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Die is drinking whiskey. Really, that should have been the first warning sign. Die drinks gin and rum, and he always mixes that shit unless they’re playing Never Have I Ever because he is a fucking girl and he can’t handle his liquor. So the fact that he starts ordering whiskey, and cutting it with nothing but ice, should be setting off sirens.
Except Itchy’s pretty fucking drunk too and okay, he never claimed to be a genius. He knows exactly what he is: an asshole who’s replaced actual cleverness with just being really incredibly vulgar. That’s fine, most people get the two confused and it’s only later, after he’s sneaking out of their bedroom the next morning, that they realize that he really was a fucking dick. Alcohol doesn’t do anything to improve his thought process, it just makes him mouthy as fuck.
It doesn’t just make him mouthy in general though. That would be too fucking simple. See, when he’s been drinking gin, he gets mouthy in a general sort of way. But when Itchy’s drinking whiskey – and as soon as he sees Die drinking it, he knows what he’s drinking for the night too – he hones in on a single target and mouths off at them all night until either he passes out or they pass out. Sometimes they pass out from the drinking, and sometimes it’s from blood loss or the concussion they got beating the shit out of each other. Itchy’s not shy about starting fights while drunk, he’s always enjoyed a bit of roughing up.
But he’s still not expecting it from Die of all people, Mr. I’m-telling-Crowbar, Mr. I’m-running-to-another-timeline, the big baby coward himself. Though, when you think about it, sorta makes sense. It’s not like anybody got into this business because they were nice people. Sawbuck’s about as sweet as any of ‘em get, and Itchy’s seen that motherfucker blow someone’s head off with a shotgun when push came to shove.
So when he leans in nice and close, continuing his train of thought. “Say, your mom ever work down at the Dusky Rose? ‘cause I totally fucked this one whore that had your nose and everything-” He’s not expecting Die to haul off and slam a fist right into Itchy’s face. Itchy falls off his barstool, and he doesn’t even have a chance to catch his breath before Die’s on top of him, knees slamming into Itchy’s stomach and punching the shit out of him.
All Itchy can really do is get his arms up over his head, doing his best to protect it from Die’s blows. He’s pissed, maybe more pissed than Itchy’s ever seen him, and when a few guys nearby haul Die off of him, Itchy sits up and spits blood on the floor, laughing like an idiot. Die’s livid, yelling at him, and it’s only now that Itchy hears what’s being said. “-EVER TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER LIKE THAT AGAIN-”
“So it was you mom I fucked?” Itchy can’t stop his mouth from flapping, even when he’s bleeding, and then he scrambles to his feet as Die just screams and breaks out of the arms holding him back. It’s only his speed that gets him off the floor in time, and out the backdoor into the alley, laughing nearly hysterically by this point. All this time, he’s been pushing every single button Die has, never realizing the berserk button was the most obvious one in the book.
Die comes storming out a moment later, and when he comes at Itchy, at least this time Itchy's ready for it. He fights like a son of a bitch, fists flying everywhere, and clearly aiming to gouge at least one eye out. But it's inaccurate fighting, and Itchy's spent years defending himself against brothers who were bigger and meaner than Die. He just waits for an opening and punches Die in the stomach as hard as he can, and when Die doubles over, Itchy slams him up against the wall.
"You know," Itchy tells him conversationally, grinning at a wheezing Die. "I think I kinda like you like this. If I'd known all it would have took was calling your mother a whore, I would have done it years ago-woah!"
He barely gets out of the way of Die's fists. Even though Die's still bent over and wheezing, he lunges at Itchy and they both hit the ground. Die gasps in air and Itchy turns them over pinning Die on the ground. Their hats lie on the ground beside them, and Die struggles, finally getting his words out. "If you talk about my mother-"
"You'll freak out and try claw my face off? Yeah I got that." He can't stop smiling down at Die. He knows he looks like a madman but he doesn't give a fuck. This is really too rich. "So, was it or wasn't it your mom that I fucked at the Dusky Rose? I gotta ask because the shit she did in bed was phenomenal-"
"She's dead!" Die snaps at him, and struggles underneath Itchy. It's only years of experience that keep him from getting shaken off, or accidentally hit in the nads. Though, it turns out it's a real different experience doing this when you're drunk and horny to when you're just an asshole kid. Itchy hasn't gotten laid in at least a week, and Die bucking around like a bronco underneath him is having quite the effect on Itchy. "She died years ago!"
