Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With a heavy sigh, Griss throws his phone down onto the corner of his bed, muffling the moans of some chick getting her back blown out. His hand gravitates towards his half hard cock, and gives it a lazy stroke, but honestly, he isn’t really feeling it now. He doesn’t know if he has erectile dysfunction, is depressed, or maybe just empty from the five other times he’s jerked off today. He supposes he should force it out, but there’s an overwhelming tiredness that permeates every fiber of his being. He hugs his pillow, willing for sleep to take him, but it doesn’t come. Reaching out for his phone, he just knows that the dull light of the screen will reflect his bloodshot eyes- but still, he scrolls. 

And there, Griss sees it- in the side bar of the porn site he’s on, there’s the link for the gay porn categories. It’s always been there, but for some inexplicable reason, it’s calling out to him tonight. Now, Griss isn’t gay. He’s always enjoyed a pair of honkers, melons, breasts, tiddies, milkers, whatever you want to call them. At the same time, he can appreciate the fine physique of a man. His (homosexual) coworker, Mauvier, hasn’t reported him to HR for homophobia yet, so that’s gotta count for something, right? And so, like the morbid curiosity that possesses a bystander watching a train crash, he clicks on the link.

Immediately, Griss is assailed by a feed of trashy thumbnails with vulgar titles. He can see at least one slur in there. And jeez, the tags- well, at least he can take comfort in that the men are objectified as much as the women on the site. He can pretend that he’s not that misogynistic and feel better about it. Griss is half disgusted yet half fascinated by what he sees- casting away his reservations, he clicks on the most acceptable looking video- if acceptable even exists in such a depraved world. A femboy riding a 9 inch dragon dildo.

Those ears are kind of cringe, but he’s got some nice legs, real smooth and pretty. The way he purrs into the camera, winking as if this is a special show for Griss and Griss alone- ignoring the blatantly obvious 80,000 views count- it’s almost cute. Slim fingers reach for his bottom, stretching himself out in preparation for the main event.

It’s hard to miss, given how brightly coloured it is. It looks like the same brand that Griss got a couple of Christmases ago from his ex. She was really into pegging. She also had some very lofty expectations, always nagging him about his lack of ambition- and unfortunately, that extended to the bedroom. If he couldn’t meet his KPIs, what made her think he would actively try to be good at shoving a toy in his ass?

Griss tried to return it after they broke up, but apparently, the company didn’t accept used goods. Typical. Then he tried pawning it off to Mauvier, but the guy had said he was a ‘man of class’ and had no need for such vulgar objects- completely ignoring the fact that he knew that Griss knew that he used the company’s credit card to buy a cock ring. Thank god Zephia thought it was kind of funny.

As the video keeps playing, Griss is mildly impressed with how the femboy is riding the dildo, but it’s more in the objective sense, rather than any form of arousal. As cute as he is, Griss feels like there’s something missing. Emotion. Now porn isn’t supposed to be this romantic expression of love, but the green haired man knows something as big as that would hurt. And it would be hard to get it in. Yet the man on screen is smiling all the same. Griss can’t help but to wish that the video showed more of the struggle, the pain, the burn of being penetrated-

Ah, whatever. Bored, Griss clicks out of the incognito tab- but not before his gaze is caught by an ad for ‘Engager’ – the gay dating app that everyone uses for hook-ups. He’s pretty sure that Mauvier’s used it before. It’d be funny if he saw him on it. In fact… with a devilish grin, Griss has found his entertainment for tonight.

He is going to catfish Mauvier.

Downloading the app, Griss sets up his profile. He writes a basic bio about how he’s a cute boy next door type, and that he’s ‘very vanilla but is wanting to explore his options :)’ – basically everything he thinks that Mauvier will like. He also puts up a photo of him holding his singlet up with his teeth, exposing his lean yet toned body. Immediately, he gets an influx of ‘bonds’ and messages consisting of some variant of ‘hey.’ Scrolling through the profiles the messages belong to, he realizes most of them belong to pictureless profiles of men double his age. Damn, how’s he going to find Mauvier like this? Griss definitely isn’t going to spend money on upgrading to premium or whatever.

