Chapter Text
* The next few times went about the same, though their pre-sex activities changed each Saturday they met up. One time, Asa arrived late so they watched a movie that Arkin picked out; he ended up too invested and Arkin fell asleep before they even did anything. Another time, they made out briefly in Arkin’s truck because the other was busy with work in the evening. And last week, the father got Cindy over- they agreed it’s not a good idea to let Arkin’s family know of their arrangement. So far, everything looks fine from Asa’s perspective- he gets to see Arkin weekly, and it’s like a little vacation for him for a day on the weekends.
He likes to think that Arkin isn’t bothered and has stopped thinking about the atrocities that he committed, but when the (ex) killer watches his favourite thief staring blankly at the ceiling each night, he knows it would be a lie to think so. The guilt will boil over one day; he just hopes Arkin would talk to him before it comes. But until then, he likes it here, it’s better than what he used to plan, so he will wait.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
…Perhaps tonight is special, it’s been two months since they had their agreement, winter chills have already settled into the city and first snow is to be expected next week- said the weather forecast. Despite this, Arkin still wears the same amount of clothing he’d wear during late summers- not enough; even when Asa gave him his coat, the guy ended up tying it up around his waist anyway. So Asa scoffed at his stubborn favourite thief to sit back in the car while he went into the gas station.
After Arkin eyed him with a huff when he closed the car’s door, Asa dragged his feet towards the eye-straining white fluorescent lights of the building. Usually he’d drive past this gas station on his way back from. . . *the hotel*, since the one near his home is more efficient.
This one is further away from the bustling parts of town, a bit dingy, the non-reflective floors looks like it hasn’t been scrubbed for awhile- only hastily mopped daily; Asa doesn’t complain further and steps in to avoid looking stupid standing in front of the door.
Okay…okay, what do they need? What does *Arkin* need? He gave Asa his wallet to pay for the stuff, but there’s no way he’s letting Arkin do that when they’re going to his house today.
Letting go of a breath, Asa grabs a basket near the cashier counter and starts walking down the cold food aisle… Much to his dismay regarding a healthier diet, no takeout spots are open at this hour, nor does he have the ingredients to make Arkin sushi at home. So, cold tuna and salmon sushi it is. . . Or should he get the octopus set?
Asa has to wonder why Arkin likes eating this thing so much, would it hurt him to find other seafood dishes that aren’t raw fish on rice? Or bought from anywhere else other than this specific *gas* station? He eyes the other more variable options across from the sushi. Arkin could’ve chosen something more balanced, or more quality- he thought.
After a while, the older man tries to shrug it off as personal taste but twitches an eyebrow at the thought of Arkin eating nothing but sushi, spaghetti and sandwiches for meals.
Back to the problem at hand, Salmon tuna or octopus? Arkin said he’s fine with any.
Alright… So how about he lists out the benefits of each set? Asa starts to flip through his directory of nutritional facts in his head like a file cabinet:
Tuna is good for lowering cholesterol- very important for men their age, eye health and rich in vitamin 2B for blood cell production. Plus the salmon for keeping a healthy metabolism rate- Arkin seems to be in good shape lately, Asa noted. While octopus can be good for heart health, lower blood pressure- Arkin does do labour work a lot; Improve cognitive function and-
Asa’s focus snapped towards the brief rapid tapping on his shoulder.
The first thing he noticed was how out-of-place his coat is on the other man’s scruffier style.
“What’s taking ya so long?”- greeted Arkin.
Asa eyes the two sets on his hand briefly, then back at his favourite twice convicted ex-con.
“It’s been like, 10 minutes, how’s the food aisle treating ya?”
“Oh, which one do you prefer?”- he turns towards Arkin with the sets.
Arkin gazed briefly at the options on Asa’s hands and grabbed the tuna salmon one, throwing it into the basket.
“Why?”
“It’s cheaper. Octopus’ too chewy fer’ me anyway.” the man shrugged.
