Who: David Ryan & Finley Melville What: Finley drops in on David after a REDO show. Where: A venue in Los Angeles, CA When: Saturday night, November 14th 2015 Warnings: Solid porn rating (though not in this first chunk). This has been a long time coming (lol). Status: Incomplete!
The show had been over for half an hour. The rest of the band had already come and gone from the dressing room area, but David had stayed behind while everyone else had gone out to start enjoying the usual backstage after parties. Usually, David would have been out there enjoying them with his bandmates, but tonight, he wasn’t really in a partying mood. Hadn’t been the night before either, or all week, really. Not since Halloween, or the day after, and definitely not since earlier this week, when he’d confronted Finley. After yelling at each other, both in public and inside Finley’s apartment, after kissing Finley, David had gotten out of that apartment as fast as he could. Finley hadn’t stopped him, so David had run right out the door, slamming it behind him and not stopping once in his stride as he got down to the street, walking in a confused daze for at least ten or fifteen minutes before he realized he didn’t know where he was going. Managing to get enough of a grip on himself, David had hailed a cab to the Los Angeles Agency and took the MTN back to his car to make the drive back to the bunker, where he’d stormed into his room and proceeded to freak out at the empty space until he eventually caved and told Hannah everything. Well, everything about the lies that Finley had fed them. He conveniently left out the part about how they’d ended up making out for a good few minutes.
Of course, they’d played ‘Devil You Know’, that night. The song David wrote was starting to become a fan favorite, and he was really starting to resent it now. When he’d written it, his original intention had been to insult and annoy, but that didn’t end up being the message he’d sent - to Finley, or anyone else, for that matter. Everyone thought something was going on between them, including his own bandmates, and the results of his confrontation with Finley on Tuesday had at least proven one thing. They were all right. David wasn’t even that good of a liar, but apparently he’d gotten pretty good at lying to himself, and now it was so obvious it was like a constant smack in the face. The song he wrote about him, the sixty plus text messages they traded back and forth talking about absolutely nothing, the outrageous flirting, it was all part of a game that David had only been half aware he was playing. Now he was fully aware. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Finley had kissed him, the way David had kissed him back. It wasn’t exactly a personal crisis, David wasn’t so insecure in his ‘heteronormativity’ that the idea of kissing a guy freaked him out, but it was Finley. He’d kissed Finley like that, and there was no taking that back. What freaked him out was that he didn’t want to.
Which is why he’d been avoiding Finley like the plague, after that day. No calls, no texts. Nothing. He knew that if Finley wanted to, the demon could more or less appear anywhere that David was, anytime he wanted, but he hadn’t yet. David could only hope that meant Finley was trying to avoid him too. Until David figured out how to get a handle on this situation, he needed to keep his distance, because if the last week had proved anything, it was that Finley was his blind spot. He couldn’t think straight in the other man’s company. At least he didn’t have to pretend everything was fine around Hannah, even if Hannah didn’t know everything about what happened during their confrontation. Things were screwed up enough already, dealing with the aftermath of Hannah dying, and Hannah finding out David had made a deal with Finley to bring her back. Things were already strained, so David didn’t have to pretend like he was okay. He wasn’t. Not by a long shot. He was scared for his sister, he felt like an utter failure because he couldn’t even do something as simple as protecting her, and every time he thought about Finley (which was often, and not something he’d readily admit) he just got more and more confused.
He was still a little sweaty from the show, but David had already splashed some cold water on his face and changed shirts. The anti-possession tattoo on his chest was just mocking him now. What was the point of having it? A demon had already gotten under his skin, and David had pretty much held the door open for him. Logically, David knew that what Finley had done to him wasn’t possession, just your average emotional manipulation, but it made him resent the thing on principle. He still hadn’t told Finley about it, and now he was glad. It wasn’t much, but it was one thing David had purposefully kept from the demon to add to the many secrets Filey had been keeping from him. David could hear the shouts and drunken laughter coming from the other side of the dressing room walls, his desire to go out there less and less, feeling drained and tense at the same time. Shoulders hunched, he braced his hands on the edge of the vanity table next to the untouched beer that Erik had left him, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror as he bowed his head and gave his back a good stretch, taking another few seconds to collect himself before he tried to go out there and pretend like he was having fun with everybody else.
