magicalbats

[magicalbats]

Just making a PSA, it’s probably going to take me a bit to get to and finish the last comm. Tw under the cut

I had to put my dog down today. He just wasn’t getting any better, wouldn’t eat anything so he was just wasting away but yet he was still throwing up bile and foam, so I didn’t want to keep dragging it out any longer when we clearly weren’t seeing any improvements. It was an incredibly difficult decision to make but I’m certain it was the right choice considering how lethargic and checked out he already was. It’ll get better I just need to let my mind sort itself out.

[magicalbats]

Of One Thousand Stars (Herta x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 1000

Warnings: Afab!reader, femdom, predicament bondage, S&M

A/N: I admit, I'm quite fond of Herta. She's just so ... 🫣

⭐

"Good. Stand there just. Like. That."

Shuddering fiercely, you noise some incomprehensible sound behind the ball gag in your mouth. It's large enough to force your jaw wide and keep it wedged open while at the same time muffling any nonsense you might have otherwise tried to babble at her. You can feel the cool line of spittle that escapes from the corners of your lips to mark an unseemly path down your chin, further highlighting your shame to be stood there in front of her like this.

You feel unbearably hot with mortification and growing excitement as you restlessly strain in place against the tight bondage keeping you in check. Pliant and malleable. Subservient.

Tittering a delighted sound, Madam Herta steps around you at a slow, confident gait, as if to size you up. Even with the thick, leather ribboned blindfold over your eyes, preventing you from being able to see what she's doing, you can still feel her gaze dragging over every inch of your skin. There isn't a single part of you that escapes her sharp scrutiny — not one blemish, scar, beauty or stretch mark, nor even the tiniest little hair follicle. She sees everything. Observes all down to the smallest minute detail.

And then her hand swings from out of the void, catching you across the meat of your ass to the sound of a fleshy swat!

You give a harried squeal, smothered by the gag, and rock forward on your bare toes. It's a struggle to keep your balance but you force yourself to stay upright and erect, knowing that it was expected of you. No, that wasn't quite right.

It was demanded.

"Do you remember how we played this game last time?" She says conversationally, like the topic of discussion was something as benign as the weather.

At your mute, stilted nod, she moves to position herself in front of you, and you tremble when you feel her reach out to brush soft fingertips over the pebbled peak of one breast. Your nipples are hard and tight from standing there in such naked vulnerability while your cunt oozes eager slick to wet the lips between your legs. The loss of your eyesight makes you feel everything in stunning clarity, and you plaintively arch your back to better present your chest to her.

Yes, you recalled her rules of engagement perfectly well.

"Good girl. Such a precious, quaint little thing."

She continues to coo, murmuring sweet nothings at you even when you feel the solid, unrelenting press of her key staff where it comes up between the spread of your legs to slot firmly against your cunt. It lines itself perfectly with the meaty slit in your body before then rising a little higher, driven by what you could only reasonably surmise was magic. Forced back up onto your toes, you mewl a helpless noise as you're made to balance there with the majority of your weight centered on that ornate scepter. On your defenseless pussy.

"Now." Madam Herta intones, stepping back to presumably get a good look at you. "Let's see how long you can last this round. But remember: if you fail this oh so simple task I've given you, we'll start over from the top. And I won't make it easier."

You mewl a pathetic sound in response, listening to the smart click of Madam Herta's heels retreat.

She doesn't go far though. Only to the tea table she'd meticulously positioned you in front of until she was satisfied with your posture, your stance, the unforgiving straps that keep your arms folded neatly across the small of your back. This is where she sits now, to enjoy the show, and another fitful shudder works through your taut body at the sound of gently sloshing liquid. Pouring herself a cup.

The seconds tick by and gradually turn to minutes. It's not too terribly difficult at first but it doesn't take long before your calves start to grow tired. And that is to say nothing of the intense throb deep inside your slicking cunt. You ride that blurry line between pleasure and discomfort, just as you ride her staff, until eventually it starts to turn into real pain.

There's too much pressure on your most sensitive parts and it only seems to get worse the more you stand there. Trying to shift your weight from one foot to the other does nothing except make you feel like you might fall, the muscles in your legs trembling from the effort of trying to hold yourself in place. Worst of all, though, you can't seem to stop your aching hips from gingerly nudging forward to rub your cunt on that hard press, still desperately seeking out gratification even now. Even when it hurts.

And Madam Herta laughs at the lurid display, making you violently twitch at the lilting melody. She thought it amusing, even though she would later feign disgust while you're made to clean her mage's wand of any lingering juices with your tongue.

Such a cruel mistress ...

"You seem to be enjoying yourself. Have I made this too simple?"

You give your head a fierce shake, whining behind your gag. This only makes her laugh even more.

"That's not how it looks from over here, darling. It seems to me that I've been too lenient if you still have time to think about that pretty pussy of yours. Why don't we up the difficulty level a bit, hm?"

Your wordless squeals for mercy are summarily ignored, of course, and you quickly find yourself being nudged a little higher by the unsympathetic staff. It keeps pressing up, up, up, right into the meat of your poor cunt until you feel the fleshy grip of your lower lips on its shaft, made to hug the curve while it forces your weight to settle even more fully on it's length.

And then your toes leave the ground entirely, separated by only a tiny fraction of an inch.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[magicalbats]

gepard and varka suffer from insane cases of pussy eating face

something about knight protector blond types clearly. only gepard gives 'enthusiastic but unsure, checks you're alright all of the time', and varka gives 'enthusiastic and also very certain that he's doing a good job and is a bit smug about it'.

[magicalbats]

scar pls let me eat you out please please bro just one chance just sit on my face i promise ill be good

[magicalbats]

Of One Thousand Stars (Anaxa x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 1000

Warnings: GN!reader, although I did write this from the perspective of femdom there's no mention of reader's genitals or pronouns, chastity, cock cage, simulated masturbation

A/N: A good friend inspired this idea and I just couldn't let it go. 🌚

⭐

The Grove is still and quiet when you find him hunched over the desk in his study. It's not exactly an uncommon scene to walk in on, quite expected really, but it brings a small smile to your face all the same.

"Good evening, professor."

Hand stilling over the notes he'd been jotting down, Anaxagoras briefly glances up at your approach. The soft click clack of your heels on the stone floor sounds smart and sharp, hot anticipation swelling within your chest as you draw closer. Oh, how you couldn't wait to put this man on his kneee again.

But as always he insists on feigning disinterest in you and your little games, scoffing a quick sound before dropping his attention again.

"It must not be a particularly 'good' evening if you're paying me a visit like this." He drawls, resuming his scribbling as if whatever reason you had for being there didn't concern him.

That's far from the truth though, and you come up alongside the sturdy desk to stand over him with a barely contained giggle. He continues to ignore you though, or tries to, but that doesn't dissuade you from reaching out to toss what you've got in your hand in front of him.

The little brass key clatters faintly where it falls, giving one muted bounce before coming to a rest near the center of the parchment he'd been working over.

Stilling, Anaxa just peers down at the offending object for a long, contemplative moment.

When he finally breathes out a terse sigh and sits back in his tall chair, his shoulders are noticeably more tense than when you'd first entered. And as he turns his attention up at you, that one remaining eye agleam with something unspeakable, you can't seem to keep your lilting titters under wraps anymore.

Laughing in the face of his obvious frustration, you lean down to brace your hand atop the desk and get closer to him. Much closer.

"Still being a good boy for me, professor? I trust you haven't found other ways to … entertain yourself in my absence?"

You reach for the flouncy cravat around his throat with the other, toying with it much to his ire.

"I have better things to be doing. You know that. Isn't that the very reason I handed over my freedom to you in the first place?"

"To keep your urges in check and temper your focus. Yes, that is what you said. But I still like to check in on my pets when I can, just to ensure they're behaving."

A subdued but no less tense shudder works through him in response, so close to being imperceptible you easily could have missed it if you weren't invading his space like this. He doesn't give much else away, not in his posture and certainly not in his expression which remains carefully neutral even now. You can tell he wants it though. Even someone as self destructively intelligent as he is couldn't completely turn off the natural functions and urges of his body.

Slowly, you slide the hand at his throat lower, lower and lower still until you can wrap your fingers around him through the front of his pants. But rather than the malleable plush of delicate flesh, all that greets you is cold, hard, unfeeling metalwork.

Anaxa seethes a harsh breath that makes his narrow chest dramatically rise and fall. Fascinated by the display, you watch him close his eye and fist the armrests of his chair in a white knuckled grip that makes the wood quietly groan. He'd been locked up for so long now that it was hardly any wonder he would react this way.

"You're still wearing my pretty toy," you purr, fondling him casually through his slacks. "How unexpectedly obedient of you. When you first came to me about this I thought for sure you were going to need a strict hand to keep you in line."

He rumbles a mirthless laugh, shaking his head. "Don't let that stop you. Some firm reinforcement here or there never hurt anyone."

"Very true."

Straightening up, you cross your arms and move to lean against the desk with your cocked hip. Just looking down at him. Expectant.

"Show it to me."

Anaxa complies with the sort of sluggishness that denotes his building excitement, a torture in and of itself when his poor cock had no room to grow. You'd made sure to cage him nice and tight, and your own budding arousal ratchets up another notch while he fumbles his pants open so he can shove them down to his knees.

Sitting there in his very official looking chair, he looks positively pathetic with his diminutive little cage cradled in the press between his thighs. He's not so scary like this. In fact, you're not entirely convinced he ever was.

"Good boy. Now I'd like to see how you play with yourself, Anaxagoras."

He shoots you a quick look that would have been perfectly intimidating under most circumstances, but the flush that's settled deep into his cheeks does a sufficient job of lessening the sting. For a moment you think he's going to need that firm guidance after all.

And then he slowly reaches over to take himself in hand with a loose fist wrapped around the cage. He attempts to give his cock a tight squeeze through the bars but when that doesn't work he sets in to listlessly mime the motion of pumping at his length, snarling a low sound of annoyance the whole time.

Even without direct contact he quickly starts to come around though, spreading his thighs out gradually on the seat so he can jut his pelvis up into that phantom touch. This makes the globular weight of his testes hang between his legs, and you can't help the way you press your own together in an eager squeeze as you watch them bounce. Futilely tugging at himself to no avail.

For you. Only for you.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[magicalbats]

Of One Thousand Stars (Sunday x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 1000

Warnings: GN!reader, dubcon, nipple play, implied nipple piercing, all male receiving, tbh I just wanted an excuse to bully Sunday lol

A/N: I've been doing a lot of longer pieces lately so I wanted to try something short and sweet to spice it up a bit. I've done similar thousand word collections in the past for different fandoms so same as always, I'll post more of these as the ideas come to me if you guys like this shorter format!

⭐

The system hour is late. Everyone on board the Express has gone to bed. 

Everyone except you, who sometimes had trouble sleeping when you were supposed to and more often than not kept the schedule of a nocturnal rodent, apt to scurry around in the dark; and Sunday who didn’t have a bed. Not anymore. Not since leaving the planet of festivities. 

In a way you were fascinated with him, fixated on the duality of both extremes he’d shown you over the course of knowing each other, so you’re secretly glad for the opportunity to be alone. 

It doesn’t take long before you invite Sunday up to your new room. He declines, politely at first, but when your innocent wheedling doesn’t work to convince him, you employ a more hands on approach. Stopping just short of lifting him in your arms and physically carrying him to the upper floor, you relentlessly poke and prod, and pinch him into compliance. 

He looks like he might actually start to cry when he reluctantly ascends the stairs with you. 

But that vaguely teary eyed expression quickly vanishes when you shove him down on your bed, replaced by indignation and affront. He can’t believe you’d have the audacity, the gall to do something like this to him, and he sputters indignantly as you climb up to perch atop his middle. 

“What is the meaning of this - -“

“Relax.” You coo, reaching out to brush the feathers on his right wing. It twitches and visibly bristles at the touch, and he sharply hisses in response. Sensitive, perhaps? “I just wanted to get a better look at these. They’re cute.” 

Sunday huffs a peeved sound at you but he seems to think you’ll be discouraged if he just ignores you enough. Even when his face flushes the most charming shade of pink, he simply clamps his mouth shut in a warbling line and turns his attention elsewhere. Focusing on anything other than you. 

It doesn’t work, of course. You’re much too absorbed in familiarizing yourself with him, interested in learning all of his ins and outs. 

Taking your time, you feel over that fragile little wing and note the delicate bone inside, the individual feather barbs, even the bit of downy fuzz at the base. Like little baby hairs, almost indistinguishable from the rest of his silken soft locks of spun silver. You think him precious. 

There’s only one thing that dissuades this impression, and you finally draw your fingertips over to caress the flat fronts of his ear piercings. No, that wasn’t quite right. These weren’t what you would consider mere jewelry, but rather tiny spikes driven through the fragile bend of his wing. How curious. 

“Did you pierce these yourself?” 

“That’s not really any of your business.” He grumbles back. 

His displeasure only spurns you on though, and you eagerly reach for the hem of his shirt. “Ooh, so tough! Do you have anything else pierced?” 

Ignoring his squawks of protest, you wrestle with him to get the many layers of his clothes shoved up and out of the way until you’re looking down at the smooth, flawless expanse of his abdomen. No more metal that you can see but oh, how your mouth waters at the sight of his fat little nipples. 

He’s so thin and his chest is so flat that it only seems to emphasize how very round and fleshy the tiny buds are. They look receptive, and you mischievously reach out to tweak one. 

Yelping a haggard sound, Sunday’s back bows rather dramatically as he writhes in place, gasping for you to stop while you mercilessly roll the nub between your fingers. But you don’t listen, taking far too much joy in tormenting him to back off now. 

You keep petting, plucking, tugging at them until both are flushed dark and coiled unbearably tight. Just that is enough to leave him wrecked, his head lolling drunkenly against the rumpled sheets. He was completely at your mercy like this. 

And that’s when you remember something. 

Climbing from the bed, you shuffle off to retrieve what you had in mind. Sunday doesn’t even attempt to get up and flee, apparently much too out of it to make his body cooperate. He just groans a heady sound behind you while you dig around for the piercing kit March had ordered from the IPC shopping catalog months ago. 

She’d wanted you to pierce her bellybutton for her, thinking it was cute and maybe just a little sexy — in as much as she was comfortable with being perceived as sexy, anyway. But after making you watch hours of videos and practicing on a plastic dummy, she'd ultimately chickened out. Not that you'd been particularly surprised by that in the end.

The starter supplies box had only collected dust since then but you now saw a golden opportunity to put it to good use. If Sunday had enjoyed the feeling of piercing his own wing so much that he'd do it twice then he'd probably like having his cute nipples pierced too.

Returning to the bed, you can't help smiling at the way the Halovian seems to shirk from you and the mysterious container in your hands. Wary but silent, he watches you climb back up to straddle his narrow waist much like before, yet he doesn't protest or try to shove you off. He simply watches. Observes.

The low pulse between your thighs picks up as you pull out the long, hollow needle in its sterilized pouch and he chokes on a scandalized sound, wings fluttering helplessly.

"Miss Stellaron!"

"Don't worry, Sunny. I'll be gentle."

He trembles terribly underneath you as you work to get everything ready for him. Sanipads, to clean the surface area. Two stubby barbells. And finally a pair of forceps that you take a great deal of joy in clamping tightly into place over one nipple. A little maliciously, even.

"Please …"

He looks like he's going to cry again.

"Shh. Deep breath."

⭐

Crossposted: here

[magicalbats]

wip

[magicalbats]

Self shippers, this is your sign to get weirder. This is not optional. Now go.

[magicalbats]

Missing Pieces

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18,168

Warnings: Afab!reader, ex lovers, forced proximity, bratty/immature behavior, pining and yearning, light smacking (cheek, tit, pussy), piv sex, biting, marking, some scratching, implied creampie but I didn't really talk about it in detail here lol

A/N: Aaaand here is the fourth commission! They wanted to stay anonymous for this one so I'll just take the chance to say again, thank you so, so much for bringing me such a fun comm! 🙏🥹

⭐

“That should about do it.” Faruzan announces with a huff of satisfaction. The last of her luggage now loaded into the cart, she wipes her hands of the task and turns to smile over at you. “Ready to go? We should make it to the coast by nightfall if we leave right away.” 

“I think so.” You murmur, tallying off a mental checklist in your mind. Hopefully you haven't forgotten anything. “It’s too late to go back and grab any last minute items, so I guess I’ll have to make do or hope we come across a traveling merchant on the way if I missed something important.” 

“Don’t worry, your always prepared and reliable elder packed plenty of extra necessities. You can just borrow mine if you need to.” She says, sounding quite pleased with herself. 

Sitting at the front of the wagon, the hired Eremite driver takes up the reins in preparation to set off at her signal, ready to go before the road got any more crowded than it already was. 

You smile at that, grateful and immensely glad to be making this trip with her rather than anyone else. A better resolution to your predicament couldn’t have been orchestrated by even the most talented of playwrights. 

The short few weeks of summer break at the Akademiya usually saw a peaceful lull in activity for the bustling city while teachers and students alike took the chance to recoup from the last semester. Under normal circumstances you would have spent this time at home, tending to your small herb garden that was more of a hobby than a real need, and preparing materials for the next course. 

But this year it’s different. The square is jam packed with people coming and going, sumpter beast drawn carts rattling off down the dusty road on a constant stream of departure, all with but one destination in mind. 

A particularly old ruin had been unearthed along Sumeru’s vast coastline just a few months ago when, at the height of typhoon season, one of the raging storms took off half of the rockface cliff looking out over the sea. Although there had always been long whispered rumors of the Kedarnath temple existing, no one had ever been able to pinpoint its exact location until now so it made sense that everyone wanted to see it for themselves. Amurta, Kshahrewar, Haravatat, it didn’t really matter. There was no telling what all would be found inside so every Darshan wanted in on the action. 

The demand had been so great, in fact, that you almost hadn’t been able to secure a ride for yourself at all. Even the rickety old farmer’s carts that were typically only used for transporting produce were a prime target for desperate researchers hoping to haggle them off the hands of their owners. It was only pure luck that your path had happened to cross with Madam Faruzan’s before you’d given up entirely. 

Looking at her now, you feel a swell of eager anticipation building in your chest. You couldn’t wait to explore the ancient ruins together. 

“Thank you again for bringing me along with you. I know you didn’t have to extend the offer but I really appreciate it.” 

“Oh, don’t even give it another thought. After all, I’m -“ Her gaze shifts just to the left of you then, focusing on something over your shoulder, and you watch as a delighted grin quickly spreads across her face. “My, if it isn’t another one of my precious juniors! Are you making the journey out to the coast too?” 

Turning in place, you glance to see who it is. Somehow you’re not the least bit surprised to find Kaveh standing there amidst the crowd, looking disheveled and deeply frazzled, but next to him is …

Your good mood instantly plummets and crashes into the ground at your feet. Anything but him. 

“Madam Faruzan!” The blond architect cries out, practically sobbing in high strung distress as soon as his eyes land on her. Completely oblivious to the sudden chill that’s come over you, he hurries up to the two of you with his arms loaded full of luggage. 

Carrying only a single pack slung across his back, Al-Haitham trails in his wake to come join you as well. 

And you don’t miss the way his calculating gaze lingers on you while he does it. 

