He truly didn't like trouble but he was in the perfect place to find it. There were no guarantees of his safety here, just the reverse, actually, and usually odds like would send him running in the opposite direction because he liked living, thank you very much. But he had...motivation for being here, or so the little voice in the back of his mind kept whispering, and funny how that little voice sounded very much like a certain god and wasn't hearing voices a bad sign to begin with? But he was still here and even if the situation hadn't been so bad, he probably wouldn't have left anyway.

Autolycus had always been comfortable with his preferences, basically that he really didn't have any; man or woman, it was all good to him, but he'd thought that he knew himself pretty well and the past few weeks had redefined his self image a bit. He apparently did like a fair amount of pain and fear with sex. The fear part wasn't so much of a shock; the rush of pulling a job had always been part fear and that had excited him, but pain had never done anything for him, until now.

He was proud of the fact that -- justifiably, to his mind because he was a handsome devil -- he'd never lacked for company of the intimate variety; he'd certainly never had to pay for it. However, he knew there were places in Greece that catered to...varied tastes and even if the idea of paying for it was vaguely insulting to his ego, it would be safer than what he was currently doing. Which was...what? Breaking into temples for dates? Ripping off one god to attract the attention of another? Hoping that Strife wouldn't grow bored with him and kill him? It sounded, and probably was completely lacking in anything remotely resembling sanity. Which might explain why he and Strife had gotten along so well this far, considering that "sane" wasn't a term Autolycus would consider applying to Strife, to his...lover? Owner, more like and as much as that grated, since he was here at Strife's directions, Autolycus wasn't sure it was a label he could deny.

Getting into Discord's temple had been simplicity itself, the same as it had been for Strife's. There weren't any guards, and the reasoning behind that was easily understood; only a complete moron would steal from a war god. Autolycus really couldn't deny that fact; he didn't think much of his own intelligence for being here.

The first time, when he'd tried to rob Strife's temple, had been a carefully planned anomaly. He'd had it on good authority -- listening to Hercules gripe about Ares' latest plot -- that Strife was extremely occupied half a continent away with a brewing war and the lure of the decorative knives, forged by Hephaestus himself, had been too good to resist. He'd done his usual careful planning and execution of the job itself, but he'd be the first to admit, even if it was only to himself, that he'd let his ego get in the way.

Maybe he was the greatest thief in history, but stealing from a god was far different from robbing a mortal, and he hadn't realized that. Whatever traps Strife had set had been invisible to mortal eyes and ears and Autolycus had never realized he'd tripped them. Or maybe it'd been plain bad luck, Strife returning to his temple right when Autolycus had lifted the knives. Either way, he'd gotten caught and despite the rather pleasant outcome, he should've learned not to attempt the same thing again. Instead the very next week he'd hit Aphrodite's temple and looking back on it, he couldn't say with any amount of certainty that he hadn't been hoping, even if it was some vaguely formed idea, that he'd be caught again. After that, well, he supposed it was accurate enough to say that he was addicted.

He liked sex as much as the next man but Autolycus could honestly say that it'd never been this good, or this intense. He'd been thirteen when a kid he'd met on the street showed him how much fun mutual hand jobs could be and he'd worked his way up from there. He liked to think he had a talent for showing his partners a good time, certainly no one had ever had any complaints, and there was fun had all around. A lovely, large chested blond from King Iphicles' court in Corinth had been his last "playmate," until her never-before-mentioned husband had suddenly shown up and Autolycus had been forced to rappel down the side of the castle to save his neck, but even that had been fun in its own way. But thinking about it now, he realized that neither that encounter nor any in the previous twenty years had been remotely serious, with two exceptions.

Luscious had been plain lust, even after meeting up with her again he couldn't say it was anything more. They'd both been young and finding someone that considered robbing the Parthenon a heavy date had seemed to both of them like a sign of true love. That'd burned itself out quickly enough and even if Luscious hadn't gotten thrown in jail and consequently divorced him, Autolycus was fairly sure it would've ended on its own not too much later.

