|
Simon had sent Amon a message, requesting his company. Perhaps surprisingly, the address Amon is given is... his personal address. It's in a very fancy neighborhood, filled with other historic buildings and homes--most ridiculously expensive and spacious.
And damn, does Simon have a nice house. Probably dates back to Victorian, but of course has been expertly renovated and maintained to have all the modern amenities. You can barely make out the house from the front gate, set back as it is on some nicely maintained grounds. Still, a very lovely three story home, the outer walls laid with gray stone: https://www.phillymag.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/3/2016/08/209-W-Chestnut-Hill-Ave-exterior.jpg
The gate has a guard, but they seem to be expecting Amon. He's waved in and allowed to park in front of the house.
Amon has on his impressed face. He makes his way out from that very nice Charger and those heels click on the way to the door. "I bet this motherfucker's got a butler," murmurs Amon to himself. He's got... a strange bottle under one arm as he hits the doorbell.
https://www.fromdusktilljawn.com/w/images/6/6e/Amon8.jpg
https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0248/1535/products/THREE_OLIVES_SMORES_VODKA_750ml_large.jpg?v=1374246089
The likelihood of him having a butler is high. He sure as fuck isn't taking care of this big place himself--but it is in fact Simon that answers the door. He's wearing expensive but comfortable linen slacks, slip on leather shoes, and a polo shirt. Glasses perched on his nose. He looks Amon over briefly before stepping aside to allow him in to the oversized entry way--grand stairway leading upwards, archways leading to other rooms on either side. It seems like Simon has chosen to keep the Victorian architecture, making sure it's well preserved, while pretty much all of the furniture is antiques. The only thing that is new are the couches that can be seen in the sitting room to the left, which are all newer leather but still matching the antique decor. There's lots of art around--paintings, sculptures, vases, though leaning more towards artists of the 19th century and before, than anything modern.
"Thank you for coming," he says after a moment, closing the door behind him.
Amon looks around, letting out a low whistle as he does so. "Nice digs," he says before turning the bottle out and offering it to the shorter man. "Thought I'd get you a reminder and a laugh about our little camping trip." Click-click-click goes the Devil as he moves in to survey the place, not getting too far ahead. "Where is it we're going?"
Simon looks at the bottle and for a split second he looks bewildered, but then the symbolism sinks in and his lips twitch upwards with amusement. "Ah. I see... Yes, thank you." He accepts the bottle, turning it in his hands before looking back at him. "I hadn't thought that through, quite yet. It's a nice day--we should sit outside in the gardens, if you like. Or I can show you my collections."
"..." Amon bursts out laughing before clapping a hand on Simon's shoulder. "The gardens. You rich folks got it all, don't you? But yes, let's start there, and if there's time, maybe I can see some of your collections." No pressure for the other, with that amiable smile.
Simon eyes him as he laughs, uncertain how to react. "Alright." He leads him down a hall, heading for the back of the house, and eventually comes to a back door that does, in fact, lead into gardens. They're clearly kept up by professionals rather than anything a normally skilled person would do. Everything is neat, tidy, and there's a pool further down the grounds filled with clear water and lined with natural stones. Simon settles down onto some comfortable outdoor furniture that is placed in an outdoor patio. There's a small stocked bar off to the side as well. He looks down at the bottle again. "Do you really wish to drink this?"
"I want to sample it," says Amon. "Mostly because I want to see your face. But no, you're not required. It's a joke. Trying to... lighten the mood," says Amon as he looks around.
"You've done really well for yourself," notes Amon.
"I'll try it," he replies, leaning over to grab a couple glasses from a shelf. He twists the top off and pours a shot worth into both glasses.
He glances up at Amon, then around. A soft nod--clearly proud of his accomplishments. "I have. It's been a long road, though. The first several years in Philadelphia were... a struggle. I bought this place a little over a year ago."
"That recent, huh?" asks Amon as he takes the glass in hand with yet another appraising look. "... I have to admit, I'm glad we didn't go for drinks at my place instead. You'd likely be quite disappointed from the view."
Simon pauses, watching Amon for a second or two. "It takes time to get back on your feet," he says dismissively of the concern, then lifts the glass to take a sip from.