It had been four days since David had kissed Finley—not that Finley had been counting. Really. He’d let David walk (more like bolt) out of his apartment, closed the door after him with only a few minor thoughts of changing his mind and chasing after him. Instead, he’d given David his space, space to cope with having kissed Finley. Having been the one to initiate the kiss, in fact, which was entirely different than kissing back had Finley made the first move. A lot more difficult to deny your own interest, when you’d been the one to lunge across the space remaining between them, to seize another man’s shoulders and crush your lips to his, to kiss as though you were hungry for it, as though it was the only thing that could satisfy you. Finley had, perhaps, played the kiss back in his head, a time or two. Of, if he were being honest (something he preferred to avoid whenever possible, as it was often inconvenient for everyone involved), several times a day, every day since Tuesday, and at least once every night as he laid in his bed alone, realizing all over again exactly how close the two of them had been to that exact spot when their lips had touched for the second time, the first time that they hadn’t had the pretense of a deal in the way to blame for the fact that they knew what it felt like when their lips touched. Yes, he’d thought about it quite a bit. He’d wondered if David was thinking about it, as well, or if he’d tucked himself neatly into denial and chosen not to deal with the reality of what had happened at all.
Four days was enough space, in Finley’s opinion. He’d tried calling once, texting a few times, but when David hadn’t replied he’d left well enough alone. Strange, how… bereft his day had seemed, without text messages from David, or a discussion on the boards that dragged on for far too long before one of them found himself speechless. It had been a point of pride for Finley to be the one to drive David to that point first, even before he’d realized precisely how much he wanted to be driving David crazy in a very different way. When you really thought about it, they’d been working their way toward that kiss for an exceptionally long time. Nearly as long as they’d known each other; as long as they’d been talking without little sister’s supervision, at the very least. He doubted that Hannah would ever know, if David had anything to say about it. Juno, of course, couldn’t hear a word of it; she’d be insufferable, since he knew very well that she’d believed that his intentions toward David had been more than mere teasing from the beginning. He did hate when it turned out that she was right, when he was the one that it put in the wrong. He hated it even more than he hated being wrong, to begin with. No… that kiss could be their little secret. Anything that followed the kiss would be, as well, not that Finley was really counting on it happening any time soon.
He’d begun keeping track of David’s band, of course. It had been only practical; he’d needed to know where he could expect to find David at any time, hadn’t he? Popping up after a show had been the first time that he and David had spent any time together, just the two of them. It seemed only fitting that this, their first meeting after things had… changed… be a mirror of that. Finley did enjoy a good bit of symbolism, now and then, even if he had to be the one to set it up in the first place. It didn’t ruin the effect, just because it was engineered. He’d waited until after the show, until he could be sure that David would be alone in his dressing room (unless he’d chosen to take some groupie back with him, to reassert his heterosexuality, and the thought twisted unpleasantly in Finley’s stomach). He had that much courtesy, at least, to not make David uncomfortable in front of his bandmates… though he imagined the video that had surfaced on YouTube of the two of them fighting in the middle of Starbucks had done a good enough job of that, on its own.
The feeling when Finley saw that David was, in fact, alone when he popped up wasn’t relief. Really. He stared at David’s back, a sudden sense memory of David’s lips on his an unexpected distraction for what he’d really come there for, which was… hell if he knew what, exactly, he intended to accomplish. To persuade David that they needed to be keeping company if he was going to fulfill the terms of the contract? So that David didn’t have the chance to convince himself that the kiss was something that hadn’t really happened, or come up with some sort of explanation for how it was really all Finley’s fault? He cleared his throat, a small noise to announce his presence before he spoke. “I see how you rock stars are. Kiss a girl, then never call? I’ll have you know you aren’t the only lady in the room. I expect better. Flowers, even.” He’d make a joke of it, of course he would. That didn’t mean that he was entirely pleased with the idea of David trying to pretend that they’d never kissed.
