Gargoyles: Hanging by a Thread
Gargoyles - Hanging by a Thread
By Nickylion
Warning: The following story contains acts of a homosexual nature. If this is not your cup of tea, please do not read any further.
Brooklyn, Lexington, Goliath, Elisa, and the Gargoyles Crew are copyright Disney, not me. I just write smut of them doing awful naughty things.
***
New York was a city known for many things. It was known for its lost and disposed, its artists and its immigrants. Those without hope, without dreams came here to lose themselves, or perhaps, to find themselves anew. It was also known for skyscrapers, moguls and billionaires, which is of some import to this tale, because it is those very billionaires and one of those very towers that set into motion a series of events that would make the city known for one more thing...
New York would become a city known for its protectors.
***
"Stop! Thief!"
The words would have rang out in any other city. Perhaps in some other city, someone might have actually stopped the lively young man sprinting down the sidewalks, but here the hustle and bustle of the city made such occurences far too common, especially in the evening hours. Everyone was too busy with their work or their own lives to bother sticking a hand (or foot) out to stop the young man who sprinted down the sidewalks and into an alley a block away from his accuser. Panting the thief ducked behind a dumpster and began to rummage through the woman's purse. Some cash, couple of credit cards, not a bad score. The thief held the purse out over the dumpster, about to drop it when something large red and heavy came down upon the lid, slamming it shut and making a very satisfying crunch on the thief's wrist. The thief's world went red with pain and he screamed, falling to his knees and pulling with all that remained of his strength. He looked up to see what had crushed his wrist and met a pair of glowing white eyes.
"I don't like thieves," the voice came from behind the eyes, "you're going to go give back what you stole, and say you're sorry." The eyes drew closer, allowing the thief to see the monstrous beak-like muzzle, demon-red skin and small horns in the dim alley-light, "Or I'm going to break more than just a wrist. Got me punk?"
If the punk could have said anything at that moment, it might have been a miracle of biblical proportions. Instead he nodded dumbly, wincing at the dull throb beginning to emanate from within the dumpster. The monster must have noticed the nodding, because in a sudden gust of wind and with a push of its powerful legs it was a good twenty feet above him. The would-be thief lurched backwards, falling into a collection of trash cans as his hand suddenly sprung free from the dumpster. Thankfully for the thief his hand still held the purse.
"I'll be watching, punk." The monstrous figure was gone from sight. That didn't stop the thief from shaking and hastily stuffing the cash and cards back into the purse, and then hurry his way out of the alley and back the way he came.
Brooklyn followed the thief for another block, watched him shakingly hand the purse back to the lady he stole it from. He jumped off, unfurling his wings and catching an updraft up to another nearby rooftop. He slunk up to the edge of the roof and resumed his post, gazing out over the city street that was his protectorate for the night.
"That was a little excessive, don't you think, Brooklyn?" The reddish gargoyle didn't have to turn his head to know that Angela had landed gracefully upon the rooftop a few feet away.
"Nah, he deserved it, stealing from an old lady like that," Brooklyn muttered, "and besides, what do you care about what I do anyways?" A hint of anger crept into his voice.
"Still upset that I chose Broadway over you?" Brooklyn winced.
He finally turned to the other gargoyle, "I'm sorry Angela, I didn't mean it like that." He looked back at the street below him, then back at her, "I'm just lonely, that's all." The female gargoyle put a caring hand upon his shoulder as Brooklyn gestured at the street, "Look at all these people, all of them have friends, acquaintances, companions....lovers. You have Broadway, Lex has 'Gargoylefan2099,'" Angela's eye ridges perked up. Brooklyn saw her quizzical look and chuckled, "Don't ask, I don't know...something to do with the internet I think. And of course, Goliath has Elisa. Some days I just don't know what I have to look forward to."
Angela nodded somberly and pulled Brooklyn into a gentle, friendly hug, "We are here for you, Brooklyn," she whispered to him, "and don't forget, there's always my rookery kin on Avalon. And there are gargoyles in Japan, and in South America, even England too. Maybe you could visit one of those places."