He nearly spits it back out, but not quite, just sputtering for a second afterwards. He apparently is not a fan.
Amon laughed lightly. "That good, huh?" He then takes his shot and shudders. "... That is sickeningly sweet. And also burnt? How does it taste burnt?"
"I suppose to try to replicate the taste of roasted marshmellows..." He eyes the glass like it's personally offended him. "It is cloyingly sweet. That's... foul."
"It is," agrees Amon before setting the drink aside. "Better than what we were drinking that first night when I brought you back to your place. We were so trashed. Didn't get pulled over though," boasts Amon.
Simon tips his head in thought, setting the glass aside as well. "What were we drinking that night? I know it was some sort of vodka. It was a gift from some Russian. What was his name... Alexei? The one who was a little too obsessed with car bombs."
"You know he died right? Car bomb," offers Amon. "It was some sort of... Ukrainian vodka, I think? Or maybe it was just actually Russian and seemed like a knockoff. Kind of like his girl's tits. Remember those fake things?"
"...Did he? Ironic." He pushes up to his feet and steps over to the bar to select... a vodka. Perhaps he's feeling nostalgic. Or just wanting to clear out the smores vodka with good vodka. He carries the bottle and two fresh glasses over, sitting, then pouring. "I remember. What a waste." He offers over the other glass, regarding Amon for a moment as he does.
Amon puts a knee over the other as they settle down, letting their heel bounce in the air. He reaches forward to take the glass in hand. "Thank you." A pause. "Are you still thinking about my other face?"
His gaze shifts momentarily to the bouncing foot, staring at the heels. "Mm." He takes a sip before replying, looking back to Amon's face. "It has been on my mind, I admit. It was an... unexpected experience. It's a little strange to look at you now, and know I'm not seeing the real you."
"Both are the real me. This... this is the more comfortable me. To feel it wrapping around me. Without it... the world hurts," comments Amon with a sip.
"...Is that why your were... bleeding?" He makes a vague gesture to his eyes.
"The mask is a part of me. To tear it away is similar to you tearing out all your finger and toenails," explains Amon.
Simon blinks rapidly, caught off guard and mildly alarmed by the description. "...I see. You are well now?"
"I'm fine," says Amon with a nod and a smile. "It... felt good. I'll claim it came from the healing cuddle at sunrise."
That was a nice (but so very awkward) moment to wake up to, tangled together in the hammock...
Simon looks away, taking a full gulp of vodka. This one goes down smooth. "Mm. It was a night of revelations, it seems. Thank you, for giving me the truth. I admit, I... wasn't sure what to think of you, before then."
"What do you think of me now?" asks Amon with the casual pointedness he only could summon up.
Simon looks out over the gardens, quiet for a moment. "...I'm still figuring that out," he admits. "But I no longer blame you for abandoning us. I no longer distrust your intentions."
Amon takes another look around. It seems he's having some difficulty staying looking on Simon. "That's good. As you know, I only have the best of intentions for your future, and the worst of intentions for your purity."
That makes him huff softly. "Yes. I know." He takes another deep gulp, then refills the glass. "What are your plans for your future, Amon? Your goals?"
"Mmmm… I'm looking to build up a bit of a reputation for myself. Something to go for fixing the issues about. Perhaps find just the right places to be to connect just the right people. Carve out a space for myself," muses Amon.
He finally looks back to Amon. "Fixing what sort of issues? What sort of people are the right people?"
"Those are questions that I might not be able to answer," says Amon tentatively. "As I'm still getting settled."
He squints a little at Simon, watching him a moment, but not pressing. Another sip of vodka. "I'll introduce you to some people of interest, if you like."
Amon chuckles. "I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, but..." He eyes Simon. "Things are damn backwards from what they were. It feels... weird."
"Consider it me paying you back for everything you did for me. Or is it a matter of pride?"
"Less pride and..." Amon considers. "It might be pride." A sigh before draining his glass and rising slowly back up to saunter to get another drink. "You've done well for yourself. Better than I ever managed to get you. Maybe I was holding you back."
Simon blinks a few times, watching the man fetch himself the drink. After a moment he looks down into his own glass, turning it slowly in his hands. "...You taught me how to survive in this world. Without you, I couldn't have gained any of this."
