rhysdasior

[rhysdasior]

His better judgement demanded Rhys answer with a resounding no. Instead, Rhys gave Tiernan an appreciative smile as he settled on the couch, shrugging his blazer off to chuck it over the back as he fiddled with Roland’s cufflinks to loosen them, handling them with the utmost care as he tucked them away for safekeeping and rolled up his shirt sleeves past his elbows, one hand moving to loosen the knot of his tie with a relieved sigh. “If you’ve got any whisky spare, I’m not gonna say no.” Whatever Tiernan had in mind, approaching it with the assistance of slight inebriation would at least make it semi-bearable. Realising his lack of manners a touch too late, Rhys encouraged his smile to shift to something vaguely apologetic. “Thank you, by the way. Appreciate it.” Tearing his gaze from the tips of Tiernan’s fangs to assess the interior design, Rhys made a conscious effort to keep his expression neutral. “Nice place you’ve got here, Tiernan. I almost expected something a little more… gauche. Maybe that’s exclusive to Roland, though.”

The ghoul wasn't at all stupid, he knew that Rhys did not want to be there, which is why Tiernan had invited him in the first place. He knew that the witch wouldn't -- couldn't -- refuse him. Of course, if Tiernan did anything to harm the witch, he would likely endure Roland's endless bitching. He wasn't sure it was entirely worth it, but the ghoul was always one to see where his mood took him.

He wasn't surprised that Rhys refused food, even if he hadn't actually eaten anything. Oh well, the witch's wellbeing wasn't any concern of his, Tiernan was just being somewhat polite. "Your loss," he chuckled softly, noticing the way Rhys followed him into the lounge without question. He was obedient, which was good. Perhaps he would have more fun than initially anticipated. "Oh, I'm very generous," he teased in return, gesturing to the sofa. "Sit. Like I said, make yourself comfortable. Drink? Something strong?" Tiernan asked, gesturing to his own whisky. "You've had a.. long day. I imagine you need something to take the edge off," he added, giving Rhys a little grin, his fangs peaking through ever so slightly.

[rhysdasior]

“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone in this place is a scumbag, just a solid ninety per cent.” With a playful wink, Rhys flashed Kell a grin as he grabbed both their empty glasses before manoeuvring his way out of the booth as gracefully as one could given the limited space, heading to the bar to fetch another round of a much-needed balm for them both. Nothing united two souls better than a mutual dislike and as it stood, the two of them harboured enough resentment for various members of the council to forge a decent bond. The witch returned in the blink of an eye, setting Kell’s beer before him with a flourish, settling back into place with a sigh of relief as he swirled his wine absently, watching it for a moment before returning his attention to Kell with a warm smile. “I imagine you’ve been propositioned enough for one lifetime already. Believe me, I’m not trying to put you through any more hellish experiences than you’ve already endured. Consider this a night off from all that. In the nicest way possible, you could probably do with it. Halloran can wait. This takes priority.”

Kell was typically very careful about how he talked about the council. While they probably paid very little attention to whatever a slave might spout off about them, he'd learned over the years that it was better to be safe than sorry. Given that Rhys didn't seem to be overly fond of them at the moment, however, Kell wasn't feeling too worried. His grin settled into a small smile at the words and the human shot the witch a teasing look. "So you have no ulterior motives for possibly getting me drunk? Noted." He chuckled, resting back against the booth. "I could definitely use another drink."

[rhysdasior]

Rhys cut his gaze away at the dreaded bedroom-related discussion, anxiously worrying at his lower lip as he weighed up the options of biting the bullet and addressing what had been gathering momentum in his mind ever since his reprieve in Mayfair or shutting it down entirely and going along with the joke to keep his wish hidden for another few years. Having spent days on end with the youngest members of the coven whilst back home hadn’t helped Rhys’ building need, only serving to nurture it further. In the quiet dark of the nights upon his return, the fantasy of such a future had featured at the very forefront of his mind, heightened by the added comfort of Roland’s arms around him once they’d worked through their most recent disagreement. Glancing back at Roland, Rhys tried for a reassuring smile, not wholly convinced it would work quite as well as he wanted it to. “I mean… Seth will need a room of his own in case of emergency, so one of them is automatically his– that’s not up for debate, for the record. But also, wouldn’t it be wise to leave one free for… other additions? Potentially?” Rhys’ expression was instantly sheepish as the questions left him, the hesitation present in his tone doing a wonderful job of hiding just how anxious actually discussing the matter made him. “I’ve got my eye on Holland. Not for anything… sordid. Just to get him out of there. Poor kid deserves a chance at a proper life, a real life. He’s still wet behind the ears, for God’s sake.” He was so close to getting to the point, yet getting the words out felt nigh impossible. 

He leaned closer against Roland with a frustrated huff at his inability to just say it. “…I’ve also… been thinking about things a little. ...Could always be an idea to leave a room spare for a little one – or a not so little one if they’re gonna be here – in time.” Not that Rhys would ever dream of bringing a child anywhere near the castle, but to give them a space of their own in every one of Rhys’ most commonly visited residences didn’t seem too outlandish a suggestion for when they were of age to make their own decisions and fatherly guidance wouldn’t hold quite as much weight. Now that it was out in the open, Rhys was hit with the overwhelming urge to take it back and play it off as a joke to save himself the embarrassment of having to be so open about such a vulnerable and delicate topic. His yearning for fatherhood was one of his worst kept secrets – his unofficial adoption of Seth and planned purchasing of Holland further down the line were evidence of such a fact, but the need to have a biological child of his own remained. Intensely so. It wasn’t just an emotional desire, it was a necessity when it came to the inevitable topic of succession and inheritance of the coven. Rhys wouldn’t be around forever, he didn’t have the privilege of immortality like so many others in and around Krovs, so these kinds of matters needed to be straightened out in advance. “…Just a thought. Nothing concrete.”