Brooklyn was about to nod, about to say something when gunshots rang out over the city, followed by a strangled scream of terror. The two gargoyles were in the air and gliding towards the sound before they could think. Their eyes spied a trio of men on a nearby rooftop. One large and oafish man waved a hand pointedly back and forth, unsteady on his feet while another lay on the ground clutching a growing stain of red on one arm. The third and youngest of the three backed slowly away from the bleeding man, unaware that he was edging dangerously close to the edge of the building.
"Gun," was all Brooklyn needed to say. Angela swerved off, rounding an updraft and picking up speed. As the man leveled his weapon at the youngest of the humans Angela became a grey blur, slamming into him with both hands. The impact threw the man down onto the ground, sending the gun flying towards one side of the roof. It landed with a rough scrapping clatter, discharging a shot at the same time. The man on the edge jumped backwards, aware too late that he he just humped off of the edge of a building. He screamed again as he began to fall to what certainly would be his death.
Or it would have been had a red blur of claws and leathery wings not intercepted his falling form with all the grace of a dancer.
"Hold on," Brooklyn grunted from the weight of the young man now in his arms and followed his glide down to a neighboring building and began to climb back up again. With another soft grunt he pulled himself up onto the roof and gently lowered his rescuee down to the rooftop. The young man was nineteen, perhaps twenty years old, waifish but not too thin, with waivy shoulder length brown hair. Brooklyn waited for the inevitable scream of terror from the man when he realized what had saved him. He looked down into the human's big blue eyes, sighed and looked over towards Angela to make sure that she had the other one nicely subdued. Sure enough, she had just finished bending a metal rebar around the gun wielder.
"Thank you," the words shocked Brooklyn more than any Xanatos-scheme, any Quarryman trap, any act of violence ever could have. He turned just in time to be further awestruck when the young man rushed forward and pulled him into a hug, "I would have died if not for you." Not knowing what really to do, the gargoyle simply stood there until the man pulled away.
"What happened to put you up on a roof at gunpoint?"
The young man winced, "It was my father," he said softly, "he found out about something I am, and, and....my friend tried to help me, tried to talk to my dad." Tears started to form in his eyes, "B-but the bastard just shot him!" He looked over at the Angela as she worked to stem the bleeding from the wound, "I-is he gonna be okay?"
Brooklyn found himself meeting Angela's eyes with a hope he didn't know he had within him, and breathing a sigh of relief when she nodded, "Looks like just a flesh wound," she called out, "and I hear sirens already!" She finished with a makeshift bandage as Brooklyn swept his save-ee off his feet and made a short glide to join her on the rooftop. She motioned for the other human to join her next to his friend, "Just hold it here and keep the pressure. The sirens are close now, and I've already let a friend of ours know what happened here."
The youth nodded and replaced her hands with his own on his friend's chest. Angela rose and turned to Brooklyn, "We should go."
Brooklyn nodded and she walked to the edge of the rooftop.
The maroon gargoyle turned and looked at the youth he'd saved, "What did he find out?" His curiosity piqued, "What could a son do that would cause a father to try and kill him?"
The young man winced, "I'm a dancer....at a gay club in the village."
Brooklyn cocked his head slightly, "Gay? What is --"
"Brooklyn!" Angela was tapping her footclaw angrily now, "We need to get going. Now." Her foot made a pointedly time crunch into the solid stone of the side of the building. It was enough to tear him away from his confusion and join her as they vanished into the darkness of the rooftops and sky above the city.
Neither gargoyle nor human noticed a third pair of eyes watched from the shadow of a nearby rooftop. Eyes that belonged to something different...neither human nor gargoyle.
***
The last rays of the sun's light crossed the threshold of the horizon, heralding the cracking of stones and a chorus of roars that was the awakening of the gargoyles. Brooklyn stretched himself alongside Lexington and Broadway, then hopped off the ledge the trio spent their days. The boy from the night before was fresh in his mind when he padded inside Castle Wyvern, stopping only momentarily to wave as Broadway, Goliath, and Hudson lept to the skies to patrol. Angela headed for the library, Lexington for Xanatos' computer labs. Brooklyn padded into the rec room that had been set up for them. He was just about to settle into one of the large leather chairs when a polite cough got him to turn around.