Still, he can’t help but to feel rush with every message he gets. It’s a pretty effective ego boost- for once, guys are messaging him first, instead of him chasing up girls out of his league. Some of them compliment his body, some of them say how they’d like to get know him better- they all want the same thing, but it feels good to be thirsted over like this. He gives non-committal responses at best and blocks them outright otherwise. The power to influence their self-worth, even just a little, through his validation or lack thereof- well, it feels great.

Scrolling through the app, he’s still looking for Mauvier- wait, is that Pandreo from church? Holy shit. He’d recognise that god awful orange jacket anywhere. He’s almost tempted to message him but then his phone chimes, and finally, his long, long mission is over.

ContemplativeMallow: Hello.

g: hi

ContemplativeMallow: Face pic?

g: ok

Ever prepared, Griss brings up a photo of his brother and shows it to him. His brother is ugly enough to prove that he’s a real person. However, he isn’t prepared for how observant Mauvier actually is.

ContemplativeMallow: In your profile picture, you have green body hair. But in that photo, you have black hair.

Griss didn’t even realise one could see his hair in his shirtless picture. You’d have to zoom in real close, to see a light dusting of green sprawling from below his navel. Griss isn’t sure if he should be flattered or concerned that Mauvier looked at it that closely.

g: well maybe i dye my hair black! or my pubes green. who knows

ContemplativeMallow: What are you even doing on here, Griss?

g: oops. that obvious huh?

ContemplativeMallow: I didn’t know vanilla included ‘knifeplay’ or ‘bondage’ or ‘masochism.’

g: im built diff

g: also what are YOU doing here. I thought you have a boyfriend

ContemplativeMallow: Looking for a third. Lol.

g: im down if you can get zephia in it too

ContemplativeMallow: Go to sleep. You’re supposed to be leading the meeting tomorrow.

g: make me

ContemplativeMallow has blocked you.

Lameeee. Mauvier could have played along just a little bit longer. But his co-worker is right- it’s friggin’ 1AM already, and he needs to be presentable enough to deliver his speech in the morning. Nothing that a couple of energy drinks and an overpriced coffee couldn’t fix though. But just when he’s about to uninstall the app, leaving men he will never meet in his life on seen, he receives a message from one last man. There’s something about him that makes Griss pause for a moment.

His username is ‘Bouchie.’ He’s 26, 185cm, and the way he cradles a freshly caught fish with a warm smile on his face feels too intimate to be on a hook up app. Also, Griss wouldn’t mind if his head was crushed between those biceps of his. Hell, maybe he could even slide his dick between those pecs of his. But that’s not the important part. Even though he’s the definition of ‘pleasant’ – come on, what’s with all the smileys – there’s something that stands out. Something that Griss likes.

Now, Griss isn’t gay. But he likes hurting people. And being hurt. It went far beyond physical pain, and it’s nothing he expects anyone to understand. Even though he’s a slut, lazy, and a generally unlikeable person, there was something that he truly loved, something that made him feel truly alive. And it would seem that this Bouchie person shared this sentiment.

Griss knows to temper his expectations, that there was no one truly capable of granting him what he really desired. But he can hope, and if he can’t hope, then at least he can jerk off and write this all off as a waste of time. He reads through the bio, feeling a slight stir in his crotch.

Just your average guy. No one over 40. Looking for chats and dates, but we all know what this app is about. I want someone to punish me, to break me and kick me when I’m down. Into a lot of things. Just ask. 

It’s ridiculous. No real human being actually says shit like this. It’s so on the nose and melodramatic, and Griss loves it, because he can only believe what he can read- he doesn’t need to pretend to understand the hidden meanings of someone he doesn’t care about, he just needs to only do one thing. And it just so happens to be that Bouchie is 500 metres away- it must be the hotel down the road from his apartment.

Bouchie: Hey

g: hi

Bouchie: What’s up?

g: not much, just chilling in bed. hbu?

Bouchie: I’m reading a book.

g: must be a pretty boring book if you’re on here lol

Bouchie: …There’s a steamy scene. And it got me a bit worked up.

g: are you fr. what are you gonna do about it?

Bouchie: Are you suggesting something?

g: i would but i am also about to fall asleep. Also im not gay

Bouchie: Uhuh.

g: did you know women are generally averse to being cut?