Rhys huffed a laugh despite the lingering nausea that always accompanied any admission of vulnerability or desire and he jostled Roland playfully with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll iron out the finer details once I've got the keys. For now, yeah, I’m starting you off small with a music room. I know what your interior design choices are like. I’m not having that infect the house throughout. I want this place inhabitable, Ro.” His nerves settled slightly thanks to Roland’s ever-tactile approach and he angled his head to press a brief kiss to the vampire’s jaw again, the realisation that this was happening, that this was the first step towards building a home of their own together properly dawned on him and envoked a fresh wave of adoration for Roland and the future of their relationship to wash over him, eradicating the earlier bout of nausea effortlessly. As always, Roland’s arrogance pulled a bright laugh from the witch and Rhys chose to rise above it, instead focusing his attention on enjoying the kiss while it lasted, simply pleased to have Roland’s affection regardless of the form it came in. “‘Kay. I’ll meet you out front, yeah?” Stealing one more kiss from him, deeper and longer than the last, Rhys reluctantly prised himself away from Roland’s hold to seek out the realtor, sparing a final adoring glance at his beloved over his shoulder with a loving smile before he coaxed rational thinking back to the forefront of his mind.

Tying up the loose ends didn’t take long. Rhys was all too happy to pay the deposit there and then, handing over the cheque without a flicker of hesitation once all the necessary admin was handled. With everything else emailed to him for his perusal later on, Rhys politely bid the realtor adieu and headed out with a notable skip in his step, his smile nothing but fond as he laid eyes upon Roland again. “The keys will be handed over in a couple of days,” hooking an arm around Roland’s, Rhys leaned against him as he led them back towards the car as he chatted excitedly. “I’ll talk to Arlo tonight about getting things sent over from Corinne’s place. I doubt she’ll haunt me over it. It’s not like she’s using any of it. She should just be grateful I didn’t shove half of it in storage.”

The longer they stayed here and the happier Rhys seemed with the house the easier it was to start picturing their life in it. Roland imagined they'd bicker over decor but eventually settle on some kind of happy medium, or reserve a few rooms for each of their particular tastes and compromise on the rest. He transposed their quiet nights at his suite into this house, warmed by the thought that this space would be theirs and theirs alone, no walls shared with anyone else, no possible interference from others. They would be able to do exactly as they pleased with no possibility of being overheard and the thought, along with Rhys' hum of approval, delighted him more and more.

Roland returned from his pleasant daydreams as Rhys spoke again, rubbing his back absently but looking at him in mild puzzlement at the somewhat halting assertion that all the bedrooms should remain as such. "Why would they all be needed? Are you planning on quartering political delegations here?" It was a light tease, somewhat bemused by the slightly awkward statement but mostly just mildly curious as to why it mattered. Unless they were planning on having many guests Roland didn't see the need. "Oh, I only get a little music room, do I?" His tone remained teasing even as his eyebrows went up slightly. "You never know, you may decide to host a grand dinner party with all the people we're apparently going to have here. We wouldn't want to get rid of it in that case." He absently stroked Rhys' back with one hand as the witch brushed off the need to see the second floor and apparently made his decision right there. Roland chuckled. "Decided already? I must say I admire the impulsiveness. I'm always happy to stand and look pretty though I do that without even trying." He smiled at his own arrogance and toyed with Rhys' hair as he leaned in and kissed him lightly. "But of course, you clearly love it so it only makes sense to get it all squared away. I'll take a glance upstairs while you do just to satisfy my own curiosity."

[rhysdasior]

Though it likely would’ve been far more professional to keep an eye on the time and make sure he’d have adequate time to prepare both the office and himself for the first consultation of the morning, Rhys’ attention remained entirely focused on Gwyn and whatever plan the sith had hidden up his sleeve. There was, of course, always the option of sneaking a peek with a little underhanded use of his divination through subtle mind reading but then again, he saw no reason to ruin the fun of the surprise. For now, he was content in trusting Gwyn and whatever harebrained scheme he’d managed to concoct. 

The tenderness of the parting kiss lulled him into a false sense of security momentarily and Rhys barely managed to repress the sound of surprise that threatened to escape him as Gwyn tugged him further forward without even a hint of effort required. The display of strength alone was enough to cause Rhys’ heartbeat to quicken in anticipation, his gaze transfixed on the sith’s own as they separated. He fought the urge to laugh at the question, forcing his amusement down as he offered a one-shouldered shrug in response. It was all too tempting to bite back with something sarcastic to deflect from the truth of the matter but Gwyn didn’t allow any time for it, his wandering hands proving sufficient enough to drain Rhys’ rational thinking of its reserves in record time. Of course, the sith’s touch was far too fleeting and by the time it’d registered through his daze, it had already been withdrawn. Inhaling slowly, Rhys forced himself to focus and remain grounded in the present, watching every movement made by the sith as if his life depended on it.

Even if Roland had never been shy with his tactile approach and endless supply of honeyed words, finding himself so exposed before someone other than Belgium’s councilman still felt like an alien experience for Rhys and he fought the urge to cover himself to seek some form of decency despite it all. Flashing a languid smile up at the sith as he explained his grand plan, Rhys hummed his agreement as he dropped his gaze to admire the newly exposed flesh, his smile widening as he dragged his gaze back up to meet Gwyn’s own, just in time to settle into the sith’s touch as he listened closely. Almost instantly, Rhys’ breathing hitched sharply once again as the details were laid out. Whilst he’d expected something of such a nature, actually hearing it was another matter entirely. Tentatively, Rhys reached out to gently rest his hands on Gwyn’s hips, stroking small circles against the jut of his hipbones with a surprisingly smug smile. “Perfectly reasonable, Mr. Caolán. One small request though…” biting back a misplaced laugh, Rhys tried to think of the politest way to formulate the request. “No honorifics are needed. Sounds like you’re addressing my father.”

