Who: Aidan and Victor Where: Victor’s house in Overlook When: Friday night, July 6th Status: Complete
It was an awful night to be out in the rain, but that’s precisely why Aidan was out in it. He could creep around with even less people noticing him and once the sun set he might as well be a ghost. He knew most of the houses in Overlook, specifically the ones inhabited by witches, which he made a point of avoiding. The area was so saturated with them that the magic seemed to spread everywhere, even beyond the boundaries of their own gigantic houses. Aidan had been watching one in particular for the past hour, waiting for a light to turn on or to spot some kind of movement within. So far it seemed vacant, which was perfect. The house had been empty a month ago, which made it new and interesting, and tonight he hoped to see just what lay inside.
The easiest way in would have been to bring Aya along, but Aidan had found it was far more thrilling to do it the traditional way. After an hour of no movement and no light inside, Aidan crept around to the back of the house. Standing beside the basement door, he placed his hands on the door frame, feeling for the electric current of an alarm system. He’d disabled so many in the past few years that this part came easy to him, almost easier than opening the door itself. All it took was the little bit of air pressure in the right place and the lock clicked open. He took a moment to dry himself before he stepped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him.
The house was quiet, just as he expected, but he still moved slowly just to be cautious. A door to the left drew his attention first and he stepped inside, summoning a small ball of light rather than flipping the switch. Before him sat a desk and on either side of the desk were bookshelves, covered with old books and odd antiques. It was just the sort of treasure trove that Aidan loved and he stepped up to admire it, ignoring the books in favor of a vintage dagger with a silver and crimson scabbard. He picked it up carefully, turning it over in his hand, unsheathing it to get a better look at the blade itself. There was intricate etching on both sides of the blade, some decorative while others appeared to be in a language Aidan couldn’t read. The hilt was topped with a serpent’s head, its ruby eyes gleaming in the night. Aidan ran a finger over them, then yelped in surprise when the dagger bit the end of his finger. Blood swelled at the tip of his finger, dripping as the dagger fell to the floor. “Fuck,” Aidan cursed, popping the tip of his finger into his mouth as the door to the room slammed closed. The dagger forgotten, Aidan rushed over to pull the door open again, but it wouldn’t budge. Whatever was holding him in was more than just a lock on the door–it was magic, making him well and truly screwed.
Two floors above that slammed door, Victor’s eyes opened in the dark. He’d gone to bed rather early -- moving was a tiring business, and even though he’d technically been in the house for a week now, he was still in the process of settling in and arranging things. He was particular about where he wanted his stuff, how his office and workspace and library should be arranged, so it was taking a while and a lot of energy. Not to mention all the work that went into warding the house, warding his storage, setting up the defensive spells ...
For the first few seconds he wasn’t sure what woke him, but then he felt the tug on his magic, a pull in the core of his body. One of the wards had been triggered. Victor’s heart doubled in speed and he sat up straight, listening hard for a handful of seconds. He didn't hear anything, but that didn’t mean much, someone or something had gotten inside without tripping the mundane alarm. He threw the covers aside and got up in one smooth motion, anger starting to flood in to temper the fear. Not even a week and something was trying to fuck with his territory? Victor knew Point Pleasant was not a safe place, but he hadn’t expected to be challenged so soon.
Moving silently and swiftly through the house in just his boxers, Victor checked the second and first floors just to be sure -- his instinct told him the breach was in the basement, but better safe than attacked from behind. It only took a couple of minutes before he was padding down the basement stairs, his magic humming in his arms, ready to defend against whatever he might find down there. He was grateful for the storm outside, all of the water in the atmosphere, it always made him feel more powerful when it rained.
The basement was half-finished, currently more boxes than den space, with a couple of rooms built into it -- one he’d designated as a small office and viewing room for his antiques, and the other his workroom. Victor knew he’d left the office door open when he’d left it earlier that day, but now it was closed. Staying as quiet as possible, he walked up to the door to listen to what was going on inside.