Cupcake was a different story. Autolycus was certain that had been love, but he was also just as certain that he'd been more in love with the idea of Cupcake than with the woman herself. It was what she represented, a chance to have a normal life with a wife and kids and a home to come back to every night from his normal job; it'd sounded wonderful on the surface but he knew himself well enough to realize that he'd become bored within a few months and then where would they have been? At least she'd done better for herself, marrying an actual prince instead of being stuck with someone who would grow to resent her when the glow wore off.

But now, with this.... Autolycus had to say this was serious. He didn't rob gods for lust; he was old enough to think with the head on his shoulders instead of letting little Auto do all the decision making. That meant that whatever was happening with Strife was beyond simple lust or even addiction. He couldn't say what it was but he was willing to endanger his life for more of it. But that was only on his side of things, he had no idea what was going through Strife's mind and he wasn't sure he could work up the courage to ask. He really didn't want to know if this was one sided. It was enough that he was feeling...whatever, that this was the most intense thing to have ever happened to him, that he could get hard just remembering the way Strife had said his name last time. He wanted more. Right now though he was hoping it wouldn't cost him his life.

The sound of another minor explosion made Autolycus wince but he knew better than to move. Just moments after making it into the main room of Discord's temple, a flash of blue light had warned him of an incoming godly presence and he wasn't foolish enough to wait around and hope it was Strife; he'd ducked behind the nearest pillar. A good move since the subsequent scream of rage had been most definitely feminine. Something had set Discord off and she was currently blasting everything in sight. She apparently had no priests or priestesses, which Autolycus was extremely grateful for since he doubted she would've confined her anger to inanimate objects. Death didn't bother him overly much; it happened and you learned to deal with it, but senseless slaughter turned his stomach. Of course if she discovered him here the senseless slaughter was still likely to happen and he wouldn't be around to be sickened by it.

The nearest door was the one he'd originally entered through and that was some ways to his left. He'd be plainly visible if he tried to make it just those few feet. Staying where he was would become increasingly dangerous the longer Discord continued her little temper tantrum; he could hear her starting to pace in between fire bolts now, the heels of her boots clicking sharply on the black stone floor, and the odds of her discovering him were rising dramatically. That only left a couple options. He could go up; climbing the rough stone of the pillar wouldn't be any kind of a challenge for him but it also wouldn't get him anywhere. There were no openings in the ceiling and the pillar ended abruptly against the lightly domed roof. All it would get him was a change of venue and tired arms and he wasn't going to waste the energy. That left him with the last option and while possibly suicidal, it was starting to look like his only out.

Every other time he'd robbed a god's temple, Strife hadn't shown up until he'd physically laid hands on an object with intent to steal. Autolycus wasn't sure if Strife was just watching him invisibly, waiting for him to incriminate himself, or if it was some sort of godly trigger, sending out a signal when unauthorized people touched things. If that were the case it didn't explain why Aphrodite or Apollo hadn't shown up the last couple times, but then Autolycus was just guessing so he supposed it could be something entirely different and beyond his comprehension. Regardless, there were a set of crossed short swords hung on the pillar, just above his head and there was a chance that if he took one, Strife would show up.

Unfortunately that way also led to a great many assumptions Autolycus was uncomfortable with making. Assuming that Strife did show, what was to say he'd help at all, or even that he could? This was Discord's temple and Autolycus was well aware of the rivalry between she and Strife; it could very well be that Strife was powerless to help him here. There was the vague chance that he'd be willing to distract Discord while Autolycus escaped, but that wasn't something Autolycus was willing to count on. Given that Discord was here now, Autolycus wasn't even willing to count on Strife appearing at all. It was just too risky. He'd made the decision to come here and now that he was in trouble, he was on his own.

With that option shot down, Autolycus was left with nothing. He didn't see a way out of this other than staying where he was and hoping he wasn't discovered. He hated leaving things to chance like that though because so often it didn't work out in his favor. He just didn't see any other way. Unless....