"Simon, you were a survivor," declares Amon as he pours his drink. He turns around, slowly making the march back. "We both know you would've done gay porn before you let Margo even have to think about working."
That makes Simon grimace at the thought. "...Perhaps not stooped to that, but..." He doesn't completely argue against it. He lets out a long sigh, his shoulders seeming to slump a little at the mention of Margo. "I am a survivor. It doesn't change the fact you paced this path forward for us, even if you leaving meant we had to start over. It ended up being for the best. Getting out from other my father's shadow allowed us to prosper."
"And proper you did." He comes to sit again, crossing his legs once more. "Still, I'm better with a contract than any person you'll ever meet now. The devil's in the details so maybe I can still be of help."
He considers the other. "I'm sorry. I can't help but bring her up. She's just... part of me."
"I'll keep that in mind," he replies, nodding. "I often draft up contracts for buying and selling artifacts." Not all legal... "...It's alright." He downs another glass full, then pushes up to his feet. "Come with me."
Amon follows suit before getting up and smoothing hands over his coat. A nervous gesture Simon may know from before. Sweaty palms. "Alright."
Simon leads the way inside the house, back to the stairway... Then upstairs. It's likely here that Amon really starts to recognize glimpses tha the's seen in the mirrors--they pass by the sitting room/library that Simon often sits in. Even pass by his bedroom--though the door is currently closed. Instead... they step into another bedroom just down the hallway.
It's distinctly feminine in design. Still so much of her remaining around--soft velvet antique furniture, delicate lace paired with dark leathers. Womanly, but with a hard edge.
Almost like she still lived in it.
Amon must have looked like a hard motherfucker as he stepped into this room. Nothing showed on his face. It was alien. The tall black man slowly made his way around, reaching out, but not touching. Never... going further or all the way. Just taking it in...
Until he sank to the floor. His legs had wobbled - and he could hike in those heels, but he feel, almost dramatically like an old-time movie where he just collapsed to sit on the floor. Completely stone-faced as he stared at a small box on the table.
"It's... it's the one. The one with that little fairy inside being chased by those satyrs," he says in that strangely emotionless tone. "The one I bought for her on her birthday after finding it at that tacky antique shop."
Simon watches him as he sinks to the floor, going very still himself. His mouth opens and closes, at a complete loss of what to say. Throw him in a business meeting and he can be sharp tongued when need be. Someone upset? He might as well be made of stone.
He looks over to the box, staring a moment before he walks over to pick it up. He doesn't open it, but he carries it over and... just settles down onto the floor in front of him. "It sounded like you didn't have much to reclaim, when you... returned. So I thought you might like... something of her's. To keep. If you want," he says in a tense, stilted voice, the words so very difficult and awkward to get out.
Amon closed his eyes as if that might make the moment less real. Even closed, finally tears began to roll down the other's face. The Mask bent to the emotional urging of the other, and he began to shudder and shake. Finally, when he looked up, it was with eyes that looked as if they'd been running so much longer. Without a word, he opens it, with the old timey comedic sounds of music coming from the simple spring loaded scene in the middle of the small ring-jewelry box as the satyrs chased the fairy. Lips parted, but no words came.
He stares down at the music box, watching as it starts up and plays the cheerful tune. His own eyes turn glossy, tears collecting at the corners. "...Ironic, isn't it?" he mutters softly. "Satyrs and fairies."
Amon reaches up and pulls on him. "Shut up and hug me, you heartless prick." The sting's not even in the words. They both know they had hearts. It wouldn't hurt this much if not.
But he certainly did insist on getting him down. On the floor, and wrapped in his arms. "... Fucking ironic as shit. … Wonder if that store's still there? Wanna burn it to the ground? Well, not burn, but I'd definitely cause a storm..."
SImon is... tense. But he doesn't resist. It takes a few seconds, but then his arms lift to wrap around him in return, eyes closing to send tears streaming down his cheeks. "I don't particularly ever want to return to Boston," he admits. "But if you wish to, we can do that."
"... I probably can't... destroy all of boston. There are many reasons, the first of which being I doubt I'm strong enough," murmurs Amon.
Amon carefully presses his head into the other's shoulder and just... sobs for a bit. It was weird. When he needed / wanted to? He could just stop. But otherwise he was just soul-wrenchingly sad...
