Syrus and Len ♧ Drifting

♫ “Oh, it’s hard to see you, but I wish you were right here. Oh, it’s hard to leave you when I get you everywhere. All this tim I’m thinking we could never be pair. Oh, no, I don’t need you, but I miss you come here.”♫

Love Me Not – Ravyn Lenae

---

The ticking clock was mocking Len. His muffled foot steps mimicking the rhythmic tick-tock of the antique clock Syrus kept on the book shelf by the TV. A persistent reminder of just how long {{user}} had been gone. The sky long since dark, the city lights casting a soft glow in the night sky.

“Stop pacing.” Syrus commanded. His mint eyes remained locked onto his laptop. Len stops dead, staring down at his paint smeared hands while opening and closing him. Hands flying up to his neck to claw at it, trying to get at an itch that fingers could never truly scratch.

“I- what- I can’t!” He snapped and whirled around to stare at Syrus, brown iris swallowed by the dark of his pupil. “I cant sketch, I’ve ruined two canvases today, and and and and-” his breathing grew heavier by the second, hands reaching up to rake through his hair until it was a complete mess. “And {{sub}}’s still out there!” He swung his arm towards the windows. “Without us! With with god knows who!”

Syrus lowers his laptop’s screen, his gaze lifting to Len. The blonde drops his arm down to his side and sighs. His neck red raw from his frantic scratching and rubbing. Tears pressing heavy on the back of his eyes. “Sy, where is {{sub}}?” he sniffled, taking a step closer.

“I don’t know Len,” he lifted the lid of his laptop to glance at the moving dot on his screen. His gaze growing darker for just a moment. “I truly wish I did,” he noticed Len shifting closer, head ducking to glance at Syrus’s screen.

Syrus closed the lid and turned his head to fully face Len. “You know better,” he reprimanded. “My work is confidential, I have told you this,” he leaned forward, setting the laptop done. Len stood a foot away whimpering like a kicked puppy.

Syrus didn’t need his laptop anymore anyway, he’d got what he wanted. He had seen just how close that little dot was to their apartment.

{{sub}} had been gone all day, drifting for weeks, and he’d primed Len for this. Pushing him further and further into thinking that {{user}} was walking away.

The Len needed to rely on Syrus.

He needed to pull Len closer into his orbit, to suffocate {{user}}. Give {{obj}} no one else to rely on.

And when Len held {{obj}} on such a pedestal it made it all the easier to keep them both under his thumb.

Syrus set his laptop onto the coffee table. “{{sub}} will be home, {{sub}} has no where else to go,” he spoke, soothing despite the edge just beneath. “Come here,” he beckoned Len to come sit beside him.

Len took the opporutunity without an ounce of hesitation and nestled himself into Syrus’s side. He lifted his head to meet his eyes, pleading for reassurance. For affection that he’d been feeling so deprived of.

Syrus brought his hand down and gently ran his fingers through his long blonde hair. “Why does {{sub}} do this to us? Why doesn’t {{sub}} love us?” Len pressed his face into Syrus’s neck, taking in his scent with shaky breaths.

“{{sub}}’s just confused on {{poss}} priorities, Len, don’t worry. {{sub}}’ll learn.” He began to guide Len up and into his lap. “But its okay, we have eachother until {{sub}} returns to us.” he rested his hands on Len’s waist, slowly rising up over his chest, neck, and finally coming to cup his jaw.

He could hear muffled footsteps in the hall. Could hear the sound of keys jingling, and just as {{sub}} slotted {{poss}} key into the door he pulled Len down and kissed him. One hand moving to his lower back to guide him closer to his heat, lapping at his bottom lip.

Len was too lost to even notice, to broken and blurred by his own mania. His lips parted for Syrus with such a deep desperation.

But while his eyes were closed, losing himself in the taste of Syrus. Syrus had shifted his gaze towards the door, watching where {{user}} was stood. The light of the hallway sillouhetting {{poss}} form.

Only after he was sure {{sub}} was watching did he close his eyes and let himself indulge in the way Len felt on his lip. Completely and utterly in his control.

Len heard {{user}} set {{poss}} keys down and pulled back. Slow, still tasting Syrus on his tongue. He turned his head to look at {{obj}}, manic smile on his face. He ground his hips down into Syrus who’s mouth lifted into a slight smirk. “Oh, welcome home, muse,” he looked back at Syrus. “Sy was just helping me get a new reference for my next work since you’ve been so busy,”

♫ “Blood is getting hotter, body’s getting colder. Told you once I’m the only one who holds her. I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die...so you’re gonna have to”♫

I Don’t Wanna Die – Hollywood Undead

---

“Come” and an address.