Aidan knew he was fucked, but as seconds ticked by that feeling truly began to set in. Movement that had been easy a minute ago suddenly felt restricted, like he was wading through rising water that he couldn’t even see. He felt cold and wet, and that feeling was rising, first at just his ankles, then up to his knees. The swell of magic made attempting an escape more and more difficult, especially once he realized that his clothes were getting wetter than they’d been upon entering. Aidan escalated from shaking the door handle to attempting to kick the door in, but his legs felt restricted by the water that wasn’t there. In a panic, he waded towards the window, using his own magic to attempt opening it, but air magic wasn’t strong enough to fight the curse in the room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he muttered, frantically looking for a solution. It wouldn’t be long before the invisible water rose up over his head. Air magic might not be strong enough to get him out, but hopefully it would be enough to keep him from drowning.
The banging and harder hits against the door told Victor that his wards were indeed working, trapping whoever had broken into his home in the room, caught in a trap that was a mix of water and illusion magic. Victor couldn’t risk the integrity of his books by actually flooding the room, but he could certainly make someone feel the waters rising. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, reaching up to touch the three places around the doorframe that would unlock it for him. As he reached for the door handle with one hand, he conjured a spike of ice in the other like a knife, ready to defend himself if necessary. He felt more anger than fear, confident in his magical abilities and ready to make his territory very clear to whoever this intruder was. Victor tugged the door open without stepping inside yet, the rising-water ward still going strong since it wasn’t actual water. Jaw clenched, his eyes swept the room and landed on his uninvited guest near the window, a scruffy looking young guy who seemed on the verge of panic. “Who the fuck are you?” Victor demanded.
Aidan spun towards the voice—or he tried to. The feeling of being submerged was messing with his balance and speed, making him wobbly, almost floating in the water that wasn’t really there. But damn did it feel like it. It was up to his neck now and as the tips of his hair began to drip Aidan summoned a bubble of air around his head. He wasn’t sure if it would do any good against a curse, but he wasn’t going to stand there like an idiot and let himself drown if he could help it. “I fucked up,” he admitted to the man standing in the doorway. He was younger than Aidan expected, probably only a few years older than him, if that. It seemed impossible that this was his house, but he wasn’t in a position to question that right now. His hands trembled, energy ready at the tips of his fingers, and his heart hammered away, but he attempted to remain calm while vibrating in a state of crisis. “I don’t want any trouble. Just let me go.”
There had been so much magic triggered by his wards that Victor hadn’t registered that his captive was a witch himself until he created the bubble of air to try and combat the invisible water. His brow flexed in a vague frown before he said a couple of words in Latin and made a gesture with the tip of the icicle in his hand. The ‘water’ stopped rising, but he didn’t let it drop completely, wanting to keep this witch off balance for the moment. “You did fuck up,” he agreed as he stepped into the room, unaffected by the trap. Victor eyed the other man coolly, though his adrenaline was pumping hard now. It made it easier to forget that he was standing there in just his boxers. Whether this guy wanted any trouble or not, he seemed to have brought it upon himself. “But that doesn’t answer my question. Who are you? I won’t ask nicely again.”
Aidan’s eyes flicked down to the icicle, then back to the man, so focused on the threat of danger that all the other details failed to catch his attention, like the man’s state of undress. And how insanely tall he was. Aidan had the feeling he would tower over him if he came any closer. His hands balled into fists as the man repeated the question, information that Aidan was hoping not to provide, but keeping silent was likely to make things worse. Pissing off a volatile water witch when he was partially incapacitated seemed like a poor move. “Aidan,” he said, his hesitation and expression conveying how unhappy he was to provide such information. “O’Reilly.” He could already hear the dressing down he would receive from his siblings if they ever caught wind of this, and he was sure they would. There was no reason for the man to ask for his name unless he planned on using it.
The surname prompted Victor’s brows to lift and he actually smiled a little. He’d never lived full time in Point Pleasant, but he’d spent plenty of summers and holidays there, visiting his grandparents and his uncle James. Or at least he had, until his cousins had gotten old enough to start asking too many questions about magic. Over the years, Victor had been confused by and then regretful of the way his uncle and aunt shielded them from their heritage, their birthright. In any case, he’d been immersed enough in the magical community in Point Pleasant to know who the O’Reillys were, even if he’d never actually met them, and it was a surprise to find one in his basement. A pretty one, no less, even if he needed a shave. And a towel. “Aidan O’Reilly,” Victor repeated as he ambled in closer, like he was tasting the name. He tapped the icicle thoughtfully against his thigh. “Magical royalty, breaking into my basement? Was that your own idea, or did somebody send you?”