Asa quietly approved and adjusted the sushi set inside the basket, as he followed Arkin to the coolers on the other side of the store. It’s way past 10pm and Arkin doesn’t seem to be in a hurry as he hasn’t had dinner yet. Asa shook his head in disagreement back at the car but the ex-con was as nonchalant about his meal schedule as always. Nevermind that now, he should be glad Arkin is eating at all.
“Hey, how about I make a salad for you when we get back to my place?” - Even though he doesn’t have the ingredients to make Arkin a suitable meal, he can at least do something about the lack of fibber the younger man ate today.
They stand in front of the coolers where Arkin casually pulls out two cans, afterwards he turns to consider Asa’s offer.
“Aren’t the salads here good enough?”
The entomologist clicked his tongue. “Who knows what quality of vegetables they put in there, Arkin? I can make you a fresh one.”
“I think I’ll be fine. You- uh don’t have to worry so much.”
Asa stared in disappointment, but it’s true isn’t it? It’s not his job to worry about Arkin, the man is perfectly able to take care of himself. Yet he can’t seem to shake off the feeling that Arkin’s decisions regarding his health really aren't the best. O'Brien once told him what he usually eats in a day: Something sweet for breakfast with coffee, some kind of sandwich for lunch, and store-bought meals for dinner- Arkin said he would cook when he’s not too exhausted after work. But Asa doubts he’d even run out of fingers counting regarding that statement.
Asa purses his lips into a straight line, staring at Arkin reading the labels on the back of the cans he just picked.
“What is that?” -Asa directs his eyes to the suspiciously sugary orange-looking cans.
“Oh I haven’t had soda in forever so-”
Asa inhales and exhales manually. He then looks Arkin directly in the eyes. “Really?”
“At least it’s not alcohol” Arkin tries to laugh it off from the (ex) killer’s judgmental gaze.
“Arkin.”
“What? It’s my money isn’t it? No need to worry”
“It’s not about money, Arkin. It’s not good for you.” - Asa put his hand on the soda can.
But Arkin moves the drink away as fast, and as calmly when Asa tries to guide him into putting it down.
“Who said you can decide what’s good for me?”
“It’s soda. Do you know how much sugar that is?”
“So what??”
The older one refuted, voice raised: “Arkin, you’re being childish.”
“Oh-” The cooler slams closed. “-Fuck off. ”
Asa doesn’t respond to that. His eye twitched and he put his hand back on the basket. Quickly diverting his line of sight away from the smaller man, his grip on the basket’s handle slowly loosening once he’s staring into space.
The anger eventually subsided, Arkin was the first to quickly mutter an apology. “M’sorry-”
“-Haven’t had one since I was a teen. Guess I jus’ miss it.''- the ex-convict looks back at the can in his hand, reluctant to put it back. Despite knowing that Asa is right, he’s sure drinking one after so long would be fine. So he insisted, tossing one into the basket and the other back into the cooler.
Asa’s gaze softened, he sighs- still not looking at Arkin, and reaches in the basket to set the can up straight.
“What flavour is it anyway?”
“Orange.” Arkin smiled.
“Hm, I prefer the fruit better.”
“Figures. Do you drink soda, ever ?”
Asa only returns Arkin’s curiosity with indifference “No. They are too carbonated.”
“How about havin’ a treat every now and then?” -Arkin nudges at the other man’s arm, signalling at the sweets aisle just behind them.
“. . .Not in a while. But I don’t need them.”
Subsequently after hearing the response, a hand gets put on Asa’s shoulder- where it turns the man around. Asa easily complied to his surprise.
“It’s not about what you need, Asa. It’s about what you want.” -He drags. Asa's expression remains unchanged; he was trying not to stare at Arkin or his attempts, but his gaze was unfortunately directed at the aisle in front of him.
“I get what you mean, but I don’t think it’s necessary.” - Asa swats the idea away in his head as he speaks, his eyes drifting to the section furthest away on the aisle.