"I meant... the antique store," Simon mutters softly.
Simon cried as well. Not quite sobs. Even if he hadn't quite dealt with the loss of his wife, it at least wasn't... new. Not still so raw. He closed his eyes, hoping that would make it easier. To ignore the feelings and awkwardness and tension--and give Amon the time to cry without his ever-judging gaze. His hands mostly remain still, resting against Simon's back.
Amon rubbed his eyes off on the man's sleeve after... a painfully long time. "... Sorry. You'll have to have your butler take this to be dry cleaned." A weak joke, but trying to... not push the man towards more emotional moments.
Simon's eyes finally open, hesitantly, looking at the taller man. "It's alright," he assures. "Clothes can be cleaned." After a second his hand slowly lifts, fingers cupping over the back of his head, thumb brushing at where... he knows the horns should be. But he can't feel them, even as Amon feels his fingers bumping against the base of them.
"I can't show you here," says Amon quietly. "Nearly... I have a... bad area around me when I do that. About a third the length of a football field in all directions. It's why I needed to go far out of town." He slides his hand up to firm up Simon's grip. "Here. If you grab this hair here, for you, your fingers seem like they can pass right through, but... you've got hold of me," he murmurs.
"Bad area?" His brows crease a little, but he shifts his hand until he's... gripping uncertainly at his scalp. He watches Amon quietly for a moment, his sharp gaze searching his face.
Amon wet his lips. "You've got hold," he informs the other while trying to see what he's going to be doing with that. "It... it isn't good to do. Opens doors to other worlds in any doorframe. Windows too."
"Hm." His brows knit, seeming to be doing some math in his head. "So... 240 feet of cleared space. I see. Is that something you would wish to do again?"
"If not more," says Amon as he considers the other. "... I don't know. If you wanted me to look that way, I could do it."
He did seem to consider for a moment... but then exhales a breath. "Not if it would harm you."
"... If I came to your dreams, I'd look that way without pain."
"You don't sleep enough, though," fusses Amon. "What if I could make you not need to? Well, for a day or so."
At first, Simon looks very uncertain about welcoming him into his dreams. Who knows what he might see... But then he blinks, brows raising at the last offer. "You could do that?"
"I need to make a little oath, but... yes, that's possible," says Amon.
"An Oath with who?" he asks cautiously.
Amon is hesitant a moment, but then says it. "Not a who. Spring."
He... clearly doesn't quite get it, but is still cautious nonetheless. "An Oath is what made you become this, is it not? You need not take further risks for me. I will be fine."
"Oaths is what I am now," says Amon slowly. "A creature made of and for making deals. I've made dozens for new powers, and will always make more still. This is nothing. I can do this, and then... then you'd have more time you can't quite claim you don't have for me. You'd have little excuse," he offers with a small smile.
Simon's mouth opens and closes, hesitating for a moment before he exhales a soft breath. "I suppose... that would be a fair trade, then."
"It's not about a fair trade. It's about helping you enjoy your life," says Amon as he nudges his head lightly in that grip. "... You enjoy my horns. I think I'd like you getting to see them again."
"I... would enjoy seeing you again, some day. Now that the... shock has settled. But it is your choice. I can find a closer and more... accessible location, if so."
"I know you can't force me," says Amon as he searches the other's gaze. "I'd like your stated consent and intent if you want to see them again, Simon. Is this what you want?" An echo to so many conversations before for a variety of things.
He searches Amon's in return before nodding. "Yes. It is what I want."
"Ok. I want a couple days notice beforehand just to be sure I'm good on... glamour. Magic," he explains. "But yes, you may."
"I'll begin looking for locations. Is there any requirements, other than no doors or windows for at least 250 feet?"
"In every direction." A pause. "Also, no witnesses."
"Of course." He nods, watching him quietly a moment. Then, seemingly spur of the moment, Simon leans in to give the barest of brushes of his lips against Amon's.
Amon froze. There was so much going on behind his eyes, but he still stayed very still. "You're going to make me want to kiss you back, Simon," he warns.
Simon pulls back, giving several inches between them again. He watches him intently, his gaze suddenly uncertain. "Ah. Do you not already wish to?"