"I think I can find out." Gwyn grinned back, all the more encouraged by the way Rhys' eyes roamed as the witch gazed at him, "In fact, I think you've already told me..." Certainly, Rhys' actions had spoken for themselves, not the ones of a man that was eager to be in charge. From that alone, Gwyn was not at all surprised by Rhys' choice when the other finally made it (couched, of course, in the language of allowing the sith to amuse him), Gwyn's eyes lighting up even as his expression settled into something more purposefully composed. For a long moment, he only pressed his cheek comfortably into Rhys' touch, considering the witch's handsome face with the smallest of smiles on his own as he let the anticipation linger. "As you wish, then."

Gwyn gave him one more tender kiss as he slipped back out of Rhys' lap, grabbing the other by the front of his suit jacket and pulling Rhys forward to the edge of his seat with an effortlessness that implied the sith's true strength before their lips separated again. "I think you're not a very patient man, are you, Rhys?" The words were soft, a little teasing as he nudged the witch's thighs further apart, standing comfortably between them. His hands went to Rhys' trousers then, curls brushing the other's cheek as he unfastened them and slid a hand inside. "Why don't we work on that first?" It took only a few deft movements to slip Rhys' length free from his clothing, Gwyn making a low noise of appreciation at the heat of him finally in his hand before he took his touch away entirely and stood upright between Rhys' legs to admire the view.

Gwyn plucked up the still-smoldering cigarette he'd abandoned to the astray as he fed, taking a long drag as his gaze dragged languidly up from Rhys' lap and the inviting jut of his cock, to his half-opened shirt, his upturned face. Delicious. "Here's what's going to happen, my lovely," He took the witch's chin in the other hand, tone conversational and light, Rhys having to crane his neck quite a bit at so intimate an angle, "I'm going to fuck this pretty mouth of yours, since you seem disinterested in using it for other things." Rhys had already undone Gwyn's trousers for him, bless him, making it all the easier for Gwyn to slide them down one-handed over his hips as he spoke, "Then I'm going to put you on your stomach right here," His boot tapped against the floor, "And see how many fingers I can fit inside you before you make a mess of your fancy carpet. Does that sound reasonable, Mr. Dasior?"

[rhysdasior]

same frames, different lenses

[rhysdasior]

Beautiful in the Mouth, Keetje Kuipers

[rhysdasior]

“Half-threatening, half–trying to get you to understand the gravity of your situation,” Rhys’ tone was uncharacteristically flippant, his irritation rising to a point of indifference. No matter the venom spewed back and forth between them, Rhys forced himself to consider Dmitri’s side of things. He hadn’t endured the brutality the werewitch had, hadn’t been drugged and dragged through the castle only to be brought to his collaring – approaching the issue with anger wasn’t the way to handle things even if it was what came naturally given the magnitude of Dmitri’s fuck up. “As for Charlotte’s warnings, it’s not far off. Don’t act like you knew what she was really like behind closed doors. You don’t know the half of it – she made sure of that.” Rhys knew all too well that he possessed his mother’s malice even if the thought turned his stomach and though Dmitri’s assessment harboured more truth than Rhys was comfortable admitting, it never felt good to know that so much of her still remained in him. 

Heaving another weighted sigh, Rhys ran a hand down his face and forced himself to count down slowly from ten in his mind to calm himself before rounding Dmitri to stand before him again, crouching before him to gently reach out to cup his jaw, the movement slow so as not to spook him in his current state. With a little focus, Rhys’ healing magic flowed into the werewitch to take care of the worst of the injuries and intoxication from god knows what they’d pumped him full of to try and subdue him. “You’re a fucking idiot,” Rhys muttered, his gaze disapproving despite the affection evident in his tone. “I’m gonna keep you here with me for a few hours, let you rest up a little. I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on – you okay with me tending to that for a bit?”

Dmitri struggled to follow Rhys's motion about the office. His vision was already blurred, the movement of his eyes, his neck, slow. It was vertigo-inducing and Dmitri had to shut his eyes, focus on his breathing, to keep the nausea at bay. Visibly, he was paler than usual, mottled with bruises. There were a few new scars. A crack in his hairline, a pink line pulling down from his lip where it had been split with a knife. The werewolf healing had patched it up quickly, but with speed sometimes there was inelegance. He was sure that whichever doctor they sent him to see would do away with them. They'd kept him alive because he was pretty - they would want to keep it that way.

"You threaten me like one of them?" All Dmitri heard in Rhys's words were the threats. He knew Dmitri's fears, was jamming his fingers into them. Dmitri could only respond in kind. "You worse than your mother. She never say do what I want or I let them rape you. I stupid for thinking you good man all these years. You make yourself very clear." Perhaps it was an unkind interpretation, but it was the only one Dmitri could find in that moment. With all the force he could muster, Dmitri spat at Rhys's feet. "You'd make good vampire."

[rhysdasior]

Making a deal with a faerie of any kind was a risky decision; such a fact had been drummed into him since he was old enough to comprehend such a fact, yet it did little to lessen the inherent allure of the offer. He huffed a sigh, rolling his eyes in half-serious petulance as he held Gwyn’s gaze. Of course one of Roland’s fledglings was almost just as maddening to deal with as the vampire himself; Rhys really couldn’t be surprised by such a revelation. 

Despite the aforementioned warnings he’d heard time and time again, Rhys’ expression flickered to one of curiosity as Gwyn went on to elaborate, his breath hitching as the sith’s touch skirted around the marred flesh, still tender from the relentless attention lavished upon it. In the back of his mind, there remained the faint tugging of guilt for indulging without informing Roland beforehand – they’d never really discussed the perimeters of their relationship explicitly but given that Roland had essentially fucked the entire undercroft at this point, Rhys could dismiss his concerns rather easily, all things considered. The witch chuckled softly at the kiss, momentarily taken aback by it as it brought him firmly back to the present. 

