breath. "Since before that, even. You hate me. Everyone hates me, and I deserve it. But I need to feel like somebody doesn't." 

 Virgil has no rebuttal to Roman's words, and he goes from hopelessly staring at Roman, to desperately looking towards Janus. 

"What?" Janus scoffs, as he lets go of Virgil's head. "You're looking at me like you want something." 

"I do want something," Virgil shakily replies. "I want you to... to..." 

Rolling his eyes, Janus kicks the side of Virgil's chair, before forcing himself to take a step back. Despite his anger - and whatever that sinking, heavy feeling he gets whenever he looks at Roman is - Janus is aware that he's behaving immaturely, and he tries to get himself to stop. "What makes you think you're in any position to want anything?" 

"Please," Virgil cries. "It's not for me. It's for him." 

He looks back at Roman, looking intensely guilty himself as his eyes fix themselves on Roman's bloodied hand. "I know what you can do. With our minds. Can you... can you just... stop his pain?" 

"I can't stop his pain." 

"Not physically. But mentally." Virgil swallows the spit in his mouth, and represses a sob that was about to work its way out of him. "Can you block it out somehow? He hates blood, Janus, he hates seeing it. He hates feeling it. And he's covered in it, and he's-" 

"I can see him. And I know." 

Virgil slumps a bit. "Look, I know... I know this is my fault. I shouldn't have ran. I was being stupid, and selfish, and I wasn't thinking of the consequences." 

"Mhm." 

"But I never wanted Roman to get hurt. I love him." 

Janus raises an eyebrow. "Do you? Because everything I've seen coming from you has been hateful comments, bitter deflections, and horrid insults. I believe that Roman loves you, and that Patton loves Roman, and that Logan loves Patton. But I just can't seem to believe you love everyone else as much as they love you. And you're worried about them breaking up with you, when you seem like you're going to denounce your relationship with them at any given moment." 

Virgil's face falls. "I would never break up with them. I love them."

"Then why don't you act like it?" 

Sadly, Virgil looks between Roman's shaking form, and Janus. "I just..." 

"You just?" Janus repeats. "Spit it out, Virgil. I've heard hand wounds can bleed out quite a bit of blood." 

"I don't know how to explain it. It's stupid." 

"You're stupid. Try your best." 

Virgil's petty enough to muster a glare, before gritting out "fine. I just... In my mind, they really have no reason to keep me around. I'm pessimistic, I stress too much... there's just so many negatives about me. And I feel like I don't deserve them. But I can't bring myself to break up with them, so... so I think I do things - antagonistic things - to get them to break up with me. But I don't really want that either." 

Janus feels his shoulders slump, and he ends up sitting back on the bed. "That's... odd," he breathes. "Why do you do that?" 

"I don't know. Sometimes I know I'm going to say something mean, but I say it anyway, because it feels like I can't stop myself in the moment. I like to think I've apologized and made up for every awful thing I've ever done, but I know I probably haven't even acknowledged half." Virgil sighs, voice heavy with shame. "But... I'd like to acknowledge this. And fix it. Can you please do something to stop his suffering? If you do, I promise I'll... I'll behave from now on." 

Janus sighs too, shaking his head. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Virgil." 

"I'll try at least." 

Considering Virgil's offer, Janus turns back to Roman, who seems to have exhausted himself to the point of silence. He's still shaking, and he's still tucked so deep into himself that his neck must be aching from how firmly it's buried between his knees. His bleeding hand is still pushed against his chest, but the blood that's leaked from it has made a mess of his shirt, his pants, and the floor around him. Janus can only stand to look at him for a few seconds before he forces himself to tear his eyes away. 

"Fine," he finally declares, "I'll blind him to the wound. Where do you keep your first aid kit?" 

"The bathroom," Virgil breathes, looking more than relieved with their compromise. "The one upstairs is beneath the sink." 

Janus leaves the master bedroom and searches for the restroom. He briefly looked into it when he was here earlier, but he really had no reason to enter, so recalling its location is a bit more difficult. Eventually though, he finds it, and immediately grabs a handful of medicinal items from beneath the sink. There's cream to prevent infection, anti-pain medicine, and bandages. He brings it back into the room, where he surprisingly finds Virgil upright. Janus hums in amusement as he runs his hand over the back of Virgil's chair. 

"I would have thought you'd have knocked over that chair the moment I left," Janus muses, as his hands lightly comb through Virgil's bangs. 

Virgil frowns. "I just told you I'd try to behave." 

"Forgive me for not believing the man who just tried to run away ten minutes ago." 

Mockingly, Virgil repeats Janus's words in a high-pitched voice, but Janus ignores this childish behavior in favor of crouching down next to Roman. He guides Roman's head up with his hands, and holds Roman's face still as tears run over his gloves. 

"Why?" Roman hiccups, his wet eyes meeting  Janus's.

Janus looks away. "To make a point," he answers, but his answer doesn't feel good enough. Still, he takes a deep breath in, and waves his hand in front of Roman's face. "If you want the pain, the blood, and the hurt to go away, though, then you're going to have to trust me, okay? Can you do that?" 

Thick, glistening tears roll down Roman's face. "No," he cries, though he doesn't pull away from Janus's careful hold on him. 

"I need a yes in order to help you," Janus murmurs. "If I didn't want you to stop hurting, then why would I be sitting with you, hm? Why would I be wiping the tears from your eyes, and promising I'd help?" Janus's thumbs swipe carefully beneath Roman's eyelids, where his eyelashes have clumped together due to the moisture. "Besides, it's not just me who wants to help. Virgil wants to help you, too." 

"He shouldn't. I'm so awful. I'm an awful, cheating boyfriend." 

"No, no," Janus soothes him, "he doesn't think that at all." He lowers his voice so Virgil can't hear him. "Virgil can just be mean sometimes, but you shouldn't internalize it. You're wonderful, my songbird, and beautiful, precious princes shouldn't have to suffer wounds inflicted onto them by evil, vicious villains, should they?" 

Roman bites his bottom lip, before shaking his head. "No... I guess not." 

"Good boy. Now, in order to alleviate your pain, you're going to have to follow my hand, alright? You can do that, can't you?" Janus raises his arm, and wiggles his glove-cladded fingers before Roman's face. 

Roman's nose scrunches up. "What's with the gloves, anyway?" 