Bouchie: Kind of random, but yes, I think most people are. Regardless of gender.

g: but not you, though?

Bouchie: Mm. Maybe.

g: heh. why don’t you prove it?

Bouchie: Alright. Tomorrow. Room 217, Florra- come after 8PM.

g: wow that was kind of easy. good night

Bouchie: One would hope it’s hard, actually.

Chapter Text

In life, there are two absolutes- there's nothing more delicious than stealing your co-worker's food, and that ultimately, you are nothing more than a tiny speck in a universe that doesn't care about you. As Griss proceeds to raid the office fridge, hoping that Mauvier brought his chicken chow mein today- and not that healthy zucchini pasta shit, ugh- these thoughts occupied his mind. He isn't exactly the introspective type, but there's a strange phenomena that he's called the 'Griss Effect' - the hornier you are, the more philosophical you get. No chow mein, but score, a muffin!

Indeed, as he relished in the thought of having some bloody fun with a stranger tonight, Griss thought about how all of this wasn't special in any shape or form. They would do their thing and part ways, never to meet again. Yet despite this, he felt a storm of emotions brewing within, a cocktail of anxiety and anticipation. Anyone could cut one another, and though a certain level of trust was required, it was almost exciting to discover if it was actually there or not. 

It had been so, so long since he got to go all out on another person.

"Wipe that stupid smile off your face." a familiar voice speaks up. 

Griss' eyes land upon Zephia, and he smirks, walking over to take a sip of her drink. "Ooh, that's kinda funky. Mm, I'm gonna guess, black tea... but with vodka in it."

Zephia shakes her head. "If only. It's some fancy tea from Solm that I forgot the name of. It tastes pretty awful, but I don't want to make Kael feel bad."

"You're literally gaslighting him. It's only been like, what, two weeks? Yet the guy would jump off a cliff if you asked."

"I'm not that crass. I don't think I care for seeing gore splattered all over the floor." Zephia remarks, and sometimes, Griss can't tell if she's actually joking or not. And he wouldn't have his work wife any other way.

It's a funny story, how they met- well, not that funny, but Griss thinks it is. Once upon a time, a young Griss was drowning in college debt, and due to a series of unfortunate events, was left homeless. As he huddled against the wall of a cafe, on the brink of starvation in the middle of a particularly frigid winter, he saw her. She was a goddess, dressed in a stunning business suit, with heels that any self respecting man would want to be stepped on with. And she had said the words that would change his life. 

"If you can make me laugh, I'll give you a thousand dollars and a hot chocolate."

At the time, Griss half expected some random with a phone filming the two of them to come out, followed by the words "Or double it and give it to the next person!" But no, the woman was serious, looking down at him, as if he was nothing more than lowly vermin. The differences in their positions was as clear as night and day, like a noble paying a jester to entertain them. Griss didn't like that. 

"Or why don't I stab ya instead, hmm? I bet that Brada handbag won't look so flash with your blood all over it."

The woman wasn't scared. Instead, she returned his threat with a sarcastic chuckle. "I've given this test to so many others, and yet you were different. Consider that hot chocolate yours." 

To which Griss replied, "I'm lactose intolerant."

One thing led to another, and here they were. 

"Anyway, I heard your proposition from Mauvier. I think it's quite a good idea, but we'll need more manpower to make it work. Poor Marni's been run ragged with all the work you've been offloading to her." Zephia adds on. 

The proposition? Oh right, from the meeting this morning. Griss vaguely remembers saying something about improving employee retention and reducing turnover by actually paying them a reasonable salary. He knows Sombron would not like that, and that's exactly why he made a point of it. The CEO actually thought free pizza would be enough to satisfy the company's employees.

"To be fair, you put me through the same thing when I was working under you. Those endless nights at the office... And Mauvier too! I think it's a rite of passage at this point for all the interns." Griss groans. 

"And look how you turned out for it! Insane, but surprisingly good with people- I knew I made the right choice putting you into HR."

"Hey, you're just as insane- you gotta be, to be our project leader! Anyway, enough about work. Guess what?" Griss asks, a sly smile on his face.

"What?"

"No, like actually guess!" Griss insists. 

Zephia sighs as she humours her colleague. "You got a new puppy?"