There were other doorways along the walls and while most of them were too visible to risk, it looked like it just might be possible to reach the one to his far right. Unlike the door he'd entered through, there were a number of pillars between him and the right hand doorway, providing a crude kind of cover that he could use. It was an extremely long shot given that while darting from pillar to pillar there was a good chance that he'd be spotted, but it was all he could come up with. He had no idea where that door led but if he could just get out of this room, he was sure he'd find another way out of the temple itself.

The impact took him by complete surprise, sending him sprawling face-first onto the floor, rough stone taking the top layer of skin from his palms as he braced himself to avoid smashing his nose. Instinct and years of experience getting himself out of bad situations had him scrambling to his feet in seconds, ignoring the sting of broken skin and bruised knees. He turned quickly to face his attacker and wasn't surprised to find Discord standing there. She was looking far less immaculate than usual with her hair singed and her leathers torn and stained, some of which probably accounted for the homicidal glare she was giving him.

"Just great," she said, anger radiating from her in waves Autolycus swore he could feel, "I come here for a little privacy and I find you lurking around."

Autolycus tried a placating smile as he began backing away. "Hey there; I guess this isn't Gregorius' Museum of Gothic Architecture, huh? My mistake; I'm at the wrong end of town. I'll just be going now." He hadn't gotten another step before he was dodging the fire ball aimed at his head. A quick duck and roll and he was on his feet, sprinting towards the exit.

The door slamming shut practically in his face cut off that route. Autolycus managed to skid to a stop before colliding with the hard wood. Mentally cursing his lack of options, he turned to face what was probably his execution.

"Um, I don't suppose we can talk about this?" He somehow kept a weak smile plastered on his face despite seeing Discord coming right at him, another fireball in hand. "I wasn't going to take anything, really." Oddly enough that was the truth; he'd only planned on picking up something, anything, just to give Strife an excuse to show up and catch him in the act.

"Like I care." Stopping just a few feet from him, Discord drew back her arm and aimed.

Autolycus couldn't help cringing back against the door; he didn't want to die, especially not like this. Maybe begging might help?

But then Discord hesitated, a frown wrinkling her nose in a way that was Autolycus found disturbingly cute. Suddenly the fire ball disappeared and she walked up to him, grabbed him by the chin and tilted his head up forcefully. Autolycus winced at the strength of her grip but didn't protest because at least she wasn't trying to fry him. She leaned in close, her eyes narrowing and Autolycus wished he could say that she wasn't pretty when she was angry because finding his killer attractive was disturbing on many levels.

"And my day gets even worse," she said irritably, suddenly releasing him, shoving him back against the door. "I can almost smell him on you. Strife!"

The flash of light came so suddenly that Autolycus was almost certain that either Strife had been there all along or he'd been listening in somehow. Whichever it was, Strife now leaned against the adjacent wall, arms crossed over his chest as he took in the scene with a strangely neutral expression.

"I think this is yours." Discord waved a hand in Autolycus' direction, then sneered. "You're all over him."

"On a good day, yeah." Strife pushed away from the wall and strolled over towards them. "But this isn't looking to be a good day. What happened to you?" He eyed her ruined clothes appraisingly.

"Zeus and Hera are fighting again; I didn't get out of the line of fire fast enough," she answered in clipped tones.

Strife nodded, making a small, sympathetic noise that didn't sound sarcastic at all. "Guess your day's sucking too."

Autolycus had felt intense relief when Strife had first appeared; he wasn't going to die. But now, the way Strife was acting, so...distant, something seemed off. Not that Autolycus had expected a big hug and a sloppy kiss or anything, but a little acknowledgement wouldn't have gone unappreciated. A wink maybe, even a good once-over to make sure Autolycus knew Strife was thinking about him. As it was, Autolycus was starting to have that bad feeling again, the one that usually told him to get the Tartarus out while he still had a hide to save. But then Strife was next to him and Autolycus found the back of his neck gripped tightly, maybe enough to leave a bruise and Strife hadn't done that before. This seemed intentionally painful and not in a good way. Something was definitely wrong here.