Snorting, Janus vaguely responds "one of your lovers can't tear his eyes away from my hands. He sees them, and he just becomes so insatiably aroused. You're not the only one who finds me irresistible, believe it or not." 

Relaxing slightly, Roman asks "really?" 

Chuckling, Janus responds "really. Now, follow my hand, okay? Pay close attention as it guides your vision up, up, up towards the sky. You can only see the tips of my fingers where they are, as they hold themselves high, parallel to your popcorn ceiling. Now follow them as they bring you back down, down, down towards my hold. My touch. My comfort. I'd never willingly hurt you, Roman, not unless I was forced to. My sweet, sweet songbird. Now watch my fingers as they raise up, up, up again. You can do that, can't you? You're so obedient, aren't you?" 

"Yes," Roman answers, his head moving up, and down, and up, and down, nodding along to Janus's guidance. "Yes, I am." 

"I know you are," Janus sighs, "you always have been. So protective, so fierce, and so compassionate. And yet, you've always been so good. You're such a wonderful role model for the others; they should feel honored to have such a star to look up to." Glancing over his shoulder, Janus makes sure Virgil's eyes reach his. "Perhaps if they acted more like you, they'd be a lot happier with me. Happy like you are. Because you are happy, right?" 

Blearily, Roman nods his head as Janus's fingers guide him to do so. Janus's hand moves up and down, and Roman's head moves with it. "Yes." 

"And you're not only happy," Janus then adds, smug as ever. "You're also horny. So, so horny." 

"Janus," Virgil hisses from his chair, "that wasn't part of our agreement." 

Janus gives him a cheeky smile. "It's a small bonus," he states, scratching under Roman's chin while Roman moans. "Besides, I'm not doing this for me. Not entirely, that is. You see, Roman-" Janus turns back to him, making sure Roman is paying close attention to his words "-is only turned on by vulnerability. By sheer emotion and intimacy. And he craves it. Don't you, Roman?" 

"Yes," Roman says, practically moaning the word. 

Chuckling, Janus finally pulls Roman's hand away from his chest, and begins to apply the creams he brought, dabbing away the blood with his own shirt. The black fabric soaks up the dark red liquid, and Janus has to fight back the urge to press his face into Roman's palm and drink up the wasted blood himself. "It's such a waste of perfectly good blood," Janus sighs under his breath. "Especially because you taste so good, and so filling." 

"Stop trying to eat my boyfriend," Virgil barks. "You're supposed to be helping clean him up." 

"I am cleaning him up. While I do that, why don't you tell me which of your ropes is your favourite." 

Virgil's face goes bright red. "I'm not doing that!" 

Janus looks towards Virgil with a raised eyebrow, and an expression that reads 'really?' making Virgil flush further in shame as he remembers what he just promised. So, he grumbles just loud enough for Janus to hear his annoyance, before looking over at his box on the bed. 

Janus can feel the way Virgil carefully considers the options, before he scoffs. "I don't really have a personal favourite," he eventually says, right as Janus finishes bandaging Roman's hand. The scar would probably form in a hypertrophic manner (like the bites on Roman's neck and Logan's wrist had), but Janus can't really stitch Roman's palm shut, so he'd have to live with it. "Each of the ropes look different depending on who's wearing them." 

"Well, then which ones look the best on Roman?" 

Virgil chews his inner cheek. "Are you going to tie him up with whatever I say?" 

"Perhaps. Would you like that?" 

Cheeks pink, Virgil tucks his face into his shoulder. He tries to avoid answering at first, but with Janus's attention fixated so aptly on him, Virgil has no choice but to shyly admit "yeah. I mean- you already kind of know I like ropes." 

"Now which one compliments Roman's gorgeous body the best?" 

Virgil bites his lip hard enough for blood to spill, catching Janus's attention. Janus stands, and circles around the back of the chair, teasingly running his fingers along Virgil's shoulders as he does so. "I know it's probably embarrassing to admit; I'd assume your lovers don't know you have favourites? They just think you pick what's most convenient, don't they?" 

"Yeah. They do." 

Janus reaches into the box, grabbing one of the less sturdy ropes. It's fuzzy all the way around, and though still dark in colour, is still soft to the touch. He raises it to Virgil's face. "This is heinously ugly, but incredibly comfortable. I'd imagine it'd cause minimal damage, and leave behind minimal marks. I think Roman may like that, but I don't believe he's adverse to any marks at all. Just any that involve blood. So this would be what you use on Patton; am I right?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, you are." 

As Roman moans at the honest admission, Janus carelessly lets that rope fall to the floor in favor of searching the box for his next interesting item. He grabs a long strip of leather next. It looks almost like a belt in terms of texture, minus a buckle. It's coarse enough to cut with struggle, but still mostly smooth enough to prevent any lacerations at all if no movement is made. 

"Hm. This is also rather unfashionable, but it is efficient. It's both rough and smooth, relying completely on the wearer to create their own experience." Janus folds the leather over itself, and snaps it. The sound is loud enough to startle Virgil, who jumps in his chair. "That sort of control sounds like it'd go to Logan. When he's tied, he'd enjoy getting to choose whether he wants to cut up his body or leave himself relatively unscathed. Does that seem accurate?" 

"Scarily so," Virgil huffs. "Did you ask them what kind of ropes they liked before this, solely to mock me?" 

"No, but your partners are not the hardest to dissect." Janus drops the leather to the ground too. "Though, I'm sure you might disagree with me on that sentiment." 

He runs his pointer along the ropes binding Virgil tight. Just like the fuzzy rope and the leather, there are multiple skeins of varying lengths, most likely for each part of the body. That's why Janus had enough to wrap both Virgil's midsection, and his legs. 

"The rope you're wearing is the thickest. It's the hardest to wiggle out of. It's also the scratchiest. I could feel how rough it is through my gloves, and I can see the way you wince whenever you wiggle particularly hard. You're able to feel its texture through your clothes." Janus pets Virgil's face. "Roman seems like he'd despise such discomfort. Patton seems too gentle to want such roughness. Logan might enjoy it, but I feel it'd become an uncontrollable sensory nightmare much too fast. That just leaves one person left..." 

As Janus's thumb swipes a bead of blood from Virgil's lip, Virgil tears his face away. "So what." 