Arkin gave Asa a little pat on the back, he eyed the man up and down with the same pleading look on his face. Asa is too stiff- he thinks. It wasn't until Arkin noticed Asa's hand on the basket that he realised: All that energy reserved for murdering has to go somewhere other than sex once a week with him- it’s just one day out of 7 of the week after all, and it’s not even guaranteed. Then perhaps convincing the man to loosen up would help- Arkin hopes. Plus it means Asa would stop being so anal about his health so much and let him get away with things easier.
Wordlessly, the ex-con gave Asa another pat.
“C’mon, just one? It’s Saturday. You deserve it.”
“No.” Asa’s gaze returns to Arkin with a scowl.
“Please? Helps with the murder thoughts? Meaning you get to see me next time?”
Asa responses halt. His shoulders squared under Arkin’s touch.
Eventually after a moment of staring into each other’s eyes, Asa let out a loud sigh as if he’s been holding his breath. He relaxes his shoulders and brushes Arkin’s hand off.
“Wait for me at the cashier.” -Asa looks away immediately.
Arkin lets out a giddy chuckle and reaches over to grab the basket to bring it over to the cashier, but Asa moves it away from his grasp.
“Ah ah- Arkin. I’m paying.”- the man said. It sounds like more of a demand than an offer.
“Don’t be like that-” He tried to bargain.
“I’ll only buy that treat if you let me pay, Arkin.”
Well, he can’t really argue with free dinner, can he? So with a huff, the smaller man’s hand slides off the basket and scuttles over to the cashier to wait.
After a while of standing like an asshole in front of the already tired-looking cashier lady, Asa finally came back and placed the basket onto the scanning table. Arkin greeted him with a slight smile.
“What’dya get?”
Methodical hands put their stuff out and the basket away, with his treat being placed last. It’s a protein bar. Chocolate banana flavour.
“Really?”- Arkin questioned with an amused look.
Asa didn’t respond to that. The cashier does her job without putting the energy into questioning anything she just heard from the back of the shop.
The two walk back into the night, leaving the buzzing lights behind as they make their way to Asa’s car. It’s cold, no doubt. Arkin put on Asa's coat when he actually took a few steps outside of the car and regretted it. Who can blame him honestly, when he spent the warm late-afternoon taking a nap in his truck. “A water pipe burst from the floor upstairs”- he explained to Asa when the man picked him up regarding his flooded apartment.
Unfortunately, Asa couldn’t arrive until 9:30 due to it being midterm week for the students- meaning a lot of papers to grade. The overworked handy-man understands, he didn’t wake up until the older man knocked on his window anyway.
“Thanks for the coat by the way”- Arkin gently swings the plastic bag with their stuff in his hand as he walks.
“Good to know you came around to it.”
Looking up at the clear night sky above, except for a few cars occasionally passing by, it seems to be always awfully quiet at this time of night. Not a person in sight but the stretching roads shaded at the rim by overgrown native plants and faraway street lights. Abandoned buildings or storage units littered this part of town, along with the less financially fortunate residing here and there. The onced crowded and well-travelled community Arkin used to know, now faded into echos just behind the darkened tree lines, separating it from the city’s heart.
The one holding the bag shuffles around and pulls out the soda can. Without much of a word, he stops just shy of the grey 1993 Toyota Cressida to open it, unconcerned about the car owner's surprise. Hissing fizz from the carbonated drink fills his ears satisfyingly as he leans back onto the car for a sip.
Sugary. The texture prickles his entire mouth, and the electricity assures him that he will get heartburns within the next 30 minutes. Instead of reminding him of his age, it brings back memories of a much simpler time in his life: 17 and kicking at a faulty soda dispenser in some wet, dilapidated alley, away from the city’s evening traffic noise.
Confused eyes stared for a brief second, but soon followed to stand next to him.
“Couldn’t you wait until we got back?” - Asa, reaching over to hold onto the bag for him.