The sith’s final addition piqued Rhys’ intrigue further, prompting a contemplative hum as he considered the options available. Despite the very real possibility that he could come to regret the decision further down the line, Rhys couldn’t bring himself to be overly concerned with hypotheticals in the heat of the moment. “And you think you know what I want?” Rhys grinned at the assumption, a light laugh leaving him as he moved a hand to cup Gwyn’s jaw affectionately, stroking his cheek with his thumb as he scanned his gaze over the sith’s features in muted admiration. “Go on, then. Surprise me. Let’s see if you know as much as you think you do.”

Though his mind still hummed with the pleasure of satiation and the lure of his own lust, Gwyn's focused had sharpened heavily now with those little noises he was prying from Rhys and the darling, vexed expression on the witch's handsome face. He would've capitulated in an instant if Rhys had just asked, slid to his knees and had his mouth on him without a second thought, but the witch had shown just enough of a soft spot beneath his spikey words that Gwyn couldn't help but pry into it. He could feel Rhys magic whispering through his own veins, a light and giddy sensation, and in response to Rhys' goading the sith only laughed and retracted his questing hand, grinning crookedly down at the other man as he took Rhys' face in both. "That isn't what I asked, my darling. Don't you want to give me a real answer?" The words were practically cooed, Gwyn's weight shifting back just enough to deny Rhys the friction they both wanted. "I'll make a deal with you, hm? Two choices, your freely to decide."

One hand dropped low to trace his fingers around the imprint of his teeth at Rhys' throat, "Tell me explicitly what you want, pretty thing. Or else you can give me full permission to decide what that is for you." Perhaps a shaky game to play with one Gwyn was only so recently acquainted with, but he was morbidly curious to see what Rhys would choose, to see if his growing suspicions about the other were true. He dropped a feathery kiss against Rhys' cheek, then pulled back far enough that he could watch the other reactions to the sith's proposal without any distractions. Gwyn's eyes were aglow with hungry anticipation even as his voice stayed level and playful as he delivered the final blow, "If you choose the second one, know that that the consequences of that decision might not end after we leave this room."

[rhysdasior]

Despite having employed every magical move possible to endure whatever the next few hours in Tiernan’s company entailed, not even his most concentrated shielding could disguise the rising discomfort that only worsened as the ghoul’s shadow magic added to the already tainted atmosphere. Time and time again, Corinne had warned Rhys about dealings with demons of any kind – heeding his grandmother’s advice a beat too late had remained a staple and not even in death could her words ring any louder in the back of his mind as he forced a polite smile as he was invited in, nodding his acceptance as he crossed the threshold. He took in the sights of the councilman’s suite in muted curiosity, always intrigued to see how various members of the council liked to decorate their little spaces. 

Rhys fought the urge to scoff at the offer the moment it was made; nausea was a much stronger feeling than hunger at present. He shook his head, taking a small step back to attempt to put a vaguely more manageable degree of space between them. “I’m fine, but thanks anyway.” The idea of being even slightly settled or comfortable in Tiernan’s presence was, again, a laughable one and Rhys ducked his head to hide the sardonic smile that tugged at the corners of his lips as he followed Tiernan through into the lounge. “Didn’t take you as the generous type,” Rhys’ tone was purposefully teasing, lightheartedly sarcastic in a feeble attempt to comfort himself amidst the looming horrors. “You might be the world’s first considerate councilman, Halloran.”

After taking care of some small matters, Tiernan decided to relax a little and enjoy the peace and quiet of his suite while he waited for Rhys to finish work. He wondered if Rhys would actually show up, but he figured the staff member wouldn't be stupid enough not to turn up when he was requested by a councilman. Kell was out of the suite doing god knows what with god knows who, but Tiernan didn't mind, at least not for the moment. He would deal with his slave later.

When he heard a knock at the door, Tiernan used his shadows to open it as he casually walked through to greet Rhys, a glass of whisky in his hand and a few buttons of his shirt unfastened, giving him a slightly more relaxed appearance than usual. "Rhys, come on in," he gestured, using his shadows again to close the door once the witch was in his suite. "Would you like some dinner? I could order you something from room service. I'm starving, but I think you might be able to help me out with that," Tiernan purred as he approached Rhys, moving closer, taking a sip of his whisky as his icy blue eyes flickered over the witch. "But I will let you get settled first. Come, make yourself comfortable," he chuckled, soft and dark as he gestured for Rhys to follow him through to the lounge area.

[rhysdasior]

“Uh huh.” The amusement in Rhys’ tone was entirely fond, his gaze nothing but adoring as it lingered on Roland. “Guess I’ll take your word for it.” He leaned over to press a brief kiss to Roland’s cheek as the lights dimmed, forcing himself to settle back into his seat as he redirected his attention to the stage, biting back a wider smile at Roland’s squeeze of eager anticipation as the performance began. Perhaps it really would be worth suffering for three hours if it meant earning this kind of response from the vampire. 

The three hours in question seemed to last a lifetime, even with an intermission. Rhys had been able to follow the plot well enough, something about a guy who rejected a girl and died in a duel with a good friend (Roland had explained it far more eloquently), but why it needed to last for longer than a quarter of an hour was entirely beyond the witch. He’d done his best to feign interest throughout, occasionally sneaking glances at Roland to study his reactions and responses, his heart swelling with nothing but love for him. When it was finally over, Rhys swallowed the sigh of relief that threatened to escape him as the lights came up for good.