"So what?" Janus repeats. 

Virgil rolls his eyes. "I like rough rope. So what?" 

Laughing, Janus pulls away. "My dear, I wasn't accusing you of anything! I was merely speculating! There's no shame in what you enjoy; there's just excitement in learning this fact about you." He turns toward Roman, who's dizzily sitting forward on his calves. He cups his injured hand, but doesn't seem too focused on it, and is instead fixated on Virgil. "Isn't that right, Roman? Aren't you delighted to know Virgil's favourite kind of rope?" 

"Yes," Roman whines, as his hips roll uncoordinatedly against his thighs. 

Janus smiles. "He'll get off on your honesty," he vaguely explains, "on your vulnerability. Since none of you seem to be able to communicate, I figured this would give you a good outlet." Janus reaches back into the box, and fishes out the final kind of rope; it's beautiful black silk, with a texture so soft that Janus shivers just looking at it. It's the thinnest and most delicate of all the ropes, which seems like quite the contrast compared to Roman's strong, muscular body. "This must be Roman's rope," Janus declares, as he lets the silk fall between his fingers.  "It's quite beautiful, just like our dear Roman, isn't it? Though I'm surprised he's able to be constrained with fabric so... fine." 

"He doesn't struggle," Virgil says, voice quiet. "Not like Logan likes to struggle. Or... or like I do. He likes to be wrapped up in shibari, because it frames him in pretty ways." 

"Show me." 

Virgil blinks, and then he looks up at Janus with wide eyes. "What?" 

Janus sets the silky rope in Virgil's lap as he undoes the restraints around Virgil's body, allowing him to stand. He then guides Roman off the floor, and gets him all stripped down. Virgil watches with a flustered expression as Roman obediently lets Janus pull his clothes from his body until he's been left with his half-hard cock on display. Roman's then guided to the bed, as Janus pushes Virgil towards the mattress too. "Show me," he repeats, as he settles himself back in the chair Virgil had previously been confined to. "Let me see the pretty ways the rope defines his body. And while you're at it, tell him how much you love him. That'll really get him going. And fasten his hands to the headboard; we don't need him accidentally grabbing you out of desperation and worsening the cut on his hand." 

The hesitation Virgil displays is purely a result of his own embarrassment, despite the fact Janus reminds him there's no need to be embarrassed. "I've already done plenty with you both individually; I figured getting to do something together would be a nice return to form. Surely you prefer getting to touch and feel Roman as opposed to me." 

"Immensely," Virgil responds, "but you're still watching, like a... pervert." 

"God forbid I relax a bit and treat myself to a gorgeous show." Janus rubs his chin. "Speaking of which, do you happen to have any wine around? I could use a drink." 

Virgil's nose scrunches as he rolls the ribbon in his hands, before using a smaller strip of it to fasten around Roman's wrists. "No, we don't have any alcohol," he grits, before his tongue pokes slightly past his lips as he focuses on securing Roman's hands to the headboard. The delicate rope wraps thrice over Roman's thick wrists, and then knots in a beautiful bow overtop the wood it's fastened to. Then, with the longer ribbon - incredibly long compared to the other binds Janus had inspected - Virgil begins to guide and position it over Roman's body in a particular way. 

He starts at Roman's neck, lacing the ribbon around him, before bringing it down to his pecs. The rope goes above Roman's breasts, down through his cleavage, and then beneath them, with Virgil knotting the length behind Roman's back without even having to look. He pulls tight enough that it looks like Roman's chest is being squeezed, which does in fact frame Roman in a sexy manner. Then, the rope is brought down to Roman's waist, where it's looped around his waist to accentuate the natural curves of his body. Roman's still throughout the process, though his and Virgil's eyes meet a few times. 

"You're doing great, Virgil," Roman compliments him, but goes right back to staring blissfully off into space when his words aren't responded to. 

As Virgil brings the ribbon down to Roman's thighs, Janus comments "it is quite beautiful," which has Virgil almost faltering mid-knot. 

"Yeah?" he responds, as if he can't think of anything else to say. 

Janus chuckles at his embarrassment. "Yes. You're quite talented, you know. If you weren't such a brat all the time then your more admirable features would shine so brightly." 

"I don't think most people would qualify tying ropes as an 'admirable feature.'" 

Smiling genuinely, Janus says "well, I'm not 'most people.' And you aren't either. Doesn't Roman look so pretty with his muscles being elevated, and his body dolled up all pretty?" 

Virgil nervously tucks some of his hair behind his ear, bringing it away from his eyes so he can see better. "Yeah," he answers, "he really does." 

Roman smiles stupidly, and rolls his hips upwards right as Virgil brings the ribbon to his cock. 

Janus raises an eyebrow. "Do you wrap his genitalia too?" 

Surprised at the question, Virgil almost pulls away entirely, but eventually brings his hands back to Roman's shaft when Roman whines. There comes no answer for a moment, before Virgil mumbles "on special occasions," before looping the silky, black ribbon around the base of Roman's cock. It's looped twice over, before a ribbon is tied, just like the around Roman's wrists. Roman groans at both Virgil's admission and the slight pressure around his length, which has Virgil wiping the sweat from his face and looking away. 

"It's cute," Janus then adds. "Perhaps you should do it more often." 

He watches with amused eyes as Virgil's Adam's apple bobs. "I'll consider it," Virgil says, but his voice trembles in a way that lets Janus know he was also admiring just how adorable it looked. 

The rope finally runs out of length after it reaches Roman's knees, but not much of his body needs to be wrapped past that point. And after Virgil finishes fastening Roman's thighs tightly together, he slowly rubs his hand over Roman's midsection. He thinks back to Janus's earlier words, and then quietly proclaims "you're so pretty, Roman. I would stare at you forever if I could." 

Roman's eyes roll back into his head at the praise, and Janus himself can't help crossing one of his legs over the other, and observing with more interested eyes. 

"So you do want to worship him" he teases, and Virgil whips to face him with a face so red Janus is worried he might genuinely explode. 

"Of course I do," Virgil grumbles, "I love him. He just gets on my nerves sometimes. All of my boyfriends do. And I probably get on theirs. That's normal in every relationship; it doesn't mean I want to stop being with them." 

"But it does mean you should be honest with them." 

Virgil leans closer to Roman, pressing his thigh against Roman's tied-together ones. "I am sometimes." 