"Yeah but how many years ago? Ten years?" Itchy puts his mouth on automatic. His dick takes over for the moment, and he uses this opportunity to really start grinding down on him. Die clearly hasn't caught on yet, still busy blowing his lid over fucking nothing. "You know, maybe I was wrong. You ever do some time in a bordello? You remember some mouthy kid fucking the absolute shit out of you?"
Die glares up at Itchy, but his eyes go wide as Itchy grinds down just right. "Oh my god-"
"You'd remember me, because when I was finished, you wouldn't have been able to walk straight for a week." Their hips are pressed up right fucking tight against one another, Itchy's hard cock shoving right up against Die. He grins when he feels Die respond, that old fucking familiar twitch in the trousers that Itchy knows exactly how to deal with. "If you don't, maybe you'll remember your mom all fucking laid up in bed for weeks afterwards 'cause of my cock-"
That's enough to get Die flipping out again, and Itchy gets a fist straight in the face this time. He goes tumbling back and Die's on him in half a second. All Itchy can really do is shield his head with his arms, laughing while Die screams and punches him. "SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"
Itchy laughs, though it's only because if he stopped laughing he'd have to really think about this and how fucking pissed Die is, and the fact that Die may just be pissed off enough to kill him. That would really fucking suck. His arms are already going to be bruised to hell and back over this. He shoves his hips up against Die's and there's no surprise there when he feels something hard pressing back down against him. "You're quite the fucking mama's boy! That's fine, I get that! I love my mama too! Though I don't know if I'd be this fucking hard talking about her with you-"
The arms over his face aren't enough, not when Die suddenly stops wailing on Itchy and his hands tighten around Itchy's throat, choking him. He gasps for air, and when that doesn't work, he tries to get Die off of him by hitting him. It's not fucking work. Die's not even feeling any of the blows. His hands are getting tighter and tighter and he can't fucking breathe at all. This just got a lot less funny. This just got real fucking terrifying.
Their hips are still shoved up against each other and that's what Itchy's left thinking about as his arms get weak and drop off to the side. He's going to die feeling his hard-on pressing up against somebody else's. Sure he always hoped to go out fucking, but not like this.
And then, just as his vision narrows down to a point, the hands let up off of Itchy's throat. He gasps for air, filling his burning lungs as quickly as he can. Itchy gets a little air in, and then Die's hand presses down on his throat again, not hard enough to choke him, but hard enough to remind Itchy that he can. There's a look on his face that Itchy's never seen on Die before, something that goes beyond the regular uncontrollable rage. There's a calmness about the way his fingers are pressing into Itchy's throat, and he understands immediately that he's pushed way too far this time. This is the focused terrifying calm of a serial murderer.
"If you ever talk about my mother again, I'm going to murder you. Slowly. Painfully." Die isn't fucking around. Itchy's sucking in air through shallow gasps and he is seriously afraid that Die is going to crush his windpipe. Who knew the gaunt motherfucker was actually this fucking dark? Though maybe his whole creepy religion should have been a heads up. Die's hand squeezes, focusing Itchy's thoughts on him. "She is off limits and you will bleed if you ever bring her up for any reason. Nod if you understand."
Itchy nods. Yeah, he gets it. He knows when he's found a line and barrelled too far over it. Die's grip loosens, but he doesn't go slack. Instead, he rocks his hips against Itchy's, grinding down straight against his hard dick. "Die-" He sputters out.