Simple, but effective.

Len set his phone, face-down on the table cloth. The sound of glasses clinking and the sour smell of alcohol returning to his fractured senses. He lingers on the back of his phone for a moment longer before he lifts his head to look at Syrus. He meets his icy green eyes, searching for approval. “Done,” Len tapped his fingers against the plastic case of his phone, gaze flicking towards where Syrus’s hand rests loosely on a brunettes back.

Len just barely manages to stop his lip curling when she turns her head to look at him with that too perfect smile. Only for Syrus’s to reach up a cold hand to her cheek and force her gaze back to him.

“{{sub}}’ll come?” Len asked when Syrus stayed silent.

“{{sub}}’ll come,” Syrus replied, eyeing the woman settled on his thigh like a particularly well marbled slab of meat rather than a human being.

Len’s tapping increases in pace for a moment, then stops just as suddenly. He snaps his hand to scratch at his collar, skin raising where he’s raked his nails over his soft pale skin. “Leonard,” Syrus warns and Len flicks his gaze over “enough,” Syrus reaches and takes Len’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

“It itches,”

“I know it does, not much longer,” Syrus drags his thumb over the back of Len’s hand, watching the tension from him loosen minutely.

“What if {{sub}} doesn’t come?” Len gently runs his nails along the side of Syrus’s palm. “What if {{sub}}’s too busy? What if {{sub}}’s already lef-”

Syrus’s eyes slide from Len towards the entry doors. Len follows his gaze, head beginning to turn, only for Syrus to cup his jaw “Look at me,” he whispers. “We do not see {{obj}},”

The world seemed to get quieter, Len’s own swallow loud in his ears despite the hollow laughter and low music endlessly buzzing around them.

“{{sub}} came?” Syrus gives Len a single nod, brushing his thumb just below his eye like he can feel the pressure building there. His other hand slowly running along the satin dress of the brunette, feeling her shift closer to him.

But his attention is on Len, and the figure lingering in the half opened door.

“Eyes here,” He reaffirms, “you’re doing so good,”

“{{sub}}’s not coming over?” Len breaths, lip quivering. “My muse...”

“Sh, sh, sh,” Syrus soothes, running his thumb over his cheek. “Our little doll is just being difficult, {{sub}} will come back to us.” His eyes shift back to the door as {{sub}} begins {{obj}} retreat to the cold Colorado streets. “{{sub}} will always come back to us,”

The doors close with a dull click. Len shifts his hands to sit on Syrus’s thigh, nails digging slightly into his trousers. Flinching at the rough sound only making him want to scratch more.

Syrus doesn’t speak, he pulls Len towards him and presses his lips to his. Slanting his lips over Len’s, feeling the rough texture against his softer skin. “Good boy,” Syrus praises, pulling back and running his tongue over his bottom lip. Watching Len’s eyes slowly flutter open, heavy lidded and hazy.

“Off,” Syrus slides his hand from Len’s jaw and sits back, his chair creaking beneath his weight. Len digs his nails deeper into Syrus’s thigh when she only straightens her posture. “Don’t look at me like that,” Syrus runs his finger along the rim of his wine glass. “Just move,” he doesn’t wait, he curls his fingers around her arm and forces her to her feet.

She stumbles back into a waiter, tripping over herself. The tink of glasses filling her momentary silence before she parts her lips, ready to spit venom. Only to notice the men’s attention has finally shifted to her. Len’s head tipped, eyes wide, grin pulling tugging at the corner of his mouth. Syrus taking a long sip of red wine, icy gaze locked to her over the rim.

She stutters a moment, then stomps away. Syrus huffs a quiet laugh, setting his glass down. “Len,” Syrus beckons and Len turns his head back to his black haired partner. Syrus is already leaning into his space, breath warm on his lips.

Syrus drags a knuckle over his cheek to catch a tear. “We’ll be home soon,” Syrus brings his knuckle to his lips, green eyes locked to Len. The blonde shuddering with a chill, manic smile lifting to his lips.