"... Of course I want to," says Amon softly as his eyebrows knit together. "I... Do you... want me to kiss you? Or just want me to want to?"
Simon reaches a hand up, slowly pressing the side of his hand to Simon's face. Sliding a soft thumb over his cheek. "I'm looking for consent, Simon. Informed consent."
"I... want you... to kiss me," Simon says softly and slowly, the words almost seeming painful to get out--but sincere.
Amon takes his moment watching Simon, in this room, in this place, and kisses him. Trying to take away the pain and lingering bits there with it, to leave him only with the moment as he drained away the hurt with the softness of his lips against Simon's.
Simon's kiss was... tentative. Still restrained. But he was kissing Amon softly in return.
Drinking Simon's emotions is... intoxicating. He's been in pain for so long, been alone for so long, allowing no one to see him vulnerable and hurting. Those emotions run deep, curled around his heart to suffocate it. But Amon draws out all that darkness. The mixture of heartache, fear, exhaustion and... so, so much guilt. It leaves him feeling a deep ache of sympathy that crashes over him like a wave before the magic settles into his bones, rewritten into his own magic.
Simon doesn't pull away, even after the Harvest. But the tentativeness bleeds away. The kiss is still soft and slow on his end, but... more searching, exploring, than aching. His hand lifts to cup Amon's cheek gently.
Amon was tentative, slow as he took every bit of that darkness into himself. He ate it, and to Simon's lips and eyes, nothing changed. He could lie so well with his body. He kept control of the situation and the kiss with just easily assertive brushes. Not allowing Simon to go too far, get too heated, but allowing much of the exploration otherwise. Letting them relearn just how to make them moan from even a light brush of lips.
Simon definitely wants this. It's not a raging burning passion, but... there's need there. The desire to connect, to not feel alone, and to be intimate.
Simon sure isn't pulling back though. The kiss stretches on, soft caresses of lips before Simon starts trying to explore further with his tongue, letting out soft gasps and murmurs. He never was one to moan loudly--all small, breathy sounds. His hand grip the back of Amon's neck to keep him from pulling back.
Amon slowly, slowly urges Simon back down onto the ground. He keeps himself held over the other, never breaking the kiss, but turning so he can actually hold Simon as they kiss. He responds in kind, letting out the smallest groan as Simon explores with his tongue before turning it back on him to explore too. Hands sliding gently over the man's back in a way that says Simon is exactly where Amon wants him. And implies he's not moving away.
Simon allows Amon to lower him down and move over him, laying back against the polished wood floor. His hand trails down the back of Amon's neck, trailing along his spine. His breathing starts to pick up a little, while his body presses against Amon's. Not grinding--just... pressing, seeking contact. Seeking more touch.
...It's around now that Amon can hear a faint purrrring sound that definitely is not coming from Simon. Then sudden weight as the hairless cat hops up onto Amon's back as if he's a new cat tower for it to explore. Because cats are assholes and have the worse timing.
Well, Amon had tried not to press onto Simon, which was already a struggle in heels, but now? Now he went firmly onto the other with a surprised sound as the kiss broke. "... There's a cat on me," he huffs to the man trapped under him and wrapped in his arms.
Simon's eyes open to blink, looking a little dazed and slow to process, glasses a little skewed. "...Huh... Oh." He looks past Amon's shoulder, then grimaces. "Sorry." He reaches around to try to shoo the cat away, but his fingers are just batted at in return. "Elly... go... away..."
Amon reaches up, taking off Simon's glasses. "It's a good thing. I..." He pauses as he searches the other's expression. "I don't want to screw this up. I'm not sure fucking you on the floor tonight is the smart idea," he says breathlessly.
"Even if I'm... very much picturing it."
The cat starts kneading at Amon's back, not giving a shit about inconveniencing them.
The mortal hesitates, frowning briefly. He glances around, as if suddenly realizing where they are. An echo of the pain returns--just for a moment, before melting back into the calmer expression. "...As much as she would laugh at us for doing so, no... I... not here."
"My thoughts exactly." He shifts oh so carefully to the side, before letting the cat either leap off or be rolled off. He slowly sits up before reaching out to cup Simon's face. "... Do you regret what we just did?"