“Goodness, what’s all this?” Faruzan asks, equally unaware of the sudden turmoil that’s kicked up inside your cramping gut. “Are you alright, Kaveh? What’s wrong?” 

Groaning a long suffering sound, he drops his burden in a haphazard pile at his feet and straightens up. “It’s all this idiots' fault! I told him we needed to leave before summer break started or we’d never make it out of the city, but did he listen to me? Of course not!” 

The idiot in question shifts his attention, utterly dismissing you now as he speaks to the group at large. “And I told you I still had administrative duties to attend to so I couldn’t just pack up and go. Not everyone is as under employed as you are.”

Hackles raising, Kaveh whips his head around with a low snarl. “You - -!” 

Your hackles raise too, not out of any particular need you felt to defend the blond, but on principle. Al-Haitham was still the same insufferable, pompous ass you remembered him to be. 

For better or worse, though, Faruzan cuts in before either of you can properly lay into him. 

“Now, now, children. There’s no need to fuss. We were just about to head out there ourselves so why don’t you join us? There’s plenty of room left in the cart.” 

All three of you snap your attention at her in near perfect unison. 

“What?” 

You watch with nothing short of fast mounting horror as Kaveh all but flings himself at her, dropping to his knees to clutch at the voluminous skirt of her dress. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Madam Faruzan, a million times thank you! You have no idea how much that means to me!” 

Sighing a doting sound, she consolingly pats him on the head while you try very hard not to panic. This couldn’t be happening. 

“W - wait,” you stammer at last, rousing yourself enough to shoot an accusing look over at Al-Haitham. “Why are you coming too? Kaveh at least makes sense as an alumni of Kshahrewar, but - but Haravatat doesn’t even focus on the study of ancient runes anymore! What are you possibly going to get out of this?” 

Sedately dragging his attention back around, he just looks at you with that uncomfortably piercing stare for an extended beat before he finally deigns to answer. “I could ask the same thing of you with that logic. But if you want the truth, I actually have very little interest in the temple itself. I was hoping to use this chance for a nice, quiet and peaceful vacation on the beach while everyone else was off exploring. Unfortunately since it looks like we’ll be traveling together I can probably kiss that quaint idea goodbye.” 

Instantly seeing red, you take a menacing step towards him. “Oh, I’ll give you something you can kiss - -“ 

“Children!” Faruzan calls out, drawing not only your attention but that of a few passersby’s as well. 

Teeth gnashing, you glance back at her but the disapproving scowl on her face stops you from flying off at the handle, at least for the moment. Seated behind her, the Eremite driver grumbles something unkind under his breath and impatiently drops the reins in his lap as if he expected this to take a while. 

“Come now. There’s no need for you to antagonize each other, is there?” She goes on chidingly. “We’re headed the same way and on top of that we’re all accomplished scholars in our respective fields too. We should be able to get along for the duration of a single trip, right? Unless, of course, there’s something you think I should know about?” 

Your shoulders stiffen slightly when she directs that question at you. 

The muscles along your back ache from how tightly you’re holding yourself but it only takes one look around you to know that you couldn’t possibly divulge the truth to her, not here. Not while you were standing in the middle of the city square and certainly not right in front of the eternal object of your consternation. Your ex lover. 

It was also much too late to back out of the expedition now when all of your stuff was already loaded into the waiting cart. You’d just make an even bigger fool of yourself if you tried to collect your belongings while everyone just stood there and watched on. Dammit. 

“No, Madam Faruzan. There’s not.” 

Nodding once, she turns her sharp golden eyes on Al-Haitham. “And you? Have you got anything to say?” 

“You’d better not ruin this for me.” Kaveh mutters as he climbs to his feet to stand next to the diminutive professor. The two of them made quite a pair staring him down like that, and it brings a bittersweet smile to your face as you turn to look at him too. 

Maybe with enough pressure he’d decide to just stay at home where he belonged. 

Unfortunately he takes one long look at each of you in turn and then sighs a heavy sound of relent. “There isn’t.”

“Good!” Faruzan chirps, giving her hands a single clap to signal that the matter was closed. “Then hurry up and get your bags loaded in so we can get moving. All of the best spots to set up camp are going to be taken by the time we get there.” 

Whooping a happy sound of relief, Kaveh quickly springs into action to get all of his luggage thrown into the wagon with Faruzan’s help. Neither you nor Al-Haitham immediately move though, and you just stand there looking at one another for a drawn out moment of terse silence. 

“What?” He demands at last. 

You petulantly lift your chin, daring him. “Are you really going to behave yourself on this trip?” 

“That depends. Are you?” 

“I’m not the one who — you know what. It’s fine. I don’t care anymore. Just stick to your stupid little beachside vacation and don’t bother me, alright? I’ll do the same and maybe we’ll both get through this ordeal in one piece.” 

Snorting a quiet laugh, he crosses his arms as if in outright challenge of that entreaty. “That’s just fine by me but I’d listen to my own advice if I were you. I have no problem keeping my mouth shut while you on the other hand …” 

A wordless growl claws at your throat but you remind yourself not to take the bait he was so very adept at laying. You’d had to learn that lesson the hard way years ago but you were better than that now. Older and wiser. He couldn’t goad you anymore if you didn’t let him. 

Of course that was easier said than done when he had such a particular talent for getting under your skin but you were determined to show him that he no longer held any sway over you. That period between the two of you had come and gone, so you turn your nose up with a delicate sniff as you pivot on your heel. 

“We’ll see who can outlast who then. You’ll owe me a stiff drink when we get back if you lose, as compensation for all of my pain and suffering.” 

“And what if I win?” 

“I’ll reconsider dumping your luggage into the ocean when you aren’t looking!” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The ride out to the coast is not a very pleasant one, all things considered. 

Even when Al-Haitham manages to stay true to his word, keeping himself preoccupied with a book and only speaking when one of the others speaks to him first, you still find that just the simple act of looking at him inspires a very unpleasant feeling in you. 

Not that that was particularly surprising or unexpected, of course. You’d done everything in your power to avoid even finding yourself in the same room with him over the last couple of years for this exact reason. 

He’d hurt you. Maybe not physically, no, certainly not that. But the emotional wounds ran deep and you’re quite annoyed to realize that they still have the capacity to ache despite how much time has passed. At one point you’d even thought you might have loved him. Really, truly loved him in the way that lasts for a lifetime. 

It was not to be though, between the busy, mismatched work schedules that demanded so much of your time and his general attitude about everything which clearly had not improved one ounce since then. Worst of all, he still didn’t seem to have the self awareness to recognize when he was the problem rather than assuming everyone else around him had the issue. It was enough to have you grinding your teeth down to a fine powder. 

But you bite your tongue, determined to best him at his own foolish games and prove that he no longer held any influence over you like before. It almost seemed like the only thing that would save you and your sanity in the coming days. 

Desperate for a distraction from Al-Haitham’s presence there in the cart, you look around for something else to focus on.  

But Faruzan is much too preoccupied with chatting up the cart driver to give you her attention right now so you turn instead towards Kaveh who’s sat next to you on the groaning bench seat, working as an effective buffer between you and the source of your ire. It’s hard to keep your expression pleasant when you feel this on edge but you still offer him a smile that you hope isn’t too grim. Surely you could count on him of all people to chat with you. 

“I’m glad you caught us before we left. Making the whole trek out there on foot would have been a real pain.”

“Ugh, tell me about it!” He sighs, groaning softly in either exasperation or relief. You couldn’t always tell with him. “I probably would have just called the whole thing off if it hadn’t been for the two of you. It’s not like I need the research material for a thesis or anything but …” 

“But what?” You gently prod him. “What made you want to check this old place out then?” 

Kaveh shrugs at that, looking ever so slightly sheepish now. “Well, it’s always nice to study different kinds of architecture anyway, but if the rumors are true then this place should be pretty unique. I’ve heard that this temple dates back to the very start of the Dendro Archon’s rule, so it’s probably unlike anything I’ve seen out in the desert. I was just thinking … if something suddenly comes back into style now that everyone’s making the pilgrimage out to see it then I should have some idea what the layout is like and how it looks in person.” 

A genuine smile creeps across your mouth now, finding his reasoning charming and a testament to his commitment in the field of architecture. What an admirable guy. 

“So you want to be as accurate as possible if one of your clients asks for a similar aesthetic? That’s really amazing, Kaveh. I think most people would have crossed that bridge when they got to it instead of being this proactive.” 

He scoffs a quick laugh at that, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong, but if I didn’t take the chance now I wasn’t sure I’d have the means to make it out there when I really need to. I just wish it hadn’t been such a mad dash from everyone in the damn city trying to leave all at once. I’m really sorry for burdening you and Madam Faruzan like this.” 

Hesitating, you send a concealed look at Al-Haitham but he still has his nose firmly shoved into his book. As usual. 

“It’s no burden at all.” You murmur a little more tightly than you’d meant to. 

To your mild pang of surprise Kaveh does the same, shooting a sidelong glance at the scribe before bending his head closer to yours, speaking in a quiet whisper now. “I don’t mean to pry but … you and that idiot have a history together, right? I suspected, of course, just based on little things I’d noticed here or there. But the way both of you were acting back in the city …”

He gives his head another solemn shake and you feel your face quickly warming, embarrassed heat settling deep into your cheeks. 

“It’s not like that.” You rush to say, dropping your voice as well. But then it immediately occurs to you that no amount of adamant denial was going to change what he’d already seen with his own two eyes and you exhale slowly. “Not anymore, I mean. Whatever we had is long done and we’re both much better off this way. I don’t care what he does at this point.” 

His brows furrowing slightly, Kaveh searches your face for — something you can’t place. “Did he treat you badly? I mean, it’s not really any of my business or anything, but … you don’t feel unsafe with him here, do you?” 

You hadn’t thought it possible for your face to get any hotter but somehow you manage. “No, that’s not it at all. I appreciate you worrying about me, I really do, but I promise it wasn’t like that. He just … doesn’t know how to compromise. Or meet anyone in the middle.” 

“Tell me about it.” The blond snorts, rolling his eyes. 

A strange sense of camaraderie comes over you then with the realization that Kaveh was familiar enough with Al-Haitham to understand even a small fraction of what you’d gone through. He knew exactly how stubborn and unbudging the scribe could really be, and how difficult it sometimes was to deal with these quirks in his personality. 

It wasn’t even so much that he was unkind, necessarily, but … he was certainly hard to get along with at times. And maybe some of that was your fault too. You, who were impulsive and hardheaded, quick to anger, probably weren’t very easy to deal with either. 

Maybe if you’d pushed just a little bit harder to find a peaceful balance between the two of you … 

Banishing that decidedly dangerous thought from your mind, you reach over to take Kaveh’s hand in yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Thank you. I’m glad someone gets it but don’t feel bad about this. Al-Haitham and I agreed to keep our distance so we’ll just leave each other alone. No harm, no foul.” 

A flash of relief crosses his face, and he gives your fingers a brief squeeze back. “That’s good to hear. And I’ll try my best to keep him busy elsewhere when I can.” 

“That’s very sweet of you. Thank you.” 

Sliding your hand from his, you settle back against the bench seat to get comfortable again — or as comfortable as you can be in the shuddering cart. 

A stilted motion at your peripheral catches your attention though and you glance up just in time to watch Al-Haitham drop his attention back down at his book. You tense slightly, wondering if he’d been watching that exchange with Kaveh, but it’s not like you’d caught him staring full on or anything, so you couldn’t exactly call him out on it. 

Besides, you still had every intention of winning this silly little gambit of seeing who would break first and you flick your attention elsewhere with a huff. You wouldn’t let him bait you into a reaction no matter what he did. 

Famous last words and all that. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It’s late into the first evening when everyone finally finishes getting their tents set up and, at Madam Faruzan’s insistence, the four of you gather to share a communal meal with each other. 

You’d strongly considered telling her the truth when the cart had finally reached the long stretch of beach on the coastline and the two of you were blissfully alone. But even for as much as you trusted the crackwhip professor, you just couldn’t figure out how to broach such an awkward topic or how to convey the necessary information without sounding like a whiny teenager who’d been jilted. You didn’t want her to feel bad for inviting them along, for one thing, and you also weren’t sure how she would react to the news for another. 

More than anything you just wanted to get through this ordeal without everything blowing up in your face, so you ultimately decide not to say anything. 

And you were already exhausted from trying to navigate this frustrating situation as a result, knowing he was in such close proximity to you and liable to break your shaky truce at any moment when the thought to do so happened to strike him. The one and only comfort you had was Kaveh, finding solace in your earlier chance to confide in him and the fact he’d kept his promise to you by insisting that they erect their camp a little ways off to ‘give the girls some privacy’. 

You would have liked it much more if he could have convinced that idiot to go to the opposite end of the beach and break off from the two of you completely but, well. Beggars can’t be choosers. 

Now you’re sat on a blanket in the sand, grumpily picking at your plate of rice and meat, while Kaveh and Faruzan talk up a storm about … nothing at all that you could decipher. You liked them both just fine but together they had a habit of getting swept up in their own topic of conversation. That was probably just what happened when like minded geniuses got together, though. 

Across from you with only the crackling fire there to stand guard, Al-Haitham sits cross legged with his own plate in hand, disinterestedly watching them go back and forth about some interesting mechanical component or another. You didn’t really get it, truth be told. Although you were plenty intelligent you weren’t what most would label a genius … and that may have also played a part in the relationship’s eventual downfall, if you were being honest.  

That thought irritates you a great deal more than you’d like to admit. Of course you’d known exactly how intellectually gifted Al-Haitham was going into it but at first it hadn’t seemed to matter. He was smarter than you, so what? That didn’t bother you at all. 

It still doesn’t bother you. Why would it? 

You don’t even notice how hard you’re stabbing at your food now until Al-Haitham slides his attention towards you, peering at you over the little fire. This gives you a bit of a start and you belatedly realize you’d been staring at him. Dammit. As if this couldn’t get any worse. 

Forcing your lungs to expand on a long, deeply inhaled breath, you remind yourself that the relationship was long finished so there was nothing to get upset about and focus back on your meal. You weren’t really all that hungry though, truth be told. Your stomach had been in knots for most of the day thanks to him and you just didn’t have much of an appetite. 

Honestly you wanted nothing more than to go to bed and stew on everything where no one could see you pouting. And it didn’t exactly help your sour mood that you were so inexplicably out of sorts because of this either. 

You shouldn’t have felt anything at all for him at this point, whatever tender emotions you’d once harbored for him having been long neglected and left to wilt, but then why … 

Waiting until a sufficient stretch of moments has passed, certainly long enough for him to glance away, you warily lift your gaze to peer across the fire again. 

You give a small jolt though when you find him still looking at you, his expression unreadable but his observational interest in you was as clear as day within the reflection of his eyes. He was obviously watching you like one watches a lab rat to study its behavior, and that makes you prickle defensively. The bastard wasn’t even trying to hide it! 

Impulsively, and not really knowing why you do it, you childishly stick your tongue out at him and then quickly move to stand up. You had to get away from here. 

“Oh, what’s wrong?” Faruzan asks, disengaging from Kaveh to peer up at you when you stumble to your feet beside her. “Are you done eating already?” 

“Yeah, I think I’d like to clean up and go to bed.” 

“But you’ve hardly touched your food.” 

You hate seeing the flash of concern that crosses her face but you knew it would only get worse if you told her the truth now. She’d feel bad for you, guilty for inviting them along without asking you first if it was alright and she’d probably be a little mad too. At you for not being so forthcoming right at the start and at him for going along with it as if he were oblivious to any wrongdoings or bad blood between you and him. 

No, you’d just have to keep up the pretense that all was fine and dandy, at least until you got back to the city in a few days. 

“It’s alright, Madam Faruzan. I think the journey out here just took its toll on me, that’s all. I’m not exactly used to getting tossed around in a cart for hours at a time. I probably just need to sleep it off and I’m sure I’ll feel much better tomorrow.” 

“Alright, if you’re positive.” She relents, looking hardly convinced, but luckily she doesn’t try to push you on it. 

Gratefully stepping away from the campfire, you wander further out into the relative darkness of the beach, glad to put some distance between you and them. You needed a chance to breathe, to think.  

The cool breeze coming in off of the salty ocean current helps chase away some of the Sumerian summer heat and with it so too does some of your bad mood start to ease up. It whips at your hair and clothes as you meander further down the shoreline, guided by the flickering dots of other campsites. There are so many people here, each small group with their own blaze going to dot the sand well into the distance in either direction, that it’s not nearly as pitch black out here as it otherwise would have been. 

You can see where you’re walking, at least, as you wind your way a little higher up the hill that leads down to the water towards the collective Eremite camp waiting on standby at the top. They’d brought a few dogs between them, you’d noticed; all gruff, wild things that were coated in a seemingly permanent layer of sandgrit. You’d feed them the rest of your dinner and then crawl into bed. Honestly you might not even get out of it again until it was time to go home. 

But you only make it halfway up the incline though when a passing stranger loses his footing in the fine sand and stumbles into you, nearly sending you toppling straight down to the bottom again. The only thing that saves you is your quick reaction time and a hand snapped out to grab onto the offending arm of the man who fumbles at you to steady your balance. What remained of your dinner was not quite so lucky though, and you glance down in dismay at the now empty plate you were holding. 

Well, so much for that idea then. 

“Geez, I’m sorry.” He murmurs, partially slurring some of his words. Likely buzzed from whoever knows how many rounds of good luck toasts for the next day's expedition, if you had to guess. “I didn’t mean to trip into you like that. Are you okay? Do you want me to find you another plate of food somewhere?” 

Sighing through your nose, you give your head a terse shake. “No, that’s alright. But thank you. I was finished anyway.” 

The young man, an ambitious student at the Akademiya if you placed him correctly, lingers for another moment longer to issue more apologies before finally shuffling off on his own again. You just stand there and watch him to make sure he can make it down to the bottom safely before heaving a very tired groan. He hadn’t even recognized you as one of the Spantamad professors. Likely not in any of your elementalism courses, then. 

You click your tongue, undeniably annoyed by this, and turn to head back the way you’d come — only to plow directly into Al-Haitham’s rock solid chest. 

Reeling back with a startled squawk, you widen your eyes up at him in confusion. “You - -“

Catching yourself at the last possible second, you slap your free hand over your mouth. Shit. You’d sworn not to let him beat you and if he decided to be an ass about it (which he probably would) he could have easily insisted that you’d already technically broken your silent truce with just that one carelessly blurted word. 

That wasn’t fair though. It hadn’t been on purpose. He’d just surprised you, that’s all! 

Scrambling to find your resolve again, you narrow your eyes up at him over your fingers. Just daring him to try it. 

But all he does is cock his head ever so slightly to one side before drawing a purposeful breath. “I think we should talk.” 

Utterly flabbergasted now, you drop your hand to point an uncertain yet accusatory finger at him. “You broke first! That means you lose!” 

Irritably clicking his tongue, Al-Haitham bats your finger away with the backs of his knuckles. “I don’t really care about that right now. I’ll buy you an entire vault full of wine when we get back to the city if that’s what you want. I will say though, I hadn’t realized you’d developed a drinking problem since we were together. No wonder you and Kaveh were getting along so well.” 