"This is what you wanted? That's why you you started this?" Die rocks forward again deliberately, and Itchy is torn between enjoying it and worrying about the safety of his dick. The hand still on his throat isn't making this any easier to process. "You said ugly things about my mother to get in my pants."
"O-or fight with you." Itchy openly admits the truth. Now's not the time to lie. "Either was f-fine. I was j-just. Trying to kill t-time."
"Killing time could get you killed." This should be comical. It's Die for fuck's sake. He runs to different timelines the moment anyone even looks at him funny. It also should be a boner-killer but Itchy's hard as ever, cock straining against his fly. The way Die straddles him puts the perfect amount of pressure on his dick to be pure torture, and it's clear that asshole knows it. "If you wanted to fuck, there were better ways to do it. Like asking. Or not pissing me off."
"I'll just keep that in mind." Itchy jerks up against Die's pelvis, grinding his dick into Die's dick. "So. You want to fuck?"
"That's better. If you want something, ask for it." Die keeps his hand on Itchy's throat, but he scoots forward, moving up until he's straddling Itchy's chest. He can't pull his eyes off of Die's other hand, the one that unzips his pants and pulls his cock out.
"This uh- this wasn't what I was really going for-" Itchy starts into it, and quickly ends when Die chokes him. He struggles a little, but not much, "-didn- didn't say-" He gasps out for air and Die finally gives it to him. Itchy catches his breath, "Didn't say I wasn't okay with it. Just. You know. Give me a fucking moment. I didn't expect you to be so... you know..."
"Not a doormat?" Die's stroking himself and Itchy can't take his eyes off of that hard green cock just inches from his face. "I have my limits. And foul-mouthed assholes who don't know when to shut up are my limit. I put up with you being an asshole tonight. You can at least pay me back."
"Yeah, sure, I can do that." The hand goes off his throat and Itchy licks his lips nervously as Die slides all the way forward. He presses the head of his cock against Itchy's lips and pushes in, Itchy all too willing to let him in. It's been a long time since he's been the one with the dick in his mouth instead of vice-versa. It takes him a moment to remember how to tilt his head so he can breath, but then it's just like riding a bike. Or, riding a dick, really.
He's not sure what to expect, but what he doesn't expect is for Die to put both hands on Itchy's head, get straightened out, and to start thrusting down into Itchy's mouth. Itchy gags, surprised by how deep he goes so quickly. He's really not fucking around. Itchy grabs onto his legs, just to have something to keep him centred as Die fucks his his mouth like it's a cunt.
"If you were so desperate to have somebody do this to you, you could have just asked nicely," Die says and Itchy blinks in shock. Where the fuck is all this coming from? Where's weak whiny Die who just takes everything like a bitch and complains when things don't go his way? "You could have just knocked on the door to my room. I would have let you in. We could have done this on a bed instead of in the alley."
Itchy would like to pretend he isn't getting harder just thinking about sneaking into Die's room so he could suck a dick. But fuck it, he hasn't gotten this far in life by pretending he didn't like the things he liked. And he likes this. He really fucking likes this. Die's thrusting into his mouth like there's no tomorrow and Itchy's just sucking as hard as he can, tasting nothing but salt and warm flesh.
"But maybe you like it like this. Maybe this is what's got you hard. You don't want a nice soft private place to be a whore in." Die drops the big W-word and Itchy moans. Yeah, talk dirty to me big guy. He tries to mumble that, but it gets lost in the smack of thrusts and muffled sounds. "You want to do it here, in an alleyway, where anybody could come along and see you choking on my cock."
His eyes roll a little in agony at being so fucking hard. So his fetish is whiny guys who suddenly go crazy and dirty-talk you while they fuck your mouth in an alleyway. There are probably worst ones. Not sure if anything would be more embarrassing if the rest of the Felt found out though. He's got a reputation to uphold, and holding his mouth open so Die can thrust faster is probably not helping it. Nor are the morning sounds he's making, or the way one hand sneaks off of Die's leg to go rub his own cock. Fuck he's hard, like teenage hard, making out with your first girlfriend hard, getting to second base for the first time hard. Come in his pants hard, if he keeps this up.