"Not enough. Look at how much Roman's getting off on your honesty. He's a sucker for compliments, I'll tell you. You say one sweet thing to him, and he's panting like a dog in heat. You'd know that if you praised him more." 

"We praise him plenty." 

Janus raises an eyebrow. "By his standards, or yours?" 

Virgil bites his tongue, and looks away, before turning back to Janus with a scowl. "He's all tied, like you asked," he states, running his fingers lightly over Roman's legs in a soft caress that causes goosebumps to form along Roman's skin. "Now what?" 

"Now, you show me where you keep your lube." 

Frowning, Virgil snarkily questions "why do you need that?" 

"I don't need it, but you might." 

"Why?" 

Grinning, Janus states "because you're going to ride him. You'll get to be in complete control of how fast you're moving, how much fun you're having - absolutely everything. You were upset earlier that you hardly ever got to do anything you wanted to do; well, now you can do everything you’ve ever craved doing to Roman!" 

Virgil's eyes go wide. "I'm not doing that! Not while he's in this cloudy state of mind, and especially not in front of you!" 

"Roman wants it." 

"Roman can't want anything right now; you have him under your weird mind control." 

Janus represses the urge to roll his eyes as he argues "I didn't do much to Roman other than adjust a bit of his likes and awareness. He's aware of you. Of the way you touch him, and what you say. In fact, he's hardly even aware of me. Whatever I declare will have minimal effect on him compared to what you do. And he does want you. Don't you, Roman?" 

Being specifically acknowledged has Roman nodding excitedly. "Yes, yes," he answers, his breath still a bit hoarse from sobbing, but eager nonetheless. "I want you, Virgil, I want you all the time. I want you to treat me like a prince, and I want you to use me like I'm a servant. Because I'd love to serve you, Virgil, and I'd love it if you worshipped me." 

"Quite a bit of give and take with him," Janus muses. "A kiss for a kiss; a thrust for a thrust." 

"Shut up," Virgil grumbles, before cupping Roman's face. "Look, Roman, you're very hot and normally I'd love to... indulge you, but seriously? In front of Janus?" 

Roman whines. "I don't care about Janus; I want you. I forget he's even here because you're so close to me, and you're touching me, and you're looking at me, and that's all I want." 

"Sap," Janus mutters, and again he gets glared at by Virgil. 

"I'm serious, Roman," Virgil stresses, his voice more quiet, as if his words are an intimate secret only to be shared between himself and Roman. "You're not... entirely yourself right now. And I want you, especially when you're all tied up like this, but I won't take what I'm not offered. I need you to tell me you actually want this. I need... I need you to tell me you actually want me." 

A shaky breath escapes Roman's mouth. "Only if you assure me you want me, too." 

"Of course I want you. I always want you. I just want you to like... stay home sometimes. And cuddle me in bed, and just exist alongside me." 

"I'd love that," Roman claims. "I love being with you. And I want you, Virgil, I want you. Please." Roman's injured hand flexes as he begs. "Please, Virgil, please. My mind is full of you. I want you. I need you. Tell me I'm pretty, please? Tell me you want me again. Tell me-" 

Virgil's hands push over Roman's mouth, as Virgil pushes his face into Roman's chest in an attempt to compose himself. "You've got to stop for a moment, Roman," he insists, but his voice is genuine. "I can't... I can't handle you like this." 

"Ow," Roman suddenly winces, and his scared eyes shoot towards his hand. 

Janus sits up slightly. "That's interesting," he hums, as Virgil's scared eyes dart between Roman's hand and Janus's curious face. 

"What?" Virgil demands, speaking in a tone that's more than accusatory. "What's interesting about this? I thought you agreed to take away his pain?" 

"Not take away, just-" 

"Make him blind to it or whatever." Virgil cups Roman's injured palm, petting his thumb over the cut as Roman's eyes well up with tears. "But if you did that, then why can he feel it again?" 

Janus rests his chin on his fist as he stares, inspecting Roman with narrowed eyes. The truth was he's not entirely sure, but he does have a guess. "I believe it may have something to do with you," he vaguely explains, with a half-hearted shrug. "He only felt a surge of pain after you made a rather off-putting declaration. Who tells their significant other that they can't handle them?" 

A guilty expression crosses over Virgil's face, as he rushes to hold Roman's face. "I didn't mean it like that," he immediately says, "I just meant like... your words... and the tone of your voice... it's..." 

Roman's eyes are wet with tears, his chest still as he holds his breath in anticipation as he waits for Virgil to clarify. 

"It's arousing," Virgil finally states. "You always put on a show during sex. And yeah you still whimper and get all... sensitive... but not like this. It's catching me off guard, and making me feel hot. I was just asking for a brief pause so I could control myself and actually grab the lube... you know?" 

"He knows now," Janus answers on Roman's behalf, "because you told him." 

Momentarily, Virgil goes quiet, before nodding as Roman goes back to whining softly and trying to shift his hips in order to garner more touch. "I guess that makes sense," he mumbles, "the same way all of this nonsense makes sense. I'll... I'll keep that in mind." 

Janus watches him reach into the nightstand next to the bed, proving more than one of them like to keep lubricant close by, and that there were multiple bottles strewn about the house. As Virgil gets it out, he also slowly undoes his pants, and though he clearly pauses once or twice, he eventually shuffles completely out of his pants and boxers, though he keeps them set on the bed beside him, as if he needs them close by. He then swings his legs over Roman's, straddling his thighs. 

Janus can't help but feel a bit cheated due to the fact Virgil's ass is hidden by the long jacket he's wearing - and Roman's cock is obscured by Virgil's body - and so shifts the chair he's in to the side, so he can at least watch as Virgil lubes up Roman's shaft. 

Virgil scoffs at him when he catches Janus moving out of the corner of his eye. "Needed a better view?" he sarcastically asks, but Janus just prettily folds his hands in his lap. 

"I did," he affirms. "I'd hate to miss such a gorgeous display." 

Though Virgil's face twists in such a manner that displays his clear disapproval, he doesn't say anything, which is a rather progressive step towards obedience that Janus rather enjoys. So, Janus smooths his pants out and leans back in his chair, enjoying Virgil's look of bitter acceptance that he wears while pumping his fist around Roman's cock while Roman moans. 