As soon as David heard the bit of throat clearing, he knew it was Finley. Knew it before he even looked up to catch Finley’s reflection in the mirror in front of him. It was only a matter of time before he tracked David down, after all, and honestly, David was almost surprised it had taken him this long. They both knew David had been ignoring Finley’s calls and texts on purpose, it wasn’t that he hadn’t been getting them, but still it had taken Finley four days to drop in on him. Why? David could hardly believe it was because the demon was actually doing something nice like trying to give David some space, but weirder things had happened. Like him kissing Finley in the other man’s apartment. On the list of things David had never pictured himself doing, kissing any guy was one of them, but Finley? He couldn’t even shift the blame, because no matter how you looked at it, shockingly, David had been the one to make the first move.
“Didn’t figure you for a flowers kind of guy. You high maintenance types always want the grand gestures.” He’d meant it to sound like a joke, like he was participating in the sort of light ribbing that they usually did when they were trading blows. That was obviously Finley’s intent with his opening line, but in the moment David couldn’t bring himself to even make it sound like he was joking with him, all the usual amusement in his voice when exchanging barbs with the other man replaced by something a lot more grim and matter a fact. Definitely out of character for the younger Winchester. Only somewhat reluctantly, David finally straightened up and turned around to face him, and the moment his gaze was fully fixed on Finley’s familiar form, it all immediately came rushing back to him. The hot and heavy kisses, Finley’s tongue in his mouth, the hard and desperate way they’d clung to each other. The memories of that kiss hit him like a ton of bricks, so fast that David felt a little overwhelmed in Finley’s presence, almost dizzy.
It wasn’t fair that just the sight of Finley suddenly had his insides twisting into not so unpleasant knots, but he tried to ignore it. He could almost feel the pressure of Finley’s lips against his, and just the thought made him fidget a little. He was still pissed at Finley for lying to him, for letting him get as close as David had in the process, so it made him even more frustrated that all his anger did nothing to diminish how badly he wanted to kiss Finley again the minute he turned around and got a good look at him. In Finley’s apartment, David had kissed him mostly out of a long, buried desire that had been slowly building for months, and without his knowing until recently, but he also couldn’t deny that it had been the aftermath of Finley’s confessions that also ultimately drove him over the edge. The idea that for once, Finley was telling him the truth, had temporarily pushed what was left of his doubts aside. That brief moment of honesty, at least as he perceived it, was enough to make David forget himself with Finley entirely.
Maybe David was just being a hypocrite. It wasn’t exactly as big of a lie as say, claiming you were centuries old, but David had still deliberately chosen not to tell Finley when he and Hannah had gotten inked. Why? Probably because there was still a small part of him that had already known it was smarter not to trust him fully, just in case, so could he really fault Finley for having any doubts about him? Despite the way they’d been carrying on for months, they still hardly knew each other, even though it didn’t feel like it. David had a brief moment of internal panic that one of his bandmates might walk in and think something was going on, but then again, any chance of them not thinking something was going on between him and Finley had been pretty much shot to hell once that youtube video of their fight in a Starbucks went viral. Erik had been the one to point it out to him, David had watched it multiple times, and even he couldn’t deny that it looked… well, it looked more intimate than David was actually comfortable with in such a public argument. Pushing that out of his mind for now, David leaned back against the edge of the vanity and tightened his jaw, crossing his arms over his chest and straining to appear as indifferent to the other man as possible. He was also quite obviously failing at it. David couldn’t be indifferent to Finley if his life depended on it. “What do you want?”
Meeting David’s gaze in the mirror shouldn’t have been quite so electrifying as it was. It shouldn’t by any means have made Finley’s breath catch, even the tiniest bit, in his chest. To his own ears, at least, his voice sounded odd. A bit breathless. Airy. “You’ve already written a song for me, haven’t you? As far as grand gestures go, it would be hard to come up with one quite as impressive as all that. I believe you’ve earned a pass, this time, if you’d like to get a hand up my skirt.” Finley really wouldn’t have objected to anywhere David might have put his hands, of course. The problem was getting them there in the first place. He might have overcome decades of heteronormativity to snog him, but it was quite a step from there to feeling him up in the way that Finley would really like him to, if he thought he had any chance of it. His chances, of course, were rather slim, at the moment.