The enthusiasm in Roland’s eyes instantly signified that Rhys would have to dress up the truth a little and the witch smiled warmly at him, offering a loving squeeze of his hand in immediate response. “It… was certainly a show, I’ll give it that. You enjoyed it though, yeah? It met your standards?” Glancing back to the stage again, Rhys shifted a little in his seat as he tried to quell his rising agitation at stage two of the evening looming uncomfortably close. “You wanna get out of here before the masses decide to take a millennia to get through the doors? I know a bar that’s pretty close to here. Could do with a drink.”

Roland had been quite pleasantly surprised when the evening out and short trip to London Rhys had suggested was to begin with a night at the opera. While it was an enduring love and interest of his he knew his and the witch's musical tastes differed significantly but as semi reluctant as Rhys seemed to be he had been the one to buy the tickets. Clearly he was doing it for Roland and the vampire wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He did, of course, hope and assume that Rhys actually would enjoy himself. Tchaikovsky was nothing to sneeze at, after all, and should be duly appreciated. Still, whatever he'd feared of the opera wouldn't explain Rhys' sleeplessness last night and while Roland had asked him at the time the witch had mostly brushed him off. He was under rather more stress now with both his position at Krovs and as leader of his coven so Roland chalked it up to that. Regardless, he was determined they would both enjoy themselves at the opera and whatever else they happened to do.

Glancing up from the program at Rhys' words, Roland smiled. "Not bad at all. You did very well, cheri." He placed his hand over Rhys' and lifted it to his mouth, gently kissing the back of his hand before he settled it back on his knee and kept his hand over it. He waved the other dismissively at the comment. "It shouldn't be. Tchaikovsky was quite faithful to the verse so seeing the opera is almost like reading it. Even better, actually, if you ask me." That should hardly surprise Rhys, though. The lights dimmed to signal the start of the show and Roland turned his attention to the stage, squeezing Rhys' hand in excitement. Even if he'd seen it before, which he certainly had, each performance was different and so long as it was well done Roland always enjoyed it.

The next three hours passed quickly for Roland. He got lost in the music and the show, giving his extensive and enthusiastic review to Rhys at intermission even as they got more drinks and explaining things that Rhys might have misunderstood. The second half was just as good as the first and even as his heart soared and plunged with the music he kept his fingers interlaced with Rhys', beyond pleased to be sharing the experience with him. When the show ended and the applause finished, Roland turned to him, clearly pleased and eyes bright with enthusiasm. "What did you think, beloved? You didn't hate it, surely? I don't see how that would be possible but you do have a habit of surprising me. There must have been some parts you enjoyed, non?"

[rhysdasior]

“Well-accustomed?” Rhys stifled a laugh, shaking his head in misplaced amusement. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.” There was no need to dress it up as more than it was – the admission had offered the most unfortunate type of enlightenment and now he’d identified himself as one of the many benefiting from the castle’s horrors, Rhys knew it would inevitably taint any previously-made assumptions about him. On the bright side, at least it explained the ceaseless pleading for forgiveness the celestial had observed. Taking a pensive drag on his cigarette as they wandered, Rhys tried to piece together the least damning way to elaborate. “Head of Magic Consultants if we’re getting formal about it; somehow managed to keep ahold of the role for four years now, give or take.” 

Rhys’ expression shifted to more sheepish territory as Adrasia continued with the dichotomy between their nights starkly apparent. He pretended to take in the sights around them as they walked, ashing his cigarette to occupy his hands and expel a sliver of lingering agitation. Adrasia’s misfortune had been perpetuated by his department whether Rhys wanted to admit it to himself or not – it was impossible to deny the truth of the matter, especially with the collar fastened around Adrasia’s neck. It wasn’t a fitting of Rhys’ – he remembered each one in unsettling detail, he never forgot a single one, the guilt and shame of enabling vampiric tyranny embedding itself further into the marrow of his bones every time. (Yet still not enough to encourage any sign of resigning any time soon, but that was a matter to mentally tear himself apart over another night.) Mustering up the strength to glance at the celestial as the question was posed, Rhys’ gaze hovered on the collar for a moment – Seth’s work, not his own, this time – before hesitantly meeting the other’s eye and trying for a small smile despite the culpability marring its intended attempt at some semblance of positivity. 

“Being just as bad as the ones up top,” Rhys answered surprisingly honestly; perhaps the guilt had its occasional advantages. “Without all the blood-drinking, coercive behaviour and general tyranny, though. Working for them makes me no better than a single one of them. Having to fit and tend to collars such as your own never sits right with my moral compass, but then again, I took the job knowing what it would entail, so…” Rhys took another much-needed drag from his cigarette, exhaling with a heavy sigh as he encouraged his air magic to extinguish it with a concentrated gust before plucking his cigarette case from his blazer with his free hand to tuck the butt into it – traitorous bastard he may be, a litterbug he was not. “That’s not all there is to it, the job comes with its own long, long list of exhausting qualities, but that’s one of the worst aspects of it.” 

Ah. Rhys' quip made things final, the overt casualness of those punchy little words blanketing over a myriad of unsaid things. Adrasia only nodded and if the look in the celestial's eyes was a knowing one, he did nothing to impose it onto this new companion. Adrasia had learned, slowly and clumsily over the millennia, how cagey mortals could be when it came to baring their true feelings. Too much pressure prompted too many of them to lock those emotional doors even more tightly.

For now it was enough to follow the other man out from this spectacle of human piety and Adrasia would be lying to himself if he didn't feel the weight that lifted from his shoulders as they passed through the church's doors. While Rhys lit his cigarette, Adrasia closed his eyes and took in a welcome deep breath of the crisp autumn air, lifting his face appreciatively towards the sun. The time given to slaves to pace the grounds had never felt enough for the celestial. He could appreciate this moment for its rarity. "Accommodation?" Adrasia blinked rapidly, bringing himself back around to look first at Rhys, then at his offered arm. A charming gesture, and a very unexpected one. Adrasia hesitated still. "You are also well-accustomed to the castle, then." A moment passed, then he slid his hand into the crook of Rhys' arm. He felt... Adrasia wasn't sure what he felt. Suspicion? Disappointment, perhaps. Whatever the answer, the feeling was a muddled thing.