Your brows shoot straight up to your hairline. “Is that what this is about? You want to talk about Kaveh?” 

“Hardly. I just thought it was cute, that’s all, the way the two of you were whispering about me.” 

“You … you were eavesdropping?” 

“I was sitting right there. What did you expect?” He volleys right back, and you start to feel the familiar curling of anger that only he could seem to inspire in you. 

“I expected you to mind your business, just like we agreed. Besides you always have those damn headphones on. I can never be sure when you’re listening or tuning me out!” 

He nods once, evidently in total agreement with that. “Which is precisely why I wear them. You know that. I’m not sure why you’re acting like this is something new.” 

For a moment you just stammer at him, so enraged by his attitude that you can’t quite find the words to snap at him with. But you finally settle on an impotent, half strangled shriek, and move to step around him. 

“This is exactly why I wanted you to leave me alone, I knew you couldn’t help yourself!” You grumble under your breath as you start to pick your way back down the hill, clutching the empty plate down at your side. “Any time we’re in the same place together you just can’t be normal and polite. You always have to push me until I give you the reaction you want!”

His hand is suddenly on your elbow, pulling you to a stop before you can reach the bottom and escape him. 

“Wait. I really do want to talk. Can you just listen to me for a second?” 

Practically snarling, you whip around to bare your teeth at him, trying to wrench your arm free but he won’t let you go. “I don’t want to hear it, Al-Haitham! There’s nothing I have to say to you and at this point I think you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’ve got nothing nice to say to me either. We’re clearly much better off apart, wouldn’t you agree? Now unhand me!” 

His mouth settling into a firm line, he pins you with an unrelentingly hard look. “No. I won’t. Not until you talk to me like an adult instead of throwing a fit like a spoiled brat not getting her way.” 

You positively see red. It flashes across your vision, drowning out and swallowing everything else in your line of sight. You’re left functionally blind for all of a split second and, hardly even realizing you’re doing it, you lift your boot and viciously bring it down on top of his foot, maliciously aiming right for that little peephole on top of his shoe with your heel. 

It’s hard to tell if you hit your mark or not but he gives a stiff jerk all the same, his expression pinching to accompany the soft, seething hiss that slips out of him. It still doesn’t look like either of you is going to back down though when he refuses to let go but you just grind your heel down on what you sorely hoped were his toes to further drive your point home and incentivize him. 

“Archon’s help me, Al-Haitham. I’ll scream at the top of my lungs if you don’t get off of me!” 

You can see a muscle in his cheek tick as he grinds his teeth, looking like he was considering the pros and cons of heeding your warning or not. 

“Don’t do this. Not right here in front of all these people.” He growls, low and dangerous. “Just come somewhere with me so we can discuss this in private.” 

At the sharp breath you proceed to suck in he evidently concludes that you aren’t bluffing and he finally snags his hand back from you, allowing you to jerk your arm away with an unintentionally dramatic flourish of your robe sleeve. Good call on his part, you think as you stumble back a step. At least he still had some sense left in that big head of his. 

You hated to act this way but it was a side of you only he seemed to be able to bring out. No one else infuriated you quite this much or insisted on pushing you further and further until you finally snapped. It was his own fault for never leaving well enough alone the first time you told him to drop it. 

Slowly straightening up across from you, he pins you with a glowering stare. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”  

A sharp, bitter laugh punches out of you. 

“Pot, meet kettle.” You snarl right back, practically spitting in your anger. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to put your hands on me like that. You lost that privilege a long time ago, you ass!” 

“What exactly do you want me to say?” Al-Haitham asks of you, sounding dangerously close to exasperation as he spreads his empty hands out to either side in what was clearly meant to be a show of innocence. “I’m sorry? I screwed up? That I’ll take all the blame and let you scream at me as much as you want if you’ll just hear me out for one goddamn second?” 

Huffing a bitter laugh, he shakes his head and drops his arms before going on. 

“I don’t think that’s very fair of you to lay all the blame on my shoulders but if that’s what it takes then so be it. You’re mad at me and I get that. I might even deserve it. But how can I expect to make any amends with you if we can’t even have a normal conversation without you lashing out at me?” 

You stand there, impotently trembling, while you try to figure out how to respond to that. He was being perfectly reasonable, sure, and what he’d said even made some amount of sense. But you really didn’t want to hear it right now. You weren’t sure if you would ever want to listen to him break down every little thing you’d done wrong, everything you’d ever said to him that could be used against you, of which you were certain there must be plenty. Al-Haitham was much too intelligent to have missed any of it or to forget, and he certainly had more than enough brain capacity to store it all away for later use even years down the line. 

Maybe you were equally at fault for the relationship falling apart, but you weren’t even close to being in the right headspace to hear him list out every single one of your shortcomings and personal failings in excruciating detail. Honestly you probably never would be. 

“I don’t care.” You finally hiss. “That’s your problem, not mine. Figure it out yourself.” 

Quickly spinning around, you don’t give him a chance to respond any further as you stumble down the rest of the hill as fast as you dare to go on the uneven terrain. Coming here had been a mistake. You should have put your foot down as soon as it looked like he and Kaveh would be traveling with the two of you, even if it had made you look like an overly emotional dolt. 

You should have just stayed home and tended to your herb garden like you’d originally planned to before this godforsaken temple had been unearthed. 

You should have, should have, should have! There were too many to count. 

The timing of all this was so strange though, almost too perfect to be mere coincidence or happenstance. Bumping into Faruzan when you had and then your ex. The whole trip that you wouldn’t have even thought to take under normal circumstances. Maybe the Kedarnath ruins were actually cursed and this was just their way of punishing you for your hubris. 

In all honesty you probably deserved it. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A curse …

That thought keeps ringing in your head, over and over again, even when the next morning rolls around and you find yourself standing at the foot of the ancient, stone carved staircase that leads up into the side of the cliff. Was it really possible that this place was cursed? 

You’re not so sure of that yet, not entirely convinced that such things were real or that they had any bearing on reality. But what you did know beyond any shadow of a doubt was that if curses were real and this bygone temple housed one then you were most definitely a victim of its preternatural powers. 

Exhaling a deep, long suffering sigh, you glance to your right where Kaveh stands, mouthing a silent ‘I’m sorry’ at you. On the other side of him, tall and proud, Al-Haitham doesn’t even glance over or acknowledge your presence, though you’re sure he’s just as hyper tuned to you as you are to him. It seemed like a fate you just couldn’t escape no matter how hard you tried. 

Standing before your intrepid group of unlikely explorers, Madam Faruzan looks down on the three of you from her vantage point on the second step up while handfuls of people file by, eagerly chatting away. With her hands braced on her hips like that, she looked more likely to scold you like misbehaved children in her classroom than to rally everyone together with a rousing speech about camaraderie and teamwork. 

This trip truly could not have gotten any worse. 

“Well, well, I see you decided to join us today.” She says to Al-Haitham, clearly quite pleased to see him standing there ready to embark with everyone on this ill fated expedition. “I thought you said you had no interest in the temple. What changed your mind?”

“Nothing in particular. I guess curiosity just got the better of me.” He tells her but then, making his tone pointed and deliberate, he adds, “I hope that’s not a problem?” 

You ball your hands into tight, angry fists down at your sides. That had definitely been meant for you. 

But before anyone else can speak, Kaveh rather roughly clears his throat. “Ah, sorry. That was kind of my fault. I tried to convince him to stay behind so he could have that peaceful vacation he wanted so badly, but he wouldn’t listen to reason. He never does, honestly. I understand if this is more trouble than it’s worth to bring us along with you.”

“Nonsense!” Faruzan insists. “All are welcome here. The more the merrier, right?” 

Beaming, she looks at each of you in turn rather expectantly but no one has much to say at that moment, either keeping their attention down or averted, or simply refusing to acknowledge that question with a response.  

Her smile slowly fading, she glances between everyone again. “And what’s with the long faces, huh? Don’t tell me you’re not excited about exploring the ruins.” 

“Uh, that’s not exactly it, Madam Faruzan,” Kaveh starts to say but you decide to take the plunge and step forward to stand center stage. You may as well just get this done and over with. 

“I don’t have a problem with it. I’m looking forward to this even if we do have a few unexpected tag alongs with us.” You say, keeping your tone neutral. “I’m sure once we get inside we’ll probably want to split up anyway, since each of us specializes in a different field and everyone might not be interested in the same things as the others.” 

Faruzan starts to look a little perplexed now, curiously putting her head to one side, but she still slowly bobs her chin in agreement. “Very true, and we can always reconvene back at the tents later. That way we can all get what we want out of this trip.” 

You almost breathe a sigh of relief at that, even though you can tell by the sharp gleam in her golden eyes that you were going to have some explaining to do the second you and her were alone. It seemed like she couldn’t overlook the strange behavior any longer — but Al-Haitham suddenly cuts in before either of you can make another move to speak. 

“As logical as that may be, I don’t think we should overlook the fact that this is an only recently unearthed ruin. There’s no telling what sort of conditions the structural foundations might be in, especially with this many people coming and going after so many years of neglect. It’s probably smart if we stick together in case something were to happen.” 

At that Kaveh heaves a very tired sigh behind you, muttering under his breath. “Al-Haitham …” 

You just close your eyes and count to ten though, telling yourself again and again that you couldn’t afford to lash out at him here. It was one thing to do it in front of strangers who wouldn’t dare to intervene when one party was the big, scary grand scribe of the Akademiya but Faruzan was another matter entirely. She’d probably try to cuff both of you by your ears for squabbling like children in front of her. 

At least you’d tried though. 

“Fine. Do whatever you want, but don’t come crying to me later that you're bored.” 

With that thinly veiled warning tossed over your shoulder, you step up onto the stairs and loop your arm around Faruzan’s, using it to tug her into motion with you. She sends you an odd look as the two of you begin to ascend the aged and cracked stonework steps together but you only shake your head. 

“I’ll tell you what’s going on later.” You whisper, earning a quick scoff from her. 

“You’d better. The tension between you and that boy has gotten way out of control.” 

You internally cringe at that, wondering when she’d started to catch on and how much of it she’d willfully chosen to overlook. It seemed likely to be the whole thing at this point, if you were being honest with yourself, and you really weren’t looking forward to the way she was going to lay into you when it came time to confess everything. 

For now though you decide to focus on the temple. It was of an interesting architectural design, and you understood where Kaveh’s interest in it had stemmed from. 

It had been carved directly into the rockface inside of an existing cave system, according to historical texts as well as the early field reports you’d been glued to back in the city, pouring over each and every single one that came in. That’s how it had remained hidden for so long from probing human eyes but that had not protected it from the sometimes harsh elements of the sea. The typhoon that had finally torn away the exterior wall of the cliff side had just been the final nail in its coffin. 

The evidence of its destructive power is all around you in the form of large, craggy boulders that had only been moved aside enough to allow entry into the temple grounds. It looked like the storm had kicked up enough power to cause a partial cave in, and you could see that at least one side of the stone pillar entranceway had been completely crushed in the process. But the monument itself seemed to be tucked inside the belly of the limestone enough to have only taken some surface level damages here or there, though it would have been much worse had it been out in the open this entire time, slowly being buffeted away by the wind and the rain. 

Instead it looked like it had seen regular flooding of the cave network over the long centuries, seeing as everything down at the ground level was covered in a thick layer of algae and the now dried remains of barnacles. The heavy odor of low tide was thick down at the bottom but the steps are steep, and as you climb higher and higher, you gradually start to escape the clinging smell of saltwater and old fish. The air begins to clear little by little until, at the top, the only thing you can truly smell is the salt wind on your face. 

Upon crossing the small landing and stepping into the long forgotten temple, you’re greeted by over a dozen researchers and scholars, students eagerly investigating the inscriptions on the walls, the statues of a goddess wreathed in vines and flowers. Your excitement quietly flares back to life, feeling the same eagerness as before to learn the ins and outs of this place. 

But unfortunately you’re much too hyper aware of Al-Haitham and Kaveh trudging along behind you just at your backs to truly enjoy any of it so you quickly decide it’s too crowded here. 

Steering Faruzan along, you lead her through a series of short halls and antechambers, past decorated doors and interesting looking mechanisms that Kaveh ooh’s and aah’s about, whining when you refuse to slow down long enough for him to get a better look at any of it. To his credit, though, he seems reluctant to leave Al-Haitham with you unattended and he doggedly keeps in tow despite his steadily increasing grumbles. You felt a little bad about that, in truth, but you appreciated his kindness all the same. 

You’d have to remember to properly thank him for it later. 

It feels a little too much like Al-Haitham is actively pursuing you like this for you to stop trying to outrun him though, and you end up blindly zigzagging your way deeper and deeper into the temple in your futile attempt to lose them. 

Eventually you even notice the crowds of people starting to thin out until it’s just the four of you shuffling down a random corridor with only the gentle glow from a small ball of anemo Madam Faruzan had summoned into her palm to light the way when your lanterns couldn’t pierce far enough into the darkness anymore.  

And it suddenly occurs to you then that you really have no idea where you are now, and Al-Haitham was still pretending to be your ever present shadow. Burn everything. He really never knew when to give up. 

“Sorry to be the one to ask this but are you going somewhere in particular or is your goal simply to get us lost?” He says, the sound of his voice bouncing off the stone walls around you to make it seem like he was pressing in on you from all sides. 

Claustrophobia wasn’t usually a problem for you, but the deeper you wander into the side of the cliff and as it gradually becomes stiflingly hot deep within its bowels, the more you can feel panic starting to grip your chest. 

“Shut it. I don’t want to hear that from you right now.” You grumble, focusing on the end of the path up ahead. Looked like it opened up into a room, or perhaps yet another antechamber. 

“My apologies.” He concedes, surprisingly affable. “When would you like to hear it then? After you’ve gotten us stranded so deep that no one can find us or right before we all die of dehydration?” 

“You know what - -“ 

“Look.” Faruzan snaps at the both of you to get your attention. “I think this might be some kind of vault.” 

You whip your attention back around just as your unlikely band of adventurers reaches the stone archway. What kind of vault? 

The answer comes as soon as you step over the threshold, head tipping back, back, back to take in the high vaulted ceiling overhead. It’s the widest room you’ve stepped into thus far, and for that you're immensely grateful. It felt like you could breathe a little easier now as you slow to a halt just inside the room, and you take a moment to simply feel the oxygen moving through your lungs. 

Meanwhile Kaveh noises a curious sound and shuffles off to the side to look at something, Faruzan trailing after him with equal interest. As she moves further away the strength of her little light fades and you find yourself standing in relative darkness when Al-Haitham comes to stand next to you. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, much too bluntly for you to believe his sincerity, and you scoff. 

“As if you actually care.” 

“I do.” He insists, making you squint up at him through the heavy shroud of shadow hanging over the room. You weren’t sure what he was playing at here but you didn’t appreciate it. 

“I’m not falling for that just so you can give me more attitude about everything I’ve ever done wrong.” You hiss at him in a viscous whisper. “What were you just saying a moment ago about getting us lost in here? If it was that much of a concern for you then you should have gone off on your own where I couldn’t bother you so much!” 

Drawing a clipped breath, Al-Haitham shifts a little closer to you until you can feel the vague sensation of body heat coming off of him. “You don’t bother me. It’s your way of thinking that sometimes does. You’re standing here looking like you’re about ready to faint but you won’t even give me a simple answer to let me know whether or not you’re okay. How does that make any sense?” 

A cold note of surprise stabs through your grumpy irritation. “Are you seriously watching me that closely?” 

He gives a soft click of his tongue, unseen when your lantern was hanging down at your side but certainly not unheard. “It’s a little hard not to given our history together, wouldn’t you say?” 

For a harrowingly long moment poised right there on the precipice of some monumentally great freefall, you have no idea how to respond to that. It was sweet, wasn’t it? That he should still care for you on some level rather than desperately clutching at whatever bitter feelings he might have had. Unlike you. 

But you don’t exactly like having your own petty streak thrown back in your face like this, and you bristle defensively. “That’s some amazing powers of observation you’ve got there. Too bad you couldn’t have employed them when I was still sleeping in your bed to notice when I was unhappy with the way you were treating me!” 

Al-Haitham stiffens there in the darkness. You’re so attuned to him even after all this time apart and at odds with each other that you can sense the way his body gives a faint jolt in response, and you’re immediately swept up in a numb swell of guilt. Oh, why had you said that?

But before either of you can continue the exchange, Madam Faruzan calls over to you. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but you two should come check this out as well. I think we found something quite interesting here.” 

You hesitate to heed her summons, unsure if you should leave that last statement hanging like this. But Al-Haitham manages to shock you when he quietly relents, carefully reaching out to touch a hand to your elbow. At his gentle nudge, you allow him to turn you around and guide you towards the faint glow of teal on the other side of the room. 

Coming up alongside the others, you glance down at what they’re looking at to find a stone array built into the floor, directly in front of what appears to be an altar of some kind. Faruzan and Kaveh’s interest in the mechanism made perfect sense but you were not overly familiar with puzzles or ancient technologies to grasp what it might be used for or its significance. 

Humming a thoughtful sound, you reach out to lightly brush your fingers against the top node that was currently empty but looked like it should have housed … something. 

And your brows immediately take an expeditious trip up to your hairline. “It’s faint but I can sense the lingering traces of elemental energy in this thing. It must need a vision wielder to …” 

To do what, you’re not sure. 

Ever the sharp witted one, Al-Haitham helpfully chimes in to finish your thought. “It’s probably safe to assume that there must be a secret room or compartment behind the altar that opens when this is lit. It could be the key component of a much larger mechanism too.” 

“Right?” Kaveh eagerly adds. “I don’t think anyone else has made it this far into the temple yet so no one’s checked this out. Who knows what might be behind this thing.” 

“But which element does it need?” Faruzan asks, glancing over at you. 

You’re a bit surprised to suddenly have everyone’s expectant attention on you but in all actuality it wasn’t so strange that they would look to you for an answer. You were the only elementalism specialist on the team, after all — so you focus all of your concentration on the node and try to pick up on the residual energy inside of it. 

It’s futile though, and you finally click your tongue. “No good. The elemental particles are too old and decayed, I can’t distinguish what they are. Could be pyro or maybe … electro?” 

You glance up, expecting to find expressions of disappointment all around. Between the three of them there was only dendro and anemo readily available, and you were not lucky enough to have been blessed with a vision yourself. It makes you feel useless and even more insecure to be standing there as if you were their equal, undeserving of someone as accomplished as Al-Haitham. 

To your surprise, however, Faruzan looks anything but put out. 

“Don’t fret. We’ll just have to find the answer for ourselves then.” She says with a reassuring grin. 

“She’s right.” Al-Haitham agrees, surprising you most of all. “There might be clues in here that can point us in the right direction. And if all else fails we can always figure it out through process of elimination. Let’s try looking around.” 

You’re admittedly a bit taken aback by the abrupt unity of the mismatched group, not having expected this level of cooperation to come out of such a trying ordeal. But, reminding yourself that all of you were first and foremost scholars, you turn and start to make your way further down the wall while Kaveh and Faruzan go the opposite way together. 

And then you realize a certain someone is trailing behind you like a lost puppy. 

“Why are you following me?” You hiss over your shoulder, lantern swinging from your hand to cast odd shadows around the room. 

“I’m not. We just so happen to be headed in the same direction, that’s all.” 