Oh, he could handle that. Finley wasn’t delicate as all that, and he was well aware from his previous acquaintance with David Ryan that blue balls really wouldn’t do any sort of long-lasting harm. If they did, he’d have been suffering far more than he had been, thanks to those damned skinny jeans that David insisted on, and the confirmation that there were times that David didn’t wear anything beneath them at all. As always, when the situation wasn’t dire, the reminder had Finley wondering if this was one of those times that he’d decided to forego any sort of underwear. Oh, he knew how unlikely it was, but Finley supposed it was useless to try to pretend that he didn’t spend far more time than was healthy thinking about certain parts of David that were covered in skin-tight denim. He was, unfortunately, no better than the most desperate fangirl, when it came to fantasies about a certain rock star. Something he was, of course, far more likely to joke about than he was to seriously confess to it. Had he done that, he had no doubt whatsoever that David wouldn’t have stuck around long enough for kissing to be a possibility, much less a reality.
Even being in the same room was… distracting. Finley’s gaze kept drifting to David’s lips, and it was nearly impossible to resist the urge to lick his own, as though some phantom taste of David would still linger there, four days later. It seemed as though it should have. He could still feel his lips, if he close his eyes and let his mind drift. It seemed unfair that he could remember what it should feel like, but be unable to actually feel it, to actually taste him. It hadn’t been a short kiss by any standard, but it hadn’t been nearly long enough for Finley to get his fill of the younger man. It made his gut clench, the thought of David’s lips against his, David’s chest pressed against his. He knew that David was thinking, remembering, the same thing. There was no possibility that he wasn’t, no possibility that it hadn’t affected him as deeply as it had Finley. That sort of itch… it would be cruel for Finley to be the only one feeling it, the only one who had been thrown so far off his stride by something as simple, as soft, as a pair of lips.
That was what made David’s pretense at indifference frustrating. Oh, Finley knew it wasn’t real. David wasn’t all that difficult to read, if you knew him well enough. Somehow, Finley had come to know him well enough to realize when he was truly indifferent, or when he was pretending to cover how deeply affected he had been. Yes, Finley knew that the indifference wasn’t real, but he still hated the sight of it. Hated everything about the thought that David thought he could get away with pretending to be indifferent to him. As much as he’d thought he’d allow David to find whatever sort of solid ground he needed to be able to continue their business arrangement, Finley was suddenly overwhelmed by the irresistible need to prove to both of them how deeply he’d burrowed under Finley’s skin. “We sealed a deal, didn’t we? I’m here to deliver my part of the bargain.” It was possible, he supposed, that David would be able to resist pulling at that thread. Possible… but entirely unlikely.
David had felt that electricity too, when their eyes met in the mirror, and he still felt it when he turned around. It was that kind of electrifying feeling that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, goosebumps covering your exposed skin. Distracting didn’t even cover it, and he resented this connection they seemed to have, he resented the power it seemed to have over him, enough that he couldn’t even be properly mad at the demon in front of him without also focusing on the way his lips moved when he spoke. David thought he noticed Finley’s gaze drifting in the direction of his mouth as well, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.
He should have just been angry. He was still angry, but that anger kept getting clouded and confused with everything else that kept running through his head in Finley’s presence. Because of Finley, his sister knew about the deal they’d made, and David was still trying to pick up the pieces from that. Even if he hadn’t actually leaked the picture, like Finley kept insisting, he’d still taken the damn picture in the first place. Not exactly surprising, considering that used to be Crowley’s method once, at least with Bobby, but that wasn’t something David or Dean really wanted to entertain. In truth, if it hadn’t gotten leaked, David might not have cared that he’d taken the picture of them kissing. He might have even found it funny, in another situation. But he couldn’t find the humor in it, not when there had been so much at stake.
“You’re joking, right?” David laughed, then, the laugh sounding hollow in his throat as he pushed himself off the edge of the table to stand up straight and uncross his arms, letting them fall loosely to his sides. He’d ignored the quip about putting his hand on Finley entirely, but now David couldn’t immediately stop thinking about putting his hands everywhere on him. It was no secret that Finley was an attractive man, but whereas before he might have thought that and not given the thought much weight, now David couldn’t think that and stop his mind from drifting to… other things. It had been clear since the kiss they’d shared four days ago, and David’s completely physical reaction to it. First time being aroused by a guy, and it wasn’t just because it had been one hell of a kiss, though it certainly had been that. Maybe his best ever. David swallowed, steeling himself with what little resolve he had left, which admittedly wasn’t much.