"I would be hard-pressed not to understand the sentiment. But our chances to sleep elsewhere are few and far between, and perhaps not nights one would consider restful." The celestial's voice was calm and neutral, eyes skating over the greenery around them as he fell into Rhys' pace. Adrasia spoke of such things as if he spoke of the weather. He would not shy away from its implications, not with the collar around his neck and the man beside him apparently a part of the institution that fitted him with it to begin with. Adrasia did not need to guess hard what might drive such a man to prayer -- depending, he supposed as they strolled and his gaze slid to the other's face, on what kind of man Rhys was. "What duties at the top of the hill tire you so?"

[rhysdasior]

“If Aneirin decides to shove any unnecessary work or a pointless amount of paperwork your way, let me know. I wouldn’t put it past him. I won’t hesitate to bring it up with Ro or Nahim to get him pulled back into line.” Being a snitch wasn’t Rhys’ preferred M.O. but then again, it was a surefire way to ensure that any petty behaviour stemming solely from jealousy was taken care of before it could spiral into further absurdity.

Despite Seth’s obvious displeasure to stay on the subject, Rhys wasn’t so keen to move on. “Arguably, he’s not good enough for you. Anyone with eyes and a moral compass can see that. Then again, I doubt I’d ever think that a single soul was good enough for you. Call it bias.” Having to frame Shade in a positive light hadn’t been something Rhys had foreseen in his schedule for the day– “However, as much of a prick I think he is, I know he makes you happy in his own peculiar, Shade-y way.” Shrugging, Rhys performed the perfect illusion of casual indifference. “I just want you to have something nice, y’know? Someone nice. You’ve been through an awful lot, Seth. Maybe it’s my romanticism getting the better of me, but nothing heals the heart and soul faster than having someone to come home to. You deserve that just as much as anyone else, if not more so.”

"Based on experience, I'll take your word for it," Seth said, mirroring his mentor's smile with one of his own. Though he wouldn't so much agree with "managing" Gwyn; he liked the older faerie enough to find him more than just tolerable so far. Him being Roland's fledgling made a lot more sense now that he could compare the personalities. Still, Seth preferred Gwyn's version of mischief over the councilman's over the top dramatics. He could only imagine what Aneirin would be like if Roland apparently had a type he liked turning.

His eyes narrowed into a squint back at Rhys as he kept on about him and Shade. Since when did he suddenly care so much about that relationship working out when all he'd waxed on about was his disapproval towards the cambion. "I said exactly what I said and nothing more," he clarified. "You've spoken with him, you know it's impossible to have a serious discussion with him. Why're you so invested in this now? I thought you disliked Shade and that he wasn't good enough for me."

[rhysdasior]

A sharp gasp left the witch at the bite, the sting smarting against the tender flesh as it jolted him from his dazed reverie. His hold tightened involuntarily as the initial shock registered and with a staggered breath, Rhys willed a sliver of focus to settle in his mind as Gwyn’s voice registered through the rapid firing of his thoughts. The suggestions offered did little to aid Rhys’ bid for crystal clear coherency and the witch forcibly repressed the groan that threatened to spill. If the council weren’t so hellbent on breathing down his neck, Rhys knew himself well enough to know that he would’ve taken Gwyn up on the offer without (much of) a second thought – at the very least, it was a possibility for a later date. 

Despite his current state, Rhys huffed a laugh at the callout and tugged playfully at Gwyn’s curls in lighthearted retaliation. “That’s not what I s– fuck, Gwyn–” any hope of making his point had been rendered obsolete thanks to the sudden friction from the sith’s touch and Rhys’ hips rolled involuntarily as the gesture sent a fresh wave of need through him. Infuriatingly, Gwyn was doing the decent thing of wanting Rhys to ask and by some miracle, Rhys’ mind was with it enough to prompt him to shoot the sith a mildly exasperated look. “D’you want a handwritten invitation too? C’mon. Hasn’t everything up until now been a pretty enthusiastic yes? Nothing's changed.”

The specifics of the situation were getting to be a bit blurry for Gwyn, the separation between himself and the man beneath him marvelously uncertain as blood and sound and heat mingled until it was hard to tell who exactly had sighed or shifted or clutched the other closer. All the sith was sure of was the ambrosia on his tongue and the warm, rhythmic pleasure of the witch's arousal grinding against his own, no matter the feeble boundaries of cloth that still separated them. Gwyn was very much past merely feeding himself now. But Rhys was delightful, beautifully responsive under his hands, a little gift imparted to Gwyn by the chance of Rhys' association with his sire. How silly Gwyn had been to doubt Roland's taste. But with the sharpest edges sanded off of his hunger, his mind stretching indulgently slowly towards priorities of sex over blood, Rhys' words finally managed to find purchase and penetrate the mist around Gwyn's mind.

A very annoying consideration that anyone else was going to make demands on Rhys' time. The sith's eyes fluttered with irritation, still dragging his tongue over the wound, and a peevish impulse took him that had Gwyn suddenly sinking his teeth into the tender skin around it. He might not pierce cleanly but he didn't need to, a shiver running through him just to feel the resistance of that hot, swollen flesh beneath his bite, the last surrender of blood trickling into his mouth before Gwyn pulled back slowly without bothering to release his hold until the skin slipped free and his teeth clicked together around nothing. "What if I don't want to share you?" He was close enough that his lips still grazed the other's neck, doting over the lurid bruising he'd put there, "What if I want to keep you here all morning? All afternoon, maybe..." A soft noise came from the sith at the carding of Rhys' fingers through his curls and his own hands echoed the movement, one petting at the witch's nape, the other up his arm as he spoke, "What if I want to keep you underneath me all day, hm?"

