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arealcrow · 8 hours ago

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(they long to be) close to you

4.7k words, dragon age: the veilguard, rhucanic

Whatever they had needed, so far the Lighthouse had provided. [...] A building, newly risen out of the reaches of the Fade and connected to the courtyard, sits behind them, conspicuously filling once empty space. The exterior of the square, stone structure betrays nothing about its purpose, and no lantern hangs over it's wooden door. Stained glass windows depicting scenes of nature- halla and ravens- dot the sides, but give no glimpses inside. "New room?" Rhava asks the obvious question, "Has anyone been inside yet?" When Imeric and Lucanis give twin shakes of their heads- an expected response- Rhava nods like he's made up his mind. He starts forward, threading the needle between them to start up the floating slabs serving as steps. "Well, let's have a look, then." (Rook, Bishop, and Lucanis find a new room in the Fade, sparring occurs, and tension grows.)

Whatever they had needed, so far the Lighthouse had provided.

Rhava had spent an hour running exercises in his room. The chaise lounge he usually slept on and the tables that accompanied it had to be pushed to the walls to make room, and even then, he was worried a Fade-step too far would put him in the fish tank. It was too crowded, with too many things on the wall he didn't want to accidentally incinerate. It makes him nostalgic for Treviso, and the sparring space available there. Even the woods of Antiva had been better, there were clearings and ruins that were less of a fire hazard than this.

Going through his exercises in the courtyard would put him in the way of anyone trying to get through, but at this point, he was willing to sacrifice his team's freedom of movement if it meant saving his sleeping space. And the fish. He would feel bad if he caused an explosion in their tank.

The perpetual daylight of the Fade always blinded Rhava when he emerged from the Lighthouse, so the commotion in the courtyard reaches his ears before his eyes.

"What is it?" Imeric asks, sounding suspicious.

"I'm not sure," Lucanis replies, sounding thoughtful.

Rhava's eyes adjust, and he smiles at the sight of his two favorite people. The two of them look away from the object of their conversation to look at Rhava instead. A building, newly risen out of the reaches of the Fade and connected to the courtyard, sits behind them, conspicuously filling once empty space. The exterior of the square, stone structure betrays nothing about its purpose, and no lantern hangs over it's wooden door. Stained glass windows depicting scenes of nature- halla and ravens- dot the sides, but give no glimpses inside.

"New room?" Rhava asks the obvious question, "Has anyone been inside yet?"

When Imeric and Lucanis give twin shakes of their heads- an expected response- Rhava nods like he's made up his mind. He starts forward, threading the needle between them to start up the floating slabs serving as steps.

"Well, let's have a look, then."

He doesn't bother giving the building a proper Crow appraisal, assuming Lucanis had already done so. Whatever magic is surrounding it, he also assumes Imeric has already felt it out for danger. Rhava considers them better in both of their respective crafts than he is at either, but takes comfort in knowing they'd use that skill to warn him if he were about to walk into danger. Considering neither take the opportunity to stop him as he passes by, and instead fall into step with him, he feels safe investigating.

The hinges of the door creak with neglect, and Rhava has to put his shoulder behind the push to get it to budge. What awaits the trio inside is surprisingly welcoming, though. The light filtering in through the window scenes casts the room in a warm light, like golden hour in the forests of Antiva. There is an open area that takes up most of the room, with benches along two walls and gray padding on the floor. Towards the back of the room, shelves, racks for weapons and armor, and workbenches form neat rows. Rhava is pretty sure he even spots the required instruments for mixing potions and poisons glimmering on one of the workbenches.

Imeric makes their way to the back of the room first- Rhava's guessing he'd spotted the same apparatus. Lucanis strolls onto the mats, looking around the sparring area like he's doing calculations. Rhava opts to trail after Imeric, head already abuzz with thoughts and plans.

"This is perfect," Imeric can hear Rhava's beaming grin in his voice without having to look over their shoulder.

"Yeah?" They know he's going to continue talking anyway, but they still like to play along.