The mindset Virgil has is seemingly one of 'if I can't see you, you can't see me,' which he sticks to by avoiding looking in Janus's direction. Roman doesn't look towards him either, but he doesn't seem to be looking at anything but Virgil, which makes sense considering his current state of mind. Janus didn't see how much lube Virgil decided to use, but based on the way Roman's cock seems to glisten in the light, Janus can assume it was quite a hefty amount. Though, when Virgil sheepishly begins to wet his own fingers and dip them between his legs, Janus understands why he chose to waste so much. 

"Well, this is a welcome surprise," Janus remarks, which has Virgil scoffing. 

"Fuck you," he breathes, but his voice is so quiet that Janus decides to ignore his spunk for now. 

He instead focuses on the face Virgil makes while fingering himself, which is a mixture of embarrassed enjoyment and shy sensitivity. The way he bites his bottom lip is pathetic, and the way he's leaning back on Roman's legs causes him to look incredibly lewd. 

The perverse squelch Virgil's pointer and middle finger make as they slide into him has Janus himself flushing slightly, and he has to shift in his seat and change which leg is crossed over the other in order to recompose himself. 

Virgil seems experienced in spreading himself open, which gives Janus plenty of thoughts that he'd love to dwell on during a later point, but when Roman's eventually letting out a needy whine, Janus snaps his fingers to get Virgil's attention. "I know you're busy, dear, but you're neglecting your little prince," Janus alerts him. Virgil's lips purse in brief annoyance, but eventually Virgil pulls his fingers out of himself, and scoots up on Roman's lap. 

"Sorry," Virgil apologizes, but he makes sure his apology is only heard and internalized by Roman. "I'll hurry things up." 

As though he's done this hundreds of times, Virgil rubs his hips over Roman's cock, teasing him briefly with his ass, before he raises his hips up. With a surprisingly steady hand, Virgil holds Roman's cock still at its base, giving a few pleasant strokes to reward Roman for merely existing, before he lines up his hole and slowly begins to sink down. 

The way Virgil's cock bobs as his thighs shake and his body descends is a sight Janus immediately immortalizes in his mind, as Virgil's pale legs framed against Roman's tan, flushed body creates a contrast Janus has only viewed in renaissance paintings. 

When Virgil's ass finally lands flush with Roman's pelvis, both of them groan together. Virgil's low growl and Roman's high whine harmonize in a way only the two of them could, as if they were quite literally made to complement each other in all aspects - from their bodies, to their sounds, to their souls. Janus finds himself entranced by them, even when both of them are still, with nothing moving but their chests as they rise and fall slowly while they simply just exist while pressed so close together. 

Virgil's hands rest on Roman's chest, lightly pressed on his pecs. "You're pretty..." Virgil eventually says, though he sounds like he's forcing himself to speak. To some extent, Janus gets the notion that Virgil is rather quiet during sex, but he's trying to be more vocal now. "I really like the way the ribbon tightens around your body whenever you breathe in too deep, and it squeezes your fat. It always looks really... really hot." 

Roman moans, and arches up best he can into Virgil's touch. 

"I like when you tie me up," Roman responds in turn. "You always look so focused tying those knots, and it's cute to see you so passionate about something." 

Virgil's hands travel up Roman's body, and then hold Roman's face. He leans forward so that his stomach is pushing against Roman's, and then brings their lips together. 

Janus isn't blind to the hesitation in Virgil's actions, and the way he occasionally glances over his shoulder before forcing himself to look away, but after his mouth is planted on Roman's he seems to become lost in the affection. Even though Janus rather noisily scoots his chair a bit forward, Virgil and Roman don't even flinch, and they stay locked into a deep, needy kiss that involves both of them pushing against the other so forcefully Janus is worried they may end up chipping their teeth. 

When Virgil finally pulls away, he's panting, and finally raises his hips up. 

His ascent is careful, though not calculated in the slightest, as he lifts himself just enough so that just the tip of Roman's cock is left in him. Roman is fully erect at this point, and his eyes are fixated on how his cock disappears into Virgil's hole. 

"Please," Roman whines, "please, I need you." 

Virgil reaches up further, wrapping his hands around Roman's wrists tight. "I need you," Virgil quivers. 

"Then take me. Do whatever you want with me." 

Janus represses the urge to - again - call them sappy, but luckily keeps his thoughts inside his head as Virgil heeds Roman's pleas and lets his hips fall again. This time, he moves much faster, as if unable to keep a steady pace while having Roman tied up beneath him. 

His blunt nails sink beneath the ribbons ever so slightly, pulling on them firmly to give himself leverage as his hips rise and fall. He's seemingly impatient with his movements as he only lifts himself enough for Roman's cock to slide halfway out of his hole before eagerly shoving it all back in. 

Restrained noises bubble up from Virgil's throat, and though Janus has been enjoying the view thus far, he finally interrupts their pleasure to scold Virgil slightly. "You have a beautiful man beneath you, and you won't even let him hear your enjoyment?" Janus tsks. "I can see your throat strain as moans fight to spill out of you, and yet you swallow them all down. Why? Out of shame? Embarrassment? My spitfire, not a soul here would complain upon hearing your enjoyment; Roman and I are in fact enthralled by your pleasure. Tell Virgil how badly you want to hear him, Roman, he seems to need a wake-up call." 

"I want to hear you so bad, Virgil, you always sound so pretty. And you always push your hand over your mouth and I hate it because it means I can't hear you, and how good I'm making you feel. I am making you feel good, right? You like riding me?" Roman winces slightly, and his injured hand curls in on itself, as if it suddenly throbbed with pain. 

Virgil rushes to nod. "Yeah. You always do. You're so attentive during sex; you always pay close attention to us, even when we're trying to focus on you." 

"I can't help it. I love you. I want to make you feel good, because... because..." 

Virgil's lips kiss the corner of Roman's mouth. "Because why?" 

"Because it's the one thing I know I'm consistently good at." 

Immediately, Virgil's hips slow. His touch becomes light and concerned as his thumbs stroke Roman's pronounced cheekbones, and pass over his freckled nose. "What do you mean?" Virgil whispers. "You're good at a lot of things." 

"I'm not good at making you happy," Roman replies, "or keeping my voice down, or reading the room... But there are two instances where I know I can't ruin things. When I'm paying for something, like an outing or a gift, or when we're in the bedroom." 