It was... mostly playful. A pretty idea that couldn't possible come to life. "Do you really want me to ease up?" Gwyn asked, smiling with reddened lips, "Or is that supposed to mean 'I'm not interested in waiting anymore'?" He dropped one hand to Rhys' thighs again, snuck between them, took advantage of their angle to forgo teasing and squeeze his hand around the enticing swell of Rhys' cock through his trousers. "Just ask and I'll take care of you, lovely - fair's fair."

[rhysdasior]

Roland’s agreement sparked further delight in the witch and Rhys hummed his approval from the familiar security of Roland’s arms around him, indulging in a moment of selfishness to appreciate the simple pleasure of his company. While the house signified a number of things, knowing that it would inevitably become theirs further down the line (though Rhys would never hesitate to remind him whose name the house is in) meant more to the witch than he could say. In the moment, it seemed preposterous to recall how desperately he used to plead for a reprieve from his extended lifespan, how he’d never envisioned something like this happening to him. Now that it really was happening, it only felt right to take a second to appreciate it.

Hiding his smile against the crook of Roland’s neck, Rhys hummed his tentative consideration at the suggestions made. “I mean… yeah,” the words were muffled as Rhys prised them in all their reluctance from the back of his throat. “Or we could… y’know, keep the bedrooms as they are. Never know when we– when I– if they’re gonna be… y’know… needed.” He winced at how terribly he’d staggered through what had been intended as a subtle hint towards a needed conversation. Mustering up what strength he could, Rhys straightened up within Roland’s embrace to meet his gaze, a sheepish smile soon settling into place. “I technically don’t need a dining room. I could convert that into your little music room, no?” As expected, Roland was getting very comfortable viewing this as their place already. Rhys shook his head lightly, mindful not to shrug off the vampire’s touch. “Second floor’s fine, I’d feel it if it wasn’t. I mean it, this place is it, Ro–” Rhys cut himself off mid-interjection in surprise; apparently there was no need to preach to the choir. “Fuck it, why not? Might as well. You happy to stand there and look pretty whilst I handle the official side of things?”

Well, that was certainly something to look forward to on the trip back then, provided Rhys' tentative yes became a definite yes. Roland had a feeling that it would entirely depend on the witch's mood after the house hunting and whether they'd settled on a property they liked well enough or not. "I beg to differ." He quipped back, mischievously, but then figured they'd leave it at that as they moved on to discussing the apparently already disappointing first house. It was somewhat strange for Roland to be providing the optimistic view of things but he was in a fantastically good mood so that probably helped. "I suppose they could've tried a little harder." Roland agreed, smoothing the rest of the irritation over with a kiss before they headed inside.

Rhys didn't seem to get any cheerier the more of it they saw and in spite of Roland's suggestions the vampire could practically hear the death knell tolling for this particular property. Rhys' words only confirmed that and Roland hummed his agreement. "I suppose you're right, it just isn't big enough. Short of rebuilding it entirely there's not much to be done." It wasn't long after that Rhys hurried them out and they were onto the next property. Driving, of course, even though it turned out to be an incredibly short drive. Clearly Rhys really was enjoying the car and Roland was pleased with himself all over again that he'd thought to drive them instead of using their usual methods of transportation.

The second property was much more appealing and Rhys clearly had better feelings about it given how he leaped out of the car almost before Roland had properly parked. Amused, Roland got out and strolled over at a slower pace, though neither Rhys nor the realtor actually waited for him before they started in on the tour. In a different mood, that would have offended him but today it didn't seem to matter as he trailed behind. Within minutes, he could tell that Rhys loved the place and that this would more than likely be the one. It was in the witch's whole demeanor and his every reaction to each room. It was quite striking, Roland had to admit. There was a charm to it and it was certainly far more spacious than the last house. Rhys finally seemed to remember him when they'd seen the entirety of the first floor and Roland smiled at the recognition, sliding his hands out of his pockets so he could wrap his arms around Rhys once his beloved was close to him again. Seeing Rhys so happy and excited about it made Roland equally joyful. "I do. It's certainly much larger than the other one and has a much better layout. We could convert some of the bedrooms into other things as well, like a library or a music room." While Roland was never one to scoff at how many rooms a place had surely they didn't all need to be bedrooms? One for them, a couple of guest rooms certainly, but the other two could be better used as other spaces. He laughed a little at Rhys' enthusiasm tracing a finger along his jaw affectionately. "Why don't we look at the second floor before making a final decision? But I can see how much you love it, cheri, and unless there's terrible problems up there I don't see why we couldn't make the decision right now."

[rhysdasior]

Rhys nodded in understanding – as much understanding as he could offer, anyway. His dealings with Tiernan had been brief so far, fortunately, but memorable regardless, whether Rhys was willing to have any of the exchanges etched into his hippocampus – there were far more vital memories much more deserving to dwell there. Tiernan’s cruelty, though, was a universally godawful affair and Rhys wouldn’t wish it upon his worst enemy. For it to be Kell’s daily lived experience… the thought alone was almost enough to prise a shudder from the witch but fortunately, he had the sense to stifle it. 

The sight of Kell’s grin served to soothe Rhys’ rising ache for his tribulation and he mirrored the gesture at the words that followed, a bright and surprisingly genuine laugh escaping him at the shared sentiment. Though it was a perpetual risk to speak against the council in almost any fashion, it was such a breath of fresh air to toe the line every now and then. Rhys eyed the empty glass first in acknowledgement then in curiosity, his gaze flickering back up to the other man’s as he spoke again. “Would help also come in the form of another drink or are you good? Not trying to liquor you up or anything– just… if it helps take the edge off, I don’t mind getting you another.”