Arkin takes his time to swallow the uncomfortable texture kicking and screaming down his throat, before speaking:
“Soda and sushi don't really go together. I might as well have this before the good stuff.”
“Then… Why do you bother buying it today? You could’ve saved it for another time.” -Asa couldn’t understand why Arkin was willing to do something so irrational. It puzzled him enough to take a second glance at the protein bar he chose earlier.
The coat ruffles when O’Brien shrugs, taking another sip.
“M’ could, but didn’t want to –”
“–Letting yourself do something you shouldn’t every once in a while is thrilling, I guess. You should do that sometimes.”
The (ex) killer cocks his head. Not quite getting where Arkin is coming from, or did he simply forget about who Asa is, or was.
“I don’t think I’m the targeted audience for that advice.”
“- Jesus, I’m talking about getting a treat, not *murder*. Yer not getting off the hook that easy.” -The convicted quickly defended himself.
Asa nods in understanding, but doesn’t add anything to their conversation. Keeping himself quiet while he looks down at the protein bar another time.
Arkin took notice when the other man’s shiny eyes drifted to the treat. As if a light bulb went over his head, he quickly urged himself to grab the treat out of the bag. He holds it in his hand, presenting it to Asa.
“Here. Try it.”
The infamous “The Collector'', torturer, kidnapper, murderer, absolutely sick in the head: Asa Emory, stares at the chocolate banana flavoured protein bar offered to him by his favourite ex-victim/ person in the parking lot with bewilderment, for a long, awkward moment, wondering why Arkin even bothered to stay with someone like him at all. Eventually, he slowly takes the treat off Arkin’s hand.
“Fine.”- he said.
A focused and waiting gaze piling in on his conscience while he hesitantly tears the crinkly wrapper off, until it exposes the chocolaty with a hint of artificial banana flavouring bar half-way.
Emory turns away for a drawn-out moment with O’Brien’s eyes glueing to the back of his head. When he returns, he has already finished chewing, and there’s a bite taken out of the bar.
“How does it feel?”- asked the man with the borrowed coat.
“Like I’m eating a protein bar at 10pm in a parking lot.” -the (ex) killer returns sarcastically, tasting the familiar sweet taste and crunchy texture on his tongue.
Arkin chuckled along, “That’s the spirit.”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
They’re both leaning onto the car when the banter dies down again. Now, one is looking out onto the road in front of them, to the ground, the cracked asphalt, up to the light polluted sky then back again. When Arkin takes a sip, Asa follows with another bite- turning away each time to chew before back at the man next to him.
The difference between quantity and quality of both desired consumables lead to the chewer shoving the wrapper into his pocket, before the soda can get emptied and remains on the drinker’s hand.
A mindless smile appeared on Arkin’s face after noticing.
“Exciting, isn’t it?”
The possibly retired murderer rolled his eyes at the question. Was it exciting? Maybe a little bit, because it definitely can’t compare to how he felt when he first started out his Collector persona. A tiny, tiny thrill that Arkin urged him to indulge in, tied neatly in the artificial taste of a chocolate-banana protein bar he chose on a whim.
A small amused smile creeps up the corner of Asa’s lips. Arkin is trying to help him, to keep him around. They keep having sex, but why? He keeps asking himself the same questions every time they finish fucking, and now he’s asking it after Arkin made him buy a treat for himself to enjoy. Thrills, thrills, thrills- ,thrills kept his drive to continue what he did- and he stopped when it’s gone. The same feeling he gets when they’re tearing each other apart, the same when they’re ravaging one another on Arkin’s bed. *It’s thrilling*.
“. . . Do you like this, Arkin? Doing things you consider as thrilling?”- he asked. Awfully, horrendously curious.
“M’ guess so.” The ex-convict finishes the last of his drink.
“Why?”
“It’s fun y'know.” -A nonchalant response while the thief debates where to throw the can away.
Asa straightens his back at the answer.