"Hell no. I, Griss, am getting laid tonight!" Griss exclaims loudly, ignoring the disapproving stares he's getting from the other people hanging around the lunch room. 

"I see. Well... good for you. I do have to know though, is she worthy of my approval?"

"Mm, that's the thing. It's a he." 

"Oh? Broadening your horizons, I see. If you missed being pegged that badly, you could always just ask me."

"Pfft, nah, I'm not having a dick in my ass, that's fuckin' gay. I'll be making him my bitch." Griss remarks. 

Zephia looks like she wants to say something to that, but decides against it, knowing that the green haired man has a very unique way of thinking sometimes. "I'm glad that you're putting yourself out there again, even if it's in a completely slutty way. It's been three months, right?"

"Yeah! Let's hope I'm not rusty after all this time. Although, a dull blade is just as fun as a sharp one if you ask me." 

"I'd prefer you to contract chlamydia rather than tetanus, I must admit." Zephia says dryly. "Can I see?"

Griss nods, bringing up Bouchie's Engager profile on his phone. "Look! He's tagged 'knifeplay' as one of his interests."

Zephia hums wisely, nodding as she scrolls through his profile. "He does have some nice muscles... not my type personally, but I can see the appeal. Although, I wouldn't expect a guy like him to be on an app like that."

"Right? He looks like the most boring dude ever- he's into fishing and reading, for fuck's sake. I wouldn't have given him a second glance if it weren't for that pretty edgy bio." Griss explains.

Zephia looks at the photos once more, before tilting her head. "He looks kind of familiar... I swear I've seen him before," she comments, before shaking her head.

"I wonder why. Maybe I'll ask him tonight- if I remember in the middle of cutting him up."

"Now, now, don't get too carried away. If you go overboard, he'll get scared and run away. And that would be rather unfortunate, seeing how excited you are to play with a new toy." 

"Right, right, I'll keep that in mind. I'm just so damn pent up, you know? I haven't had a real session in sooo long. Jerking off just doesn't cut it sometimes." 

"I can relate to that." Zephia says, not even trying to hide the blatant lie in her voice. "But I'll thank you to not speak so crudely while we're at work. Marni is probably traumatised from hearing you talk. And at least Mauvier is sensible enough to not go into his deep seated kinks. Ah, speak of the devil!"

Mauvier approaches the two, glaring at Griss. "Did you take my blueberry muffin? And Zephia, don't put me in with this lot." he scoffs.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You're gonna have to cut open my stomach if you want proof, hahaha!" Griss replies, a mouthful full of muffin. 

"Cock ring, Mauvier. None of us are free from sin. And that's why the Four Hounds are family." Zephia smiles.

"You're impossible." Mauvier sighs. "Anyway, Griss, finish your muffin. I need you to look over the budget when you're free."

"Now? Ugh..."

"I'll cover you if you want to leave earlier today."

"Oh hell yeah." Griss grins. "I'll catch ya later, Zeph."

"Do update me on how your night goes." Zephia nods, turning around with a wave.

As Griss walks with Mauvier back to his cubicle, the older man turns to him, an exasperated look on his face.

"What were you doing on Engager last night?" Mauvier asks. It almost sounds like an interrogation, which is ridiculous coming from the openly gay man.

"What anyone does on that app- looking for a hook up." Griss shrugs.

There's a confused look on Mauvier's face. "I thought you weren't..."

"Gay? I'm not, but a hole's a hole. But I don't really care about that- it's more so being able to cut someone all I like. I mean, he's pretty beefy, so I'm sure he can take a few scratches- even better, 'cause he wants it!" 

Mauvier sighs. "I hope you realise how crazy you sound right now."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather be a kinky bastard than you know. Actually stabby and murderous. Between being horny as fuck and actually wanting to kill people, I think most people would prefer the former." Griss shoots back.

"I just hope you know what you're doing... As powerful as Zephia is, I don't think she could bail you out of jail if it came to it."

"Oh Mauvier, ever the voice of reason. If you're so concerned, why don't you let me cut you? I bet you could take it, strong as you are." Griss jokes.

"...I can't."

Griss raises an eyebrow at the sudden shift in tone. He's never heard Mauvier sound so damn melancholic before- it's not like he said his cat just died, right? Griss suspects that there's a story behind this, but the little tact he has tells him that now isn't the time and place for it.