“Your part of the bargain is a little null and void now, don’t you think? Hannah knows about the deal we made. So unless you’re looking for a do-over…” David stopped, realizing too late what he was unintentionally insinuating and momentarily panicked, staring at Finley for maybe a beat too long while making a sincere attempt to focus on his whole face instead of just his mouth, and forget what he now knew that mouth was capable of when pressed firmly against his. It should bother him more that Finley had continuously lied to his face and now held a crossroads contract over his head, shouldn’t it? It should really bother him more than it actually did.
Really, could David be any thicker about it? Finley nearly rolled his eyes, but caught himself before he could complete the action. “I think you’ll find that the contract is only void if I reveal the deal to her personally.” He’d put that in there to save himself, of course. For all he’d known, David could have cracked and informed her, and if he’d done so, that would have broken the contract without so much as a word to or from Finley. Since Hannah was still alive and well, and David’s soul was still safely tucked away inside him, the contract was obviously still valid. It was simple, really. “I’d pull up a copy of it and show you the fine print, but I’m still working on syncing the cloud storage with my new phone.” A whole bloody week, and he still wasn’t entirely back on track after the disaster of being hacked. That was an irritation for another time, however, not when he was face to face with David.
He had another sort of irritation in mind, for the night. Though he imagined David would far prefer Finley stay safely on the other side of the room, he stepped a little closer, casual. “Not the kiss I’m talking about, though, darling.” No, Finley wasn’t going to leave it at something as simple, as excusable, as the kiss that had sealed their contract, anymore. Not when he wanted a reaction from David quite so badly. He was entirely too conscious of his own lips, but he used that to his advantage, allowing them to part invitingly, flicking his tongue over them to moisten them. David would recall what that tongue had felt like on his own lip, Finley imagined, seeing it.
“I’m afraid we didn’t discuss the terms clearly, but I believe I know exactly what it was that you wanted out of that deal.” It wasn’t as though Finley really thought David had intended it to seal some sort of deal… but wasn’t a kiss always a contract, really? A negotiation, of whether there was more to come or not. A promise, perhaps, if it was done correctly. That kiss had been done correctly, if he did say so himself, and he wasn’t without the experience to say that for certain. There had been all sorts of promises in that kiss, even if neither of them had been thinking clearly enough to read into them, at the time. Finley had certainly thought about them, later, though, thought about them and cursed that all that potential had been thwarted.
That was the do-over that Finley was interested in, though he imagined David would turn tail and run if he thought Finley was actually entirely serious about it. “No one kisses like that unless he wants something, David. Would you prefer to tell me what it is that you want, or should I go ahead and tell you what you want, instead?” It was very likely that Finley knew far more about what David wanted than the man himself did, after all. It had been an impulsive reaction, after all. Not something that David had thought out at all, but instead something that he couldn’t hold back, that he wanted too badly to restrain. Finley chose not to reflect on his own unrestrained reaction, of course. For the best, not to think about how easily he could be caught in his own trap.
“Are we back to that already?” David was, of course, referring to being called ‘darling’, and Finley’s entire Crowley-esque charade that he’d been carrying on for months. It didn’t infuriate him now, like it had when Finley had lapsed back into that speech during their very public confrontation and David had just started shouting more, but it did strike a small chord. For someone who very frequently never actually knew where he stood with the demon in front of him, he was even more uncertain than ever, and that was partially his fault for not keeping his hands to himself. David still wasn’t exactly sure what had gotten into him, except that he was feeling the same thing now as he was then, when alone and face-to-face with Finley. There was a painful gnawing in his chest that seemed to almost be screaming for him to reach out and touch him again. David was stubbornly ignoring what Finley was actually referencing to in the conversation, in favor of falling back on something he could still semi-wrap his head around.