"Don't worry Itchy. This won't be the last time. You can come crawling into my room when you need this." His shaft is so fucking deep. Itchy tries to keep sucking, but he's having trouble keeping his shit together when he's gagging like this. Die fucks faster, hands pressing down hard on his skull, his dick sliding in and out and in and out of his lips. "Or I'll come find you and take you to a quiet place, and remind you that I have had enough of you, and what the price is for pressing my buttons."
He jerks himself through his pants, savouring the friction, even as he starts to leave a stain. Die rocks down into Itchy's mouth far too fast for comfort, and just as Itchy thinks that maybe he's about to pass out again, Die gives a loud groan and comes. The taste floods Itchy's mouth and he swallows, rubbing his cock like crazy as he manages to get some down. A lot of it bubbles up and out of his mouth, dribbling down his cheeks.
Die stays like that for a moment, deep inside Itchy's mouth, clearly enjoying the way Itchy struggles to keep breathing. "I wish I had a camera," He says, and Itchy whines deep in his throat. Yeah, he does too. Itchy wants to know what he looks like on his back, cum coming out of his mouth, and a cock still stuck between his lips.
All things end, and Die eases off of Itchy, pulling his cock out of his mouth. He scoots down, and undoes Itchy's pants. All it takes it a stroke and he comes, just like he used to when he was younger. Itchy gushes all over Die and both of their trousers, and he just thrashes on the floor of the alleyway, ruining his jacket as that fucking endless pulse overtakes him.
He just keeps lying there as Die tucks himself away and cleans up. When he speaks, his throat is pretty raw. "You've got a fucking temper. I wish I'd known about it earlier."
"No you don't." Die drops the ruined cloth in Itchy's lap, waiting for him to clean himself up. "If you'd done this before now, I would have just killed you instead of letting you do that."
There's not much Itchy can do about the mess he's made of his trouser, but he manages to get out the worst of it. He's dirty enough that it'll just look like he fell into something unfortunate while fighting with Die. Itchy throws the handkerchief into the nearest garbage can. He's feeling a hell of a lot better now that he's gotten off and he stretches, his voice still hoarse when he speaks, "Killed me? And missed out on this? You'd be fucking crazy to do that."
Die doesn't acknowledge Itchy. He heads towards the door, but Itchy's quicker and he blocks Die from getting in, backing him up against the brick wall. "Itchy-"
"Just so you don't get the wrong impression about this sort of thing, I thought it's best I remind you of something." He leans in, pressing his nose against Die's. "Maybe you got a temper. But I've got speed on my side. And the next time you think about beating the shit out of me because I mentioned your mother-"
He should be expecting it by now, but he's not, he really doesn't think Die still has any fight left in him. Of course, he's wrong, and he's all too aware of it when he hears the soft click of a butterfly knife and feels the point pressed against his gut. "What did I tell you about my mother?"
"I-" Itchy feels it press into his skin, and his voice gets high and frantic, "N-not to talk about her."
"Remember that. This is the last time I warn you. Next time, Stitch can put you back together." The knife presses in hard enough to break the skin before it finally withdraws. Itchy clutches at his stomach. It's a shallow cut, but it's still deep enough to bleed. Die wipes the blade off on Itchy's shoulder and snaps it away, sliding it back into his pockets with that fucking doll of his. And just as Itchy's putting it all together, Die gets hold of his face and holds him still as he leans in for a kiss. It certainly isn't pleasant, all teeth and spit and not the good type either. His fingers dig into the side of Itchy's face. "Assuming he finds all of your parts in time."
Itchy just stares, feeling like he's set foot into some alternate universe. Die lets go of Itchy and heads into the bar without another word. Itchy follows after a moment, still trying to get the image out of his mind and trying really, really hard not to think about how much he has to push Die to get him this angry again, without the whole knife-to-the-gut thing.
Well, he's got plenty of chances to find out.