sixthiterationlogs | I accused him there with his tortured lamb

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I accused him there with his tortured lamb

WHO: Bobo Del Rey
WHERE: Butcher Shop, South village
WHEN: Throughout November
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Talk of animal death and slaughter

There was a time when most of Bobo's life wasn't taken up with drinking and herding revenant cats and general being a fairly psychotic bastard. It's a time over a century in the past, and until coming to this place, he's been glad to leave it in the past, as buried as the man that had caused the curse that had changed everything for Bobo. This place though, it's like a damn time capsule in many ways, and it is finding a way to get under his skin and stir up memories of a man long dead though his body continues on.

He had once been a man who helped, whose entire life was devoted to another, to doing what he could for his town and for a hundred plus years he has lamented that being that man had caused him not only to die - that he was prepared for - but to be cursed and damned for it. People paid for that, yet now in this place, that all feels like someone distant, just as Robert Svane has felt to Bobo for so long.

Here in this place, everything has changed and much as he might deny it, Bobo is changing with it. Including needing to do more than cause hate and discontent. A talk with Margaery at the inn led him to spending a few days hunting and trekking through the areas to the north, away from others for the most part. Trying to clear his mind, to remember who he is, not was. Except even that didn't work. That man who died apparently wasn't nearly as gone and forgotten as Bobo likes to believe. In the end he ended up at the butcher shop with his coat hung on a nail, water brought up from the river and set to work scrubbing the place down.

Taking more time than he had so far with the house since poisoning the village is not acceptable. Working hard, harder than he has in a long while, using the soap left there on the counter and rags he made from those damn walking blanket things. It takes several days, leaving the doors and windows open to air the place out as he goes. Going so far that the first night he just curls up with his coat, not wanting to make the hike back to the North village.

By the end of the first week, the place is clean enough you could eat off the floor. Or at the very least eat what is killed and slaughtered there and likely not die. Maybe killing things isn't the best therapy for the aggression he still feels, the nature of the beast as it were, but he figures it isn't hurting people so, for now, it will work. Both for his own kills and, if others bring them in, butchering items for others in the village as well.

Eventually he can be found there most of the daylight hours slaughtering those creature he kills. Using that space to butcher them, and to cure and tan the hides. Some of the meat and fish he takes over to the Inn. Some of it he starts processing with red salt, hoping it will do the same as the salt curing he'd done before. Some he puts out on racks to dry, thinking he can turn it into pemmican for the winter.

Some days he can be found scrounging wood, looking to build a smoking shed out back to use on the salted meat when it's ready, knowing he's starting too late in the season to hold them all through the winter, but he doesn't care. He cares that some of the oppressive weight of hatred and loathing is lifted from his shoulders while he works, and for now that is enough.

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Bull nods and reaches out to place a finger on the other's chest, just holding him there. Not pulling back or anything, just a quiet easy touch.

He shakes his head slightly. "I don't know either, Bobo. But I am willing to stick around and try to help you find it out."

He tenses slightly, only because it feels almost acute to the things he is feeling in his chest. That keening he isn't sure what to do with.

But he smiles. Tight, barely there, but he does.

"That's more than I would ask for," he admits, catching Bull's hand and lifting it to kiss his knuckles. "You're a good man, Bull."

Bull chuckles. "Or you're just good enough of a lay to make it work it to stick around." He grins. Though it is really is more of the former. Bobo's one of Bull's people now and good luck trying to scare the big Qunari off.

He sighs contently and then moves to pull Bobo close again. He likes the comfort of the other. And he'd like Bobo to relax some more too

"I would say I'm an amazing fuck," he says, smirking and more than amused though by their conversation. "But I guess that's for you to decide," he points out, glad to let the emotions go for teasing and flirting.

Letting himself easily curl in easily against the broad lines of Bull's form, definitely happier for that than he is for thinking about his losses.

"I'd say so too." Bull reaches down to stroke Bobo's back, gently massaging through the clothes. "You still interested in me tying you up. Or for that matter tying me up?" Yeah he trusts you that much Bobo. And that is the best way he can think of to show it.

Arching like a cat, eyes hooded and smiling contentedly at that touch. "Definitely interested," he says, sliding his hands along the broad lines of Bull's chest. "It's a bit surprising someone would trust me to do that." Which is why he likes the idea of doing just that.

"Well,I don't see a reason not to trust you." Bull smiles warmly and purrs a little under the touch. "You want to try the one where you make a harness. Just nice to hold on to."

Tracing over the broad lines of Bull's chest, fingers trailing along his sides as Bobo's smile widens. Not only at the sensuousness of the motions, but those words as well. "That sounds perfect. Shall we?"

Bull grins and glances around until he spots some rope. He reaches for it, and then glances back at Bobo. "You remember how to do this?"

He smiles and gives a single nod. "I believe I do, and I take direction well enough when I want to."

He won't say always, but with Bull and this, he's willing to do his best.

Bull grins at that and offers him the ropes. "Let's find a bed room." He heads towards where the bedrooms would be in his place. Once he finds one he steps inside. "Here?"