"Yeah! I was just trying to run through exercises in my room. Got nervous about frying the fish, which is why I came outside. And, bam! Here's a space I can finish in without fucking anything up," Rhava runs his fingertips along the weapon racks as they pass by them. There's not a speck of dust on them.

"I guess the Lighthouse didn't appreciate the threats to its safety," Imeric laughs. They're no stranger to helping Rhava find clear spaces to practice. Normally, they would join him in that practice, and enjoy the closeness of sparring. Now, they brace themself to turn down the request they know Rhava will make.

"You wanna spar with me?" Rhava's leaning against an empty shelf, watching Imeric inspect the potion-making implements.

"I should stock up in here," the excuse comes readily, "Maybe go ask Harding for a few things."

Rhava nods and looks down at the floor, telling himself that it hides the disappointment that briefly flickers across his face. He had expected Imeric to say no, and planned on asking them to help get things settled in here anyway. They were always one step ahead of Rhava, despite their frequent protests about not being good at chess.

"Right. That would be very helpful, thank you," Rhava says, trying to roll with the rejection, "You're always so thoughtful, lethallen."

"Maybe Lucanis will spar with you," Imeric says, hoping that their continued help will soothe Rhava's disappointment. They hate seeing those hazel eyes darken, like clouds stealing away tree dappled light.

Rhava lifts his head, and Imeric is relieved to see the sunshine return to his expression. Rhava shoots a look over his shoulder, surprised to find the assassin still lingering in the open space. Imeric doesn't know why, the two of them are always looking for excuses to spend a few moments more together. A sparring room provides far more than that.

"Brilliant idea," Rhava says, pushing himself to stand from the leaning position he'd settled into, "Smart as ever, Im."

Imeric is left to explore in peace as Rhava stalks through the rows of racks and shelves to approach Lucanis from behind. He's not trying to surprise him, he knows by now that the Crow can likely both hear and sense his approach. Lucanis had described it as an itch behind his eyes, one that he mentioned was ever present in the Fade. Maybe that was part of why he holed himself up in their pantry. A respite from all the magical noise.

Despite lacking the element of surprise, Lucanis allows Rhava to "sneak" up on him. Rhava can't tell if he's just playing along, or if his attention is actually fixed on the image of two halla in the window before him and he simply trusts Rhava. Either way, the elf is grateful to be allowed his moment of fun.

"Hey," he pokes Lucanis' shoulder, pointedly, and gives the man a cocky grin when he glances back at him, "Fight me."

"Excuse me?" Lucanis turns to face him fully, raising an eyebrow. There's a small smile brewing in his eyes, that hasn't quite reached his lips yet.

"Spar with me," Rhava clarifies, "I've spent way too long running exercises alone, I want something real. Show me what you've got, Mage Killer."

Rhava puts emphasis on the title, purring the words out. It's a taunt and an invitation. He's seen Lucanis' skills wielded against their enemies, he wants a better look at them. Getting a better look at Lucanis in the process was just a bonus, he told himself.

"If you two are gonna spill each other's blood, I'm gonna need these shelves to not be empty," Imeric pipes up, finally emerging from the back of the room, "I'll be right back."

There is a silent beat after the creaking door shuts behind Imeric.

"I would rather not spill your blood, Rhava," Lucanis says, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows in concern.

"Okay," Rhava shrugs, still grinning, "Then don't. And I won't use any offensive magic so I don't blow you up."

"But we don't have any practice blades-" Lucanis protests.

Rhava takes a step closer to him, cutting him off, "We'll be very careful. And it'll be okay. Imeric will be back and can heal up any little cuts or bruises. We're used to playing rough."

Lucanis looks distant for a moment- Rhava suspects Spite is making his opinion known- and then shoots him another considering look. Rhava takes it as encouragement, grin widening.

"If we're gonna do this," Rhava lets his eyes rake up and down Lucanis' well dressed form, "You should probably ditch some of those layers. Don't want to slice up your nice silks. Or give me an advantage."

To make his point, Rhava tugs playfully on the chain connecting Lucanis' bird skull collar pins. Lucanis sways just enough that Rhava can imagine that he wanted to be pulled closer, but holds his ground enough that it's just a fantasy.