“Then pick another direction!” 

Al-Haitham outright scoffs at that and you whirl on him, glowering through the gloom. 

“I do appreciate you being somewhat civil for once but this doesn’t mean we’re back on speaking terms. Especially not when you’re acting so strange. One minute you’re being a complete ass and then the next you’re acting like you actually care … I really don’t understand you sometimes.” 

“Oh, the feeling is mutual, trust me.” 

Gnashing your teeth, you growl a low sound of warning up at him. “Do whatever you want, I don’t care. But leave me alone!”

Spinning on your heel, you stomp away from him with a frazzled huff. You were starting to lose your already tentative grasp on the situation each moment you spent together. Did he hate you or not? Did you hate him? You’re honestly not so sure. Nothing made sense anymore, and at this point you’re not quite convinced it ever did. This was a spectacular disaster of a summer break. 

“Hey, watch your step.” He calls out behind you, but you really don’t want to hear it right now. 

“Just mind your business. I don’t have to listen to you!” 

And that’s where everything suddenly goes wrong. 

You stomp your foot once on the ground, feeling childish and petulant for doing it, but your boot goes straight through what you’d thought was solid stone. A squeak of surprise slips out as you fall, your balance disrupted by the unexpected jolt. 

But when you land hard on your ass the floor drops underneath you with a violent shudder. You only have a split second to comprehend what’s happening, to hear the alarming sound of rock crumpling and giving way, and then you’re free falling. 

It all happens so fast that you’re only distantly aware of Al-Haitham shouting your name but it’s too late. Your stomach lurches up into your throat, threatening to choke you as you tumble head over heels amidst the rain of rubble and debris. Something grabs at your flailing arm in the rush of motion, snagging it and holding on so tight it hurts as you drop for what feels like a disorienting eternity. 

Until you suddenly aren’t falling anymore and you slam into a freezing cold body of water that rushes up around you in the blink of an eye, swallowing you whole while you’re still reeling from the sudden shock. 

You realize then that it’s a hand wrapped around your wrist like an iron manacle when it yanks you upward, stopping your descent and instead pulling you back up towards the surface. Instinct takes over as you kick your legs out, following that unseen but much appreciated guiding force until you at last break free, gasping and blinking through the salt water that stings your eyes. 

Bobbing in the shallow pool next to you, Al-Haitham roughly gathers you to his chest to help keep you afloat, encouraging you to use him like a safety buoy.

“Are you alright?” He barks, a little more forcefully than he probably meant to as one hand comes up to gingerly feel over your sopping wet hair. “Please tell me you didn’t smack your head on the way down. I don’t know how fast we can get you to a medic if you’ve got a concussion.” 

Wildly trembling, from the fall as much as the soul sucking chill of the water, you struggle to find your voice. “N - no, I’m okay … I’m okay, Al-Haitham. I’m just a little — shellshocked, I think.” 

His hard expression eases slightly, soothed by the broad brushstroke of plain faced relief. “Good. Just put your arms around me and I’ll get us out of here as fast as I can.” 

You look at him through the numb haze of disbelief then, belatedly realizing that he’d jumped in after you. He hadn’t even hesitated, had he?

“Are you guys okay!” Kaveh’s panicked voice rings down from above before you can examine that thought any further, the sound bouncing off the walls, and both of you glance up to see him as well as Faruzan peering down the hole at you. 

You’d lost your lantern in all the chaos but Faruzan’s once tiny, spinning ball of anemo had swelled in size to illuminate a much greater area now. It pierces through the dense shadows and gloom to reach the bottom where you were, making the two of them look like saviors sent from the heavens. 

“We’re in one piece!” Al-Haitham calls back. “Think you can help us out of here?” 

Faruzan immediately straightens up, clearly bracing to jump. “I’m on it!” 

A swell of relief washes over you. Thank the gods one of you had an anemo vision on this trip. 

But before she can take the plunge Kaveh suddenly shouts and yanks her back from the edge, seconds before a large chunk of rock comes crashing down on top of the you-shaped hole in the ground. You have a split second to think that you’ve inadvertently caused a massive cave in but Al-Haitham is quick to jerk you away from the center of the pool where fresh debris was now raining down on top of you. 

Small rocks and chunks of stone pelt at your heads as he swims the two of you further out to the edge of the water that had flooded the center of this chamber. There you find higher ground and both of you stumble up onto relatively dry terrain, waterlogged and shaking, but still relatively unharmed. He practically drags you with him, in fact, taking you right off your feet until he seems to deem that you’re far enough from the water to set you back down. 

Groaning, you sink to the floor and swipe the hair out of your face before glancing upward again. You’re more than a little surprised to find Faruzan’s swirling anemo ball hovering just under the ceiling, flashing every few seconds as if in time with her heartbeat. At least she’d left you with the means to see. 

Thanks to that, you’re able to make out more of the room as well as the fact that the hole through which you’d fallen seemed to be covered now with whatever had collapsed on top of it. Honestly it was probably a miracle that you and him hadn’t been crushed. 

“We’re trapped.” You announce, not knowing why you say it but feeling like you need to. That much was obvious with just a quick glance at your surroundings. 

Standing over you, Al-Haitham seethes a low sound while he tries in vain to ring out the sleeve of his heavily sodden cloak. “Just sit tight for a moment. We’ll figure something out.” 

Tipping his head back, he raises his voice to reach the next floor up. 

“Kaveh!” 

“I’m here!” The blond’s voice filters through the stone, muffled and distant. “The pillar in the corner collapsed and I don’t think we can move it by ourselves! Are either of you hurt?” 

Al-Haitham glances at you, waiting until you shake your head. “No! We’re fine, but we need your help to get out!” 

“I know! We’ll have to find someone with a geo vision, otherwise I think this whole place is going to give out! There has to be at least one person here … just wait for us there while we go ask around!” 

“As if we could even go anywhere.” He murmurs with a heavy sigh. 

Evidently trusting Kaveh to see to this task without further input from him, he then turns towards you. Al-Haitham hesitates for only a moment before he drops down to one knee, reaching out to once again brush a careful hand over your head. “Are you sure you’re not injured anywhere? That was quite a fall you took and all that debris … you need to be honest with me so I can check how bad it is if you’re hurt.” 

“I’m fine.” You assure him in a small voice. It had been a very long time since he last touched you like this, so tender and deliberate, and you’re quite embarrassed by the warm flutter it kicks up in your gut. “What about you? I wouldn’t have thought you’d jump in after me like that.” 

Breathing a tight exhale through his nose, Al-Haitham eases back to look at you full on. “And why is that? I already told you I still care about you, didn’t I? I’m not some heartless beast, you know.” 

“Then why didn’t you show me that when we were still together?” 

An odd expression crosses his face. “You want to have this conversation right now? I can’t say your knack for timing has improved much over the last few years but alright. I suppose I can bite.” 

Settling more firmly on his knees there in front of you, he levels you with an unexpectedly sincere expression. 

“In all honesty? I thought I was. I tried to make time for you as much as I could, whenever I could, but you were even more busy than I was. It’s difficult to make plans when both of us have a bunch of obligations to attend to, isn’t it? And I’ll just remind you that that’s exactly why I didn’t take a teaching job at the Akademiya. I didn’t want such a full schedule.” 

Even though he would have gotten top priority for almost any position if he’d wanted it.

You flush slightly at that, hating to reopen this bitter wound yet again when it felt like you’d done nothing but pick at it relentlessly since yesterday morning. For once there was no easy escape route though and you didn’t see any way to skirt around the topic. The two of you had nothing but time on your hands while you waited to be rescued, after all.  

It seemed you’d just have to swallow your pride and face this head on. 

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I know it’s partially my fault too and you’re not the only one to blame. I could have tried harder or been a little more patient with you but … you have to understand how you talk to people sometimes, Al-Haitham. Even if you didn’t mean it that way, it always felt like you — like I wasn’t good enough. Like I didn’t belong with you because I wasn’t as smart or as accomplished, or as blessed by the gods. I don’t even have a vision. What do I possibly have to offer you?” 

His mouth tugs into a genuine frown at that instead of the usual neutral set of his jaw that you were used to. That makes you feel a little nervous about how he’ll respond, half expecting him to lay into you with a scathing remark or two, but all he does is ponder over it for a drawn out moment. 

Then he finally draws a purposeful breath. “I don’t care what you have to offer or not offer me. That’s irrelevant to this and any other discussion.”

“Huh?” Confusion makes your brows knit together as you sit up straighter in front of him despite the hunched shuddering of your shoulders. Gods, you were cold. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means exactly what I said. Don’t start getting cranky now. You were right to say that you’re partially at fault too, and that defensive streak is exactly what always gets you into trouble. There’s no deeper meaning behind my words no matter how hard you try to look for one or obsess over it. I’m always upfront with everyone, including you. It’s not my fault if someone doesn’t like that.” 

“B - but then …” 

Al-Haitham nods in agreement, not needing to hear the rest of your unasked question. “I don’t find you lacking or undeserving of my time, and certainly not because you don’t have a few more academic accolades under your belt. And really, a vision? That’s the farthest thing from my mind when I consider if someone is important to me or not. The exact opposite, in fact. I’ve always admired how hard you push yourself despite having no natural advantages or innate abilities to make life any easier for you. You’re not a genius, so what? You’re still one of the smartest people I know — when you’re not acting like a brat, that is. And you got there all on your own merit. That’s far more impressive than someone who’s naturally gifted reaching the same milestones.” 

You’re not quite sure if you should feel immensely flattered by that little speech or if you should reel back from him in shock and demand where the real Al-Haitham was. Brutally honest, yes, but this candid? That didn’t really seem like him at all. 

But you finally settle on some confounding combination of the two, feeling yourself warm up to his presence there with you. It was like the ice around your heart was slowly starting to thaw. 

“Thank you.” You murmur, tentatively smiling. “For that and for trying to save me when I fell. And … I’m sorry too. For always being so stubborn. This is what you wanted to talk about last night … isn’t it?” 

“It was.” He dips his chin in a curt nod. “But between the both of us, I’d say we can both be equally stubborn at times. I understand why you didn’t want to hear me out, and I’m — also sorry for how our relationship ended. Believe me, I didn’t want it to come to that. When you said you wanted us to go our separate ways I thought of nothing other than trying to stop you and convincing you to change your mind, if that counts for anything.” 

“… then why didn’t you?” 

Momentarily dropping his gaze, Al-Haitham seems to think on that for a moment before lifting his attention again. “I wanted to respect your wishes, first and foremost. If you weren’t happy with me then I wanted you to move on and find your happiness elsewhere. It only seemed like the logical conclusion at the time. But … you haven’t been with anyone else since, have you?” 

Your eyes grow round as saucers at that. “Have you seriously been paying that much attention to me this entire time? Some would probably call that stalking, ahbal. Should I report you to the Matra when we return to the city?” 

That earns you a scoffed laugh. “Hardly. I hope you haven’t forgotten that I’m still your superior at the Akademiya. Even though I don’t enforce it and just let you do whatever you please, you do technically fall under my jurisdiction. Considering that, it’s a little hard not to pay attention to what you’re doing, habibti.” 

You give a small, involuntary jolt as if he’d just slapped you across the face with a wet rag. 

And then you look at him — really look at him, for the first time in what felt like ages. Soaking wet with his hair plastered to his face, his forehead and his cheek where it sticks to him in clumps. He looked not unlike a big, grumpy cat that had taken an unexpected dip in the water. But Al-Haitham simply peers back at you, unguarded and without expectation in his gaze which remains steady where it’s locked onto yours. It’s … real sincerity staring back at you, isn’t it? 

That realization makes something in you crack irreparably, and you impulsively reach for him. You hadn’t even understood how much you’d actually missed him, or perhaps you’d simply never allowed yourself to acknowledge that perpetual yearning for his touch until now. 

But he manages to beat you to it, surprising you a great deal when his hand flies up to grab at the side of your face. His large palm cupped around the meat of your cheek, he keeps you held in place as he swoops down and crashes his mouth into yours. A stilted gasp catches in your throat but you don’t even pretend to fight it or cling to the pretense of this being unwanted. You can’t. 

So you press into him, meeting the heated kiss with equal fervor, and move your mouth against his with a hitherto unknown voracity. Everything seems to surge and swell up in you all at once. All those lonely nights spent in your own bed instead of his, all the missed little touches and brief pecks down a secluded hall between classes. The meals you’d once shared together, quiet chats over coffee, even just the simple act of reading in shared silence in the same room. 

You wanted it back. Craved it more than anything, even if it meant sacrificing your own stupid pride. But did this mean he wanted you too, or …

“Al-Haitham - -“ 

He follows after you when you try to retreat, gasping in the scant space between the two of you seconds before his lips collide with yours again. 

Whimpering a frazzled sound, you give in without putting up much of a fight at all, allowing him to devour your mouth as you wind your arms around his neck. You clutch him to you, fingers digging into the heavy clumps of his hair as you kiss him back, just as hungry and unrestrained as he is. You’re not quite sure what’s come over you or what suddenly clicked into place, but it feels as if something that was once missing had been returned to you. 

A fragment of your soul, the lost puzzle piece you could never seem to find and complete the scenic impressionist painting in your heart with. Nothing else fit other than him. It was always him. No one else’s edges were as strictly defined and obtuse, but they were perfectly moulded to the shape you’d had to mourn and leave empty this entire time. 

Even when he pissed you off so badly you could just scream he was still the only person you’d ever known who could make you feel this way. 

So you relent to it, readily give yourself over to the demanding push and pull of his lips while his hands greedily descend upon your waist. He pulls you closer to him, gathering you to his front much like he had in the water except this time he doesn’t let you go. Instead he possessively clutches you to him and mercilessly pins you there, keeping you locked in place when he takes a punishing nip at your bottom lip. That brief starburst of pain makes you gasp and he takes quick advantage of your parted mouth to delve his tongue inside, tasting you for the first time in ages.  

Groaning against him, you slide your eyes shut to stop them from rolling back in your head. You don’t remember Al-Haitham being quite this unrestrained, this pent up with need that he seems to be trying to swallow you whole. It feels good though, like some unspoken testament to his feelings for you, his quiet craving, and you eagerly arch in his arms to press your breasts tighter to his chest. 

Your nipples are almost painfully stiff after that impromptu dunk in the water and just the simple act of rubbing them across his firm pectorals inspires a pleasant shudder down your spine. Even through your wet clothes you can feel it in stunning high definition, groaning softly into his mouth. 

Responding in kind with a low, masculine growl, Al-Haitham drags his lips away from yours to press hard kisses to your cheek, your jaw and finally the pounding pulse in your neck. You seethe a wounded sound at the way he proceeds to bite at you, feeling almost more like a beast than a man at that moment, but your head is spinning much too fast for you to protest. All you can do is kneel there with him on the vaguely damp floor, mewling soft little sounds of pleasure while he works a possessive love mark into your throat. 

The far distant, fuzzy thought that he was marking you as his, laying his physical claim on you, very nearly brings tears to your eyes but you stubbornly blink them away. Even without such proof you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d always been his despite the distance between the two of you, at least in spirit. There was no one else for you but … was it also the same for him? 

“W - wait,” you suddenly blurt, hands flying down to grab at his blocky wrists when he begins tugging on the sash around your middle. “Right here? Are you sure? The others could come back any minute now.”

Rumbling a low sound, he gives the now tender skin on your neck one last, clinging suck before slowly withdrawing, sitting back enough to look at you. The teal of his sharp eyes seems darker now despite the illumination from Faruzan’s hovering anemo ball overhead as he searches your face for — something. You couldn’t even begin to guess what. 

But then his gaze drops to regard your soaked clothes, the chilled bunch of your shoulders where you were still trying very hard not to shiver even with the shared body heat between you and him. 

“I can only do so much to keep you warm until we get out of here.” He murmurs, his tone of voice sounding a little deeper than normal. Thicker. “I think we should probably get you out of those wet clothes, at least for a moment. Just long enough for your skin to dry before you catch a cold. Besides, it’s not like geo visions are all that common here in Sumeru” 

You aren’t exactly fooled by that excuse but when he tries to pull at your belt again you let him do it this time. And you quickly return the favor, snagging at the sash around his hips to fumble it loose. He snorts a quick laugh at that, though it’s obvious he’s much more interested in other things than teasing you at the moment. 

Leaning back up into his space, you kiss him again while you collectively work to get each other undressed. This is not the slow and deliberate approach he typically employed though, but rather something that bordered on desperate. His hands can’t seem to get your clothes peeled away quickly enough as he tugs and yanks, in too much of a hurry to take his time with it. 

It’s only his last lingering traces of self control that seem to stop him from ripping everything off in tattered shreds and for that you’re quite grateful. You would have hated to walk out of here naked or having to figure out how to explain it away to the others, but that doesn’t stop your excitement from ratcheting up another notch. You’d never seen him like this before. 

So keen to have you, impatient. It was utterly intoxicating. 

And as the pile of discarded clothes next to you grows, so too do you find yourself shedding any concerns you might have had of potential discovery. He was right. It would probably take them some time to find someone who could move the column and you’d have plenty of warning beforehand to make yourselves decent. Sating this need, this hunger, was far more important than anything else you could think of. 

You’re still trying to peel away his clinging black shirt when he finally gets you disrobed down to your brassiere and you shudder at the sensation of cool air wafting against the thin cotton. Al-Haitham helps you slide the straps down your arms though, even when you can’t quite seem to stop shaking, and then unhooks the little clasps at your back. 

The material tries to stick to your skin as he pulls it away from you, leaving your nipples to cut up through the empty space between your body’s. They’re so tightly coiled it almost hurts and, hissing at the sensation, you glance down at yourself for a brief moment before renewing your efforts to strip him as well. You couldn’t even recall the last time you’d felt so tightly wound and in need of release, if you’d ever felt it to such an extent at all. 

But he manages to thoroughly distract you when he cups your breasts in his palms, lifting them and kneading the plushy swells with his rough hands. For as sizable as they are they seem to fit perfectly in his hold, as if the two of you really had been made for each other, or at least you for him. Your sensitivity is so high thanks to the cold chill from the water that you can’t help the way you cry out the moment his thumbs brush over your teats to nudge them back and forth. 

Gods, save you. It was too much. 

“You seem to be enjoying this. I didn’t anticipate you being so very receptive after all this time.” He says quietly, watching you tremble for him with a great deal of interest. “I wonder, is this just what happens when you go so long without getting attention … or is it because I’m the one touching you right now?” 

“Nnghn … I’m not going to answer that … ass.” 

He noises an amused sound in response, almost humming, before withdrawing one of his hands from your chest. 

Only to bring it back down on the swell of your tit with a quick, biting swat. The suddenness of it startles you more than the fleetingly brief pinprick of pain, and you hunch forward with a squawk. 

But he’s quick to bring his hand up, catching your chin with his fingers to tilt your head back and make you look up at him again. You just stare at first, almost too stunned to speak, and then your pride catches up to you, pulling your mouth into a frown. 

“What the hell are you - -“

“Relax.” He cuts across you smoothly. “I’m not going to make a habit of it or start throwing my weight around. I just wanted to see that look on your face, that’s all.” 