Visibly frowning, Virgil comes to a complete stop. One of his hands comes to rest over his gut, which he holds as if he's going to be sick. Janus raises an eyebrow as he watches their back and forth. "Roman," Virgil starts, as if he's shocked by Roman's declaration, "you don't ruin things often enough for you to worry like this." 

"But I do ruin things." 

"No, that's not what I meant-" 

Tears prick Roman's eyes, as his gaze again shifts towards his bandaged palm. Virgil quickly guides his face back forward with trembling fingers gripping Roman's chin. "That's not what I meant," Virgil repeats, attempting to keep his voice steady as he addresses Roman's words. "We all ruin things sometimes, and I definitely wouldn't say you do most of all. If anything, my pessimism often sucks the fun out of anything we're doing. How many trips can you name that started good and ended bitter because I just couldn't keep my thoughts to myself?" 

Roman smiles sadly. "I don't care about your remarks; I care about being somewhere with you." 

"I feel the same way. Why do you think I just want to chill at home sometimes?" 

Chuckling softly, Roman relaxes once more, and Virgil sighs as he shifts his hips. "You're not only good at sex, too, if that's what you were implying. And if you never wanted to have sex again, we wouldn't. I wouldn't think 'well, there goes Roman's one good talent,' I'd just think you weren't in the mood, and that'd be the end of it. Same with if you suddenly went broke tomorrow. We don't expect you to pay for anything." 

"You kind of do. Groceries, waterpark entries, anniversary gifts... There are so many things I'd rather make for you that I feel stupid doing because it feels like your love comes with a price tag." 

Sighing again, Virgil mumbles "I get that, to some degree. It feels like your love requires a certain amount of social battery, and sometimes I have to pretend not to be depleted in order to enjoy your company. And then I don't enjoy anything." 

The corners of Roman's mouth quirk up into an awkward smile, as he rolls his hips up against Virgil's ass. "Guess we're more alike than we originally thought."

"Of course you're alike," Janus butts in, which earns him a soft moan from Roman and an unamused look from Virgil. "You're human." 

Virgil ignores his words, but Roman smiles a bit wider as though Janus's statement is actually important to him, and then he's looking back at Virgil with loving, cloudy eyes. "Keep moving," Roman implores, voice breathy, "I need you." 

"Okay," Virgil replies, "I'm sorry I stopped. I won't stop again. Forcing myself to slow was... was already hard because of how good I'm feeling. I just want to keep going." 

Roman's eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. "I'm not stopping you. Use me however you want, for as long as you want. I'd let you do anything to me, Virgil, anything at all." 

"Well lucky for you I just want to ride you, and kiss you, and touch you." Virgil kisses over Roman's jaw, down his neck, and then over Roman's chest. "When I'm around you, I can't help but feel affectionate." He tucks his face into his shoulder as his hips rise and fall with force. A moan escapes him as he shyly adds "Even if it is ... embarrassing." 

"Your love isn't embarrassing," Roman quells him, though his body jolts at Virgil's admission. 

Virgil scoffs, and glares at Janus over his shoulder. "It's humiliating when I'm around him." 

Janus waves his hand back and forth dismissively. "As if I don't already know how much you love your boyfriends. It's only natural you'd want to express that love physically. Now move faster; I have to get you two home before sunrise." 

"As if that's not more encouragement to take my time." 

"Virgil..." Janus warns, but Virgil just rolls his eyes. 

"I'm joking. And I'll move faster, but I'm not doing it for you." 

Chuckling, Janus doesn't reply as he instead watches Virgil fully tangle his hands in the ribbon around Roman's chest to offer himself something to hold as he brings his hips quickly up and down. The constant ascent and descent has sweat rolling down Virgil's body. It travels down his face and drips onto Roman's glistening chest, wetting them both with perspiration. Janus would find it gross if he didn't find the smell of their musk so... intoxicating. His tongue flicks out of his mouth to fully taste the aroma of their sex, before sinking back into his chair. His hand subconsciously rests against his groin, but he doesn't touch, nor grab, nor stroke. He just observes, and gets off on observing. 

What really tests his self control, however, is when Virgil pushes himself down at just the right angle, and cries out loud enough that even Roman startles beneath him. 

"Fuck!" Virgil cries, as one of his hands curls into a fist, which lands firmly against Roman's squishy pec. "Fuck, Roman, I... That feels so good, I..." 

"Then keep doing it," Roman urges, his eyes filled with wet, sensitive tears. "Feeling you clench and quake around me, it's incredible. It's almost too much." 

"God, Roman." Virgil has to push a hand over his mouth, but after a whine from Roman Virgil sets it back on Roman's chest instead. "When you talk like that I... I..." 

Virgil's cock bounces with each descent of his hips, and pre drips all over both of their bodies in a consistent stream that only seems to increase the more Virgil moves. Louder noises continuously emit from him as he repeatedly fucks his prostate on Roman's cock like Roman's a beloved toy beneath him. Virgil's own eyelids are screwed shut, and his head changes between being hung forward as if it's too heavy to stay upright, and falling backwards as his cries of pleasure drift towards the ceiling. 

"Roman, I can... I can feel you leaking inside of me," Virgil says, voice cracking. "Are you- are you close?" 

Janus's thighs squeeze tightly together when Roman moans. "Yes!" Roman answers, not ashamed of his enjoyment in the slightest. "Keep moving, please, please, please." Roman's words come out steadily, as he flexes his body against the ribbons accentuating the curves of his body. "Virgil, I love you. I love you so much." 

At first, Virgil says nothing. He's biting his lip hard, and moving his hips fast. The sounds his hips make as they slap against Roman's sweaty pelvis are lewd and perverse, and Virgil shivers each time he hears it. Until finally, his jagged nails sink hard into Roman's soft body, which he squeezes hard as he moves. "I... I love you too," he stammers out, but his mind is elsewhere - likely focused on how hot he feels, and the pleasantly familiar way his abdomen twists with intense desire and need. "Roman, I..." 

Nervously, Virgil looks at Janus. He catches Janus's gleaming eye and knowing grin, and flushes dark with humiliation. Janus finds the sight both pretty and amusing, and already has a guess as to what Virgil could be announcing. 