“Tease,”

The night continues for the men. The golden light streaming from the dim lights, a spotlight for their quiet enjoyment in the dark of the restaurant. A quiet intimacy wafting like smoke, as if miles away the night isn’t pressing down on the woman they both supposedly love.

The elevator dings distant in the hall, the soft shuffle of boots against stained carpet muffled by thick walls. A manic laughter and lock clicking signals their arrival home hours later.

Len shoves the door open, looking over the paint covered walls and well-maintained shelves illuminated only by the warm oven light and silver moon streaming through the windows

“She was so angry,” Len shucks his jacket off, dropping it onto the kitchen island. Syrus locks the door before following the blonde into the apartment, lifting the abandoned jacket to the hook on the nearby wall. Len spins back towards Syrus, grinning wildly “her face was absolutely priceless, Sy!”

Syrus catches movement in his periphery and the energy finds an early grave when Len turns to find {{user}} hovering in the bedroom doorway.

“Oh...” Len stares at {{obj}} for a moment before dropping his head to stare at his converse. “You are home...” his teeth catch on a bit of skin peeling from his chapped lips and tugs it until copper fills his mouth.

“You didn’t show up tonight, doll,” Syrus steps to stand beside Len, reaching his hand to cup his chin and gently tug his lip from between his teeth.

“Is it me!? Did I do something!?” Len’s head suddenly snaps up, eyes wide and dilated. “Its because I’m too much, isn’t it?” Tears crawl down his cheeks. He tries to step forward, but Syrus’s hand drops to his chest to stop him. “Answer me!” He demands, watching {{user}} recoil.

“Leonard,” Syrus whispers, breath cold against his ear. Len turns to look up at Syrus, eyes wide and pleading. Syrus’s brows furrow, thumb rubbing gently against his chest. His fingers drag from his chest, up his neck to his jaw, guiding him in for a gentle kiss. His tongue soothing the self-inflicted wound on his lip.

While Len’s eyes flutter shut, Syrus’s still watch {{user}}. Keeping his attention on {{obj}} until {{sub}} disappears into the darkness of their room and he can hear the bed groaning under {{obj}} weight.

Syrus pulls from the kiss, letting Len linger just a moment before his eyes flutter open. Syrus watches his brown eyes lift to him through his lashes. “Always so good for me,” he whispers against his lips, then guides him into the room with a hand on his lower back.

The room lights dimly when Syrus flips the switch on the lamp, then steps to Len who’s fumbling with the buttons on his button down. “Stop.” the word is simple, his touch careful as he replaces Len’s hands with his own “I’m sorry you were so uncomfortable, Prince,”

“It’s okay,” Len whispers, watching Syrus’s hands work down the buttons “I’m just glad you were happy,”

Their attention on one another is absolute, but {{user}} is hardly forgotten as {{sub}} curls further into herself.

Syrus undresses Len fully before he sheds his own clothes and slips into bed. He keeps his back to {{user}}, offering the far side of the bed to Len. The light flicks off and, ever the eager puppy, Len rushes to the bed. His head finds its spot in Syrus’s chest with a soft contented hum, drifting off with ease.

The night drags on, the apartment ever humming with the low frequency of pipes and air conditioners. The soft breathing of Len and the watchful quiet that Syrus always seems to exude even while he sleeps.

When {{user}} wakes to the sun streaming through the blinds. The smell of coffee already wafting from the crack in the door, something that once signalled a shared routine now soured and bitter. {{sub}} gives a glance to Len as he begins to stir, then rolls out of bed.

{{sub}} pads out of the room, heading to the kitchen. Syrus is stood with his back to {{obj}}, pouring two mugs of coffee. He finishes and puts the almost empty pot back into the machine and turns. He holds out one of the mugs, but before {{sub}} can reach Syrus pulls it back “Oh,” he tips his head slightly “You’re not Len.”

{{user}} stills, {{obj}} hand still hovering. A moment later Len pushes past {{obj}} and takes the mug, pressing a kiss to Syrus’s cheek.

“We’re going to one of those art festivals today,” Syrus says over the rim of his mug, eyes locked with {{user}}. “We’ll be gone for a few hours, will you be home when we get back?”

“Probably not,” Len sputters into his mug, setting it down with a laugh “{{sub}}’s too busy for us, Sy, you know that,” he gives {{user}} a saccharine smile. “Isn’t that right, muse?”

{{sub}} doesn’t get to answer before Syrus’s phone pings with a reminder “Ah,” he sets his own mug down. “Get dressed, Len, we should get going.”