"Take that and get out," Discord said, looking away as she made a vain attempt at straightening her scorched hair with her fingers. "My mood was improving when I thought I could disembowel him."

Strife...laughed. An actual laugh but with such dark undertones that Autolycus wished he could pull away from him. This was feeling more and more like a Very Bad Situation and he wanted out.

"Yeah, I get that," Strife said casually. "Tell you what, how about you go change into something more comfy and I'll take him into the back room; you can have some fun with him there."

Autolycus had had enough. He'd been willing to wait it out, see what Strife had in mind, but that was when he'd thought, even a little, that Strife would get him out of this. Now all bets were off. He started to reach for his grappling hook, concealed beneath his vest. He kept his movements a slow and fluid as possible, trying not to attract attention, but maybe that was just pointless when gods were around because Strife's hand suddenly tightened on the back of his neck, making Autolycus wince. He took the hint, letting his arm drop back down to his side. He didn't know if Strife would seriously hurt him or not, but he wasn't going to risk it. It was possible that he'd have a better chance of escape later.

Discord didn't look as though she'd noticed the brief byplay. She was giving Strife a sharp look, her eyes narrowed again and suspicion obvious in her dark gaze. "You'd let me play with your toy?"

Strife's smile wasn't something Autolycus wanted to see, ever again. He didn't want to see it now.

"He broke into your temple, didn't he? Seems to me you should get to punish him. Sound good?"

Suspicion was receding from Discord's gaze, replaced by speculation. "Could be. Conditions?"

"Nothing permanent and no blood; only marks I want on him are what I put there. I wanna watch and you stop when I say. Anything else goes; get creative. Just make it entertaining."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that; there're so many things I've been wanting to do to him." Discord smiled at Autolycus and if he could have, Autolycus would've backed away and run screaming. As it was, Strife's hand held him firmly in place.

"Good." Strife yanked Autolycus forward, pulling him past Discord who watched him with a predatory expression that gave Autolycus shivers of the distinctly unpleasant kind.

Having no choice but to follow or be dragged -- and at the moment he had no doubt Strife would drag him -- Autolycus walked beside Strife as they moved across the room towards a closed door. Autolycus wanted to ask what was going on, why Strife was acting like this, but he wasn't sure he'd get an answer while Discord was in the same room, so he forced himself to wait.

When Strife pushed open the door and shoved him forward, Autolycus found himself looking at a darkened room, and any illumination disappeared when Strife shut the door, leaving them standing in pitch blackness. Without Strife restraining him, Autolycus' instinctive reaction was to escape, but with no light, no way of knowing where he was, and two gods between him and freedom, he didn't stand a chance and he knew it. The whole situation was more than intimidating, it was outright frightening. Autolycus hadn't been very certain where he stood with Strife to begin with and now he felt completely cast adrift, the cold and distant attitude making him wary, and maybe -- even if he only admitted it to himself -- he was a little hurt.

"What's going on?" he asked, and the way his voice echoed mutely around him wasn't at all comforting.

Torches flared to life around him, around the room, and Autolycus suddenly couldn't speak. He was standing in a torture chamber. He'd seen enough of them in cities where he'd been a guest in the jails; prisoners were always led through the chamber so they'd know what was coming and hopefully confess -- and the guards usually got a laugh out of it too. But every time before Autolycus had been a willing prisoner; no one put the King of Thieves in jail unless he'd planned for it to happen. Many times the jail was located in the building he wanted to rob and it was the easiest way to get in. This...this wasn't anything he'd planned or would ever have wanted to happen, and he was truly frightened.

Tearing his gaze away from the rack of whips along one wall, he looked at Strife with open confusion and more than a touch of mute appeal. "Why are you doing this?"