The smile, though slight, caught Aidan off guard, but then he found himself rolling his eyes. He might be a descendent of the Point Pleasant Six, but referring to him as royalty of any sort was laughable. It was a term better fitting to the D’Onofrios or the Kellys, living up in their mansions overlooking the town—quite literally, in fact. “Why would someone send me?” he asked, attempting to back up as the man moved closer. The curse still made movement difficult, but he wasn’t completely defenseless. Electricity crackled at his fingertips as he watched the icicle bounce against the man’s thigh. Now he looked at him, his state of undress, and the confidence in his frame. He seemed to loom over Aidan the closer he got. Aidan swallowed hard. “Who are you?”
Victor stayed just out of reach, but that was close enough. His gaze ticked calmly back up to Aidan’s face from his sparky fingertips. It wasn’t wise to threaten him in his own home, but if Aidan was wise, he probably wouldn’t be there in the first place. Hadn’t he felt the wards on this place? It was like a magical way to mark one’s territory, and a fellow witch really ought to respect that. Apparently Victor couldn’t really teach him a lesson though, not without starting shit with a family he did not want to start shit with. The O’Reillys may have lived on the outskirts for generations, but they were formidable, from everything Victor had ever heard. “Victor Bahorik,” he answered after considering if he should share or not. “Probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but I’m descended from the Six as well.” He crouched briefly to pick up the dagger that Aidan had dropped, letting the icicle dissipate from his hand now that he had another weapon, though he kept it sheathed. The corner of Victor’s mouth turned up again and he quirked his brows at Aidan. “Do you even have any idea what it’s for?” he asked.
Victor Bahorik. It wasn’t a family name that Aidan was familiar with, but you could be damn sure he was going to be looking it up when he got back home. He wasn’t sure who he was dealing with and that put him at a disadvantage, though he was learning with every second that passed. Victor knew his name and knew the history of the Six, so he couldn’t be that distant from the local lines. The electricity in his hands subsided when the icicle vanished, but then the snake headed dagger was being held before him. Even sheathed, Aidan saw it as a threat. His blood still clung to its fangs. Aidan’s heart continued to race, still sensing danger, though he couldn’t decide if he should fear Victor or the dagger more. “I didn’t get that far,” he said, looking up at Victor. “It bit me.” And though he was curious about what it could do, only his eyes said so, tracking the dagger in Victor’s hands, waiting for it to snap again and draw blood.
He gave a soft chuckle and wrapped his hand properly around the dagger’s handle. The snake head came to life again, slithering forward as if pulling its metal body out of the dagger hilt. It wrapped itself around Victor’s extended forefinger twice before it went stiff again, the jeweled eyes gleaming. “That’s how she says hello to anyone she hasn’t bonded with,” he explained mildly, dark eyes moving from the blade to Aidan’s face again. “She bit me six times before we made friends. I was told she was a sacrificial dagger from the fifteenth century, eastern Europe. These days she’s also a good trigger for my wards. Thieves gravitate to the shinier things. Isn’t that right, Aidan?” Victor left the dagger sheathed, but he kept the handle in his grip as he eyed his intruder. “Does that bite make us even, and I should let you go?”
Being called a thief didn’t rile Aidan up like it might someone else. He knew he was a thief and he’d been caught in the act. The only thing he took offense to was the idea that only shiny things attracted him. It was true in this case, but the junk he had back home proved otherwise. The snake fascinated him though, its behavior and origin story unique enough that he was sad it wasn’t joining his collection. He watched the way it wrapped itself around Victor’s fingers, and wondered how many bites he’d have to tolerate before it would do the same for him. The pain didn’t bother him. It had just caught him off guard. “It drew blood. I don’t offer that to anyone,” Aidan said. “And I haven’t stolen anything. No doors or windows were broken. It seems fair.”
The intrusion didn’t feel that easy to forgive, and if Aidan had been someone else, Victor might have made him suffer more, made him feel like he was drowning for a little while or something. His family name kind of changed things, though ... along with those intensely blue eyes that were currently locked on him. Victor was half tempted to reach out to brush the stray waves of hair away from them and tell him everything was going to be all right. He’d obviously been alone for too long, but having someone captive was always a turn on. Victor slowly wet his lips as he thought about it, his gaze drifting over Aidan. He did have his blood now, and every witch knew what a big deal that was, even a tiny amount. “I suppose,” he finally said thoughtfully. Victor waved his free hand and the effect of the ward dropped, leaving Aidan surrounded by only air once again. Victor took a few steps back and gestured toward the office door for Aidan to go first. “Basement exit is this way.”