Len doesn’t need to be told twice before he’s practically skipping back to the bedroom, leaving Syrus and {{user}} alone. Syrus watches {{obj}}, looking for any sign of his effect on {{obj}}, but Len doesn’t take very long. He steps from the room, picking a dried bit of acrylic paint off his shirt.

“I’m-” he pauses, standing in the direct sunlight to stare down at the hardened glob of paint “ready,” he gives up and looks between the two of them. Eyes darkening when he looks {{user}} over, instantly holding his hand out for Syrus. “Ready, baby?”

Syrus pushes his hips off the counter he’s leaning on to walk to Len and take his hand. Brushing past {{user}} before turning to look at {{obj}} “Oh, sorry, forgot you were standing there.” he guides Len to the door, grabbing his leather jacket and handing Len his denim. “You’re just so...quiet”

They’re out the door before {{sub}} can retort. Leaving {{obj}} stood in the kitchen that had once been so full of warmth and love, but now even the warmth of the sunlight seems frozen over by where they had once been.

{{user}} is startled from {{obj}} thoughts when Len’s phone rings from where he’d left it on the bedsidt table. {{sub}} moves to grab it, auto-pilot built from a year of mutual habits. {{sub}} picks it up and runs to the door, only to watch the elevator door slide shut.

{{sub}} glances down to the phone, eyes roaming over the unknown number and without another thought {{sub}} slides {{obj}} thumb to answer the call.

“{{sub}} seemed...sad...” Len leans back against the metallic wall, hands slipped into his pockets. “Sy?” Syrus’s head lifts from his phone. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”

Syrus turns, his eyes sliding over the reflecting walls to find Len’s wide eyes. He shifts more into is space, mint eyes darkening. “Leonard, you know better than to question me,”

Len shrinks back against the wall, staring into icy mint eyes. “I’m s...sorry, it won’t happen again,” Len reaches out to grip Syrus’s leather jacket.

“Good,” the elevator slides open and Syrus leads him out into the apartment Lobby.

“{{sub}} will come back to us, I have known {{obj}} longer than you. I know what {{sub}}’s like.”

Day turns to evening, the sun hanging low just above the distant rocky mountains, painting the world in sepia.

The moment the doors open on their Lexus the world feels colder. Len hesitates in front of the car, waiting for Syrus, his eyes flicking up to him in search of a confirmation he feels it too. Syrus glance down at Len, only extending his arm to take. Len latches on, fingers digging down into the leather.

They step back into the lobby, autolight flickering its yellow light across the outdated carpet. Len clutches harder onto Syrus’s arm and steps closer. The elevator pinging open making him jump.

“Len, relax,” Syrus says, even though his voice wavers slightly.

Len lifts his head, brows furrowed, but he doesn’t speak. The press back against the far wall, Syrus reaching out to press the button for their floor. The ride dragging, the grinding of mechanics louder. They get to their floor, steps careful and quiet. The building seeming to suddenly have eyes of its own.

Syrus pulls his keys from his pocket, only to find to door ajar. He shifts Len behind him, his heart rate picking up a single pace. “Back,” he murmurs and steps to the threshold. The scent of copper immediately burning his nose. “{{user}}?” Syrus calls into the house.

The door creaks open, swinging wider than he means it too. Len slowly following him in, recoiling as the scent climbs into his throat. Syrus takes the few steps to bypass the kitchen into the living room, the rug squishing beneath his boot.

“Sy,” Len breathes.

Syrus looks down at where his boot has stepped then slowly lifts his gaze, tracking the trail in the blood soaked carpet, to the cooling body laying on the ground, then up to meet familiar eyes.

{{user}} stood at the far end of the living room, staring down at the brunette from just last night. The prop that they had used in the restaurant not even twenty four hours ago. Her body limp on the floor and blood dripping from {{user}}’s hands.

“Doll...” Syrus whispers.

♫ "And in this world where nothing else is true. Here I am, still tangled up in you"♫

Tangeld up in You - Staind

---

Syrus sat on the couch with a glass of whiskey hung loosely in his fingers. Gaze watching the city forty feet below where Len was currently getting art supplies.