"How considerate of you," Lucanis says warmly, only half joking.

Rhava gives him a sparkling wink before breaking away from Lucanis to wander over to a bench. Always focused on the task in front of him, he doesn't waste any time ditching layers of his own. Not that he has many to lose with how he casually he dresses around the Lighthouse. Lucanis' eyebrows curve up towards his hairline in slowly building surprise as he watches Rhava unceremoniously remove his shirt. He gives it a cursory fold before setting in on a bench and starting to braid his hair. Lucanis lets eyes wander up and down Rhava's newly revealed back, trying to memorize freckles and scars he sees there. His eyes drift lower, over the soft curve of Rhava's butt and down past strong thighs. He wants to dig his fingers into the supple flesh there, leave the elf covered in fingerprint bruises- marks that prove he was there.

Seemingly only then remembering that they're there supposed to be preparing to spar, Lucanis forces himself to look away and walk to the other side of the room. He has more work to do to prepare himself, layered up as he is. In comparison to Rhava's haphazardly set aside garments, he neatly folds his vest and sets his accessories on top of it.

"You're gonna ruin your shirt," Rhava says from his place on the floor. He'd started stretching during the extra time Lucanis had taken to remove his bits and bobs.

"It can be washed," Lucanis' words are mild, "Or mended."

He sounds restrained,like he has something on his mind other than what leaves his lips. Rhava gives a wolfish grin, proud that seeing him stripped down to just a bandeau, pants, and boots had such an effect on the man. Barely half-naked and Lucanis already looked a shade redder. Rhava was desperate to see what he would look like if given even better view.

"Are you ready? Need to warm up?" Rhava asks, leaning back from the splits he'd stretched himself into and crossing his legs.

"I am plenty warm," Lucanis says, and clears his throat, "I had been running exercises in the dining hall prior to finding this place." He waves a hand to gesture to the building sheltering them from the Fade.

"Oh! Had the same thought, I was practicing in my room. It's too cramped in there, though. I was gonna try the courtyard, and now here we are." Rhava stands up, readying his mageknife.

"Then we're birds of a feather," A genuine smile splits Lucanis' face, Rhava can't even tell that he's pretending he didn't just hear him tell Imeric the exact same thing. He's excited for a friendly spar, and charmed by Rhava maintaining his casual affectation and excitement about the Lighthouse even as they square up with each other.

"Is that all you brought?" Rhava gestures to the dagger in Lucanis' hand with his chin.

"Do you think I need more?" Lucanis raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge.

It's Rhava's turn to look pleasantly surprised, and be reminded that he's about to spar with famed Demon of Vyrantium. Grandson of the First Talon. Master assassin, with a demon's assistance. Lucanis is a better swordsman by far, and even with just a dagger Rhava has the feeling he is likely outmatched. Even still…

"Alright, Dellamorte," he widens his stance, readying himself, "Don't go easy on me."

"I wouldn't dare," Lucanis falls into the back and forth of Crow banter easily, and playfully sneers out the words, "De Riva."

They're new dance partners, still finding their rhythm together. Lucanis leads, lunging first.

It's a stilted affair at first- movements too fast or too slow. Neither of them are sure when to press forward and when to hold their ground, and Rhava is the first to spill blood due to the uneven push and pull. He's aggressive, which usually works to Lucanis' advantage. Not here. They're used to fighting at each other's sides, working over and around the other as they wrought death on those who dared cross them. This was different- somehow more intimate. Watching each other's bodies, only meeting gazes to gauge next moves.

They're so focused on learning the moves to this choreography, that they don't acknowledge Imeric opening the door to the sparring room. If the two of them can see them walk to the back of the room carrying the crate full of herbs Harding had so helpfully provided, they don't give any indication. For now, it's probably for the better, since the sight of someone attacking Rhava, even in a safe setting like this, set them on edge. Yes, that's the reason they feel hot and antsy. The sight of Rhava, eyes narrowed in concentration, hair slowly escaping it's messy braid, with sweat glistening on his freckled skin? That had nothing to do with it, it certainly didn't make them want to put their hands on him. They'd just busy their hands stocking shelves and preparing potions, that would soothe this protective urge.