Owen Burnet waited patiently for the maroon gargoyle to turn around before addressing him, "Brooklyn," his voice crisp and clipped as always, "This was left for you at the front desk." He held out a small envelope of ivory paper with "Brooklyn" written in a flowing cursive on the front. The gargoyle took it and turned it over slowly, noticing the back was sealed with a dot of red wax.
"It appears you have a, shall we say, secret admirer," Xanatos' aide said cooly as Brooklyn broke the seal, "The front monitors don't show anyone dropping it off, and the guard at the front counter doesn't even remember the person who handed it to him. Very odd." The voice hinted at concern, but only barely. Brooklyn nodded silently and began to read:
Brooklyn,
Last night you intervened in a matter of some concern to me, saving the life of one of my employees and his friend.
To show my gratitude, I would like to invite you and a guest to visit my club for a night that you will not soon forget. If you are
interested, please bring this card to the address listed on it. You may use the roof of the building if you please, but are also
welcome to come in the front door.
- Jeanne Pierre, Owner of Club Thread-bare
As Brooklyn finished reading and unfolding the letter a small business card slipped out of the bottom and floated gently to the ground. Curious, he picked it up, and looked it over. The card bore no name, only an address in shimmering silver, almost white silken letters. He looked up at Owen, then back at the letter.
"Owen, tell Goliath and the others that I went out to investigate this with Lexington. If we're not back by morning, have them go to this address," He took a nearby pen and jotted down the club's address. Owen nodded and took the letter, folding it carefully back up and stowing it in his jacket pocket.
***
"So why did I have to come along again?" Lexington groaned. The green and smallest of the gargoyles clearly had not loved the idea of heading out into the city on his patrol night off.
"Cause the letter said I could bring a guest," Brooklyn grinned at him, "and besides, if you don't get out from that computer lab every once in a while, you're gonna end up looking like Broadway." Lexington grunted and stuck his tongue out at the other gargoyle.
The pair alighted on the roof cautiously, surveying it for any traps. Satisfied, Brooklyn leaned over the edge of the roof and looked down at what the front of the club looked like. Surprisingly, the club's front facade rather boring. A simple sign, not even a neon one, bore the letters "Club Thread-Bare" in a simple, nondescript font.
"Ready Lex?" Brooklyn waited for the other gargoyle to nod before he grasped the door to club's roof and pulled it open. Ready for anything, both gargoyles were pleasantly surprised when nothing happened. The stairway in was much like the front of the club, very plain. The gargoyles walked down the stairway where another door greeted them. Opening it let the music of the club spill into the stairway as the pair made their way inside. Just inside the doorway, a human dressed in a rather snappy looking tuxedo stood behind a podium, ready to greet them as if using the roof as a mode of entry was common place.
"You must be Brooklyn, and your guest," said the host to the two gargoyles, "Jeanne Pierre thought you might choose to come tonight. Please come in and follow me." He gestured for the pair to follow him, leading the way through a large foyer, down a wide carpeted staircase, and into the club's main floor. Small round tables surrounded by high-backed chairs surrounded a large raised runway, upon the front of which a single silver pole protruded. The general layout of the room, however, was not what both of the gargoyles noticed first.
Patrons sat at several of the tables closer to the stage. Some were human, but most bore features that Brooklyn had not seen before. Some were especially pale and gaunt, with ears the ended in points, others had fur with the faces of animals that kind of reminded him of Fox's escapade with the Eye of Odin a couple of years back. They all sat at their own tables casually conversing with each other, barely registering the large, loin-cloth-clad gargoyles that had entered their midst. The host guided them over to a rounded booth directly opposite the stage. Brooklyn was about to ask to sit at a table, but noticed that the booths actually had a slot to allow their tails to hang behind them.