The cat lets out an annoyed mrow as it leaps off, then sits nearby to start licking herself.
Simon glances at the cat with a frustrated look, before looking back at Amon. His breathing settles, still seeming calm thanks to the deep harvest. "No," he replies. "It... brings back memories that I had... thought I'd wanted to forget. But. I don't regret it."
"Now you're not sure?" he clarifies before gesturing. "Get up and help a brother up. These heels are killer for standing from laying down."
He huffs and pushes up to his feet, then leans over to grab his hands and help haul him up. "I don't know," he admits, looking at him. "Looking at you... kissing you... It's like the past ten years have never happened. Like when we stop kissing she will be there, watching us with that grin of her's." The harvest is likely the only reason he's talking about it so calmly. "I want to kiss you, but I don't know how to make it stop hurting."
Amon rose, staying so, so closer and looking down into Simon's gaze. Pushing back Simon's hair as he listens. "... It hurts me too. I still want to kiss you too." Another slight pause. "More. I... I want it to be different than it was, Simon. I know I shouldn't say it, but I don't think lying to you will help me."
"I don't want to be the side piece. I don't want to be the sex toy," he says so softly. "I want you to want me. Not me in the context of telling her what I did to you, but... just me."
Simon considers the words for a few seconds, meeting the devil's eyes. His brows crease a bit towards the end, a flicker of what might be guilt? Surprise? But then he nods slowly. "...Alright," he finally decides. "I think... we may need to... start over. To build something new. Figure out how how to... be without her, and just be us."
Amon frowns, shaking his head. "We'll never be without her. She's... a part of us, and a part of this, no matter what we do. Yes, we need to find a new way to be us, but... I can't let go of her. I can just let the pain slowly heal. And I think that goes for both of us, right?"
"I didn't mean... forgetting her. That will never happen," he agrees. "But yes. You're right." He crouches down and picks up the music box, gently closing it--then scooping up the cat under his other arm. He straightens, offering the box out to him. "If you want to... look around, you can. I still have... everything."
Amon gently takes the box in hand. "... Not tonight. Tonight, I need a pickmeup." A pause. "Take me to the home theatre - don't act like you don't have one."
He eyes Amon a moment, but then nods. "...Lily uses it far more than I do, but... alright." He steps out of the room, still carrying the purring cat. He waits for Amon to step out before closing the door, then leads the way down the hall. "This is Elmyr."
"... What white nonsense just came out of your mouth?" asks Amon with a grin. "What kind of name is that?" Still clicking along with his jewelry box held carefully in his arms.
Simon scoffs. "She's named after Elmyr De Hory, a famous Hungarian art forger. He made thousands of forgeries that were sold all over the world. Elly is also quite clever and cunning, so..." Simon's tone is a bit defensive as he scratches along the cat's neck.
"So you justify your white nonsense because you're rich and really you wanted a cute cat named Elly because cats don't take no for an answer on affection, but they also mostly sustain themselves if you're basically a piece of shit who can't handle basic responsibilities or getting out of bed?" fills in Amon as they walk along.
"Cute cat, though."
Simon gives Amon an annoyed Look. "I just like cats..." he mutters, then leads the way into an theatre room. One wall is basically taken up by a huge screen, and there's several reclining chairs and a couch. This is likely the only room in the house that looks more modern, made more to appeal to a teenager than to Simon's tastes. No doubt this is where Liliane spends most of her time when she's home.
There's also a discreet mini fridge with snacks and drinks inside, off to the side.
Amon sets the jewelry box over on the fridge, careful to surround it with things so ti can't be batted off. He looks over to the other. "Set things up. I want to watch a movie with you."
But the man with heels kept on watching, coming closer. "What do you want out of this, ideally?"
"What sort of movie?" Simon asks, looking around. He looks a little lost, but eventually he finds the remote and starts... pushing at buttons. It takes a few tries to get the screen on. They set the cat down as well, who curls up in one of the chairs.
He looks back at Amon. "I don't tend to look towards the future, Amon."
"The Witches of Eastwick," says Amon with a smile before looking over Simon. "You didn't, no. Now? Now I want a future. With you. So we're going to be discussing this. After, of course, I get you to agree to cuddle with me while we watch this movie."