"Anyway. Budget?" Griss asks, changing the subject.

"Right. Take a look at this." Mauvier says, bringing up a program on his computer. "As you're aware, there's a new company that's been surging in popularity lately. Firene. They're behind all the new trendy teas that's been coming out on the market- just a week ago, I noticed all the planograms in the local supermarkets are advertising the new 'Ylisse' tea."

"Yeah. Pulling in all the basic white girls. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well... Sombron is wanting us to expand into the beverage sector. This new company is unlikely to be a threat to us, but..."

"You gotta nip it in the bud, I gotcha."

"Which is why our preliminary strategy is to go forward with aggressive marketing. And so, I wanted to hear your thoughts first."

Griss scans the computer screen and frowns. "Half a million dollars on... frigging social media? What kind of accountant are you?"

"A competent one. We need to go all out on our campaign if we want to sway our target audience- 'basic white girls' as you so eloquently put." 

"But they're such a small company! Is it really worth it?"

"I wouldn't underestimate them if I were you. In particular, there's one man in particular to look out for. They call him Alfred, the self proclaimed Prince of Flowers."

"Sounds like a pansy. Why do we care about him?"

"We don't. Yet. But make no mistake- he has been making moves. If we're not careful, the monopoly Gradlon Industries has over this land will crumble."

"God, you're so dramatic. Calm your tits. I'll sort it out." Griss states.

Then he glances at his watch, a reminder popping up from the screen. "Well, would you look at the time? I need to go interview some fresh meat and crush all of their dreams."

"Right. I'll send you the details later." Mauvier nods.

And with that, Griss heads to down to the first floor, ready to eat the poor candidate who's been ghosted for a solid 10 minutes now.

g: hey. what are you up to

Bouchie: Just got off work. Relaxing in my room now.

g: i'll be there in 5 minutes

Bouchie: Someone's eager. I'll meet you in the hotel lobby.

g: cool

The mildly interesting thing about living in the heart of the city is that nobody gives you a shit about you. Unlike the burbs and small towns in general, where everyone knew each other, there's too many people here. Everyone has a story that is uniquely theirs to tell, their paths in life forged by the sum of their choices.

And it's because of this that it's hard to care about other people you don't know. The human brain only has the capacity for empathy for so many people- anyone who can't fit in there, well, too bad. At least, that's what Griss thinks- and he's the most empathetic person he knows. He might be a psychiatrist's nightmare, but he gets people. It's what's made him so crazy. 

All of this to justify a simple fact- if someone were to open his bag right now, they would find a collection of knives of varying sizes, antiseptic, bandages, painkillers, and rope. And a pocket pussy. If someone were to see all of this, they might be confused. Confronted. They might talk about it to other people.

But ultimately, they wouldn't care enough to pursue it any further. No one, apart from the one all of this stuff is for. That's why Griss feels no shame as he walks down the street to his destination, not even attempting to hide the suspiciously shaped package he carries. 

Griss arrives at the hotel, whistling a little. This was one of the most luxurious ones out in all of Elyos, its name known far and wide. He heard that a night here would be enough to feed a family of 4 and their dog for a month. The green haired man paces in front of the entrance, almost feeling out of place here- the ragged hoodie he wore probably didn't help either.

Although it had been five  years since he was practically in poverty, and his living situation drastically improved since meeting Zephia, the experience never really left him. He didn't think Bouchie was particularly wealthy from his profile, but he had to be if he was living here. Looks could be deceiving, after all. Not that it really mattered. Rich or poor, they bled all the same. 

As he scans the lobby, his eyes land upon a familiar looking young man, reading a book in a chair. That must be him. He was a lot bigger in person than in his photos. Curled up in the chair, he resembled more of a bear than a human. He was conventionally attractive to say the least. 

Griss walks up to the stranger, slapping a hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey! Bouchie, right?" Griss greets, grinning.

Startled, the man jumps up. "O-oh! Ah, that's me. The name's Boucheron," he introduces. "You must be 'g'?"

"Mhmm. Griss. Better remember it, because you'll be screaming it in bed tonight!"

"Haha... we'll see about that. Nice to meet you Griss." Boucheron nods.