Aidan watched as Victor licked his lips in thought, unconsciously mimicking the action. He didn’t really expect to be let go so easily, so Victor’s agreement came as a surprise. If someone had marched onto their property, past the wards and into the house, the whole family would’ve likely sprung upon them. Knox, at the very least. Victor was alone, in his underwear, and far too forgiving. But he had a drop or two of Aidan’s blood, which might as well have been a cup full for a water witch, so he wasn’t really walking away scot-free. The second Victor dropped the curse Aidan began to breathe easier, yet he slowly shuffled towards the door. “I know the way,” he said, looking back over his shoulder, not quite happy to let Victor out of his sight. It felt too easy to walk away.
“Mm, that’s the problem,” Victor murmured as he followed Aidan out of the room. He wasn’t positive how Aidan had let himself in without breaking anything or setting off the mundane alarm, but he was sure there was magic involved. Air witches could be slippery. He would check the cameras later to try to suss out the details and plug the holes in his ship, so to speak. He stayed behind Aidan as they crossed the unfinished basement, unbothered by the cold concrete under his feet, the dagger still in his hand. “Stop,” he said once Aidan reached the door, as something else occurred to him. “Turn out your pockets.” There were a lot of things in this basement to swipe, and he wanted to make sure Aidan hadn’t pocketed anything before the security measures had kicked in.
A laugh bubbled out of Aidan unbidden, a smile crossing his face before he could suppress it. It was a fair ask, any number of his friends would have done the same, and if he’d been there much longer it would have likely turned out a prize, but in this rare instance his pockets were empty. He did as Victor requested, his amusement poorly masked as he waited for Victor to clear him of any additional wrongdoing on his part. It was rare for Aidan to walk away empty-handed, the itch not quite scratched, making it worse. “I told you I didn’t take anything,” he said, eyes alight with mischief. Would his attitude result in a pat down? There were more places to hide things than pockets. “You don’t trust me?”
“Is that a serious question?” Victor asked, one brow quirking up slightly. He’d kept his expression neutral as Aidan laughed at the demand and just kept grinning, but the reaction sparked some weirdly strong feelings inside of him. On one hand he wanted to lash out, make Aidan choke on his own fluids for being such a cocky little shit when he was the one in the wrong ... on the other, Victor kind of wanted to bind him up and make him sorry in other ways. It was that smile, deliciously bratty and just asking for trouble. It was becoming more and more obvious that he’d been neglecting his own needs with all of this moving and settling in, and it was making him foolish. Victor gestured at Aidan’s body with the dagger. “I trust you less by the second. Your clothes, then. Take them off and shake them out.”
“You’re joking,” Aidan said with a snort of amusement, but then his eyes widened and his smile melted away as it became clear that Victor was not, in fact, joking. He held Victor’s gaze for a long moment, waiting for him to back down, but the words never came. His eyes ticked to the dagger, a reminder of his transgression, an object that he’d cared nothing about twenty minutes ago that he now felt determined to possess, if just to show he could. But that meant leaving this time empty handed and if he had to prove that fact, then he would. With a huff of annoyance, he unbuttoned his overshirt and dropped it on the ground. The t-shirt beneath it clung to his body, still damp from the curse, and after a second of hesitation he stripped that off too, shaking it out and dropping it in the pile. His jeans sat low on his hips, exposing the top of his boxers, but Aidan didn’t touch them. He held up his hands and turned in a slow circle instead. “Happy?” he asked, raising a brow.
It was impossible not to Look at him, and Victor didn’t feel the slightest guilt about it as the thief half-stripped in front of him. He’d come into Victor’s domain, after all, and he could’ve said no, but he didn’t. Aidan had a nice body, lean but strong looking, and he liked the slightly trashy way his jeans showed his underwear. The pockets were turned out, but that wasn’t a guarantee of innocence, was it? The jeans weren’t skin tight, what if he had something tucked away under the denim? Or something small stuffed into a sock? It seemed like a reasonable precaution, and Victor had been in his boxers this whole time, so fair was fair, right? “Jeans too,” he said, his gaze returning to Aidan’s. After a beat he quietly added, “You’re lucky you’re not on the ground coughing up gallons of seawater right now.” He was being generous, and Aidan would do well to cooperate.