Reflective eyes now focused stiffly on Arkin’s. He doesn’t want it to be what he's thinking, but it most likely will be. That fact made the smile on his face no longer there, but twists an almost frozen expression; If you hover your hand over his face, you can feel the disappointment breathing out from his skin. Occasions where they made decisions started being taken into account in his calculating mind: when they fought; when Arkin spared his life; took care of him; had sex with him and eventually came up with their weekly agreement… and every other week after that; until now. . .
A car passes by.
Maybe this is what he gets for not questioning the privilege he’s being given, expecting the good things coming to him as free without any unwanted conditions. It’s fair, Asa swallowed the possible implications of him being chosen because he’s… thrilling. It’s the same for him when he first met the little thief, isn’t it? Though he still likes it when Arkin overpowers him. Asa guesses he just never noticed how well they mirror each other.
When he didn’t respond, Arkin called out his name in confusion.
Only then, the (ex) killer gathered his thoughts, and balled them all out of his throat into a question:
“Am I —thrilling to you?”
- As Arkin looked out into the night, he considered the question and what it meant. Did he mean was he fun- as in the spontaneous dates/daytrip’s way? Or as in the, ‘am I actually good in bed, or are you just being nice’ way? Most likely- the innocent fun way, considering how prim and proper Asa behaved in public.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Emory added, almost apologetically.
“Oh, no, sorry I was just thinking-” Arkin responded. “It’s… a little hard to put into words, I guess.”
Asa merely hummed- a part of the entomologist didn’t really want to know. But he thinks he worded that question ambiguous enough to be interpreted both ways. So if Arkin managed to guess his implications and answered him, he could just divert the contents of his questions in the opposite direction. They’d have a laugh and he would lament the fact he’s just a thrill later at home. Even so, he already knew he wasn’t exactly fun to be around outside of sex.
His idea of a fun time, that didn’t involve sex, included quiet nights inside his house or trips to the museum (and maybe the botanical garden if he was up to it). He didn’t need a second opinion to know he was, to put it lightly, boring. Asa didn’t know why- but it really did make a pit in his stomach, wondering if Arkin was getting bored of him.
Arkin slowly straightened himself out, sniffing as he cleared his throat.
“I mean,” O’Brien trailed, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, “Honestly, when I think about it, you’re, I dunno, my brand of fun?” He shrugged, looking away.
“Oh,” Asa responded. Looks like the thief understood his question the other way then.
Arkin licked his chapped lips and willing the weird butterflies in his stomach away. He wanted to consider his next words carefully, not wanting to offend Emory.
Asa kept his gaze locked onto him, expectantly- he wanted to know what Arkin meant by that. Was his “brand of fun” purely sexual- was he trying to tell him that he only liked being around him when they had sex? Was O’Brien disappointed every time they didn’t end up in bed together- like last time where they ended up falling asleep in front of the TV?
“Well, you’re very…” Arkin gestured, trying to think.
‘Just say you’re only interested in sex,’ Asa thought sadly, his expression soft as his brain continued to spiral.
“Calming, I guess,” O’Brien finished, blaming a small blush he felt on the winter night.
‘That’s a nice way of saying boring,’ Asa’s inner monologue said to him.
He knew he shouldn’t have asked; he knew what he was to Arkin (currently anyway). If only he hadn’t let his curiosity get the better of him. He already knew he was plain; he already knew he was an outsider. He wished he could be more social, more fun, more normal. Maybe then Arkin would like to be around him- think that he’s fun. Maybe they could have met under better circumstances, if only he was someone better.
“Everything okay?” Arkin suddenly asked, nudging Asa slightly.
“Huh?” He blinked.
“You went quiet there,” O’Brien explained, “Did I say something wrong?”
“Oh, no, I was just-” Asa fumbled slightly, “lost in thought I suppose.”
“If something’s wrong, ya can tell me,”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
The older man schooled his expression, hiding his humiliation as they got into his car. Asa produced his keys and unlocked the car, making sure Arkin could get in before stepping in himself. The second he shut his own door; he felt those lovely blue eyes staring at him- but he refused to meet O’Brien’s intent gaze.