You bark a short-lived laugh at him but it’s almost immediately interrupted by a low moan when he uses his other hand to tweak your nipple. It wasn’t hard to see what he was doing. Balancing the pleasure with the pain, a light smack for a coaxing pinch. 

“Ahhn … what look, habibi? If you’d wanted me to get mad at you again you could have just said so.” 

“No, not that. Although I can admit you look pretty cute when you’re angry too.” 

He’s still playing with your nipple, making it exceedingly hard for you to concentrate on anything else. Damn him. 

“Then what …?” 

“It’s that face you make when I do or say something you don’t expect. It’s not surprise, exactly, but … almost a look of affront. Like you can’t believe I have the audacity or the daring to do it. You secretly like it, don’t you? No one else makes you behave this way.” 

You think that’s an understatement, and a gross one at that, but he’s shifted his attention to lightly flicking back and forth over the tip of your breast, and you just can’t think straight. He was right though. You knew it to be true deep down inside, and that was the worst part of it. 

There was something exciting about it, wasn’t there? The way only he could seem to stoke such big feelings in you, even if they weren’t always positive ones. It was annoying and frustrating, and sometimes you really did want to pop him a good one for always pushing you past what felt like the point of sanity but … 

Trembling at the fleshy nudge of his finger against your nipple, you blindly reach out to latch onto his shoulders, digging your nails deep into the skin. Was this just the fate the two of you shared? The inevitability that you would someday rip each other to shreds?

Somehow that didn’t sound so bad, at least not in the heat of the moment. 

“Ah - Al-Haitham …” 

He taps your chin, encouraging you to keep looking at him before sliding his hand away just to bring it back down on your cheek. He keeps his fingers loose when he does it, hardly using any strength at all, but you still jolt, exactly like he’d known you would, and your mouth warbles open — to groan or to curse him, you’re not sure. 

And you never get the chance to decide, for he issues a hungry sound that sets your guts to vibrate, his seemingly heavy lashes drooping even lower as he leans towards you to close the distance. 

Secretly basking in the warmth of his palm on your face and the faint, lingering sting, you tip your head to better accept the heated kiss he places on your mouth, but it’s not enough. He just keeps coming, shifting even closer until he’s practically sitting right on top of you, and still he isn’t content. 

Breathing out a terse exhale through his nose, Al-Haitham slides his hand further back to tangle in your damp hair, carefully threading his fingers through the matted mess. His gentleness in this almost manages to surprise you, but you quickly realize why he’s doing it when he closes his fist down at the root. You have but a split second to gasp when he backs off just enough to disengage his lips from yours, and then he’s using your hair to yank you backwards. 

You seethe and hiss the whole way down but, under the steady guidance of his arm, you quickly find yourself being laid out on the floor underneath him. Looking up at him like that with the glow from the softly whirling ball of anemo casting light down on the sordid scene, you feel an excited shudder work down your spine. He almost looked like something ancient and powerful kneeling over you in that long forgotten temple chamber. Almost like — 

“It’s a shame we have to be somewhat quick about this.” He says, sounding oddly offhand and casual as he reaches for the hem of his black top. With practiced ease, he tugs it up and off over his head to be tossed in the heap of already discarded clothes, leaving him naked from the waist up now. 

Which does absolutely nothing to help the sticky state of your cunt, and you eagerly press your thighs together in squeezing anticipation. He almost looked like an ancient god of the past, ready to claim and to conquer, and to subjugate. 

May the Dendro Archon save you, when did you turn into such a willing martyr? 

“I’d like to take my time with it and make up for the years spent apart but … I’m afraid I can’t wait to have you.” Al-Haitham goes on, oblivious to the whirlwind he’s kicked up in your reeling mind. “It feels like I’ll completely lose myself if I don’t have you now. I can’t believe I ever let you go in the first place. I should have told you no instead of going along with it.” 

He follows you down then, covering your body with his and damn near crushing you under the sturdy weight of his muscular frame. It’s been so long since you last felt this, since you last had him laid out on top of you this way, that for a split second it almost registers as uncomfortable. Like you were being crushed and pinned to the point of pain. 

But that thought immediately dissolves from your mind when he settles his hips between your legs, grinding the hard outline of his rigid length into your cunt on a stilted, slow motion thrust. It’s like a switch has been flipped and you mindlessly buck against him, moaning a deeply frazzled sound as you roll your pelvis up to meet him. Suddenly that same crushing sensation registers as pleasant, like you were safe and secure, and oh so very close to feeling that final piece slot into place. 

You didn’t just want it, you needed it. 

And you claw at him in your desperation, frantically scrabbling at Al-Haitham’s broad back in an attempt to latch onto him and find leverage, to physically pull him into you. But he only ignores the bite of your nails in favor of carding his hands into your hair again, cradling your skull there against the stone floor. 

Keeping you still like that, he bends his head close to kiss you once again, and you take a vicious nip at his mouth in your mindless distress. You were starting to feel like the one who couldn’t control themselves here, so keen on feeling him sink inside you after all this time that you don’t stop long enough to consider the logistics. All you knew was that you wanted him deep in your guts, as deep as he could conceivably go. 

“Don’t be a brat.” He growls low in warning, seconds before his lips crash against yours in another hungry kiss. 

You moan a harried sound as he rather expertly works your mouth open so he can dip his tongue inside where it flicks possessively at the back of your throat. His narrow hips continue to work between your legs while he does it, steadily rolling the hard length of his cock into that sensitive slit. 

The only things standing in the way now are your underwear and his slouching pants, everything else already long discarded in that initial rush. If you’d had the presence of mind and the wherewithal to consider it, you’d probably realize that he was trying to make sure you were sufficiently wet and ready to take him without having to touch his hands to your pussy. There was no telling what was on them after being dunked in the water, after all. 

But you’re hardly in your right mind and all you knew was that he was still holding back and treating you like something fragile. Something that he could break if he wasn’t careful. And that only serves to further frustrate you, squealing a muffled sound as you try to turn your head away and escape the concerted attack of his mouth. It’s no use though. His hands remain like vices on either side of your head, keeping you trapped in place while he takes his time leisurely drinking from your kiss swollen lips. 

It’s enough to nearly drive you insane, making you squirm and writhe underneath him to no avail. It didn’t seem fair that you should be so out of your mind with arousal while he was still at least partially in control. But, well. This was Al-Haitham you were talking about here. One of his most frustrating personality traits was how he never seemed to be truly rattled or shaken up by anything. 

In the end all you can do is take it in grudging silence until he finally withdraws his tongue from where it had so thoroughly tangled around yours and then eases back enough to give you a chance to breathe. 

Softly wheezing in the aftermath, you peer up at him through the thicket of your damp lashes, struggling to find your voice. Your throat already felt cracked and raw, and he hadn’t even started to fuck you yet …

“Please,” you finally manage to mewl, bowing your spine in a supplicating, needy arch. “Want you …”

“Oh, do you now?” 

A confident, knowing little smirk settles into place as he bends close to deliver a quick bite to the opposite side of your neck. The sensation of his teeth sinking into flesh makes the previous love mark throb with renewed intensity, and you shudder fiercely for him there on the floor. 

“Nhgh! Don’t … ahh, don’t be an ass. You want it too, don’t you?” 

Groaning a rumbled sound of agreement, Al-Haitham backs off again but this time he pushes up to kneel over you. The slick, bare expanse of his chest and tight abdominals almost manages to distract you but the way he proceeds to reach for the top of his pants with purpose and intention quickly snaps you out of it. Your hands fly up in a rush to help him tug at the series of buttons along the waistband, the two of you working in shockingly harmonious cooperation to get that final obstruction out of the way. It was funny, actually, how much a shared goal could bring two people together. 

“I want you to tell me something first.” He intones, breathy and so terribly strained, even as he helps you shove his slacks half way down his hips. “Tell me you’re mine. Say you’ve always been mine, habibti.” 

Your heart momentarily stalls out and you whine a faltering sound, hearing it bounce back at you off of the water and the walls. For him to ask that of you, to demand it …

“I’m yours, ahbal. Always. Even when I wish I wasn’t, even when I don’t want to be.” 

He softly seethes in response, but you can’t tell if it’s because of what you were saying, drunkenly babbling for all intents or purposes, or if it’s due to the hand he wraps around his cock. Fishing himself out, he gives it one good tug to make the foreskin bunch and ooze a heavy droplet of precum that drips down onto your stomach with a tiny little plap. 

Then he’s releasing that galvanized length and reaching instead to dip between the spread of your thighs where he curls that possessive palm over the center of your panties. The warmth of him bleeds through the clinging wet material instantaneously and only seems to highlight how very swollen your sex is for him. Labia flushed and puffy, the sticky sensation of arousal gathering along the lips. You feel all of it unlike ever before, and you outright hiss with a full bodied shudder. 

“And this?” He goes on, commanding and hard. “Who’s pussy is this, sweetheart?” 

“Yours!” You squeak only to let out a startled yelp in the next breath when he smacks at your cunt the same he had your tit and your cheek. It doesn’t exactly hurt but it still comes as a shock to your system, and you clench painfully tight as you roll your pelvis up to grind yourself against his fingers. 

“Gods above, Al-Haitham, please. I can’t take it, I can’t, I’m yours. Always yours. I’m suh - sorry I ruined everything! I didn’t mean to …” 

An uncharacteristically brutish noise slips out of him then, something caught between a growl and a deeply satisfied moan. It registers in your punchdrunk, reeling mind as something that should frighten you and make you think twice about engaging with him like this. The kind of man who would make that sort of sound at a woman was up to no good, surely. 

But he doesn’t give you enough time to react, to sort through your whirling thoughts and decide how you really feel about it before he springs into decisive action. 

All at once he’s hooking his fingers into the center band of your underwear and roughly yanking it aside. The air hits your inflamed pussy in a rush and you babble some mindless sound as your legs instinctively curl up to better accept him. You’re not even sure if it had been a conscious decision on your part when it felt like you were floating somewhere in the ether, far removed from your own body. He doesn’t stop long enough to question it though, quickly moving to settle fully between your thighs and guide himself to your waiting entrance. 

The immediate push on your guts has your mouth flying open as if to scream but nothing immediately comes out. It’s like the intense pressure, the blinding sparks that flash across your blurry vision, has effectively robbed you of your voice. All you can manage is a pitiful little groan of pleasure as he starts to sink into you one stilted inch at a time. 

And it’s perfect. Exactly what you remembered it being, this gradual stretch along your inner sleeve and the way he seems to fill you out and fit against every single ridge and contour in your body. Like you really, truly had been made for each other. 

It’s different too, though. Either due to the extended time spent apart, not feeling this merging of your body’s with the same regularity as before, or maybe it’s simply due to the extreme height of your emotions pinging back and forth between the two of you. It doesn’t really matter in the end, but it feels much more intense than you recalled. As if something that had been broken was now whole again, untarnished and without any lingering scars to mark the damage. 

It damn near bowls you over right on the spot, and your body heaves underneath the slow stretch of penetration so dramatically that you almost come right up off the ground. 

But then he’s right there on top of you again, laying out over your fitfully trembling frame to pin you and keep you relatively still. You cling and clutch at him in blind abandon, nails scraping at whatever flesh you can reach while your legs futilely spasm in the air over his locked hips. 

You only realize he’s sunk in you straight down to the hilt when he starts to grind his pelvis into the plushy cradle between your thighs, forcing you to acknowledge how deep he really is. It pushes down on your womb and your cunt positively weeps in response, drooling an excess of sticky slick around him where he’s wedged tight. You’d never felt quite so stuffed, so very crushed under the pleasant weight of him on top of you. 

It drives you absolutely wild, and you dig your hands deep into his hair to grab fistfuls in a knuckle aching grip. Al-Haitham just moans a heated sound against your face though, panting softly as he gradually begins to move in earnest now. 

His skin tries to stick to yours where both of you are still wet but he doesn’t let that stop him or slow him down, snapping his hips with punishing precision to drive himself in and out of you. He’d always been good at this, a little too smart and observant not to be, and yet you don’t remember him being quite this brutal about it. Not in anger but desperation. High strung need. His deep seated desire to have you, to reclaim what was his, was far too great for him to approach it with the same levelheaded patience as before. 

He’s anything but that now, and the meaty sound of flesh colliding with flesh rises sharp and loud in the cavernous room. Your whimpering groans and half stifled shrieks quickly grow in strength as well as pitch until everything seems to bleed together, creating a carnal melody that matches the rhythm of his thrusts. 

You just can’t hold it back despite your best efforts to keep quiet, ever aware of the looming fact that the others could return at any moment and catch you red handed. It’s like he’s punching those harried sounds of pleasure right out of you though, every time his rigid cock spears through your guts. And the longer he fucks you there on the floor with bestial abandon, the less you seem to be able to control it. 

But he eventually grows tired of your haggard bleating, likely understanding exactly how precarious this situation was as much as you did, and your next guttural moan cuts off with a half strangled gurgle when he slides his hand around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze but pushes upward on the column of your neck just enough to tip your head back against the ground and stem the constant stream of vocalizations. 

It works, too, and suddenly all you can do is squirm on his cock while you mewl breathless, half formed sounds of ecstasy while your cunt excitedly flutters around him. You were getting close. Almost alarmingly so. Although he’d always been talented even in bed you couldn’t conceive of a time when he’d had you this close to cumming so quickly. It was dangerous, oh so very dangerous. 

Al-Haitham seems to realize it too, either that you were about to reach your peak in record time or the risky nature of carrying on like this, you couldn’t say for sure, but he brings his face close to hover just over yours. He looks into your eyes from only a scant hair’s breadth away, grunting softly in the back of his throat while he continues to fuck you sensless. You could almost laugh at the stamina of a supposed scribe, a simple paper pusher, if only you’d had the extra oxygen to do so. He didn’t even look particularly fatigued … 

“Are you going to cum for me? For old times sake?” 

You force your chin to bob with a stilted nod, struggling just to keep your eyes open and locked on him. Everything in you ached and throbbed for release, so close and only getting closer. He wasn’t just going to make you cum, he was about to have you imploding in the most literal sense. 

“Good. I’ve missed seeing that look on your face. And I hope when we leave here … oughnn, I hope you remember this. I know I certainly will.” 

Pausing, he flicks his attention across your slack expression, almost as if he were searching for something. Looking for an answer to some question he hadn’t dared to ask aloud. His gaze was still cool and calculating even now, if not shuddered with carnal enjoyment, but there’s something else there too. 

A gleam that is almost … hopeful? 

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fisted my cock thinking about you since you left?” He goes on, rough and gravelly. Tortured. His expression pinched so tight it appears to be causing him physical anguish. “Even if this is just a — ahhn, a mutual moment of weakness between us … even if it’s just one last hurrah for the books … I’m going to carry this with me for the rest of my life. Just like I’ve been carrying the memory of you with me this entire time. You’ll always be mine. Do you understand me?” 

You can’t take it anymore. Not the constant drilling of his cock nor that fierce look on his face, and certainly not what he was saying. It mirrored your own feelings on the matter a little too much, even if you would sooner die than ever admit it. 

Screwing your eyes shut against the onslaught, you wheeze a threadbare groan into the small space that separates you from him. The building pressure in you soars dizzingly fast, doubling and then tripling until you can hardly tell which way is up anymore. Everything is abuzz around you, every little atom and speck of dust vibrating in perfect frequency with your shuddering body. You were about to cum, you can feel it boring down on you with punishing vengeance, but … 

“I’m yours.” You manage to get out with no shortage of effort, so tiny and weak you’re not even sure if he can hear what you’re saying over the fleshy cacophony that rings through the room. “I’ll always — ough! Be yours … -Haitham. Ooh gods, habibi. I’m yours, yours, yours! Always!” 

Growling a truly animalistic sound, unlike anything else you’d ever heard come out of him, he slams his mouth into yours, kissing you so deeply it has your eyes rolling back in your skull. And as his tongue invades yours, pushing in on it and twining in a sensual, demanding dance, the dam finally breaks. 

You hurtle over the edge into oblivion with a violent jerk, cumming so hard you seem to momentarily black out. All you’re aware of is how hard you shake, how wildly your pussy spasms and milks at his cock, instinctively trying to squeeze every last ounce of pleasure you can from him. You’re not even sure how long it takes him to follow after you but you know he must, for he seethes a deep, masculine groan into your lips and shudders with you. 

It’s simultaneously the best orgasm you’ve ever had and the worst, because even when you’re still reeling from the mind numbing surge of adrenaline and potent endorphins, a tiny little part of you understands what this means. Your fate was well and truly sealed now. It was very likely that it always had been, given your inability to fully move on from him, but now it was as good as a signed death sentence. 

You’d never be able to escape him. Not in this life and, knowing your luck, probably not even the next either. 

But rather than being gripped with panic you find that you’re quite content basking in the warm afterglow that gradually descends upon you as the two of you start to come down from your mutual highs. Al-Haitham slowly relaxes on top of you, letting the lingering tension drain from his satiated body, and then he settles back on his knees just enough to take some of his weight off you. 

He doesn’t completely retreat though, something you're immensely glad for as you wind your arms around his neck and hold him against you. It was a jail sentence, perhaps, yet it was one you would go into willingly. 

“Are you happy with this?” He eventually says into the still quiet, his cheek pressed into your shoulder. Just listening to your heartbeat slow and even out, synching his breath to yours. Intentionally or not, it was hard to say. 

Idly toying with a half dried lock of his hair, you think on that for a long moment before sighing quietly. “With the venue? No. With you? … I think I am. Or I can be, anyway. If you’d like to try again, that is.”

Snorting a soft sound, Al-Haitham lifts his head to find your eyes, holding them with his stare when he speaks next. “You sure about that? I thought you couldn’t stand to be around me.” 

“I can’t. But I can’t stand being apart from you either. It’s a lose-lose situation no matter how you look at it, so … I guess we should probably try to make the best of it?” 

A brief smile plays at his lips then, such a subtle curling of his mouth that you would have missed it had you not been so very close to each other. It’s enough to make you want to kiss him again, but he beats you to it before you can make a move to follow through on the impulse. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal then.” He murmurs, just brushing his lips against yours at first before sealing them together and drinking deeply from you for a long, drawn out moment. Simply enjoying the closeness, the intimacy that both of you seemed to have missed since the breakup. 

But he has to pull away eventually, and when he does you find that you can’t quite keep the smile off your face any longer. Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible summer break after all. 

“We should probably figure out how we’re getting out of here first. Come on, I’ll help you get cleaned up and dressed. I don’t want to have to explain myself to anyone if they come back and find us still wrapped up together.” 

A furious blush immediately settles deep into your cheeks at the reminder. Burn everything, what were you going to tell Madam Faruzan about this!?

⭐

Crossposted: here

[magicalbats]

I had a bit of a pet scare yesterday into today but please trust and believe that I did indeed see the Nod-Krai pv, and YES I absolutely lost my mind over the Lightkeeper!!!! ✋😩 Good lord above that man is gorgeous. Stunning. Show-stopping. Mind blowing. Brilliant. Jaw dropping. Beautiful. Astounding. Awe inspiring. Delightful. Pretty. Handsome. Lovely. Splendid. Astonishing. Irresistible. And most importantly — BEDDABLE

Just. JUST!!! 😮‍💨

Varka is nice too, I think they found a good middle ground between typical ikemen looks and a more rugged/masculine appearance, I have absolutely no complaints about him. But other than Flins, the big takeaway from the new characters for me was definitely Durin. WOW! What a cutie 🤭

But also guys !!! Khoi is back as Albedo! Hearing him speak to me again after all this time damn near knocked me on my ass, I was in such a state of shock I had to go back and make sure he was really voiced and I hadn’t hallucinated it. lol I’m so, so, so incredibly happy he decided to return to work! 😭 Now we just need Josie and then I can finally play Paralogism, so fingers crossed!!