"Can I get you two anything to eat or drink while you wait for the show?" A waiter had replaced the host at their table. Short, wafer thin and covered in orange fur, the cat-muzzled creature bore a striking resemblance to some of the mutates that lived down in the Labyrinth. Brooklyn glanced over at Lexington, who returned his gaze and shrugged.
"Uhm, we'll have whatever's on tap." Brooklyn had heard that in a movie once. It seemed to be what the humans said when asked this question. The waiter nodded and vanished, tail swishing about side to side.
The burgundy gargoyle turned back to his olive skinned companion, "What have we gotten ourselves into, Lex?" The smaller gargoyle didn't respond. He was still staring out at the patrons, jaw dropped in awe. Brooklyn waived his hand in front of Lex, who blinked and turned back to him.
"I have no idea. I think the humans call these places night-clubs. It's where they go to dance and get drunk, but I've never seen one for non-humans before...." He trailed off and half mumbled, "I had no idea there were so many nonhumans in New York."
The waiter returned a moment later bearing two large glasses filled with some sort of yellow-orangeish bubbling liquid. Brooklyn took up the glass and sniffed it gently, then took a small sip. The taste reminded the gargoyle of the apple cider that Elisa had brought one year for the holidays, but there was more to it than that. A heavy aftertaste that burned down his throat, yet not in any ways that were unpleasant.
The waiter grinned, a pair of cat-like fangs slipping out, "You like? I figured you for more a hard cider person than beer. Anything else I can get you cuties?" Brooklyn blinked, then shook his head, "Okay, well if you need anything my name's Matt." He winked, the stretched out a paw that traced the outline of one of Lexington's ear ridges. The smaller gargoyle shudder and leaned into the touch unconsciously, "Just wave me over. The show will start soon, so get nice and comfy." The feline giggled now, and turned to walk off.
"Wait...what kind of show?" Lexington's voice was laced with a mix of confusion and...desire?
"Oh, you'll love it cutie, just wait and see." The cat continued walking back to the bar, tending to the rest of his patrons.
"I dunno if I like this Brooklyn," Lexington shifted nervously in his seat, "I mean, this seems too good to be true." The burgundy gargoyle nodded and took another sip of his cider. The burn going down seemed to quiet some of the voices going on in his head. THe confused voices that wondered about the waiter calling them both cute, the boy from the rooftop the day before...Angela's choice.
"Please, do not be alarmed by my employees." The voice was smooth, quiet and yet full of power. It rolled along the gargoyle's flesh as though alive, making them shiver unconsciously, "They are just being friendly, especially to those who've saved the life of their coworkers." Brooklyn glanced up and behind him, realizing with a start that there were legs dangling over the side of the booth between him and Lex.
The man to home those legs belonged was tall, gaunt with long ears and a batlike snout. Leathery wing membranes connected his arms to his body, "Welcome to Club Thread-Bare, where those among New York's...alternative population, might meet, embrace one another in friendship and desire." The man held out a three fingered paw to Brooklyn, who accepted gingerly, "I am Jeanne Pierre, owner of this fine establishment." His other hand gestured out to the stage, in perfect time for the lights to dim and the stage lights to come on, "Welcome to the show."
A pair of humans, both male, strode out onto the stage, each dressed in the same tux's the rest of the staff wore. Softly at first, then building up as the pair bowed to the audience, music began to play. The pair moved, both grasping a single pole in the center of the stage and began to swing about it. Their muscles moved and flexed to the crowd, and somewhere during the first rotation, both overcoats cascaded off in either direction. A gasp went up from the crowd and a moment later the undershirt floated gently off the stage. Underneath the prim and proper attire on eitherr dancer sat a shimmeringly blue and red vests.