Of course, there was no way he could miss how Finley’s lips parted slightly and his tongue slid out over his bottom lip, not with the entirely too close way David was watching him. The act made something warm jolt sharply in the pit of his stomach, his own lips very nearly parting in answer before he checked himself. David’s throat felt uncharacteristically dry, and he fought the urge to take a step backwards when Finley moved a little closer. Not because he wanted to get farther away from Finley, quite the opposite in fact, which is why he was so desperate to keep some distance between them. He’d never wanted to be closer to anyone so badly, and that was fucking terrifying, how Finley could just continue to draw him in like a magnet, even after everything. After everything, David still felt that undeniable connection, that irrational need to be where Finley was. It didn’t help, knowing a little of what it was like to touch Finley too. His body twitched, like he might try to move, but David sternly forced himself to stay still. Besides, there was nowhere for him to go, except back up against the vanity behind him.
“God, you’re a regular Casanova. Do you talk about kissing like they’re contracts with everyone? That’s just what every guy wants to hear.” He was being obviously defensive, stalling for time, but David didn’t know what else to do. He was out of his depth here, and they both knew it. David swallowed, unable to keep his face a mask under Finley’s near penetrating gaze, resenting Finley a little for being that presumptuous, even if he was also right. He did want something. He wanted something from Finley, and he could keep pretending that he didn’t, but Finley didn’t seem to be buying his act anymore than David was buying the one Finley had been caught in. Still, David was just stubborn and bullheaded enough to stand his ground and not admit defeat just yet, even after being called on it. He met Finley’s gaze heavily, forcing his eyes to stay trained on Finley’s as his jaw briefly tightened. “... You don’t know what I want.”
It took a moment, actually, for Finley to realize what David was actually talking about. Even when he wasn’t using Crowley’s accent, the patterns of speech had become far more ingrained than he realized, on a moment to moment basis. Why would he realize it? It wasn’t as though anyone had ever stuck around to listen to him talk enough to clue in on it, at least not people that Finley hadn’t paid… or his sister. Talking to Juno was obviously drastically different, though he thought she’d likely become used to the minor Crowley-isms that had slipped into his vocabulary and stuck there. She, more than anyone else he knew, understood putting on a show. Calling David ‘darling’, though, that wasn’t a show. It was habit, he supposed. He hadn’t, at the very least, fallen back into the pattern of using Crowley’s accent… something he was entirely sure would put them right back into the midst of a fight. Not that he had objections to a fight, in general, considering how extraordinarily well it had worked out for him the last time they’d fought, alone together.
Finley tended not to talk about kissing with anyone. The act, yes, but there was never much use in talking about it, with the assignations that he preferred. Most of them were men and women who knew the game, and knew the score. Kisses were for testing the waters, for nonverbal negotiation of who would take the lead, unless you were a teenaged virgin fumbling your way toward an above the shirt fondle that would have you coming in your pants. Finley was far beyond that sort of thing, nor did he had any delusions of romance. That certainly wasn’t what was going on, between himself and David. It was preposterous to even think anything of the sort, regardless of what sort of dance the two of them had been doing. It was all lust, wasn’t it? As much as he insisted that he and David were friends, that was really only to annoy Hannah, and David himself. Whatever it was that was between the two of them, emotions didn’t play a part. They were a demon, for fuck’s sake. They had no need of them, and as no one had shot any human blood into Finley’s veins, he hadn’t found himself… infected. No, it was entirely lust and the fact that they had, for the moment, found one another useless.
The strange feeling in his chest when David had looked at him as though he was the only hope he had left didn’t mean anything.
“Don’t kid yourself, darling.” Yes, the emphasis on the pet name was purely out of spite, this time. If David wasn’t going to give in and come closer, Finley would close the distance on his own. He moved, limbs loose and languid, across the dressing room. It wasn’t exactly a large room, not much room between them to begin with, but he made a slow, predatory show of every step, anyhow. “What you want is no mystery. You want me to do it again.” It was the least of what David wanted, really, but it was a place to start. “You want to see if it was only a moment of insanity, or if it would drive you just as crazy if I were to cover your mouth with mine again right this second.” He wasn’t quite close enough to do it, not quite close enough to touch. Not yet.