It was a relief that Rhys wasn't looking at him like he was someone to be pitied. There was a reason that Kell didn't often talk with others about how he'd ended up at Krovs. The pity drove him nuts, even if the response was understandable it wasn't something that Kell could tolerate. Others tended to think he was crazy for basically throwing his life away all those years ago, which was a reaction that the human handled far better. Because maybe he had been a little crazy to volunteer coming to a place like Krovs as a slave. "Nah, he's nothing that I can't handle, but there are days when he does get to me. Like now." Involving his family had been very much a new low for Tiernan, that was for damn sure.

He cracked a grin, sending Rhys an amused look. "Knowing how things in this castle are, I'm sure there will be some other drama between the councilmen soon. They can't seem to go more than a few months without starting some kind of petty bullshit with each other. Sometimes I'm shocked they operate as well as they do." Kell took another drink of beer, finishing it off, and set the glass back down. "Thanks, Rhys, I appreciate it. Should probably take all the help that I can get, right?"

[rhysdasior]

Venturing a little further in, Rhys snuck a glance at the troublesome display in question and made a quiet noise of sympathetic understanding at the sight. No wonder the poor doctor was at the brink; having any part of his office look anywhere as chaotic as Vitaly’s shelves did made Rhys almost nauseous. “You want a hand getting things orderly?” Waving a hand flippantly, Rhys’ telekinesis gently shifted a few bottles around until something beginning to resemble alphabetical order began to form. His magic paused at the hellhound’s words and Rhys glanced at Vitaly with a boyish grin, a one-shouldered shrug accompanying it. “You don’t look too terrible yourself– but out of all the years to head elsewhere, you definitely picked a good one. I take it you heard about the assassination attempts? We lost Spain and Portugal’s councilmen through them and even had a few attempts here that ended up requiring trials and threats of execution for those accused, but fortunately, nothing major. Other than that? Same old, same old. You’ve barely missed a thing. How was your time away? Bring back any nice souvenirs? I'm expecting a fridge magnet at the least.”

Vitaly sighed as he looked back to the shelves, hands on his hips. "You could point me in direction of moron who now stocks shelves. That would be good first step." He murmured as he looked at the mess. "You look like all's well since I've been gone." A year was hardly a long reprieve but for some, it felt like a lifetime. "Did I miss anything good? Or just same old same."

[rhysdasior]

Roland’s waspish responses to be expected in a time of heightened emotional vulnerability and though the urge to respond to every jagged remark with an equally embittered response out of an instinctual passive aggressive need that Rhys could only thank his mother for inheriting and passing down the family tree, the witch kept his jaw clamped shut as he listened, going as far as consciously keeping his expression compassionate so as not to stumble any further into already rocky conversational territory. As Roland’s hand settled into place over his, Rhys felt himself relax by the slightest amount; a reciprocation of the gesture was always a good sign.

Listening closely as Roland divulged the messy details of a more strained siring bond, Rhys tried to empathise and sympathise with the plight presented as best he could. Of course, he couldn’t claim to understand the intensity and complexity of the relationship between a sire and their fledgling, nor could he claim to be thrilled about some hanger-on apparently now wanting to cling to Ro after having more decades on this earth than Rhys had been alive spent having, apparently, minimal contact. Rhys’ hold over Roland’s heart had tightened without him even realising and he loosened his grip on Roland’s shirt with a faint noise of embarrassed realisation at such a clear display of his emotions getting the better of him – the only godsend (and potentially the only time Rhys would consider it as such) was that Roland had been so entrenched in his recollection that he’d failed to notice a second of it. Or, at least, Rhys could hope such observations proved correct. Sharing wasn’t a concept the witch had ever been fond of; whether that was a byproduct of being an only child or the fact that for the first time in a long time, Rhys had found someone he was genuinely scared of losing, of becoming dull to– he was getting ahead of himself. Stay in the present, Dasior. 

The purposefully vague ‘other reasons’ were concerning by themselves and the nagging pull of Rhys’ clairvoyance was growing stronger by the second – he couldn’t pretend the news wasn’t concerning in its own right and the need to see the problem for himself so that he could begin to figure out a workable strategy for all involved felt almost overwhelming. Taking another breath to steady himself, Rhys let himself be pulled closer as Roland’s account came to an end, the defeated words and pleading stare that followed fully exposing just how much the entire ordeal had worn Roland down over time. “You know just as well as I do that sweeping things under the rug for the time being isn’t dealing with them, Ro,” stroking a soothing circle against Roland’s heart, Rhys’ expression softened as he considered his words carefully. “And as much as I’d love to suggest you hold the tw– Aneirin to his word and see how long he crumbles considering you both have eternity at your disposal, it’s probably not going to last as long as you think it will – grand declarations in heated moments usually don’t carry the weight they seem to. Also, he’s your fledgling. Histrionics run in the bloodline.” 

With a tense sigh, Rhys averted his gaze to focus his attention on the wall behind, pleased to be met with a vast expanse of nothing as opposed to the emotional agony still present in Roland’s eyes. As unfortunate as the Aneirin and Gwyn-related incidents had been, Rhys was struggling to tap into the full depths of his empathy – whether it could be blamed on the stressors of balancing two exceedingly demanding jobs, the lack of consistent sleep, the come down that refused to shift (and that he stubbornly refused to heal through any magical means) or whatever, Rhys couldn’t be sure, but what he did know was that it wasn’t making a discussion of this nature particularly easy to have. Returning his gaze to meet Roland’s, the witch gave him a small, reassuring smile and mentally willed his tone to sound as upbeat as he needed it to. “Probably for the best if we call it a night on the topic, though. Instead, why don’t you continue tidying the bedroom, maybe neaten up a few things around the kitchen, empty a bin or two? I’ll be done in here by then – then we can turn in for the night. Tomorrow’s a new day; we’ll deal with the finer details then. That work for you?”