If it had been any other member of the team, Imeric would feel more comfortable. Rhava's too slippery for Davrin or Taash to really hurt him, too unpredictable for Neve or Emmrich to get a good read on him, and Bellara and Harding weren't as used to close combat. Lucanis was a Crow, and a mage killer. A perfect weapon, honed to kill people just like Rhava. He was dangerous. He made puppy eyes at Rhava over coffee too often.

The discordant sounds of metal clashing had smoothed out into something almost pleasant. It's easy for Imeric to to listen, and tune out the stray thoughts circling their brain like vultures. But just as soon as a rhythm is found, it starts to lull, and is quickly interrupted. Rhava has never been patient.

"You're pulling your hits!" Rhava snaps, "You promised not to!"

Lucanis can't help but laugh, half because Rhava sounds like Spite in this moment, and half because he's right. Without realizing it, Lucanis had slipped into a predictable pattern, one that Rhava didn't have to work hard to respond to. The air around Rhava when he cast spells, or even Fade-stepped, was a balm on his trained senses. The places where he feels pressure on the Veil- where the itch behind his eyes starts- Rhava finds and pierces, relieving the itch and coaxing out what he needs from the puncture. He had been enjoying that soothing feeling, the way it wound around him as they danced.

But he had promised, and he wasn't going to break a promise to Rhava if he could help it. When Rhava next makes a jab at him, overly aggressive in his frustration, Lucanis sidesteps the motion easily, and shoulder checks Rhava to throw him off balance. A mix of surprise and satisfaction at having his request honored flashes across the elf's face, ears flicking up as he grins. His aggression doesn't lessen, but being kept on the back foot isn't something Lucanis minds here. Rhava is telegraphing his moves clearly enough for him to dodge and weave- a quicker rhythm being set between them. It takes longer than Rhava would like for him to land a blow, an elbow in Lucanis' gut. Not the most effective, but contact is contact.

It's then that Spite's wings finally extend from Lucanis' back. Either Lucanis had finally decided he needed the help, or Spite was too excited to stay dormant any longer. The mix of focus and enjoyment written on Lucanis' face in a smug little smile doesn't give Rhava an easy answer.

Rhava huffs out disgruntled noise- two on one is hardly a fair fight- but he doesn't have long to dwell on his frustration. Lucanis is readying to lunge at him from across the room, and with Spite's wings propelling him it'll only take a stride for him to close the gap. Rhava thinks fast enough to use the speed against him. When Lucanis expects him to Fade-step away, he instead finds a pocket to propel himself upwards as he steps forward. He meets the assassin half-way, thighs locking around his head. Rhava jerks his body backwards, using the momentum to throw Lucanis bodily over himself and onto the padded floor. He lands kneeling over Lucanis' shoulders, rewarded with the satisfying thud of bodies hitting the mat and the clatter of a dropped dagger. A feeling of pride over the showy move he'd just pulled out washes over him- if he had feathers he'd puff them out. To his credit, Lucanis is looking up at him from between his thighs with a look of adoration that makes Rhava feel like there's a live current running through his veins.

Its a short lived moment, as those brown eyes as fill with a purple glow. Rhava should have expected this, it was a showy move but it was also a cheap one- he knew it would get a rise out of Lucanis.

"Not. Fighting. Fair!" Spite hisses as Lucanis suddenly rises up underneath Rhava.

Rhava's not prepared for it, too caught up in the moment of victory to remember everything that comes after it. It's easy for Lucanis to reverse their positions, wrapping his arms around Rhava's thighs to dump him onto his back and fold him over himself. His legs are spread wide around Lucanis, knees hooked over his arms- it's an immediately compromising position that he'd normally enjoy being put into. As riled up as he is, all Rhava can think about is how to escape. He'd dropped his mageknife when Lucanis had reversed their positions, but he was hardly helpless unarmed.