He extends a friendly hand for Griss to shake. Taking it, the green haired man can't help but to think about how much bigger his hands were than his own. His palms were practically swallowing him... and they were so warm. Also, this exchange was so cordial, it would be hard to believe that someone would be getting fucked tonight. 

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Griss exclaims.

"Ah, about that..." Boucheron says sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "I know you're into some... dangerous activities."

Griss' heart sinks. He knew it, Boucheron was going to back out. They always did. All of this was a waste of time, and to think he was actually expecting-"

"And there's nothing wrong with that. But I would imagine it would cause quite the mess. I don't think the hotel staff will be very happy to clean bloodstained sheets." Boucheron explains.

Griss is surprisingly relieved. "Oh... true. You sure you can't just give them a really generous tip and have them turn a blind eye?"

"I could, but I think it's a bit unfair to make them live with the knowledge that something... untoward happened."

"They probably have the bougie ass bleach!"

"I know, I know. But I'd feel guilty about it after." 

"You must be seriously screwed up if that's your biggest concern, and not the fact that I could be cutting you. Or you cutting me."

"Haha, maybe. I hate to be a pain, but is it alright if we go back to your place?" Boucheron suggests.

"Ugh, I guess. I can't believe you made me walk all this way for nothing."

"I'll make it up to you- maybe I can treat you to breakfast tomorrow? And I do have this complimentary hotel gym pass..."

"Okay, fine. My apartment's just a short walk from here. Let's go already."

Leaving the hotel lobby, the two headed back towards Griss' apartment. The walk there was rather quiet, as the two merely took in each other's presence. Although words weren't spoken, the message was clear all the same. Walking side by side, they looked like polar opposites- Boucheron was big, bulky, and honestly just a cuddly bear. Meanwhile, Griss was tall and lanky, his torn clothes exposing slivers of fair skin ready to be defiled. The sacrifice and the saint, if you will. 

Unlocking the door, Griss leads them into his apartment. "Welp. Home sweet home. Sorry for the mess," Griss says, not at all sorry for the mess. He unceremoniously shoves the things off his table, plopping his bag of goodies onto it. As Boucheron has to duck down ever so slightly to even fit through the door, the tiny room only serves to emphasise his massive build.

"Want anything to drink?" Griss asks.

"Oh, I'm alright... how about tea if you have it?" Boucheron replies.

Tea. How fucking dainty. And here he was, already getting ready to crack open a beer or two. Not that he particularly likes it (it was bad for his tum tums), but it's cheap, cold, and more than enough to get him drunk. And hopefully Boucheron too. But here he was instead, putting the kettle on like some Fodlan person. Before he knew it, he'd be putting on the accent too. 

"So... wanna get down to it?"

"I haven't even had my tea yet." 

"Alright, alright. Tea time first." 

The two drink their tea, staring at each other as they do so. Something about this feels strangely surreal, but Griss is too horny to care. 

"...Um, what are you after?" Boucheron brings up.

"Really good casual sex. That involves a lot of pain." Griss says bluntly. 

"Okay, straight to the point, I see... but why me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I guess I'm used to being ignored. And well, when a guy like you replied to my messages, it made me kind of happy."

"Huh. But you're... pretty hot, I'll say. If I was a chick, I'd be head over heels for you. Probably."

"Haha... I don't think so. But thanks."

"Then I gotta ask too- why me?"

"I thought you were interesting. I've never met someone so open and forward before. At least I know what to expect here."

Griss puts his tea cup down. "I feel like we're doing this the wrong way around. We should save the sappy talk for after."

"Oh, okay. Uhh... you're clean, right?" Boucheron asks. 

"For sure. It's all good, I'm not gonna give you any diseases. I take the health of myself and my partners seriously." Griss says. Kind of hypocritical considering what he was into, but there would be no healing without harm. 

"Got everything you need?" Griss adds on.

"Not sure what that entails... but I'll be fine."

"If you want to back out, just let me know. I'll be disappointed as fuck, but I'll understand."

"No... I'm good. I won't do anything to make you unhappy. Don't worry about me."

Something about that last part rings an alarm in Griss' mind. But there's no time to linger on that thought. There was only one thing left to do- and that was to have the best night of his life.

"Then let's take it to the bedroom." Griss winks.