Tbh this pv was pretty much everything I could have asked for, the only thing that was missing was Dottore but 🫢 word on Twitter is that the Fatui will be getting their own pv in August sooooo we’ll see if that comes to fruition or not but man I hope so. Not only do I want to see Dottore again and make sure he’s still got the same va (please … I beg) but I also sorely want to rest my weary eyes on Pantalone’s charming face. 🥹 My beloved, I beseech you to return home from the war.

[magicalbats]

you HAVE to write for komano im on my KNEESSS mother bats

Mother bats xkdkdkxkks 🤣 I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before but you know what, I’ll take it!

And I’d love to write for him!! I’m such a sucker for the delinquent with a heart of gold trope 🥺 Once I finish these commissions I plan to work on some personal projects for a bit so we’ll see if I can’t come up with something for this sweet boy.

I also really … really want to write for Anton. That’s my special little guy, my boyfriend. I know he’s not at the top of the thirsting list for a lot of people but I love him so much. He was the very first character who came up to my bedroom to watch a movie with me and I had NO idea what was happening, I didn’t realize the trust events were a thing at the time, so he’ll always have a special place in my heart. 🫶🥹

[magicalbats]

oh god... do you know that red haired wolf dude from zzz...

Lord, I do 😩

I’ve been a Komano truther since his full 3D model dropped right before 2.0, I could SEE the vision when a lot of other people doubted him. And he’s been SO sweet to us already just in the temple restoration mini quests like

This IS scary dog privilege, are you kidding meeee

🫣

[magicalbats]

Also, fun fact everyone! That fic officially marks my 100th story on AO3! 🫶🥹 Ofc between all the little collections and Kinktober entries I’m already way past that milestone overall but wow, I never thought I’d actually make it this far or that anyone would want to see me ramble on and on about fictional guy #583! cxvkckdm I don’t think I would have stuck with it and kept going without everyone’s support, so I’m going to take this opportunity to give each and every one of you a huge shoutout!! Thank you all so much for reading my stuff!!

And here’s to many more in the future! 🤗

[magicalbats]

Stay, Don't Go

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 12,225

Warnings: Afab!reader, childhood friends, reader is on the ace spectrum, injured Childe (nothing crazy, its just a scratch lol) noncon to dubcon, manipulation and coercion for sexual favors, handjob, mutual masturbation

A/N: The next commission is for @scarameowww (I hope that tag worked, for some reason I don't see your icon populating when I type it!) and I had a lot of fun working on this one, it turned out really soft despite how the tags sound xcvkvndkek Please enjoy, everyone!

⭐

You’re standing in the kitchen, fumbling with one of the last few remaining potatoes from your cellar, when the knock comes at the front door. 

It’s a tentatively polite sound, as if the person who’d come calling wasn’t sure they’d find you at home or not, but it makes you jump all the same as if they’d pounded at the chipping wood with the full force of their body. The sharp knife in your hand slips with the involuntary muscle spasm and you hiss a small noise when you nick your thumb with the blade. 

Trying your best to ignore the sting, you pause there only long enough to watch as blood slowly bubbles up along the nearly invisible slice in your skin, so razor thin you would have otherwise missed it. 

Well, that was just great. 

You quickly drop the half peeled potato into the waiting pot on the stove and pop your injured thumb in your mouth, turning on your heel just as another knock rap-raps from the front of the house. “Coming!” 

Heavy skirts swaying with each step, you hurry out into the hall and make a beeline for the door where you quickly wrench at the series of deadbolts along the frame. It was just you alone in the house while your father was off serving in the Tsaritsa’s army, after all, so the extra precautions made sense. But it was the middle of the day and not likely to be any hooligans up to no good, probably just one of the other girls from the nearby village if you had to guess. 

Still sucking gingerly at your wounded finger, you finally get the last lock unlatched and you swing the door open wide to allow in a fresh blast of icy wind. What you find waiting for you on the other side nearly bowls you over on the spot though and you freeze in place. 

Everything else around you seems to fade away to nothing, like you’re standing in the middle of some immaterial void as you look up at the face of the young man standing before you with nothing short of dumbstruck disbelief. You couldn’t believe it. 

“Ajax? Is it … it’s really you, isn’t it?” 

The coppery headed brunette sends you a playful if not tight edged smile from the other side of the threshold where he’s leant rather heavily against the side of the cottage. “I certainly hope no one else has been showing up at your doorstep with my face. And really, sucking your thumb? Kochanie, I thought we left that sort of thing behind us at the schoolyard.” 

You give a small start at that, belatedly realizing that you were still holding your hand just in front of your face. The little cut hardly mattered in the moment though, and a wide grin quickly spreads across your mouth as you step forward to embrace him. 

“Don’t tease me, Ajax. When you knocked I was just … wait, are you alright?” 

Now that the shock of his unexpected arrival was starting to wear off you notice how stiffly he seems to be holding himself there on your front step, how his expression looks a bit pinched. A rush of concern comes pouring in to douse some of the happy flutters you’d first felt, and you momentarily forget about hugging him in favor of placing a careful hand on his arm over the bulky white cloak that hangs from his shoulders. 

Drawing a terse breath, Ajax drops his chin to look at where you’re touching him and his smile turns somewhat wry. “I’d thought I could hide it a little better than that, at least for a while. Guess I really can’t keep anything from you, huh?”

“What is it? What happened, Ajax? Please tell me.” 

“It’s nothing to fly off into hysterics about. I just got a bit too careless, that’s all.” Groaning softly under his breath, so quiet it’s nearly imperceptible, he forces himself to straighten up from his slouch which leaves him all but towering over you at his full height. 

You can’t help the mild pang of surprise that curls through you though when you realize just how great the difference seems now, wondering if he’d had another late growth spurt since the last time you’d seen him. It had been a few good months now, maybe even close to a year, but … 

“You’re injured?” 

“Only a little bit.” He laughs a low, thinly veiled sound of pain, as if it were lingering and insistent rather than fading with time. “Like I said, no need to panic. I was just hoping you might let me stay here until I have enough strength to make the rest of the trek home.” 

Your mind flies through a million different possibilities all at once. A hundred different wounds, a dozen weapons that could have caused considerable harm to a warrior as accomplished as him and the laundry list of potential complications that came with any number of them. If something was broken it would have to be properly set or it wouldn’t heal right, and if he’d been punctured or sliced with something it could easily end in a lethal infection if not treated … you were overwhelmed just thinking about it, and terribly out of your depth here. 

“Kochanie?”

Feeling suddenly numb, you lift your head at his hedging tone. Far be it that you were a nurse or any kind of competent medic, but you weren’t stupid either. You knew exactly how dangerous it could be if Ajax didn’t get the right care he needed and you weren’t confident in your ability to provide that to him. 

“Of course you can stay here. My home is always open, you know that. But you need to be seen by a doctor. Come inside and rest while I go to the village to get the physician. I’ll drag him here by his coattails if I have to.” 

Still muttering an endless stream of disoriented, vocalized thoughts under your breath, you duck back inside just within the door to snag your own cloak off of the hook on the wall. You quickly start to step around him, focused solely on your objective as you lift the frayed cape to your shoulders, but he stops you in place with a gloved hand on your elbow. 

“Wait.” He insists, emphatic enough that you snap your attention back up at his face again. “Don’t go. That won’t be necessary so just stay here with me. Please. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“But … I don’t understand, Ajax. If you’re really wounded there’s not much I can do to help you …” 

He gives his head a slow shake as the bottomless blues of his eyes disappear behind dark lashes, squeezed shut against the physical discomfort he was clearly feeling. “That’s not true. You’ll help me plenty just by staying here. The truth is … I don’t want to run the risk of Tuecer or my mother seeing me like this. If you bring someone here and word of this spreads, they might try to come knocking at your door the same way I did. Besides, didn’t you used to like playing nurse? Here’s your chance to finally live out that childhood fantasy of yours.”

“That’s not funny.” You insist, heaving a clipped exhale to make your breath condensate heavily in the air. He was only ribbing you a little bit, teasing you the same way he always did, you knew that well. But you still didn’t appreciate it or his attempt to brush off your concern very much. “Your condition could quickly worsen if you’re not properly treated. This winter's been hard and I don’t have much in the way of supplies even if I did know how to set a bone or stitch a gash but … I get what you mean about your family. You don’t want them to worry, right?” 

At his stilted nod, the sincerity in his gaze, you shift your weight from one foot to the other in a clear sign of relent. 

“Then I suppose there’s nothing else I can say to that. Are you certain it isn’t serious or life threatening though? I can leave at a moment's notice, all you have to do is give the word.” 

“I promise, kochanie. You worry too much sometimes. It’s just a little scratch, that’s all. Even you should be able to handle something like this without a problem.” 

Well, that didn’t exactly instill you with overwhelming confidence but if he was certain he didn’t have immediate need for a doctor then you’d just have to do your best and hope for a favorable outcome. Ajax was much too stubborn to make him do something he didn’t want to and you couldn’t exactly force him either when he was already twice your size even though it didn’t seem like all that long ago when you’d been of a same height with each other. Pushing it any further would’ve been the very definition of fighting a losing battle. 

“Fine. But if it starts to look like you’re taking a turn for the worse I’ll go running to the village straight away and you don’t get to complain about it. Does that sound fair?”  

A slow grin spreads across his face. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Water drips and splashes in the basin as you wring the rag out, pointedly ignoring the dull ache it causes your cut. There were far more pressing matters that needed your attention right now though, and you listen to the sound of Ajax shifting behind you, groaning a faintly breathy noise while he works to discard his clothes. The wound was on his chest, he’d said, but you weren’t sure what sort of severity to expect. A gory mess or maybe only a minor laceration? It was sometimes hard to tell with him. 

Mentally bracing yourself for the worst and praying for the best, you wait until you hear him sink down on the edge of the bed before turning around. You find him slouched back on his braced hands, grimacing slightly as he slowly nudges at one of his boots with the other to get it kicked off. And it’s no wonder what’s causing the discomfort anymore, a sharp intake of air catching inside your throat the moment your eyes fix upon his abdomen. 

The injury did indeed start at his chest, he hadn’t been lying about that part. But it extends well past that and down over his stomach, almost straight to the top of his pants where it miraculously missed his bellybutton by a hair’s breadth margin. Ragged and uneven in spots, it looked to you like someone — or something had caught him good with a sword or … perhaps a lance? 

You were positively aghast. 

“This is what you call a little scratch?” 

Leaving his boot halfway off for the moment, he lifts his gaze to send you a lazy, confident grin. “If you think this is bad you should’ve seen the other guy. Like I said, I just got a bit careless. But it’ll heal up fast if I can sleep it off for a while. I don’t even think it needs stitches.” 

You’re not so sure you’re in agreement with that estimation but you decide to inspect it from a closer angle, picking up the basin to take it with you now that you had a better idea of the situation. 

Coming right up to the side of the bed where you can stand between the wide spread of his knees, you lean forward to get a better look. Apprehension makes your heart thud heavily inside your chest but, to your surprise, the cut indeed seemed to be surface level at best. It’s bloody and pink around the edges, raw to denote its freshness, but you can make out no sign of bone, organs or even the subcutaneous fatty layer underneath. He must have lurched back from his attacker just in time to avoid it slicing any deeper than it had. 

Mouth settling into a firm line, you sink down to your knees and set the water filled basin next to you on the floor. Then you take the damp cloth in your hand and lean up to dab at the bottom corner of the wound, exceedingly gentle in the way you brush at the drying flakes and clumps of blood, the jagged edges of sliced skin. He still hisses though, tensing at the contact, and you shoot him a quick look. 

“Sorry. I’ll try to be careful.” 

“It’s alright.” Ajax forces out a thin laugh that does very little to soften his tightly shuttered expression. “There’s no helping it in this case so don’t let that scare you. What matters is that it gets cleaned, right? Just stay focused and I’ll be a nice, cooperative patient for you.”

It feels like there’s a solid lump in your throat threatening to choke you up but you heed his imploring all the same and turn your gaze back towards Ajax’s middle again. Taking your time with it to ensure you don’t accidentally pull at the skin or tear the new scabbing off, you patiently work to remove all the brittle residue of coagulated blood along the gouge and wipe away the clinging red stains on his skin as you go. 

You’re quite relieved to find that the longer you spend looking at it the less serious it seems. It had been plenty alarming at first glance yet your earlier evaluation quickly proves correct. It may have been a close call on his part but he’d narrowly avoided being gutted like a fish. Thank the Cryo Archon for that. 

“What did this to you?” You finally dare to ask some minutes later. 

“Bandits.” 

You don’t know if you believe that but you keep that thought to yourself as you gradually reach higher up his torso, stopping every so often to clean and wet the rag. It’s easy to get lost in the rhythm of this task, letting your mind narrow and recede until only the simple objective of cleaning him off remains. Maybe it wasn’t the perfect results of a trained professional but you thought you were doing a pretty good job. 

“It seems like it’s been some time since you were last home. Where have you been until now?” 

“Mmm. I was in Liyue, by order of the Tsaritsa.” He suddenly sucks in a rough breath when you get a bit too close to the most uneven portion of the wound, right below the center of his chest. Your pulse jumps and you quickly apologize, but Ajax just gives his head a slow shake to accompany the faltering exhale he breathes out. “I’m okay, don’t worry. We were just doing early reconnaissance, by the way. I can tell you wanted to ask.” 

None of that comes as a great shock but you smile up at him anyway, warming at the familiar sense of affection that curls through you. He really did know you better than anyone else. Your oldest friend, your … 

Shoving that strange thought to the back of your mind, you return to the task laid out before you. There was an undeniable curiosity you harbored to hear all of his stories, his escapades in foreign lands, but you don’t bother asking him for more detail than that, knowing he wouldn’t divulge anything of any real importance. 

Instead you settle on, “How was it? Everything the traveling merchants and adventurers say it is?” 

“It’s a beautiful nation. In fact, I think I’d like to take you there some day … if you’d be interested.” 

A quick laugh slips out of you. “Oh, is that so?” 

The moment stretches into silence as you finally reach the top of the injury, idly wondering if he didn’t need a few stitches after all while you clean what looks to be the starting point of his wound. You were a novice at best but to your untrained eye it looked like whatever had attacked him had used a heavy downward swing, likely with the intention of cleaving him clean in half. It was horrible to think about but at least he was still alive. 

So caught up in your whirling thoughts, you don’t even realize how expectant the quiet becomes until he abruptly shatters it with one, tersely delivered word. 

“Kochanie.” 

Stilling, you rove your eyes up towards his face again, a distant note of surprise settling in your stomach when you see how grim and resolute he suddenly looks. 

“I’m serious.” He tells you with utmost sincerity. “I’ll take you to Liyue someday so you can see it for yourself. Or Mondstadt or Natlan. The whole world. Wherever you want to go.” 

You aren’t quite sure what to say to that, uncertain how to read this new mood, but you offer up another small smile all the same. “That’s sweet of you, Ajax. But I’m perfectly happy right here in Snezhnaya. You don’t need to take me anywhere.” 

“But …” 

He sounds uncharacteristically hesitant and you tip your head to one side in question. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? Did you lose more blood than you thought?” 

Ajax barks a quick laugh, and just like that his outward demeanor shifts back to that of the laidback, confident man in the prime of his youth. His grin turns lopsided, almost cocky, as he leans back to brace his hands on the bed again, giving his taut body a long, lean stretch — clearly meant for your benefit. 

“You think me delirious or something, kochanie? I’m perfectly in my right mind. I meant every word I said … but we can discuss that later. Are you satisfied?” 

It takes you a prolonged beat to figure out he means the work you’ve done on his wound and you numbly drop your gaze back to the slice taken out of him. This easily would’ve been enough to cripple almost any other man, enough to kill the average person, but not Ajax. Still though, you wonder again if he should have it sewn up to ensure it closed and healed properly. Not like he wasn’t already littered with a myriad litany of different battle scars but … 

“I think I’ve cleaned it as best I can.” You venture slowly. “Are you certain we shouldn’t have it stitched though? I could always - -“

“No. No stitches. I told you it would heal up just fine as long as I have ample time to rest, didn’t I?” His smile takes on a sharper edge then, turning into something truly sly. “Now do I get a reward for being such a good boy, nurse? You didn’t even have to tell me to stay still so I think that should earn me something in return.” 

Quietly scoffing under your breath, you shoot him an unamused look. “What, like a lollipop? Are you still six years old, Ajax?” 

“Aw, come on. Kiss it and make it better for me. You know you want to.” 

You hardly wanted to do anything of the sort but at the roll of your eyes he merely arches his back with a playful wriggle to better present the flat plane of his stomach to you. The fact doing so clearly tugs at the skin, threatening to reopen the wound that looked like it had only just started to mend and scab over, fills you with a sickening sense of immediate dread. 

“Stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Not until you kiss it. Please, nurse, pleeaaase?” 

You have half a mind to smack him for being such a spoiled brat even after all these years but you understood too well exactly how stubborn he could be. He really wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted and, seeing no other choice, you quickly swoop forward on your knees to place a lightning fast peck to the uninjured side of his stomach. 

Ajax’s skin is smooth against your lips, rough hewn the way one would expect a man’s to be but somehow still soft with what you could only imagine were the lingering traces of leftover baby fat. It’s so slight that you’d easily overlooked it until now, and feeling it under your mouth sparks a flutter of nostalgic familiarity in your chest. 

Suddenly finding yourself wishing for the childhood you’d spent growing up together, you ease back on your folded legs to peer up at him again. 

“Happy?” 

“Not quite,” he drawls, mischief twinkling in the bottomless depths of his eyes. “It still hurts a little bit, miss nurse. Can I have another?” 

You narrow your eyes in warning, wondering what he thought he was playing at here. But knowing that he was injured and likely just soaking up the attention while he had it, you still relent and lean in again to deliver a quick peck to the side of his abdomen. 

Drawing a slow, almost anticipatory breath, Ajax shifts slightly to nudge his hips just off the mattress as if in offering, or perhaps needy supplication. “Another? A little lower this time …” 

A dull note of uncertainty curls through your gut as you glance at the top of his pants, trying to pinpoint what he hoped to get out of this. You didn’t understand it in the slightest, having never even entertained the notion of touching him in such a way before now, and yet you still find yourself obediently bending your head close to press your mouth to the vulnerable spot just under his navel … 

Where you proceed to blow a loud raspberry against his skin, making Ajax jump as if you’d just sucker punched him. 

“H - hey! What gives, you little - -“ 

“I think that’s more than enough for now.” You intone as you push back and climb to your feet with a prim huff for good measure, dragging your hands down the front of your humble, everyday dress to smooth out any wrinkles. “I’ve given you more than enough allowances for one day, I’d think. Now you need to get some rest.”