Strife just looked at him, his expression unreadable. Then he grabbed Autolycus' neck again and pulled him forward. The walk was short, just a few feet into the middle of the room where Strife yanked him to a halt. The chains hanging down from the ceiling with the attached open manacles left no doubts as to what Strife intended. Autolycus wanted nothing more than to run as fast and as far from this as he could, but there was nowhere to go so he didn't move as Strife locked the manacles around his wrists, one after the other, not even bothering to remove Autolycus' gauntlets first.

Autolycus couldn't help but watch Strife's face, the strangely still features, the lack of expression. Strife was...angry, Autolycus suddenly realized, finally, abruptly able to put a name to the odd blankness he was seeing before him. It was something of an epiphany. He hadn't known what to make of this complete lack of animation on what was normally such an expressive face, but there was something in Strife's eyes, a glint that Autolycus caught in the torch light, that spoke of anger, deep, harsh fury, and it was directed at him.

"What'd I do?" he asked in bewilderment. He couldn't think of a single thing he could've done to warrant being turned over to Discord.

Strife said nothing, just secured the manacles then stepped back to regard his handiwork. For too long moments he studied Autolycus with a critical eye, like he was looking at some sort of inanimate object instead of a man, then he just turned away without a word, and walked over to the adjacent wall.

The chain was draped over a pulley at the ceiling and secured around a hook on the wall; Strife unwrapped it now and started pulling. The chain rattled with the movements, providing the only sound in the room. The pulley didn't squeak, a sign that it was well cared for and likely frequently used, which made Autolycus' stomach clench in dread as his arms were pulled up over his head. As his arms raised, blocking his vision, it became more and more difficult to watch Strife, but he leaned his head back a bit and managed to keep the silent god in his line of sight. For all that Strife's attitude, the silent fury, was disturbing Autolycus on multiple levels, somehow not seeing Strife would've made it worse. And that bothered him.

Autolycus knew he'd brought this on himself, playing the odds until they caught up with him. But he still could think of nothing he'd done to deserve this treatment. Maybe gods did look on mortals as toys, but Autolycus had always had a far higher opinion of himself and being subjected to this was starting to hit him where it hurt the most, his pride. He was frightened, of course, but annoyance was starting to grow right along side it.

Strife's silence, while disturbing, was also starting to get on Autolycus' nerves. Maybe he didn't understand what was going on or why, and certainly no one was telling him anything, but that didn't mean he had to accept it and like it. Okay, so he really couldn't see a way out of this and that was more than a little unnerving, but he wouldn't be himself if he didn't try to figure out something, even if it was just to find a better place to put the blame.

"Hey, I'm here because you told me to be, you know," Autolycus pointed out a bit testily. "I didn't come here looking to get caught by anyone but you; you're the one just handing me straight over to psycho woman out there. What's wrong with you?" Autolycus normally wouldn't even consider talking to a god like that, even one he had some sort of relationship with, but Strife wasn't even looking at him, just rewrapping the chain around the hook, and that annoyed Autolycus even more.

Before he could say anything else though, Strife was moving, walking out of his field of vision and Autolycus was caught by surprise at the sudden spike of panic that sent through him. He couldn't see Strife, couldn't hear him, had no idea if he'd just been abandoned to Discord's "mercy" and the possibilities sent a chill through him. Then he got a hold of himself. He took a deep breath and let it out, forcing himself to calm down.

Autolycus hadn't survived as long as this by panicking at his own imagination. He had to deal with what was happening now, had to find a way to understand it and get through it because he obviously wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. He didn't doubt that he could pick the locks on the manacles, but that would get him nowhere and might just make things worse for him. He'd just have to wait and see what happened, even if he was less than happy with it.

"What is all of this about for Zeus' sake?" he asked aloud. "What is your problem?" And because by now he really wasn't expecting an answer, the feel of a hand in his hair, jerking his head back was a complete shock. Autolycus gasped at the sudden, sharp pain of his hair being pulled and really hoped Strife didn't yank out too much; bald wouldn't be a good look on him. Lips pressed against his ear then and harshly whispered words banished all of his annoyance.

"You didn't trust me, Autolycus." Strife's voice was low and filled with anger and...something else. But before Autolycus could consider that any further, Strife let him go, shoving his head forward.