It was still really weird to hear Finley’s voice in his own accent. At least, David assumed it was really his own accent. For all he knew Finley could be lying about that one too, but somehow he doubted it. Why bother, at this point? It was still strange, even more so to hear one of Finley’s go-to ‘endearments’ uttered in his own voice, instead of the one he used to mimic Crowley’s, but David couldn’t deny that he actually liked hearing it this way a little. Almost like he was somehow getting another glimpse of the real Finley, despite a New England accent not telling him very much about the other man aside from the region in which he was from originally. He’d just spent so long under the impression that Finley Melville would remain something of a mystery to him, that any slight hint of something even remotely resembling normal was something he seemed to immediately latch onto. It was a slippery, dangerous slope, the desire to know Finley beyond something professional and impersonal, and David knew it.
“Anyone ever tell you, you think a lot of yourself?” This… thing they had between them, whatever the hell it was, it’d already started to fester to the point that David knew how much it was clouding his judgement, in everything. He should hate Finley, or at the very least harbor a healthy resentment for him, but he couldn’t. Like he’d said to himself and to others so many times before, it was complicated. He couldn’t even blame that particular handicap all on Dean anymore, for as much as Dean’s just as peculiar relationship with Crowley had definitely helped to initially confuse things for the younger Winchester with Finley, but at this point, he couldn’t say it was all Dean that made David so willing to trust Finley. No, after all these months, it was an undeniable fact that Finley Melville was the one who had burrowed his way under David’s skin, not Crowley. It was Finley that David ultimately had a difficult time seeing objectively. Even when the demon was doing his very best to piss David the hell off. Like right now, for example.
As Finley began his slow, near provocative advance, David started to feel cornered, trapped in a way that should have made him panic, but he didn’t. Instead, he had to actually fight against the instinctual urge to move forward himself, and meet Finley in the middle. David constantly and perpetually felt pulled towards Finley, all the time, but especially in this moment, which made him fight even harder against it. David was nothing if not stubborn, and despite how much a huge part of him wanted to acknowledge Finley’s infuriating (but true) accusations by grabbing his shoulders and kissing him again like he had before, he fought against it. He didn’t want to give Finley the satisfaction of being right, even if they both already knew that he was.
“You’re the one who’s insane. I was just trying to shut you up.” It was a blatant lie, one that Finley was unlikely to believe, but David wasn’t trying to convince either of them. He didn’t have the upper hand here, he knew that, so he was lashing out with everything he had left. It wasn’t much, but if he knew Finley, the implication still might strike a nerve, true or not. For a demon like Finley, sometimes it all came down to a matter of pride. The frustrating part was, Finley was still right. David wanted to know if it’d just been a fluke, or something more. His eyes narrowed, feeling rooted to the spot while watching Finley intently as he moved closer and David’s gaze fell more heavily onto the other man’s mouth as Finley made mention of it, heartbeat picking up speed in his chest and swallowing hard. He didn’t feel any more convincing than he sounded when he spoke up again, but he couldn’t very well stay silent. “It didn’t mean anything...”
It was obvious that David was trying to provoke him. Clear as crystal, really, but it still worked beautifully. Finley very nearly scowled at David’s assertion that it had been nothing but an attempt at silencing him; it wasn’t as though Finley hadn’t employed that method himself, a time or two, and he knew the difference. A man didn’t kiss like that when all he wanted was to shut you up. Finley, at least, didn’t. He might have applied all his expertise to it, but it would have lacked a certain fire. If David thought that saying there was nothing to the kiss would deter Finley, somehow, he really ought to have known better. Finley didn’t back down from a challenge, never had during their spats on the boards, or over text; it was the reason that their conversations often stretched out longer than any reasonable conversation between two business partners should. Letting David get the last word was entirely unacceptable.