“Arkin.” Asa poked after turning the key.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
Arkin turned in his seat to look at him, Emory somewhat ignored the analytical look by focusing on his driving. They were enroute back to his home, when O’Brien spoke up again, tone low and gentle.
“’M’sorry if I said something wrong,” He apologised sincerely.
“There’s no need,” Asa felt a blush grow across his face, “I shouldn’t have asked- I was just worried earlier.” Emory continued.
“..’bout what?”
“That you were getting bored with me,” Asa responded lowly, embarrassed.
Saying it out loud, it made him feel like an idiot. He didn’t know why the thought ever crossed his mind in the first place. He waited to hear his passenger laugh at him, to mock him, but it never came.
“No, I’m not bored with you,” Arkin assured, “You’re not gettin’ bored of me , are ya?”-He smirked playfully.
Asa huffed a laugh, a smile growing on his face- “Never.”
“Never ever?” O’Brien inquired with a smile, turning to look at him.
“I’m sure.” He responded casually, turning onto the main road back to his house.
Arkin looked Asa up and down, eyes landing on his lap as he bit his lip. If he was being completely honest with himself, the idea of Asa topping him had been ringing from the back of his mind for the last couple weeks. At first, he thought of just ignoring the urge, seeing as Emory had a preference of bottoming- but lately, the idea persisted. Resulting in a few lovely fantasies keeping him awake at night- or manifested as wet dreams.
“So… ya never thought about switching things up, huh,” He pressed.
“How do you mean?” Asa responded, tone normal.
Arkin couldn’t help the playful grin that stretched across his face. Catching Emory’s sceptical gaze when they reached a traffic light.
“I mean,” He clarified, “Have ya ever considered topping?”
Asa thought his head was about to explode- thankful that he was at a stop as he could have swerved out of pure shock. Where is this coming from? The thought absolutely crossed his mind, once or twice. But he didn’t want to pressure him, and he wasn’t sure if the man trusted him enough to relinquish his control onto him. He turned his head in Arkin’s direction, immediately taking note of his sly smile and wandering eyes.
“Are you-” Asa started, eyes wide, “Are you serious?”
“Sure am.” O’Brien nodded, “-I’ve thought about it for a while, if I’m bein’ honest with ya.”
Emory felt something in his heart flutter at that- the thought of Arkin thinking about him outside of their little excursions. The idea of him pleasuring himself with fantasies of Asa fucking him had him gripping the steering wheel for dear life.
“I mean, ya don’t have to if ya don’t want to,” Arkin shrugged, “’M just sayin’, it’s on the table. But I get it if ya prefer-“
“No, it’s fine-“ Asa quickly responded, “-I’ve thought about it too.”
Arkin felt his eyebrows raise, “Really?” he said, incredulously, “No offence, man, but after everything, I can’t exactly see you-“
A sudden warm squeeze of his thigh cut him off. He looked down to see Asa’s large, scarred, hand sensually gripping at his muscle. His attention was so suddenly rapt with the warm hand, that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Asa leaned over to whisper in his ear.
“Don’t assume I haven’t wanted to fuck you.” The man said, his breath was hot- sending shivers throughout O’Brien’s body.
His tone was slow and tame, not wanting to scare Arkin (too badly)- but the lustful charge remained. The shared heat between them had O’Brien squirming in his seat, eyes locked on the squeezing hand on his thigh. He felt a blush grow over his face, a smug smile now a thin line as he bit his bottom lip. His pants tightened slightly at the sound of Asa’s rumbling voice. The switch had completely side-swiped him, he didn’t think Asa would be so… receptive to the idea.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” Emory suddenly asked, breaking Arkin free from his train of thought. He found his jaw locking shut, his flustered blush growing with the bulge in his pants.
“Answer me, Arkin.” Asa purred, planting a kiss to Arkin’s jaw line, lips curling against O’Brien’s warming skin.
“Fuck, please,”