Ajax looks positively bewildered by this, sharply watching you bend to retrieve the basin as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. “You’re serious? You intend to leave me, just like that?” 

Hesitating halfway through the motion of turning to walk away, you send him a confused look. “Like what? I’ve cleaned your wound for you. Do you need something else?” 

A mirthless laugh punches out of him, making his shoulders droop slightly as he drops his chin to his chest as if in defeat. “Unbelievable. You really don’t get it, do you?” 

“… get what?” 

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He says, groaning ever so softly as he straightens from his restless slouch, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. “We can talk about it later if you want. I think I should catch a nap though. I’m not in the best mood right now.” 

Thinking that was an understatement given his extremely odd behavior, you start to turn away again. “Alright. Just yell if you need anything. While you’re sleeping I’ll see if I can’t scrounge up the ingredients for a poultice that I can put on your wound when I come to check on you later.” 

“Sure, sure. I’ll be here.” 

And on that decidedly strange note, you slip out into the hall with the basin hugged to your chest, gently closing the door behind you to a soft click from the inner mechanism. He’d changed a lot over the years since the two of you were kids but this was easily the most confounding development yet. 

What a strange guy he was turning into. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It’s well after dark by the time you step inside the room again, carrying a large bowl of various supplies tucked in the bend of your arm while you hold up a softly swaying, glowing lantern with the other. You’d poked your head in a few times over the last few hours only to find him out like a light and softly snoring where he was sprawled out on his back atop the bed. Much to your chagrin, however, he was still fast asleep even now. But it was getting quite late into the night and although you’d hoped to avoid this you’d finally had no choice but to accept the fact you were just going to have to wake him up. 

Hopefully he’d slept off his earlier mood, you think to yourself as you creep across the old floorboards, as silent as you can manage. Stopping next to the bed, you set the lantern down on the little dresser beside it to cast half of Ajax’s slack face in gloomy relief. He looks peaceful and blissfully still for once but his eyelids don’t even so much as twitch against the light. 

You stand there and watch him for a prolonged moment, glad to see the even rise and fall of his chest rather than the labored breaths that might have indicated a fever was taking hold. Then you move to step around to the opposite side of the mattress, noting that he’d kicked off his boots at some point when you pass by his bare feet. 

Crawling up onto the bed with your bowl, you momentarily set it aside next to your knee before leaning over his prone body to lightly touch his shoulder. Still he does not so much as stir though, so you give him a careful nudge. 

“Ajax. Hey, wake up. I want to dress your wound for you.” 

It takes another few coaxing jostles at his shoulder but at last a tight grimace spreads across his face, lashes fluttering with growing activity before he finally cracks his eyes open with a groggy, disoriented groan. 

“Wha … where’mm I? Oh,” his searching gaze lands on you and he visibly relaxes into the sheets, allowing a sleepy half smile to pull at his mouth. “It’s kochanie. I remember now … I came knocking on your door just like when we were kids.” 

“Yes, you did.” You give a solemn nod of agreement. “I’m sorry I had to wake you, but I managed to find enough herbs and dried plants to make a poultice. I’d like to apply it before the wound starts to fester but I didn’t want to startle you if you suddenly felt someone touching your stomach out of the blue.” 

The grin that spreads across his face now is obviously mischievous but you can tell he’s still half asleep in the way he slowly lifts his nearest hand to lazily fling it across your lap. “I don’t think I’d mind waking up to you touching me very much. You’ve got a good bedside manner, miss nurse.” 

“Well, thanks. And you’re not a bad patient to take care of, I guess.” Other than his curious mood swings that is. 

Pointedly ignoring the way he idly twiddles with one of the buttons on the front of your dress, you grab the clean rag out of the bowl next to your knee. You’d already soaked it in distilled water, intending only to dampen the scabbing a little bit so the concoction could better do its job, and you carefully bring it down on his chest. 

Using a light touch, you gently blot over the wound where the coagulated blood had started to truly harden and solidify. You’re a bit surprised to find that the wound was already closing up impressively well, and in seemingly record time at that, but he doesn’t keep his mouth shut long enough for you to further evaluate this discovery. 

“Did I frighten you earlier, kochanie?” 

You give him a quick, sidelong glance before focusing back on the wound again. “As if you even could. You were just being weird, that’s all. But I suppose that isn’t so out of the ordinary for you.”

Ajax snorts a quick laugh. “Something tells me those who I’ve faced on the battlefield would have a much different opinion of me. But I’m glad I didn’t scare you. Sleeping on it definitely helped clear my head.” 

That makes you frown slightly. “What are you even talking about? I really don’t understand you sometimes.” 

“Hmm. You'd like to know?” 

“I think I’d appreciate some sort of explanation.” 

Humming a soft sound of acknowledgement, Ajax seems to think it over for the next some odd minutes while you finish wetting his skin and set the rag aside to take up the smaller mortar bowl out of the larger one. Giving its contents a quick stir and a final press with the pestle to make sure everything is ground sufficiently, you start to apply it to the wound in a thin yet thorough layer. 

“That stuff reeks.” He grumbles, scrunching up his nose. 

“Maybe so, but it was the best I could do to try and keep you from getting an infection since you didn’t want to see a doctor. Just bear with it until I get the bandages on and that should help with the smell.” 

You don’t mention that the ‘bandages’ were old sheets you’d ripped up into strips while he was sleeping, having had no choice when you’d discovered that you really were out of even the most basic first aid supplies. Once your father sent this month's meager army wages home you’d make sure to stock up on what you could just in case Ajax decided to make a habit of this. 

But he doesn’t complain any further while you work over him and for that you’re quite grateful, not being well practiced enough to do this with a bunch of distractions pulling your attention away. He even stays perfectly still for you when you begin to lay out the shorter strips of cloth over his chest and abdomen, lightly pressing to keep the dressing in place. He just silently watches you the whole time with a particular sort of interest reflected in his eyes.  

Finally deeming it sufficient some minutes later, you sit back to admire your handiwork. “There. How does that feel?” 

“Awful.” 

You give your tongue a bothered click. “Ajax - -“

“Have you ever given yourself to a man before?” 

Starting at the abrupt question, you turn a horrified look upon him. “What? What sort of thing is that to ask?” 

“A perfectly reasonable thing, in my opinion. After all, we’re in bed together right now and I’m even half undressed already but you don’t seem to care one way or another about any of it. And earlier … you were kneeling at my feet, kochanie, yet you acted like you didn’t understand what I was doing.”

You hesitate at that. “… and what were you doing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” He scoffs quietly. “I’m a man, you’re a woman. What do you think I was doing? Surely you’re not that oblivious.” 

More confused than ever now, your mind races a mile a minute as you try to make any sense of what he’s saying. At first it just doesn’t click, your lived experiences so far removed from the intimacy of relationships and bedding that most of your peers were all too eager to join in on that it just doesn’t even occur to you as a possibility. But then you abruptly realize what he’s insinuating, what he’d meant by being man and woman, and your face positively blazes. 

“Y - you … do you really think of me that way, Ajax?” 

“Of course I do.” He says as if that should have been the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe to him it was. “Why shouldn’t I? You’re beautiful and smart, fierce in your own right. I’ve thought about having you for a long time now and I’ve wanted you for even longer than that. Are you going to reject me, kochanie?” 

“Well — no, not necessarily, but - -“

“Then why didn’t you show any interest in me earlier? Why don’t you show any now?” 

Your head dizzingly swims. Not only did you have no idea how to answer that when you didn’t even really understand it yourself, but the thought of telling him that you just … simply never had those kinds of thoughts about anyone did not seem to be the kind of response he was looking for here. On the one hand you could be truthful, awkwardly try to explain your perspective on things and likely make an even bigger fool out of yourself than you already have, or you could try to go along with it, for his sake. 

Because you did have feelings for Ajax once everything was said and done, just not — those specific ones. 

“I’m sorry.” You impulsively blurt before you can think any better of it. “I guess I’m just … easily embarrassed. We’ve known each other for such a long time now, I thought … I didn’t realize - -“

“Do you want me as I want you?” He cuts across, soft yet demanding in his search for a sufficient answer. 

Unfortunately you really aren’t sure how to give him that, and you quickly grab for the bowl so you can get up and put some much needed space between the two of you. “L - let’s talk about this later. You still need to rest, and I bet you must be starving by now. I made porridge earlier, I can bring - -“

His hand is suddenly on your elbow, halting you when you’ve only made it halfway through the motion of climbing off the bed, and without any further ado he physically yanks you back into him. 

With a startled yelp you fall against his bare shoulder and the bowl of supplies slips from your fingers at some point in the rush, sliding to the rumpled sheets where it’s almost immediately forgotten. Wide eyed and tense, you whip your attention towards his face even as you bring your hands up to push yourself off. But he only grins at you, smirking, for all intents and purposes, and you don’t quite manage to wriggle free quickly enough before he loops his powerful arm across your back to lock you in place. 

“Ajax - -“

“Nuh-uh. You’re not leaving until you give me my reward.” 

“Wha - … what do you want?” 

“A kiss.” He says, dropping his gaze to your lips where it lingers for a prolonged beat before he slowly drags those eyes of deepest ocean back up to yours. “On the mouth this time. Kiss me, kochanie. Please?”

Slowly balling your hands into fists against his chest, you peer into Ajax’s face for a long stretch that seems to bleed into eternity. “I don’t understand what that’s supposed to accomplish.” 

“It’ll make me feel better, for starters. You don’t want to see me suffering and in pain do you?” 

“… no.” 

“Then do it. Come on. Just one little kiss. For me?” 

You hesitate to heed his wishes, not exactly repulsed by the thought of putting your mouth on his but just — unenthusiastic about the act. You’d seen plenty of people kiss before and had never felt a stirring or the desire to experience it for yourself, and in truth you hadn’t thought he would be interested in such things either. Maybe that was naive of you though, in retrospect. He was still a man, just as he’d said, and you were still … a woman. So did that mean this was only inevitable? Something you were destined for even if you felt no real yearning for that sort of physical intimacy? 

It’s a strange feeling that settles in your gut but, silently reminding yourself that this was for his sake, you cautiously lean down to just brush your lips against his. The sensation doesn’t elicit much of any response at all within your body and you move to pull away, but Ajax is quick to tighten his arm around your back and pin you there. 

Whimpering softly when he leans up into you, starting to kiss you with a low, breathy sigh through his nose, you stiffly hold yourself against him while he pecks at your lips in what was clearly meant to be a coaxing manner. It doesn’t work though and you almost feel a little bad about that. Especially when in spite of your inexperience you can still tell that he was far more practiced than you would have ever thought to give him credit for. 

It seems like a waste on you, someone who doesn’t even truly want it and therefore can’t appreciate what he’s doing, yet you make no effort to slap him away. 

The why of it is a mystery to you but you can tell he’s pleased by your acquiescence in the way he hums a faint sound into your mouth, tilting his head slightly to better work his lips against yours. It takes you an embarrassingly long moment to realize what he’s trying to do, to understand that he wanted you to open up and let him in, but you eventually yield to this too, forcing the muscles in your jaw to relax. 

Feeling the slackening of your mouth, Ajax wastes no time deepening the kiss and he swipes his tongue out to drag a wet line over the soft seam. That does manage to register as a displeasing sensation, prompting you to finally turn away and disengage from him. 

But his hand is suddenly in the back of your hair, fisting it close to the roots to hold you in place. A squawk of protest rises in your throat as you finally give his chest a weak shove but he’s an unbudging force against you, taking the chance you've inadvertently given him to spear his tongue deep inside your mouth. You screw your eyes shut and squirm in place while he takes his time exploring you, flickering over your teeth and your tongue, trying to ignore just how unappealing this really is in your mind. 

You cared for him deeply, perhaps more than anyone else in the world, but this … it was far beyond the pale. 

Moments later when he finally draws back of his own accord to look at you with a heavy lidded, almost dreamy expression on his face, you quickly reach up to wipe the spit from your mouth. He watches you do it with a growing smile, barking a sharp laugh at the way your nose wrinkles in distaste. 

“What, you didn’t like it? You were fidgeting an awful lot for me to believe that.” 

You don’t know how to tell him that it hadn’t been a positive response so you don’t bother, simply settling on, “I didn’t realize you were going to be so messy about it.” 

“Well, can you really blame me for that?” Dropping his tone down to a rather seductive drawl, Ajax casually readjusts his hand to curl around the nape of your neck in a clearly possessive gesture. “Just look at you, kochanie. You’re so sweet and plump, like a ripe cherry turnip waiting to be plucked and eaten at the kitchen table. I could make an entire meal out of you, y’know. And I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that I always clean my plate.” 

You can’t help the way you reel back from him as far as his hand will allow, completely disarmed by what he was saying. “You’ve turned into a fiend! What have they been teaching you at the palace? If your mother ever heard the way you’re speaking - -“

“And she won’t hear of it. Ever. I’m serious, you’d better not go tattling on me like we’re still on the playground.” 

The sharpness in his tone, that demand for compliance, cuts through your apprehension like a knife through warm butter, and you just look at him — really look at him for a long, drawn out moment. 

And it hits you all at once that he was right. Neither of you were children anymore and you couldn’t keep treating this situation like nothing at all had changed over the long years. You’d been a fool to still look at him the same way you did when the two of you were seven, nine, twelve or even sixteen years old. He was a man now, well and truly, and in hindsight you weren’t entirely sure how you’d ever overlooked that fact.

Because you can see it clearly in his jawline, the shape of his face, and the muscular definition across his chest. His biceps and tight abdominals, very likely what had saved him from being eviscerated. There was still room for him to grow and fill out some more, of course, and you didn’t doubt that he would as he continued to train and grow stronger. But there would be no denying that the Ajax in front of you was no longer the same boy you’d grown up with. You weren’t exactly strangers to each other, yet … 

“Fine. I won’t say anything. Can you let me go now? I’d like to go to bed at some point.” 

“Aw, don’t be like that. I don’t think I’m quite finished with you yet.” He murmurs, back to smiling and perfectly at ease again. “I’ve waited so long to have you to myself, kochanie … and my wound still hurts so badly. Think you can help me out a little more?” 

You very nearly tell him no, certain more than ever that you didn’t want to keep playing this game with him, but despite all of your misgivings, no matter how much you didn’t care for any of it, you still feel compelled to give in and bend to his will. He was your oldest friend, after all. You didn’t want to see him suffering or in pain, and you certainly didn’t want him to think you no longer cared for him either. 

It seemed you really had no choice in the matter. 

“What do you want? Another kiss?” 

“That would be nice.” Pausing, he meaningfully flicks his gaze towards your chest. “And maybe you could let me see those gorgeous tits of yours?” 

Equal amounts fluster and shock creep up your neck, and you impulsively swat at his shoulder with a quick hand. “Don’t call them that! You’re so vulgar now!” 

Chuckling a breathy sound, clearly unperturbed, Ajax lifts his opposite hand to reach for your front where he deftly latches on to the topmost button on your dress to fiddle it open. You suck in a sharp gasp and try to pull back, already slapping at his fingers, but the palm around your neck stops you from making it very far. Despite your halfhearted protests he easily manages to get the first one undone and he reaches for the second even as you anxiously grab at the material to hold it closed. No one had seen you naked since you were a child, not since you first entered puberty and your body started to morph right before your very eyes, and you’d always assumed that would never change. 

It seemed unnatural in your mind to be looked at in a state so vulnerable and bare, especially when it was Ajax who was doing the looking, but your attempts to fight him off are cursory at best. He seems to realize this, sensing that your heart just wasn’t in it, because he keeps unbuttoning your dress until the front of it is hanging open almost straight down to your waist. 

Eagerly, he slips that groping, searching hand inside to slide it across your ribcage where he can squeeze at plushy love handles. Feeling overwhelmed and far removed from your comfort zone, you merely whimper a frazzled little sound when he tugs you closer, bringing your chest nearer to his face. Reaching up, you press against his temple to halt him, further mussing the fringe of hair that was already disheveled from sleep, but he merely brings his hand up to grab your wrist and tug it away.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, dipping his head down to kiss at the center of your chest. “Don’t be like that. You want to help me, don’t you?” 

“I … I do, but …” 

Groaning a heated sound against your skin, Ajax nuzzles into the swell of your breasts, not unlike a babe seeking warmth and comfort, as he uses his hold on you to direct your hand lower. You realize what he’s doing at the last moment and try to pull away but it’s no use. His grip is as good as iron, and there’s nothing you can do about it when he presses your fingers into the front of his pants. The sensation of something firm, hot and seeking, makes your stomach lurch with renewed apprehension. 

“Wait! I can’t - -“ 

“Relax. I’m not going to rush into this when you obviously have no idea what you’re doing and I’m not exactly in the best shape to do all the work right now either.” Pausing, he turns his head to nip at the meat of one breast, teeth sinking into the bountiful flesh for but a moment before quickly replacing them with a soothing kiss. “But I wasn’t exaggerating or lying when I said this would help me feel better. All that adrenaline, the rush of a good fight … I don’t think you understand what it does to a man. And then to come here seeking shelter only to see you looking so damn soft and inviting on your doorstep. I don’t just want you, I need you, kochanie.”

He groans a rough, rumbling sound of anticipation then, his excitement mounting quickly as he adjusts the position of his hand to clasp it over yours. Manually, he closes your fingers around him through the material of his slacks to make you grip it and you respond with a stilted gasp. You’d never felt anything like it before, had never thought to know what touching a man there would be like, but he appears a bit too pleased by your touch for you to tell him off. 

Mistaking your silent acquiescence for something it’s not, he quickly releases you in favor of reaching up to fumble with his belt. You watch him work it open with a sense of detachment, as if you weren’t fully in your own body at the moment. Of course you understood on some level where this was going, what he was aiming for, and yet you have no idea how to get out of it now that it’s already escalated this far. 

All you can do is swallow around the rock wedged in your throat when he stiffly shifts atop the bed to make the old springs creak, hooking a blunt thumb into the waistband of his underwear as he lifts his hips. A quick tug and a shimmy pulls his clothes far enough down his narrow thighs for him to then reach inside and pull himself out. 

And you just stare at it when it pops up into the air, all galvanized steel and sinfully smooth flesh, the unmarred perfection of it interrupted only by the occasional vein you can make out just under the skin. You’re not sure if you should be impressed or intimidated by it but he snags at your lax fingers, grabbing them again before you can decide. 

“Like this.” He murmurs, guiding your hand around his cock and making you grip it, the sensation of skin on skin startling you slightly. 

Firmly, he drags your hold up along the length of him to make the foreskin at the tip briefly bunch before pulling down to the starting point at the base once again. The glide of his fist over yours is so sure and confident that you quickly pick up on what he wants you to do, thinking if it was just massaging him like this then you could probably handle that much. This didn’t seem so bad, all things considered. 

Clearly sensing your reluctant acceptance, Ajax carefully removes his hand from yours, letting it hover over your knuckles for a brief moment while you awkwardly fumble through another series of tugs at his length, completely on your own this time. The motion of your hand is not nearly as practiced as his had been but he still hums a low sound of approval before sliding his fingers lower, dipping between his legs to gently squeeze at himself. 

You try not to look at it too hard though, silently praying for him to finish fast so you can put this whole thing behind you and be done with it. The only thought that gives you any amount of comfort in that moment is that at least he seemed to be enjoying himself. His breathing shallows out and deepens, his hips lazily flexing up into the grip of your fist, and you don’t try to stop it when he brings his hand up to impatiently yank at the front of your dress again. 