Didn't trust him? Autolycus didn't understand that. He'd trusted Strife with his life and more not two weeks ago. He'd trusted Strife enough to come here, and look where it'd gotten him. "You're giving me to Discord; why is that not inspiring a whole lot of trust here, you think?"

Suddenly Strife was standing directly in front of him, gripping his jaw hard. The look in Strife's eyes...so much anger, bordering on rage and a trickle of cold fear went down Autolycus' spine.

"You open that mouth again without permission, and I'll gag you," Strife said, his tone far colder than Autolycus had ever heard.

Autolycus' jaw ached when Strife released him but he remained silent. There was plenty he wanted to say but he didn't want to provoke Strife any further.

Strife walked away from him, over to the rack set against the opposite wall. In a seemingly effortless move, he levered himself up onto the rack and sat there, back against the wall, one leg drawn up with an elbow resting on it. It put him directly across from Autolycus and likely gave him the perfect view of whatever would happen.

Afraid as he was, even so off balance from Strife's mood and the entire situation, Autolycus had to admire Strife's elegant sprawl. It was a delicious sight, the way he seemed to just drape himself in a position that would be uncomfortable to any mortal and then just go utterly still. He might've been a statue for all he moved, but his gaze never left Autolycus and those pale eyes were alive with emotion, anger and...other things Autolycus couldn't quite read.

The sound of the door opening and clanging shut again broke what had become a tense silence and distracted Autolycus from his vain attempt at trying to figure out Strife. He couldn't see the door from where he stood so he tried to twist in the restraints, a movement that was brought to an abrupt halt by a deceptively delicate-looking hand clamping down on his right arm and holding him in place.

"Hmm." Discord's voice came from directly behind him. "You gave him a lot of freedom here." She sounded a bit disapproving.

Strife shrugged, a very slight movement and his eyes never left Autolycus. "Thought I'd leave the specifics up to you."

"So nice of you." She sounded pleased which wasn't at all reassuring to Autolycus. A suspicion borne out when she snapped her fingers a bare second later and the chain moved up of its own accord, stretching Autolycus' arms even further up, forcing him to either stand on the balls of his feet or swing from his wrists.

"Much better." Discord’s voice deepened a bit with satisfaction, a husky tone Autolycus might've admired if not for the sudden, painful stretching of his muscles from his arms down through his sides.

"Let's see what we have to work with," she said.

Her hand slid down from his arm, over the back of his neck and he felt the prick of sharp nails as she curled her fingers around the collars of his vest and shirt. That hand was joined by a second one, nails trailing over his skin this time. The sound of ripping material made him jerk in surprise. The feel of cool air on his back seconds later told him what she'd done.

She didn't stop there. He could see her hands, small and pale, tipped with short, glitteringly sharp nails as she began ripping his sleeves open and he clenched his teeth against the urge to say something, preferably snarky. This was the second set of clothes he'd gone through in a month and they wasn't cheap, even for a thief. Last time Strife had left him naked and alone in Apollo's temple and fortunately it'd been night time, otherwise sneaking out would've been a bit more embarrassing. This time he wasn't even sure he'd be leaving, alive anyway, so he supposed worrying about his clothes shouldn't have been the highest thing on his list of priorities. But they were expensive clothes and seeing his vest and shirt once again fall to the floor in tatters made him want to protest vehemently. Remembering Strife's promise stopped him though.

His upper body was bared moments later and he was starting to notice the room's lack of warmth, but the feel of Discord's hands sliding over his back distracted him from the chill. Soft hands, smooth, they slid from his shoulders down, fingernails scraping but lightly, only barely pressing in and it sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Reaching his waist, she slid her hands around to his stomach and linked them there, leaving her pressed full-length against his back. He could feel the leather of her outfit against his skin, her breasts pushing against the middle of his back and he was suddenly aware of how small she really was. A petite, delicate looking goddess who had more power in one of those sharp little fingernails than he could conceive of. Somehow that made it even more intimidating.

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