He reaches a hand up towards Lucanis' chest, fingers splayed as he prepares a blasting spell to push him away. Lucanis is ready for him. He's experienced with the instincts of cornered mages, even the most unpredictable ones like the elf underneath him. He grabs Rhava's hand and pins it by the wrist to the floor above his head. His other hand moves to cover Rhava's mouth, serving both to cut off his chance at setting off the verbal component of the spell and to hold his head down so he can't do something rash like headbutt Lucanis.

Still squirming underneath Lucanis' restraining hands, Rhava reaches his free hand up to claw at one of Lucanis' arms. It's a useless endeavor, he knows Lucanis- and Spite- have him beat, but he refuses to concede an easy win to them. Like the demon is responding to his spitefulness, a purple arm extends from Lucanis' side to grab Rhava's free hand and pin it to the floor alongside the other.

"Nmmf frrr!" Rhava protest is muffled beneath Lucanis' hand, though he is confident he understands the words anyway.

"You said not to go easy on you," he teases, looming over Rhava and grinning.

There are worse ways to lose, he supposes, worse sights he could be treated to. Lucanis is a feast for Rhava's eyes- flushed and panting from effort, his mouth tilted in a handsome but smug smile. He's looking down with those warm, creased eyes Rhava has always felt lucky to see pointed in his direction. Rhava wants to mess his tousled hair up even more. Driven by that urge, he squirms in Lucanis and Spite's grasp again.

"Stay down," Lucanis breathes out, voice edging on a threat.

The timbre of his voice goes straight to Rhava's gut, making his stomach flip. He's not sure whether he wants to do as he's told, or struggle even harder to get him to say it again. Lucanis can see the mischief and indecision glimmering in his eyes.

There's a third option he decides. Parting his lips underneath Lucanis' hand, he darts his tongue out to run it experimentally along one of the lines of his palm. Not for the first time that session, Lucanis' eyebrows arched as shock wiped the smug look clean off of his face.

"What are you-" He breathes out, unable to finish the question before Rhava makes his next move.

Lucanis' pleasantly secure grip on him has barely wavered, but the hand on his mouth has loosened the most. There's enough give for Rhava to tilt his head to the side and take one of Lucanis' fingers into his mouth. He wastes no time sucking on the digit, giving in to impulse easily.

"Rhava," Lucanis gasps out the name, and it sounds like both a warning and a plea.

He responds by widening his lips to try and coax a second finger into his mouth. Lucanis seems to understand the goal, plunging two fingers into Rhava's mouth and gently pressing down on his tongue. Rhava's eyes light up with excitement, and the responding look from Lucanis is one of wide-eyed hunger. Tentatively, he shifts his hand so can he pull his fingers partially out of Rhava's mouth, and then pushes them back in again. The moan that Rhava hums out is accompanied by a hollowing of his cheeks as he sucks on Lucanis' fingers. It's a lewd sight that fills the assassin's mind with a litany of ideas as Rhava stares up at him, eyes glimmering with intent in the warm light.

He pushes his fingers, in and out, in and out. After a few repetitions, he adds a third finger and delights in the sight of Rhava adjusting to the intrusion. The soft, needy noises he's making get wetter as he coats Lucanis' fingers with his tongue, lavishing the digits with attention. His eyes have slipped close, to focus better, and he looks vulnerable in a way Lucanis has only seen once before.

Rhava can tell that he's started to drool, but he doesn't care. This is the closest he and Lucanis have ever been, physically anyway. Their first kiss was a sweet moment, but left Rhava wanting so much more. That was honey and lavender cream. This is spiked with rum. Intoxicating- warming them both to their cores. Pressed together and separated by only a few layers of cloth, he can feel Lucanis quickly growing hard between his legs. The realization of the totality of his effect on the man sends a tingle up his spine. He shifts enough to roll his hips against Lucanis', hooking one leg over his hip to pull him closer. Lucanis should have pinned his legs down too if he didn't want Rhava to use them.

"Rhava," Lucanis says again, more desperate this time. There is no askance in his voice anymore, only raw need, caution consumed by the roaring fire of desire. With his eyes closed, Rhava can't see the intensity Lucanis is looking at him with. He's barely blinked since they ended up on the floor together, like he doesn't want to miss a single second of the sight before him.