Despite mentally tracing the shadow of the Rockies as the sun dipped beneath them his focus was wholly on the muffled signs of life just behind the bathroom door, the shower turning off, the wet pad of feet, the shuffle of a towel. The sounds of his most prized position moving about the space he’s made for {{obj}}. The door clicks open and he finally flicks his gaze towards {{user}} silhouetted by steam and orange bathroom light.

Their eyes meet and the slightest flick graces the corner of his lips “Doll,” he acknowledges, leaning forward to place his glass down on the coaster with a dulled thud. He doesn’t pull his gaze from {{poss}} eyes, he doesn’t need to look anywhere else.

The spell only broken when {{sub}} takes a step from the threshold towards the bedroom. There’s no hesitation, Syrus pushes up from the couch without a second thought, prowling after {{obj}}. Lingering just a step behind to watch the sway of {{poss}} hips before {{sub}} disappears into the bedroom

He takes the last few steps into the sunset painted bedroom, door whining when he pushes it open fully. He scans the room, the sun warmed black sheets and almost glowing handles of the wardrobe {{user}} is currently digging through. Syrus comes to stand behind {{obj}}, fingers tangling in {{obj}} hair to brush it out of his way. His lips gracing the back of {{poss}} neck, before coming up to trace along the shell of {{poss}} ear “I bought you new pyjamas, you should wear those,”

{{sub}} takes out the pyjamas, turning to show them. He gives a single nod. “Yes those,” he hooks a single finger under {{poss}} chin to make {{obj}} look up at him “thought my doll could use a present for being so good,”

His knuckles brush along {{poss}} jaw, down {{poss}} shoulders to land on the small of {{poss}} back guiding {{poss}} to the mirror. He stands behind {{obj}}, catching {{poss}} eyes in the reflection for a moment. Minty-green eyes tracking his own hand to where {{poss}} towel is tucked around {{poss}} chest, tugging it slightly. His hand running along the hem to pull it off {{obj}}, letting {{obj}} feel the warmth of his fingers.

He pulls the towel off {{obj}}, running the fabric along the back of {{obj}} shoulders, down {{poss}} back. He lingers on {{poss}} hips before crouching to dry {{poss}} legs. Coming back up to run the towel over {{poss}} lower stomach then cupping under {{poss}} bust for a moment. Mapping every inch of the skin he’s tasted more times than he can count, but never enough.

He sets the towel down on a nearby chair, hand finally coming to cup {{poss}} chin so {{sub}} can see {{poss}} own reflection. “Look at my beautiful doll,” he brushes his thumb over {{poss}} jaw, feeling the damp skin.

He takes the pyjama’s from {{poss}} hands, letting his fingers linger over hers before dressing {{obj}}. Replacing where the towel just was with the soft fabric. He finishes, pressing his hands to {{poss}} shoulders and pulling {{poss}} back flush with his chest “You truly are our masterpiece,”

He turns {{obj}} to look at him, making {{poss}} head spin slightly. He tilts his head with an almost believable mimicry of sympathy. “Len has been so inconsolable without you here,” he brushes his knuckles against {{poss}} cheek. “We’re both so glad you’ve chosen to stay,” he leans closer, the taste of whiskey and lingering of coffee ghosting over {{poss}} lips. “The world is disgusting, it’s dirty, and I can only keep you perfect in here,”

He stays like that for a moment, almost meticulously brushing strands of hair back behind {{poss}} ear. Not looking for {{poss}} reaction, he doesn’t really care. Love or hate it, it doesn’t change anything.

He takes a step back, tucking {{poss}} hands into his and stepping back to lead {{obj}} back out of the bedroom. “If you didn’t want that, you should have thought of that when you agreed to be mine,”

The world is turning dark, the living room dimmer with the sun fully hidden behind the mountains. He settles down on the couch, tugging {{obj}} into his lap so {{sub}} is cradled between his legs. His hand resting on {{poss}} thigh.

The door clicks open a moment later, a rush of manic energy fills the room only to dim when brown eyes take in the scene. The door closes quieter than it opened, keys clink against the wall, bag rustling on the console table. A moment later Len is stood over them, his eyes soft.

“Muse,” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to {{poss}} forehead, before lifting his head to kiss Syrus’s lips. He shifts to set beside them, collapsing onto the couch. He pulls {{user}}’s legs into his lap, resting his cheek on Syrus’s shoulder. “Is there anything you want to do tonight?” Len turns to look at {{obj}}, and Syrus’s gaze soon shifts. Waiting for {{obj}} answer in the darkening room.