"Tell me," Roman whines. "Please, please, please." 

"He's begging for your vulnerability, Virgil," Janus softly, albeit knowingly, reminds Virgil. "I'm sure it'd make him feel incredibly good. It might even be the push he needs to spill over the edge." 

Virgil's hesitant, but he can't stay hesitant, not with how good Roman's cock inside of him makes him feel, and how the constant hits against his prostate bring him closer and closer to his climax. He knows he has little time to say anything before words fail him, and his body betrays his need to hold back. 

"I'm..." Virgil swallows down a mouthful of spit, "I'm so close. I'm so close, Roman. Your shaft in me, and your noises, and your... your body... it's all so much, Roman. I like it all, and I've missed it all, and you're so hot. I know Janus has... done things, and I'm sure he's getting off on this like a sick freak-" 

Janus smiles. "Guilty." 

"-but honestly I can't even blame him, because I'd get off on you too. I do get off on you, and I am, and I love you. And you've brought me so, so close, and I need to come, Roman. Please." 

"I'd never stop you," Roman groans, whining loudly. 

Virgil shakes his head. "I know. But... but I want you to permit me to. I want you to say I can. I want you to want me and I want to be with you, and I want to come with you, and it's all so stupid and I feel so stupid saying this to you but I'm serious and I seriously want-" 

"I know, Virgil. I want you too. I want you to come with me." Roman's just as embarrassed as he speaks his wants into the air, but his desire stands true all the same. "I'm so close; I haven't had you on me like this in ages. Since... since before we were even captive. I didn't even realize how much I've been wanting you until you were on my lap again." 

"Well I'm here now. I'm here, Roman. And I'm close. So, so close." 

Instinctively, Roman looks towards Janus, who can't help chuckling. "Please," Roman cries, as cute tears roll down his red cheeks. "Please, may we come?" 

"You're asking me?" Janus inquires, his amusement palpable. "Oh, Roman, you absolute sweetheart. I suppose that if Virgil also asks nicely, then I might be willing to grant you such a privilege." 

"Asshole," Virgil grumbles, but his thighs shake as he sinks down again. His eyes roll back into his head, and a whimper escapes him before he can bite it back. "But... fine. Since you need it to fulfill your own desires, then... can we please come?" At first, Janus just raises an eyebrow, and so more pathetically Virgil adds another pleading "please, Janus?" which is cute enough to be convincing. 

So, Janus responds "oh, alright. I suppose I can't say no to the both of you," which is all the affirmation Roman needs to let ecstasy overtake him. 

Roman's orgasm is immediate following a final bounce of Virgil's hips, and the feeling of Roman's semen filling his hole has Virgil crying out and coming too, though his mess spurts in streams over Roman's chest, coating both his tan flesh and the black ribbon in milky white fluid. 

Roman's cries are loud and blissful as Virgil rolls his hips through both their orgasms, before one of Virgil's hands slips against Roman's chest - which had become slick with a combination of Virgil's own mess and Roman's sweat - and Virgil falls chest-to-chest with Roman. His orgasm splatters between the two of them, worsening the mess made, but the accidental clumsy action is so arousing that Janus has to turn away and curse into the palm of his hand, which he'd brought over his mouth to muffle his own enjoyment. 

For a few moments, they all sit there, with Janus gathering his bearings while Virgil and Roman pant in tandem, before Janus finally pushes himself to his feet. 

He raises his hand in front of Roman's face, waving it side to side, and back and forth, before snapping his fingers. Immediately, Roman hisses in pain, but when he glances at his hand he doesn't freak out. Instead, his eyes go from fearful to appreciative, as he turns back to Janus. 

"It stopped bleeding," he says, sounding incredibly relieved, which has Janus chuckling and patting Roman's face. 

"It shouldn't hurt as badly now, either," Janus replies. "I'll look at it soon to make sure it heals fine." He sits on the edge of the bed, and runs his fingers through Virgil's hair as Virgil keeps his head pressed to Roman's body. As he does that, he also carefully undoes the binds around Roman's wrists, and pulls Roman's injured hand towards his face. He kisses the bandage gently, but lets Roman's hand fall afterwards. "Now, can I trust you two to stay put while I find something to clean you off with?" 

Roman grins slightly, and looks down at his body, which is still tied tightly. Though he winces when Janus stands too fast, he still jokingly responds "It's not like I can really go anywhere with my thighs wrapped together." 

"Virgil?" Janus starts, but Virgil huffs before Janus can even repeat himself. 

"Yeah, yeah, I won't try to run or anything. Now hurry up, before I get too comfy and I don't want to move." 

Janus ruffles Virgil's hair until Virgil's swatting at his hands, before leaving the room. He goes back to their bathroom, where he fetches the softest towel he can find, and brings it back to the duo. He uses it to clean them both best he can, before tossing their clothes back at them. 

When Virgil eventually gets off Roman, he ends up sitting on the towel, and pushing on his stomach to work more of the come out of him as Janus gathers their clothes. As he hands both Virgil his pants, and Roman all of his clothing, he begins speaking. "Now, even though I shouldn't extend my generosity to the two of you, since one of you decided to act a little brash and get the other one injured, I've decided to be nice. Since you did help me find something for our beloved Patton, you may both pick out one more item each to take home with you." 

Virgil lights up. "Seriously?" he asks, sounding a lot more excited. He looks towards Roman, who looks just as happy. 

"Yes, seriously. Though be quick in grabbing whatever you must; we have to get back. And I'm not scorching myself just for a photo album, so if I see the sun starting to make its way through your curtains, then we'll all be leaving empty handed." 

Turning to Roman, Virgil softly says "you found Patton's photo album?" which has Roman flushing as he smiles. 

"I did. With Janus's help. It was under his bed." 

Janus grabs Virgil's hand to move him off the moist towel he'd finished emptying Roman's mess onto, before aiding him in getting his trembling legs back into the comfy trousers he was wearing. Roman gets dressed himself, occasionally stiffening once or twice as his hand aches with the reminder of the cut. When they're both dressed, they're led out of the master bedroom, and immediately they both navigate to their own rooms. Janus stands at the top of the stairs, waiting for them to emerge with whatever they please. 