There is a kind of electric charge in following Bull, that rope in his hand. Bobo's gaze is on Bull, not the room, as he nods. "Definitely works," he says, smirking as he follows him inside.

Bull grins when he turns and sees the look on Bobo's face. Then he moves to pull his clothes off, quickly and efficiently, before he kneels before Bobo. "Let me see what you remember."

Maybe it shouldn't be so intoxicating. Maybe there shouldn't be something in him that finds pure delight in watching Bull strip down, kneeling before him, encouraging this from him. And yet there is.

And yet behind the sensuality of it, there's something so much more. Bobo is not used to others putting trust in him, and that Bull does is a bit stunning.

Which is why he takes his time, ensuring that he's not risking hurting Bull, and showing he remembers what he's been shown.

Bull grins at him, leaning into any touch and moves easily with being handled. Once the ropes wrap around him he gives out a small sound of pleasure, just a happy sigh.

"You can tighten that a bit more if you like." He offers a bit of advice. "I don't mind feeling the ropes dig in." In fact, that is one of the things he likes about this.

He takes his time, as much to get it right as enjoying touching and caressing over the beautiful lines of Bull's form. That sound though goes straight through him.

Leaning down, his lips brushing against the curve of one shoulder. "As you wish," he murmurs, working the ropes down along his body to pull them tight and keep the rope taut.

The tightening of the rope draws another deep sound from him, and something shifts a little. He relaxes some, closing his eyes about half way and leans into the touch. "Thank you." He moves his hand behind him. Folding them in a way that makes his back straighten. But his head is lowered just enough to give the image of perfect submission.

Bobo's hands run along Bull's back and shoulders, tracing the skin between the ropes, above them, fingers trailing along one bicep as his arms move. For a moment stepping back, not touching him in that moment just to look him over like that.

"Dear God," he murmurs, shaking his head. "Didn't expect this from you. Big. Strong. Flirtatious. Get you like this and you look beautiful," he says, stepping closer once more, stroking his fingers over his cheek and then up along the base of one of the horns. "Don't get this enough, do you?"

Bull smiles slightly when he is called beautiful. It is not a word often used to describe him. When Bobo's fingers are on his cheek he glances up at him, licking his lips.

"No. Not a lot of people who I trust to see me like this or to tie me up." Bobo's on a short list of people. Bull leans into the touch some.
"It's been a couple of years now."

Intimacy is something that Bobo has been denied for a long time. Perhaps most of his life. Even when it had appeared in his life, it was more often in the form of sex and fulfilling those needs.

This though is something new, and exciting, and something that he's never experienced before.

"Never had anybody trust me like this," he admits, curling his fingers along one harm, exploring a moment, just savoring what Bull has given him. "Not ever in my life," he adds, even as he moves behind him once more. Testing the ropes, feeling more secure now as he adjusts them a bit to apply more pressure.

Bull takes a breath as the ropes tighten, just closing his eyes and focuses on the way they tighten around his body, the feeling of being held like that. "Their loss, you're good at this." His voice is quiet, calm and with notes of just purely being content. Even past the turn on and the promise of sex here, there is more. There is the two of them trusting each other, one willingly giving the other controll and the other rising to the occasion to take it.

Then Bull looks over at him, smiling slightly. "You want to kick it up a notch? Blindfold me."

Oddly enough it's not the first time Bobo has tightened a rope around a man, though it's never been anything like this. It was cruel, violent, aggressive in a way meant to incite fear and panic. This is exhilarating on so many levels. Terrifying in a way for a man that hasn't had trust from another in his lifetime, who hasn't shared a lot of intimacies.

Stepping back then, just looking Bull over. His expression, the play of ropes over flesh. Even the sound of his voice is soothing in a way that Bobo can only find as being described as a balm.

"How can I tell you no?"

Moving to get one of the knives that aren't ever that far from him, Bobo uses it to actually cut a long strip from a piece of clean cloth. Coming in closer, slowly circling behind Bull. His touch firm but gentle as he ties it over his eyes.

Taking his time as he pulled it tight without knotting it. Not yet. Leaning in, kissing Bull's shoulder. "Honestly, is that too tight?"

"You can tell me no if you don't want it." Bull grins as the cloth is placed over his eyes and he gives himself a second to just feel it. "No, that is good. It is not uncomfortable but it is tight enough that I can't see." Which is exactly what they want.

He smiles to himself at the way Bobo checks in with him. The way his hands are on him. Bobo is better at this than he might think and that is one of the reasons Bull trusts him like this. He licks his lips, he smile fading into something calm. "Thank you, sir."

"If I didn't want to do this, you'd know," he murmurs, too selfish and too invested in his own self interest to do anything that he truly didn't want. Yet this goes beyond just what he's getting out of it. There's the side of things where he's giving this to Bull, and that he wants to give him this. That's the part where it's all so new and confusing to Bobo.

"Fucking Hell." Softly sighing out the words as those three words from Bull seem to go straight through him. He kisses Bull then, suddenly. Hard, demanding, taking as much as he gives as his fingers curl into the ropes over Bull's chest, barely twisting them to toy with the tightness.

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