Imeric can see it, peering through half-stocked shelves. They should have left, or interrupted them, or done something minutes ago. They should have done anything other than just stand there and watch- a lit torch confined to its alcove, watching a wildfire start burning with envy. But if they interrupted, they wouldn't get to listen to the filthy noises Rhava is making. Those should be my fingers in his mouth, Imeric blushes at the absurdity of thought. Trapped by their conflicting agonies, they don't look away as Lucanis pulls his spit-slick fingers out of Rhava's mouth, and finally closes his eyes as he leans down to press his lips against Rhava's.

If Rhava wasn't being held down he would surge up to meet Lucanis in the kiss, but the assassin only pins him further by lowering his torso over Rhava's. He holding himself up with his newly freed arm, still relying on Spite's help to keep Rhava securely in place.

Lucanis is kissing him like he's drowning, like he thinks he's still in that underwater prison and Rhava's lips are his only way out. It's the reverence and desperation of a man who has done nothing since their first kiss but think about it. Rhava never wants it to end. Lucanis presses at the soft line of Rhava's lips with his tongue, and Rhava's lips part to welcome him inside hungrily. He can feel Lucanis rocking against him slowly, and the way it sparks a need for more in him makes him feel like he hasn't been touched properly in years. Using the leg he has hooked around Lucanis' hip, he encourages him to grind down against him harder, and rolls his hips up to meet the motion in kind. A different rhythm to be found between them.

"Emma salin," Rhava pleads against Lucanis' lips, separating just enough to breathe.

Lucanis' eyes slip open a sliver, searching Rhava's face. He's not sure entirely what's being asked of him, and is about to whisper out a question when the sharp crash of glass breaking sounds from the back of the room. Three bodies freeze.

"Im-"

By the time Rhava is gasping out his realization, Lucanis has already started to extricate himself from their tangle. Rhava feels his racing heart clench at the loss of contact and heat, torn between his mortification and his desperation. He knows what comes next, and the knowledge of it makes him feel too heavy to get up from the floor. "I- Should step out," Lucanis says, polite words barely masking how flustered he is, "Excuse me."

Rhava closes his eyes tight. Lucanis' words give him deja vu. He wonders if he wishes hard enough, would the Lighthouse do him the courtesy of swallowing him into the floor of the building it just summoned for him? He doubts it. Now overly aware of his surroundings, he can hear Imeric swearing quietly in elvhen, and the quiet clinking of glass being cleaned up. Guilt drives him to his feet, feeling bad about both forgetting his situational awareness so severely and not jumping to make sure Imeric was okay as soon as he'd heard the glass break.

"You good, lethallen?" Rhava calls.

"Yes. I am completely fine," Imeric doesn't look up from the glass they're sweeping up as Rhava approaches, "But I'm not done cleaning, so just stay over there for now."

Rhava raises an eyebrow at Imeric, placing his hands on his hips. They sound strained, and while Rhava can't see their face well, he thinks they looked flushed all the way to the pointed tips of their ears.

"Are you sure?" Rhava presses, "No cuts or nothing?"

"I'm sure, Rhava," Imeric mocks his tone, and the familiarity of the teasing reassures him.

"Okay, fuck me, then," Rhava says, equally teasing. He doesn't notice the effect his phrasing has on Imeric as he spins on his heel, "Guess that's what I get for trying to play nurse for you. I'm gonna get some water, I'll come check on you to make sure you didn't just lie to me in a bit."

The joke earns him a snort from Imeric. The promise of Rhava coming back to potentially fuss over them is a pleasant one though, one they linger on as they watch him walk towards the door.

"Oh, and Rhava," they call, as he's about to pull the door open, "If that's the strategy Lucanis is going to use to kill Ghilan'nain, I think we're gonna need to find a different assassin."

The way Rhava's posture stiffens and his ears quickly flick down and turn pink brings Imeric a small amount of spiteful satisfaction. A final verbal spar of their own to haunt Rhava as the door creaks shut behind him.

#rhucanic #rhava #my writing #had to give this one a real title to post bc its title previously had been 'fingers in his mouth in the fade'#i need to finish my other fingers in his mouth fics. imeric deserves their turn

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