Defiance flared in Aidan’s eyes and his willingness to comply dimmed at the threat. He’d been respectful since realizing his mistake and hadn’t even attempted to fight for escape. He was obeying the request in an attempt to right the wrong, but if Victor thought making him strip would leave him completely vulnerable, then he was wrong. “As if I’d sit here and drown without frying you,” Aidan muttered as his fingers fiddled with his fly. There was water in the air tonight, but also electricity, and the thunder and lightning serving as a reminder. Sucking the air out of someone’s lungs took time, but one good, hard shock took a second. “Remember that,” he added, then pushed his jeans down over his hips, letting them fall to the floor. Aidan tended to wear things over-sized, so they came off easily, but he still had to toe off his shoes to pick them up and shake them upside-down. He was cold in just his boxers and socks and his skin prickled at being so exposed, suddenly aware of Victor’s eyes on him. It turned something deep in his gut and the goosebumps intensified. If he wanted to get out of there with his dignity intact, he needed to hold on to his anger, not… whatever that was.
The shift in Aidan’s attitude only made Victor’s insides feel hotter, even the threat of electrocution. He didn’t even know if he would actually have the upper hand if it came down to a magical battle, Aidan was an O’Reilly, but every witch’s power and skill varied, so who knew what he could do. Somehow the danger just made this more enjoyable, especially since Aidan complied with the request anyway, like a grumbly brat. Victor managed not to smile, as that would probably piss Aidan off even more, but it was a close thing. He was satisfied now that Aidan wasn't hiding anything that didn’t belong to him, but Victor still took an extra moment or two to eye him up and down. He was pretty, and he did look vulnerable in a way that begged for Victor’s hands on that goosebumped skin, caressing and smacking here and there to warm it up ... fuck, this needed to end before he crossed further into creepy territory. Victor straightened his back a bit and nodded, his gaze ticking away. “Fine. Get dressed and get out,” he said, clipped but low.
Aidan wasn’t used to being assessed in such a manner. He’d never been body conscious, but he’d also never been looked over in wet underwear. His pulse raced and he crossed his arms over his chest, unusually glad for what the chill did for him in this instance. If he hadn’t been so cold… He wasn’t even going to think about that, or else he’d somehow bring it into fruition. He waited until Victor was satisfied with his eyeful, then reached for his jeans, pulling them on with an intensity that he hoped was read as frustration. Because he was frustrated. Very much. Though not for the right reasons. The rest of his clothes followed quickly, though it felt like it took forever with Victor watching him. Finally dressed, Aidan faced Victor, unsure of what to say. Nothing fit—not ‘thank you’ or ‘see ya’ or even ‘have a good night’—so Aidan just gave him a nod before turning towards the door. It left him feeling unsettled, like the encounter was unfinished, but there was nothing more to say.
Victor would have accepted an apology instead of any well-wishes, but the silent nod was good enough. He just wanted Aidan out of his house now, because parts of him wanted him to stay in a way that was pure fantasy, and it was unsettling on his end too. This was not the set up to a porn, his property and privacy had been violated, and Aidan was an intruder. Victor tried to keep that in the forefront of his mind as he followed Aidan a few more steps toward the door. As promised, there was no damage to be seen, but that didn’t make him feel much better. He let Aidan open the door for himself, only stepping up to shut it once Aidan was outside again. The storm was still raging, but that wasn’t his problem. After giving the air witch one more long hard look, Victor shut the basement door without another word and locked it once again. He leaned one bare shoulder against the frame. He felt too wired and riled up to go straight back to bed, but maybe that was just as well since he had wards to reset.
Aidan knew he probably should have apologized, but the sincerity wouldn’t be there. He should’ve also said it wouldn’t happen again, but that felt like an outright lie. It would’ve been true initially, when he’d been caught in deadly trap and unsure of who he was dealing with, but now that he’d met Victor, he knew he’d be back, if for no other reason than to prove to himself he could steal the dagger. It would take some time to figure out the curse he’d been under, some practice with the counter curse, and a solid plan for what he wanted, but there was little that could stop him now that he’d become fixated. They’d already established that Victor wasn’t going to kill him over it, so there was nothing holding him back from trying again.