Brooklyn sat dumbfounded in the booth, finding himself wanting to both look away and not. Males dancing with other males, it was unreal. It filled his mind with strange thoughts, looking at the pair as they whirled and twirled about the pole, bodies moving in synchronous motion. Their pants were gone now, leaving naught but the most skimpy, revealing underwear, sparkling red and blue in the light.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" The smooth voice of the bat-creature shook Brooklyn out of his reverie, "Stephen and Miguel," he paused and gestured towards the stage again. Both dancers had ceased dancing, one arm grasping the pole, other outstretched to the audience. Both side-by-side, began to change. It was subtle at first, their bodies growing larger, fur beginning to sprout in tufts from their chests. The audience gasped as the pair worked their jaws in unison, groaning and moaning, their jaws lengthened, fur pouring out all over their formerly bare bodies. Both managed to sling their vests away, their growing bodies soon towering over the audience. As the transformation finished, where once was a pair of human dancers now stood a pair of bipedal wolf-men, one stark black, the other snow white, clad only in the barely straining g-string of a thong. The wolves howled in unison, and the music burst back into existence. With the fluid grace of a predator the pair began to stalk back and forth across the stage, basking in the cheering and hollering of the crowd, "My yin and yang."
"Where...where did all these people come from?" Brooklyn blinked, then glanced over at Lexington, who was sipping away at his drink, staring at the bat.
"All over, my dear olive-skinned beauty." The bat's hands had drifted down lightly onto Lexington's shoulders, caressing and touching the other gargoyle, "New York city is the melting pot of america, no? What better place for those of a, shall we say, supernatural bent to come and melt as well."
Lexington nodded and shivered, turning his attention back to the crowd, even as Jeanne-pierre turned towards Brooklyn, "And what of you, Brooklyn?" He lowered his head, yet lifted his eyes so that the burgundy gargoyle could see the bright blue of his irises, "Did you find the show to your liking?"
If the show had enthralled Brooklyn, then the bat's eyes consumed him. The gargoyle found himself staring into them, lost in an infinite sea of shining blue, barely aware of anything else going on around him. There was a soft mist descending over his awareness, wrapping his thoughts and head up in a warm cotton blanket, "Yesss," he managed to whisper, hoping for more of the words from the beautiful bat to fill his mind.
"Ah, excellent. I had hoped that I hadn't been wrong about you, little bi-curious gargoyle." The words were unfamiliar to Brooklyn, and yet he couldn't help but shiver slightly through the fog and slowly leadened eyelids, "I trust you're relaxed enough now to enjoy yourself, yes?" The eyes moved up and down, unblinking, blue, "Ah, excellent...perhaps you should like to see the rest of the club then?"
The eyes were gone. It took a minute for Brooklyn to register that, and a minute more to return to some semblance of consciousness, "I uh," he shook his head, then looked at the drink, "Wow...that's good stuff. Better than the mead they used to serve at the Castle." Lexington nodded, seemingly oblivious to the burgundy gargoyle's movements. The waiter from earlier had his hand slung over the top of the booth and was casually caressing the olive gargoyle's shoulder and head. The two appeared to Brooklyn quite enamored with each other, before the bat's hand, now on the other side of Brooklyn, graced his shoulder.
"This way, my dear." Brooklyn turned back and opened his muzzle when a finger placed alighted on his beak, "No no, no need to interrupt those two. You have my word no harm shall come to anyone here, remember?" Brooklyn nodded. He remembered the note. The details were a bit fuzzy now, but he surely remembered the note. "This way then."
The pair departed the floor, passing the show that was now in full swing; Yin and Yang now striding up and down the aisles, dancing and undulating their wolves bodies, pressing close to each other, closer still to those shoving money into their barely hidden crotches.
The burgundy gargoyle was lead down a flight of stairs, into a long row of what might have been apartments once upon a time. Now they bore stark black doors and were marked with names. Stephen, Miguel, Danny...Brooklyn barely noticed them all floating by as they headed down the hall towards another door, bearing only a star on it. Jeanne-pierre stopped, then opened the door and gestured inside, "Do go on in, make yourself comfortable, my dear." Brooklyn nodded, still a bit in a daze, and plodded inside.
It wasn't until his foot failed to touch floor that any alarm bells rang out.
Brooklyn tumbled forward, wings unfurling and gliding blindly, hands pressed out seeking anything to grasp a hold on. The blind glide came to an abrupt halt when the burgundy gargoyle slammed head first into a springy, sticky material. Confused, he reached up to pull himself off, and gave a cry of rage when the sticky thread moved with him and refused to give. Struggling, he flapped his wings, only managing to further ensnare himself in what he now realized was a giant web.
