Essence of Quinn Parts 3 & 4 (MxM)

Sight for Sight

“Not the fuck again,” Quinn growled under his breath, brimstone and ash beneath the naked skin of his knees. 

He’d woken up in Hell. Again. 

Imp trilled somewhere up ahead, and Quinn took a steadying breath. Dry, stifling air filled his lungs and he scowled, focusing on what little he could see, and using his other senses to figure out what kind of shit he’d found himself in now. 

Two presences besides Imp registered, and both were a surprise. 

“It is a great pleasure to see you again, Armaros,” a melodic voice said.  

Quinn tilted his head towards the sound, lulled by the beauty of it for a few heartbeats, but then reason took over. 

He snarled and stumbled to his feet, relying on quintessence and blurry vision to orient himself. It was second nature now, after these past months of blindness.  

“Don't fucking call me that! Why the fuck am I here, Eligos?” Quinn spat in Infernal, uncaring that he’d addressed a demon duke so disrespectfully. “What the fuck do you want?” 

The sigils etched into Quinn’s skin sparked weakly as Eligos drew closer, static crawling over his flesh. Powerless. Useless. The fallen angel stopped a few inches away, but Quinn straightened his spine and stood his ground. 

“I understand this is rather invasive. I hoped we could come to an agreement, nevertheless.” 

Quinn snorted, shaking his head. He was so over this shit. 

A fucking agreement?  

“Invasive? Are you fucking kidding? I was asleep with my mate! In my own fucking bed! Fuck an agreement! Send me back!” 

A warm body pressed up against his back, and Quinn froze, muscle memory sending his body rigid as powerful arms caged him in.  

Hot breath at his ear. Familiar. Wrong. Quinn stiffened, heart hammering as old instincts surged like ice through his veins. 

“Hear him out.” 

Convel’s hoarse voice, gravel wrapped in raw silk, barely carried. It transported Quinn back to Andras’ fortress. Centuries ago. A different version of himself. Back to the version who’d been completely under the thrall of the demon Marquis. Back to the ghoul who didn’t fight, didn’t speak, didn’t breathe without permission. 

Convel’s hold didn’t loosen, but he backed off a little, putting a sliver of space between them.

Strong hands cupped Quinn’s head, and Eligos stroked his temples with calloused thumbs. He flinched at the gentle touch. 

“You should look after yourself better than this,” Eligos murmured. His voice soothed, and the tension in Quinn’s body eased a little. “I thought ghoul packs looked out for one another. You are wasting away. Burning yourself out. Your turmoil has taken its toll on your health."

Quinn curled his lip, aiming a weak snarl his way. His mouth had gone dry, and tremors wracked his body, making his teeth chatter. He did his best to hide it, but he knew it was no use.

“What do you want from me, Eligos?” he breathed. 

The fallen angel tutted. 

“I find myself in need of your services.”  

Quinn’s stomach dropped. Fuck that. 

“No!” he gritted out. “No fucking way!” 

Eligos sighed, thumbs tracing the line of Quinn’s brows.