Virgil steps out first, having exchanged the plaid jacket he was in in favor of a vibrant purple one from his closet. It's reminiscent of the patchwork one he arrived in when he first stepped foot in Janus's manor, but entirely purple, with different shades accenting different parts of it. It's thick and baggy, and Virgil seems comforted by it. The jacket Janus had given him is wrapped around his waist, as if he likes that one too, and wants to keep both. 

Roman takes a bit longer, but eventually steps out with a timid smile and an acoustic guitar in his hands. 

Immediately, Virgil goes "seriously, Roman? A guitar?" which has Roman slumping slightly, but before he can further judge Roman's choice, Janus is clapping his hands in delight. 

"A guitar!" Janus echoes, moving to take the instrument from Roman's hands. His glee is apparent as he treats the guitar with care, lightly running his gloved fingers over the strings, before handing it back to Roman. "I'd expect nothing less from my beloved songbird," Janus sighs, petting Roman's face. "Promise you'll play for me sometime?" 

Roman's mood is instantaneously boosted, and he smiles from ear-to-ear. "Absolutely," Roman affirms, "I... I even write my own songs sometimes. I've written stuff for my lovers, but I've never had much time to sit and play for them." 

"Well, with me, you'll have all the time in the world." Janus winks in Virgil's direction, which has Virgil's look of disbelief morphing into that of guilt, and then one of acceptance as he sighs and cuddles up to Roman's arm. 

"I'd like for you to play for us too," he says, as the three of them begin their descent down the stairwell. "And you know how fond Patton is of dancing... and Logan would love finding the double meanings and innuendos hidden within the lyrics you write. And... well, you're already aware of how much I like music." 

Though Roman's still visibly a bit unsure, he seems excited. "Really?"  

"Yes, really. Besides, sitting around just listening to you strum sounds... nice. Not super active, doesn't involve going out places..." Virgil brushes his bangs out of his face as he takes the photo album and disc binder Janus hands him. "Honestly, it's exactly the kind of moment I've been longing for. I don't have to plan anything; I can just exist in a comforting, musical space, surrounded by people whose company I enjoy."

"In that case, I'll make sure to play you a special song as soon as we get... back."

Virgil smiles, wide and genuine. "I'd like that." 

They're led outside, and away from their house, with Janus being considerate enough to actually lock their front door behind him this time, since it was apparently quite a huge deal to them. Then, he catches up to them on the sidewalk, where Roman's shifted to holding the neck of his guitar in his injured hand despite the visible pain it brings him (which is noticeable to Janus, as Roman's constantly adjusting his grip and flexing his fingers) solely so he could also hold Virgil's hand with his free hand. And Virgil grasps him just as tight, with one of his hands being completely intertwined with Roman's, and his other hand coming to affectionately rest on Roman's forearm.  

Janus lingers behind them for the walk back to his manor, though he occasionally interrupts their soft conversations to direct them across streets and down roads. When they eventually reach his residence, they go inside with little complaint, though Virgil and Roman both shudder when they enter the front door. 

"Deja vu," Roman mumbles, as Virgil laughs. 

"Yeah. Creepily familiar. Except there's no ugly vampire leaning over the barrier this time," Virgil smugly replies, pointing up at the high hallway up the stairs, where Janus had originally positioned himself upon their original intrusion. 

"Ha, ha," Janus sarcastically sighs, before pushing them in the back. "Go upstairs." 

With the two of them snickering like schoolchildren, they do as Janus says and ascend the stairs, where they're brought back to their room. This time, Janus doesn't knock as he opens the door, which has Patton immediately greeting both of them with excitement and relief, as though he was worried Janus wouldn't bring them back at all. 

Janus steps in behind them, and shuts the door. 

He watches as Virgil flops onto the bed beside Logan, and Patton inspects Roman's guitar. "He let you bring more things home?" Patton inquires, though Logan asks a more pressing question directly after. 

"What's with the bandage?" he asks, looking right at Roman's hand. 

Janus rolls his eyes, and points towards Virgil. "Ask that one what happened," Janus insists, but Roman shakes his head. 

"It's really nothing," he downplays. "Just a cut. It'll heal." 

Logan adjusts his glasses, and raises an eyebrow cautiously. "So Virgil has a broken nose, Roman has a sliced hand. Should Patton and I be worried?" 

"Not unless you decide to do something impulsive and irrational," Janus soothes him. 

Then, Virgil sits up, and calls Patton's name while holding the blue book outstretched. When Patton looks towards him, his eyes go wide, and he takes the photo album from Virgil's hands. "My album..." he breathes, voice trembling. He sits next to Virgil on the bed, and soon all three of the others are crowded and cuddled around Patton, sitting close to his sides and peeking over his shoulders. He opens it to that first page, and his fingers softly caress the photographs. As he pets the pictures, Janus hesitantly takes a step forward, and eventually sits beside Virgil. If Virgil is upset at his proximity, he doesn't say anything about it. 

The first few pages are nothing interesting aside from pictures of Virgil and Logan finally appearing - likely their first meetings with Patton. There's a photo of Virgil with purple hair (and purple hands to match) that talks about hair dye, with a smear of purple beside the photograph, and one of Logan absolutely covered in foam while standing next to a science-experiment-gone-wrong. 

Each photo is a window into their past that Janus finds himself drawn to looking through. But he can't look on forever. 

Eventually, Virgil interrupts Patton's reminiscing to hand him the CD binder, which sends Janus on a trip through his manor to fetch an old TV from a storage room. It's small and the socket sparks when the television's plug is pushed in, but Logan is technically savvy enough to get the DVD player hooked up correctly, and a movie started. The picture is grainy, and the sound is spotty, but it works fine, and soon enough everyone's cuddled up watching a movie that skips every few minutes. And again Janus feels like an intruder on their life, despite the fact they've quite literally woven their way into his. 

He doesn't bother sticking around. He heads to his room, and looks around at all of the items he's collected over the years. Many books. Few pictures. There was one... somewhere... 

In the very bottom of his dresser, tucked deep into the drawer. It's not a photograph, but a painted portrait big enough to be handheld. It was of a vampire, and his human lover. A picture that no longer applied to Janus. A picture he couldn't bear to think about. 

Janus's hands linger on the knobs of his dresser as he debates pulling it out, but he can't bring himself to. And so, he doesn't. 

He just turns himself into his bed instead, and lets himself lay there as the sun begins to rise outside.