Closing your eyes, you try to focus on the rhythm you’ve settled into while he paws at your breast through the thin slip underneath. It’s the only thing still standing in the way but all it takes is a good pull at the soft cotton and your heavy tit spills out right in front of his face with a muted bounce. 

The harried noise you whimper is promptly swallowed up and lost under the masculine groan he gives in response, the sound mirrored in the heavy twitch of his cock. You have but a split second to think maybe you will try to put a stop to this after all, unsure if you could really go through with it, and then his long fingers are sinking into the meat of your breast to lift and give it a fascinated jostle. 

“Look at you, kochanie. When did you grow such beautiful tits, huh? I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these from me this entire time.” 

“Please, Ajax … stop talking.” 

He snickers a quiet laugh at that, offering your breast a tight squeeze to make the nipple puff up as if — as if he were trying to encourage milk to squirt out of you. 

“Why should I? You’ve clearly never heard it from anyone else so you should at least hear it from me. You’ve got the body of a fertility goddess. Looking like this, it’s a wonder you don’t have all those spineless men and boys from the village banging down your door to get at you everyday. Have you been saving yourself for me by any chance?” 

“N - no …” 

“Ooh, that hurts my feelings, you know. But it’s okay. You can be honest with me. There’s no room left for secrets between us, is there?” Adjusting his hand to cup around the underside of your breast, he leans in close to tauntingly flick his tongue over the pebbled peak. Back and forth, back and forth for a prolonged moment to ensure it was nice and stiff before at last sealing his mouth around the areola and suckling. 

You pull in a harsh, seething hiss, struggling to keep your hand moving on his cock but it’s hard. It’s so very hard when you were torn between natural aversion to what he was doing to you and somber resignation of your fate. Especially when, glancing down at him through the heavy fall of your lashes, you find that rather than any feeling of high strung arousal he only reminds you of a nursing babe latched to your breast like this. There are no curling notes of desire, no heat, no excitement on your part. Only a sense of obligation that isn’t entirely comfortable but one you understand to be a necessary evil. If this was what was needed to care for him as a man then …

“Does that — feel good?” You warble hesitantly, and he releases you teat with a dull pop to tip his head back, groaning up at the ceiling. 

“Yesss. You’re doing such a good job, kochanie … you can tighten your fingers, if you want. Don’t worry about hurting me. You won’t, trust me.” 

Gathering your resolve, you heed his advice and close your fist around him more firmly, pumping him with the full force of your arm now even when it makes the muscles start to ache in protest. You just wanted to end this quickly, to see to his needs and then go back to your normal life where you didn’t have to think about or do such things. 

And the effort seems to pay off, for his hips give a sensitive little lurch under your ministrations and he moans a heady sound, giving a full bodied twitch at the vigorous stimulation. His head lolling almost drunkenly on the pillow, Ajax peers up at you with a distant, hazy look in his eyes while his hand continues to idly fondle your breast, as if he just couldn’t help himself. 

You take his abrupt silence as a good sign though, relentlessly working him over until his breathing soon becomes labored and harsh. His flat stomach expands and contracts rather dramatically now as he tips his locked pelvis up into your hand, shuddering faintly with what you sorely hoped were warning tremors. He doesn’t even seem to be aware of the injury across his abdomen anymore, but you don’t want him overexerting himself and risk reopening the miraculously stitched wound, so you persist even when your arm starts to feel like it might fall off. 

“Oohn! Kochanie, I’m - -“ He suddenly blurts, back bowing dramatically against the bed when he jolts as if you’d given him a good zap of static electricity. 

For a split second it almost alarms you and you’re not sure what’s happening — but then you feel his cock give a violent spasm in your hand and you watch, completely mystified, as it erupts in a sudden spray of white. That milky jet arcs up into the air where gravity quickly forces it back down to splatter harmlessly across the bandages plastered over the center of his body. Another healthy glob quickly follows, landing just short of the first, and his length aggressively pulses with the last of his spend as it bubbles out of the center slit to slowly ooze down the shaft. 

Quickly withdrawing your hand before that sticky mess can touch you, you turn your attention to Ajax’s flushed face, noting that he still seemed to be reeling from the rush of his release. Deciding to take advantage of this opportunity while he was still trying to recover, you duck and slip out from under his arm. The fact he lets you do it comes as a great relief and you rush to stand up from the bed before he can stop you again. 

Damn him. 

“Wait. Don’t go.” 

Fumbling to get your dress buttoned up again, you glance over your shoulder at him. “I have to. I need to wash my hands, for starters, and you still need to get some more rest. You should be satisfied with this, right? I … I gave you what you wanted.”

You certainly hoped he wasn’t going to ask any more of you than that but, to your surprise, he merely gives a slow, satiated stretch across the bed, looking for all the world like a pampered feline. A large, dangerously powerful one, but as harmless as a kitten when his appetite was sated. He doesn’t even seem to feel any shame about his nudity or his now flaccid cock where it was resting along his belly, spent. The exact opposite of you, in fact, and you can’t help bristling slightly at the way he grins up at you as if all was right in the world and nothing was amiss. 

“And you did such a good job, kochanie. Thank you. I don’t feel quite so on edge now, I should be able to get some much better sleep this time. But I still want you to stay, even if we don’t do anything else tonight.”

“I don’t see why.” You huff, letting some of your displeasure show. “You’ve already gotten what you wanted from me.” 

Ajax tsk’s very softly, pushing halfway up on one elbow to level you with a mildly bothered frown. “You make it sound like I was only using you for my own ends. I’d be happy to return the favor if that’s what you want.”

“As if I even would!” Hissing, you snatch the bowl of supplies from the bed and make a beeline for the door. 

He tries to stop you, of course, calling out again for you to wait, but you don’t pause long enough to listen to anything else he might have to say. You can’t. Not when it felt like he’d just thrown a wrench in everything you thought you’d ever known about him and your relationship with each other, the once comfortable dynamic you’d shared. How were you possibly supposed to go back to normal and look him in the face as if nothing at all had transpired between the two of you this night? You really didn’t know. You weren’t even sure if it was feasible to hope for it at this point. 

But you were willing to sit on it, let the situation blow over and settle in the back of your mind so both of you could move on from this and return to what you were used to. You just hoped he was willing to do the same. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The chirping of early morning birds is what awakens you from the restless half slumber you’d finally drifted off to after tossing and turning for what had felt like hours. You hadn’t gotten much rest at all, you’re immediately cognizant of this fact before you even open your eyes, but a new day was already starting. Time truly waited for no one and you’d soon have to get up. Aside from everything else that had to be done around the cottage, you needed to check on Ajax to make sure you hadn’t waited too long to apply the poultice and an infection wasn’t moldering the wound but … 

This thought only fills you with sinking uncertainty, and you grumpily turn over to put your back to the window in your bedroom so you can snuggle down into the warm sheets again. You had half a mind to forsake him, leave the idiot to his own devices for the day so you could sleep in and recover from that frankly harrowing experience the night before. 

But in shifting around you're abruptly made aware of the fact that you were not alone. At first it only registers as a distant suggestion of another’s presence there with you in your bed and then you feel the dull warmth of body heat, noticeable in the Snezhnayan chill. 

Panic grips you in an instant and your eyes fly open, suddenly wide awake as you give a startled little jerk. Your vision positively swims with the immediate rush of sensory input that hits you all at once, the surge of adrenaline that slams into you like a solid brick, but a muscle chorded arm wraps around you to stop you from going very far. 

There’s no question who it is yet you still gape up at him in disbelief as you furiously blink the remaining sleep from your eyes. 

“Ajax! What are you doing in here?” You demand, pressing your balled up hands into his chest and shoving. 

He’s just as unbudgable as he’d been last night though and he merely smiles down at you in casual greeting. As if this was the most normal thing for him to be doing, as if he belonged in your bed and he hadn’t selfishly invaded it for his own bullheaded desires. You weren’t sure if you should laugh or cry at the blatant audacity. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you, kochanie. Don’t look so mad! I only wanted to make it up to you for last night, that’s all. Just relax.” 

Tense and halting, you warily peer up into his face. “Make what up to me? How?” 

Shrugging a broad shoulder — still bare, you can’t help but notice — he offers the soft love handles on your side a reassuring squeeze, making you whimper at the sensation of how easy it is for him to grab at you. His hands were so big … 

“It seemed to me that you were under the impression I only wanted to take, not give anything in return. That wasn’t fair of me, was it? I want you to feel good too.” 

“You can’t.” You insist, fighting the urge to start squirming. Massaging him to completion was one thing. It had been easy to remain a distant bystander, watching yourself go through the motions from somewhere else, but to be on the receiving end would rob you of even that much. 

“I can.” He shoots right back, as stubborn as ever and effortlessly matching your intensity tit for tat. 

You draw a sharp breath to snap at him with but the words catch in your throat when he somewhat aggressively nudges his pelvis into you, poking at your hip with the unmistakable jab of another erection. Eyes going round as saucers, you blurt a disbelieving sound in his face. 

“You want to go again?” You gasp, trying to wrap your head around how he even had the energy for another round so soon after the first. It just didn’t make sense to you. You’d thought that would have been more than enough to tide him over for a good while, not a mere few hours. 

Ajax merely cocks a brow at you though, as if you were the one with the problem here and not him. “I’m not sure if you’re underestimating me or if you really just don’t understand how men are, but of course I want to. You’re so lovely, kochanie, and I want you all to myself. Every time I look at you, these gorgeous curves,” 

His hand on your back drops down to curl over your ass, squeezing you through the flimsy material of your nightgown to make you squeak a harried sound. 

“I can’t help but want to sink myself inside you as far as I can go. Do you even have any idea how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about you? How hard you make me even when I’m hundreds of miles away and I couldn’t touch you like this even if I wanted to?” 

“A - Ajax …” 

“You said you wouldn’t reject me.” He goes on, insistent and demanding in the way he grabs at your body to gather you tightly against him. 

The strength in just his arm alone is absolute and there's nothing you can do to stop him from pressing you into his body, forcing your softer frame to mould to the hard contours of his front. This strikes you as exceedingly odd though, given the state he’d been in yesterday when he first appeared at your door, and your reeling mind disarmingly stumbles over this revelation. There should have been no way he could have naturally healed up that quickly from such a wound, even if it was not near as bad as it could have been. He’d barely been able to stand up straight without groaning in pain but then how — 

“Touch me, kochanie.” He murmurs, snapping you out of it with that heated, low growl of wanting. “Just like last time. Please. Put your hand on me, stroke me. Make me cum for you again, moja miłość. I’ll show you how, as many times as you need, okay?” 

Ignoring the faint whimper that slips out of you, Ajax presses his forehead to yours in an affectionate nuzzle, those bottomless eyes intently locked on you from only a hair’s breadth away. You think to fight it, desperately wanting your space and your peace of mind back, but just like with everything else you find yourself reluctantly giving in. Simply to placate or to earnestly please him, you’re not sure which. 

Yet you still hesitantly slip your hand under the haphazardly twisted blanket, fingers skirting down his chest and over the smooth expanse of makeshift bandages. You don’t even have to search for it when you can clearly feel his cock digging into your hip, and you wrap that hot, pulsing girth in a loose fist, eyebrows lifting when you find him completely nude. He must have crawled into your bed naked, the shameless fiend. 

He hums a quiet sound of appreciation though, sounding lazy and indulgent in your ear as he hooks his broad hand around the pudge of your thigh, pulling it forward to drape over his waist. The motion spreads your legs apart, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless, and you mewl an overwhelmed noise when he reaches back around to dip his fingers into that warm space. You’re still not quite sure how he's managed to remain so keen and eager despite having already done this once before, but as always you just can’t seem to tell him no. 

And when he touches you, carefully feeling along the slit in your body, you screw your eyes shut against the sensation. Those rough, battle worn callouses drag at delicate skin as he threads them through the coarse hair padding your cunt, undeterred, until he reaches the starting point at the top of your mound.

Gently, almost uncharacteristically so, he starts to rub you there, moving the flats of his fingers in a small half circle, coaxing the nerves to respond to him. You’re more than just a bit horrified when it works and a dull thrum comes to life between your thighs, tingling warmly in response to his ministrations. It frightens you, as alarming as it is unexpected, and you halfheartedly try to pull away from him with a small squeak. 

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, kochanie.” He consolingly coos at you, tipping his head to give your nose, your cheek a series of fleetingly brief kisses. “I’ve got you. Don’t be scared. Just copy what I’m doing, alright? I’m not going to hurt you.” 

You give a full bodied shudder, tucking in close to bury your face in his neck and hide from him. And he allows it rather than pushing you or demanding more, docking his chin against the crown of your head with another low murmur of reassurance. 

As the seconds tick by in this manner, with the two of you tangled up and twisted together in your bed so thoroughly you start to forget where one of you stops and the other begins, you find that this, this intimate closeness with him, is not so bad after all. In fact, you rather liked it. The smell of him was deeply familiar to you and it swarms your senses now, drowning out everything else, and his intense body heat an old comfort. It almost reminds you of when you were children, the best of friends sharing a blanket together in front of the fire at his home. You wanted this, craved it more than anything else, you think, but the touching … 

Perhaps this was just a necessary tradeoff for that happiness, an inevitability that came with your individual lots in life. And maybe someday you could even come to like doing these sorts of things with him, even if today was not that day. 

Because his fingers are sure and confident where they continue to caress over that frustratingly receptive bundle of nerves and you can feel your body slowly coming around to it even if your mind still wasn’t quite in agreement. It could feel good if you let it and if it made Ajax happy to do these things then you wanted to make him feel good too. 

So you shyly curl your hand to cup around the tip of his cock where you can follow his lead, lightly rubbing him the same way he rubs you. Your motions are unsure and faltering at first, but at his breathy sound of approval you gradually start to find some of your confidence. The head of him must be sensitive then, you think, just like your cunt. 

“That’s good,” he whispers to you, warm breath ghosting over the hair on the top of your head. “Do you feel that sticky stuff? Smear it over me, like this.”

Showing you what he wants, he slides his hand higher up your labia until he can press in slightly on your entrance. A curling note of surprise flashes through your mind when his fingers come back slick, drawing that faint wetness out of you to spread it across your plump lips. You’re not sure what to make of it, what to think, but you mimic him anyway, drawing your palm over his length to leave that clinging gossamer consistency on his skin. 

You distantly recognize it for what it is, the physical manifestation of his excitement for you, and you wonder idly at your own response to what he’s doing. In truth you still didn’t feel particularly eager to have him in this manner and yet … 

The proof is oozing out of you, slicking your cunt completely against your will. A part of you finds it hard to believe he’s really just that talented with his fingers when you very much doubted anyone else could have netted the same results even if you’d given them an entire day to work at it. 

It must just be him then, you decide, and the closeness you'd always shared. That’s the only explanation — and you suck in a stilted breath when he lays his fingers flat over your seam, reaching almost front to back with the length of his hand as he settles in to rub you with long, drawn out strokes now. 

That fleshy friction makes you feel strangely dizzy but you remembered this from last night, the way he’d manually closed your fist around him and guided you through the motion. It’s a real struggle when you could hardly think straight anymore, but you force yourself to take him in hand again, matching the same pace and rhythm that he’s set for you. 

“Oohhn, that’s perfect, kochanie. Just like that. You’re doing so good for me. So soft, so warm …” 

Rumbling a masculine sound of ratcheting arousal, he shifts against you to work his other arm underneath your body. It almost manages to startle you, having not realized he’d been able to keep one hand to himself this entire time which was so unlike him, in retrospect, but you don’t even pretend to fight it when he pulls you up to lay half on top of him with your breasts pressed to his chest. 

You try to redistribute your weight though, worried about hurting his wound, but he keeps you firmly locked in place no matter how you try to adjust yourself. Going still with a mild click of your tongue, you peer into his face, reminding yourself to keep tugging at his cock in the tight space between your bodies. You were slowly becoming more accustomed to the gesture although your arm quickly begins to ache again, but it was decidedly well worth it getting to see him like this. 

He looked pleasure struck and almost intoxicated, his expression pinched with arousal, and yet he still finds the wherewithal to grin up at you when he catches your attention on him. 

“What? Did you think you were too heavy for me?”

“You’re injured.” You mutter, embarrassed, but he only shakes his head. 

“Doesn’t matter. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hurt me. I told you that last night, didn’t I? You’d better not forget … I’m not some simple farm boy from the country. I can handle you just fine.” 

Unfortunately you weren’t yet sure if you could handle him, but you were willing to learn as you fumbled your way through this confounding situation together. As long as he was happy then you could be happy too. Probably. It was worth a shot, at least, and you slowly lower your face to his, hovering just above his parted lips. 

You weren’t certain if you wanted to take that plunge on your own just yet though, so you merely look into his eyes instead. So pretty for as unusual as they were. “Just tell me if you change your mind and I’ll get off. You don’t have to push yourself for my sake.” 

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he says, grinning a devious smile when he pinches you tight. “You’re staying right here with me and I’m not going anywhere either so you’d better get comfortable. You know I have a lot of lost time to make up for and plenty to teach you too.” 

That earns him a roll of your eyes and a tired huff. Somehow you got the feeling that the two of you were going to end up spending most of the day in this bed but, strangely enough, that didn’t sound so terrible anymore. You could live with it, at least.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[magicalbats]

Just making a general announcement that the third comm has been sent out and I’ll be starting on the fourth very soon. What a fun batch of commissions this has been! I feel like once all is said and done we’ll have covered the whole gauntlet of possible tropes. lol We’ve had incest, femdom, some light spanking and deflowering, and now … well, I don’t want to give too much away, but just know that none of these fics are quite the same flavor. 🤭

Anyway, I have to hop on ZZZ and do Ju Fufu’s agent quest before I run out of time. I’d also like to at least start on the Fate/ collab tonight, if time permits, although I do wish they’d included Gilgamesh in the event somehow. He’s my favorite, which at least partially explains why I like Mydei so much. lmao

[magicalbats]

I just commented on the Ao3 posting for the Charred Manuscript, and I just have to reiterate it here. That story is going to live rent-free in my head for a long time. You’re creating miracles in the time of the great Scar content drought. I hope you’ll write more about our favorite Fractsidus overseers soon.

Omg thank you!! I was actually just reading your comment in my inbox from where I got the notification. 🙏🥹 You’re very sweet for going out of your way to comment twice, I really appreciate that!

And not to worry, for better or worse Scar does indeed have his claws in me despite the extreme, year long drought. If 2.5 delivers the way I’m hoping, praying, begging it to I probably will word vomit another little something something for our favorite lamb. ❤️ Or a big something something, knowing me. lol

Incidentally I do have a plot bunny kicking up dirt in my head for Cristoforo, I did happen to notice he doesn’t seem to have like. Any fics at all yet on AO3 except mine and one other when I looked. So maybe before I start on the fourth commission, I’ll quickly bang that out. We shall see. 🤭

[magicalbats]

Know nothing of wuwa but ur x readers are so peak i dont even care, ill read anything from you mwwaa

Xmdkdjz that is so sweet, thank you!! 🙏 🥹 I hope you enjoy it!