If Finley had reached out, he’d have been hard pressed to avoid touching David, but he didn’t reach out. No, he kept his hands to himself, tucking them into his pants pockets. Seizing David, kissing him again, that would prove beyond a doubt that David wanted what Finley was offering as much as Finley had claimed. His fingers twitched in the concealment of his pockets at the thought. Finley wanted to draw him in, to kiss him, to show them both that David really was a horrible liar. If he did, though, David could put the blame for it squarely on Finley. What Finley really wanted was for David to ask for it. He’d never denied that he was a bit of a control freak, and this… this entanglement with David, it had already robbed him of more control than he’d prefer to acknowledge, particularly to David himself. He thought he was allowed the opportunity to seize some sort of control back while he could, and if that meant denying himself something he wanted for a little while, he’d do it. Did that mean he was growing as a person? What a horrifying thought…
He didn’t count on denying himself long, though, not when the tension between them was nearly palpable. They might not have been close enough to touch, but Finley’s body reacted as though they were, every inch of him sensitive to David’s warm body just inches away. Surely David had to feel it, too, though he might actually be dense enough not to realize what it meant, precisely. Given his reactions during their last kiss, their first real kiss that wasn’t for a deal, Finley very much doubted that. David’s reactions had been abundantly clear, and there were certain physical reactions that you really couldn’t deny, when it came to admitting what got you off… though they of course hadn’t gotten to that point, much to the disappointment of Finley’s own certain physical reaction, at the time. He might have known how very complicated entangling himself with David Ryan was, but his penis hadn’t gotten that message.
“Are you certain? Because… I don’t think someone who was just trying to shut me up would have trembled like that, David.” Finley smirked, though his own reactions had been just as desperate, at the time. His own need. “And you opened for me so sweetly. Not to mention those noises you made when our tongues touched. Were you imagining mine on your cock, then?” If he hadn’t been then, Finley would guarantee that David was thinking about it now that he’d brought it up. “I’ve been told that I’m quite gifted with my tongue. Pity that you decided not to stick around long enough for me to give a demonstration, at the time. I could be persuaded to open the offer up again, if you ask nicely.”
It was obvious that Finley knew as well as David did just how full of shit the hunter was. There was maybe a span of two seconds where he felt some kind of victory, where David thought he might have actually rubbed Finley the wrong way with his remark about it not meaning anything. It didn’t last, though, it never did with Finley. Even when David managed to get the last word, he never really won in their little games. No matter what, Finley always ended up being right, and this time was definitely no exception. David resented him for being right, but he couldn’t exactly deny it. Or at least, when he initially opened his mouth to try and deny it, nothing came out, because David had no viable defense. He knew it, and Finley clearly knew it too.
Of course David was thinking about it now. His brain may not have made that leap before, in the heat of their last moment together, but he was still a guy. Once Finley made reference to his tongue being anywhere on David, but specifically on his dick, David couldn’t seem to stop picturing it. Swallowing and trying to resist the temptation to physically shake the images from his mind, David gritted his teeth against the rising feelings of intense indignation in his chest. Who did Finley think he was, anyway? Telling David what he wanted, like he was the authority on what went on inside David’s head, inside his heart. How could he possibly know what David wanted, when David was still in the midst of trying to work that out for himself?
It was hard to concentrate, even on his anger, with Finley so close to him now. Close enough that David thought he could practically feel the other man’s body heat radiating off him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand at more attention, almost provoking a shiver, but David bit that physical impulse back hard. He didn’t want to give Finley the satisfaction, after making mention of how he’d trembled in their earlier kiss. David remembered, clear as day, how the way Finley had kissed him, how they’d kissed each other, had struck something hard in David’s very core. He’d never been kissed like that before, kissed so thoroughly that he completely lost himself in it, that he was no longer in control of his own body. The way Finley had kissed him, the noises that Finley had made, it was like he’d just been waiting for David to cross that line between them, and now that knowledge made David’s insides feel a little bit like jelly.
Attempting to maintain some semblance of control here, David’s eyes narrowed, and he finally gave in a little to their close proximity. Not wanting to be the one shrinking away, the one backing down, David moved away from the edge of the vanity table completely and stepped into Finley’s personal space again, getting right in his face. Much like he had four days ago in that Starbucks, except this time it wasn’t aggressive, it was just plain stubborn. If Finley was going to stand there and make these accusations about him, then David wasn’t going to just lie down and take it. At least, not without a fight. “What makes you think I would ask nicely. Or at all.”