"Shhhh, no need to struggle, my dear sweet gargoyle." The words whispered down the web, setting Brooklyn's head to bolt upright, "It only makes things worse, I'm afraid." There was a sensation of movement, Brooklyn realized, and soon he found himself hanging in front of the bat, who was now clad only in a matte black vest and pouch similar to the dancers. In his hands he held a small lamp, lights inside dancing erratically about.
Brooklyn gave a feral growl, "You'lll never get away with this!" He tugged again at the bonds, and again was met with stiff resistance, "Why are you doing this to me? What have you done with Lexington? Where am I?"
The bat shook his head, "Oh, I think I shall once you are a bit more cooperative, and to answer your questions: I am doing this to you because I would reward you. I've instructed Danny to instruct young Lexington as to the pleasures of the flesh. And as to where you are...you are in my parlor, little fly." A gaunt paw reached up to stroke Brooklyn's cheek. The young gargoyle growled and snapped, "My my, such manners. Surely you can learn to be better behaved than that, I think."
The paw became a steel grip, forcing the bound gargoyle's head down into the eyes of the bat, the deep twin sapphire orbs. Brooklyn blinked and struggled at first, but as the glow that emanated from them began to grow, his struggles began to cease, "That's it, dear gargoyle. I mean you no harm, just let me in...let me see you."
Brooklyn's eyes were heavy now, heavier than they'd ever been...but he must keep staring, staring into the light. Stay awake and keep looking at the light. The thought came to him suddenly, oddly, as though it were the only thing left in his head, "I..." beak pressed to beak to attempt words. The words failed as the blue enveloped him, pulling him down, deeper and deeper into...
"Sleep." A batlike hand passed down over Brooklyn's eyes and he slept.
***
The snapping of fingers awakened Brooklyn to a dimly lit room, "Where?" He shook his head again, and made to stand, when he became keenly aware of several things: first that he wasn't wearing his loincloth, second that there was something about his neck, and thirdly that the bat was standing in the doorway of this bedroom, gazing down his bright blue eyes at him.
"Oh good, my little pet gargoyle's awake. Sleep well, my dear?"
"Yes Master," the words were out of Brooklyn's mouth before he even realized he spoke them. Clamping his hands over his muzzle, he glared up at the bat, "What did you do to me, Master?" The word added itself again, making him growl unconsciously.
"I have set you free, my dear sweet pet. I have seen your desires, and I would give them to you." Confidently, the bat strode over and patted his thigh gently. Brooklyn found himself crawling forward and nuzzling into the warmth of the bat's thigh, "You see? You cannot deny that you do not like this. The freedom not to think, the ability to just obey and seek solace in the service to another." Jeanne-Pierre looked down at Brooklyn, blue eyes glowing bright.
Brooklyn looked away, unable to meet the bat's gaze without become lost in that bright blue, "I...I..haven't ever felt this way before, Master. How...how did you know?" A comforting hand stroked through his white hair.
"I knew it the moment I met you, dear gargoyle. But the spell upon entering my room just confirmed it. You like the tightness, the grip of bondage." He knelt down besides Brooklyn, eyes a calm sky blue, and grinned, "Besides, you've been rock hard since the moment you awoke." Brooklyn looked back down and would have blushed the most fierce crimson had he not already resembled that color before, "So what say you, my little pet? May I show you the pleasures of submission?"
"I....I..." Brooklyn looked down, then back up into the bat's eyes, "Yes, Master." This time the words flowed through him, not from him without thought.
The bat smiled, then took up the lead of his leash, "Good pet." There was the sound of a snap and the thong hiding the bat's manhood fell away, revealing the bat's own endowment, "Now we begin." He knelt down to the kneeling gargoyle and, eyes glowing sapphire blue again, began to kiss and sculpt his pet's mind down into that blank, obedient state his pet loved so much. He had so little time tonight.
Hours before dawn, and still so many lessons to impart.