Now starts the sloooow process of him trying to... find the movie. He eventually finds it on Amazon Prime, but it's clear that Simon.... isn't the most technologically sound of men. He probably has his assistant purchase everything he wants for him.
"Have you forgotten about my curse already?"
"Have you forgotten I'm a magical being? If I can survive lockup, we can fix this," says Amon with such confidence it's hard to shake. Still not moving closer just yet. "Or is that your polite way of saying you'd rather die than have a future with me?"
His brows crease. "That is not what I am saying. I am merely being practical. You said yourself that the thing that made you what you are is... unbeatable. The thing that cursed me, that killed Margo? It's unbeatable, Amon. There's nothing to be done."
"But the curse may be. Besides, you're trying to nitpick." Amon looks amused. "What do you want, with me, in the short time before you die then, Simon?"
That he seems willing to consider, looking thoughtful. He steps over to the couch as the movie starts playing, sitting down. "Companionship. Comfort. To help each other's empires grow, to build our wealth and power together. Sex, eventually."
"May I cuddle with you?" asks Amon as he comes closer. "... Actually, why don't I sit at the opposite end and have you massage my feet?"
"Yes--" He blinks in surprise. "...Alright."
Amon sits at the opposite side of the couch and deliberately settles his feet into the man's lap. Letting him take off the heels at his own pace as Amon watches.
"I want to come up to your level. I want to be the one you call out for when you're drunk. The one you want to curl up nest to. I want you to be able to look me in the eye, and call me boyfriend. And yes, eventually I want you to beg me to take control. To fuck you just like you crave. I just want you to want it first," says Amon.
Simon stares down at the heeled shoes, just... staring, at first. No--admiring. But eventually he slowly eases the heels off to set aside on the floor. The mention of taking control makes Simon pause for a split second, before nodding slowly. "It being something I crave... isn't the issue," he agrees. "I do want it. I just don't think I am... ready. Yet." He exhales a sigh. "I miss how she would boss me around. I don't want to compare you to her. Or merely use you as a... substitution for her. That is not fair to... either of us."
"I get that. I - use your thumbs," coaches Amon to the one looking to rub his feet. "Where was I? I want you to want me doing those things." A pause. "And I want a real date."
Simon does indeed start kneading and massaging slowly, working his thumbs and knuckles in. "Would you like me to plan it?"
"Has anyone taken you on a date before?" poses Amon as his eyes slowly drift closed. "Be honest. Would you like a date where someone else chose all the details, or do you like to fuss and worry about getting everything right for me?"
"Hmm... Margo did plan a date, occasionally. Jasper has... invited me out, but I'm not sure I'd call it a date. But I do enjoy spoiling the person I'm taking out. Usually I prefer it over being surprised." And, honestly, risking being bored or disappointed. He's a picky as fuck guy.
The cat apparently has decided that this new person is now her's, as she hops up onto the couch to walk over and eventually lay on top of Amon's stomach unless shoved off.
Amon honestly takes to it as he begins petting the cat. Watching as Simon gets to consider that this thing that loves him already has decided Amon is a fixture and will remain so. "Then you can plan the date with one caveat given to me." He waits just a moment. "I get to dress you. Head to toe, every detail. No one else will know, but you will, and that might make you just the smallest bit excited to see you getting away with a small little reversal of your power, correct?"
Oh, Simon is definitely giving the cat some side eye, as if the hairless creature had betrayed him.
"...Hm. So long as the outfit will be appropriate for where I choose to take you... very well."
"Now, let's watch," says Amon as he turns his attention back to the movie, occasionally demanding more massage, but eventually demanding instead that Simon come lay beside him so he can play with his hair while they watched.
Simon ends up having to get up to get food from the mini fridge before too long, as the mouth in the back of his head starts that familiar whining. But he doesn't bother trying to hide that he's feeding it this time. It's fed as few pretzels and cookies until it stops whimpering.
Then he allows Amon to draw him in, laying down across the couch beside him as he watches the shenanigans on the screen. He at least seems half-interested in it, and faintly amused here and there.
Amon seems to love it, and at the end, he looks to Simon. "Mmmm… one day, I'm going to need you to play the cello." A grin.
| 
