Matthias would think it a bit like falling down that fated rabbit hole with a one blonde haired little girl in a blue dress. Save she wasn't a she at all, and his hair wasn't long and adorned with a ribbon, nor was his dress blue... but his eyes were. Impossibly so. The sort of blue that you might swear you'd drown in if you ever fell in. An endless serene sea of tropical blue and they always seemed to find their way to his own. Perhaps he'd been cheeky to think the man wouldn't find those hidden places within his room, where he'd stare-- where they'd stare at one another with their passionate obsession wrapped around in a fist warm and wanting.
Or maybe Matthias knew exactly the time it would have taken Loki to find every camera hidden about his room.
Surely he'd not assumed the man would sit himself there and dip his fingers into the heat of himself while mouthing his brother's name. Surely his depravity couldn't have even predicted that deeply of a man he barely knew?
It still felt like slipping, as almost two thousand years landed them here, in the same city for longer than a few passing days. Longer than a few passing glances. Their time would stretch on and into it, Matthias would wonder, his mind a never ending seascape of thought. Never so much worry as wondering after things he had so little control over as the whimsy of his brother. Such an unpredictable man, and perhaps he was the sort who'd grown weary of the sudden flicking of his blood back to the bowels of Hell itself? Maybe this time would see them to a process where obsession grew to madness and madness grew to something untamed and uncontainable--
Until Matthias found his face in the warm acrid dirt of that sulfuric wasteland.
He wasn't a man above caution, it was the greatest separation between the pair of them, this need to be careful and work delicately around a delicate situation.
Matthias was also not a man who was impervious to the drawing of his wants.
His face a mask of stoicism as he stepped into the lift and saw himself to the second floor of this glorified whorehouse. It was a title he said silently and with nothing but affection and the utmost respect for its workers. After all, his dear brother had been one, once. His frame had fitted ill against Matthias' back then, a borrowed thing that contained too much bulk where Loki was paired best with similar, not opposite. Not when it came to the workings of his waist and how it bent. Matthias remembered it then, as he stepped out, shoes noiseless against the marble floors, hands straightening his jacket like he'd just stepped out of a car and onto a carpet, red--
As red as the welling of Loki's blood beneath his teeth.
He remembered it then, that same suffocating heat he knew Loki's fingers understood best.
And oh, how he loathed those cheeky little whores, pressed between cheeks where only he should be fit.
It colored his mind dark as he strode forward, tugged to this place by every thread of invisible want, business as well, but it was the former he let drive him. He was aware. Of anything that was Matthias he could always be assumed of this; self aware, to the very pinpoint of every agony he'd ever understood, Matthias was aware of himself and why and how and because of what, that he did or felt everything.
She was there in an instant, like a flash of crimson against the fresh snow, she'd draw his attention with a touch as his eyes wandered in shameless appropriation for the finery that wrapped 'round him. Fit over his fingers like a glove. As perfect a fit as the suit that clung to him.
Casually, he'd argue.
His tie left behind somewhere and his shirt half unbuttoned, and yet, he simply looked a man who'd not yet dressed in full. Too put together all the same, clean and sharp as the knife that hugged his calf, just above the ankle as if he intended to flash death at everyone with the simple crossing of a knee.
He didn't need a knife for that."Hello,"
As crisp as the sleeves of his jacket, his tone was too honeyed and soft, the finger beneath her chin gentle against her skin but forceful against its angle. Tilting it up in a need to test the bend of her neck and the willingness to comply. She would. It did bend ever so gracefully, long and snow white. Its possible angle teased against his sense the want to slip an edge against it, softly, gently, and watch the quiet trickle of red coat it like sugar did ones mouth. She talked, Matthias listened to none of it. The drill was not foreign to him and he'd not wait for her to finish before wrapping her fingers around the crook of his elbow and walking on. You'll do.
Murmured through his mind as her feet, legs too short, worked tirelessly to keep up. Her attempts to steer him were all thwarted, like a woman trying to drag an ancient statue off its station. Godspeed.
Led them and sat them where he wanted, eyes picking out the comings and goings. His spot chosen for the length of time it'd take their third to arrive, how long he'd have to stride to reach them-- how long he'd have to walk and watch as this woman curled herself against Matthias' side and rested her delicate fingers atop his nearest thigh.
It'd be the longest time he could muster.
Long enough that his mouth was made to stretch in soft amusement as the man entered some time later, not long (good
), but long enough for the woman beside him to make herself comfortable (better
). Matthias watched him like every man had ever watched an animal they'd left the perfect bait for.
Not her at all.
What a whore he'd look, sat there with an ankle draped over a knee and a woman's hand upon his thigh. He could feel the itch in her fingers to shift it. She wanted to, to run it along in some feigned interest at the seam of his inner thigh. Cheeky cunt. He'd not even caught her name when the soft surge of power brushed by her, wafted itself against the back of his tongue and settled his eyes on the man of the hour. His long legs and his impossibly casual dress. It was the man and the shifting beneath his skin that Matthias honed himself on.
The exchange between woman and man was almost lost, though the tone of his voice as it brushed along her skin and bloomed her with caution and worry was nothing Matthias would miss. Darling.
It wasn't for him and yet he was watching Loki all the same, his gaze focused and astute while the rest of him sat casually, comfortably there and without a seeming care. A fallacy to be sure.
Plucked from his grasp and sent off with a whispered note and the man, all tall and cheek of him, would set himself in Matthias' lap. He'd half a mind to remind him once more he was no whore, but the insides of him brushed with correction over his correction. He was a whore, for a camera in a room. For one man and one man only, or so Matthias had made sure of--I love you, to the detriment of the world.
And so it would be."Hello, darling,"
It dripped from him like acid rain. Jealousy had never suited him, he'd never had a reason or aright. It felt cloying even in this moment, a hand shifting to press between shoulder blades. To run itself down a spine, counting, maybe for the wonder which ones Loki could do without and still remain tall and beautiful. Surely there were a few. It felt heavy and oppressive then.
He hoped Loki choked on it before digesting it with a smile, much like that piece of his palm some days ago. A week? It'd been too long either way.
Loki's hands down his front and it was the moan of their title in his head that would see his eyes hooded and his legs shifted to better accommodate the seated party. And he tickle at the base of his spine he knew would only grow and fester. Matthias' palm would rest comfortably upon his thigh, in a similar manner his previous Darling's
had. Not quite the same. His fingers too digging. Too possessive. There was no question to whom he thought of this man belonging to."Mm, let them fetch it,"
as if this was their sole purpose. A purpose that wouldn't see Loki from his lap. Attention snagged by a passer by, someone too well dressed and walking with too much sway of hip to be anything but an employee. "Gin and tonic,"
coolly spoken as he settled his attention back to Loki. Ice when he wandered away, obsession and wanting when he returned. "What is your preferred, brother? Something red?"
Thoughtful for a moment and his eyes would shine with everything wanton, face still too wrought for the company of public, stalwart and calm."Your lips are so very lovely when touched with crimson,"
Fingers wrapping 'round the far side of his waist and they'd squeeze gently as a woman wandered by. His gaze never leaving, frame reacting to the simple proximity-- a dog laying claim on its own possession, lest they forget."I'm here for business."
An excuse, surely, when preceded with--"...it's been days."
The soft tremor of irritation in his voice was nothing he liked on himself. A man slavering over one last drop of water before the desert took him.
Matthias was not a desperate man, though he ought to have told his tongue that before he'd spoken.(important tol things)