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missingmywing · 1 year ago

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So quick background: some friends and I were talking about Ancient hcs and joked that Hyth probably seduced most or all of the Convocation at some point, and I made the joke that he probably challenged my Azem to do the same. I was then shamelessly enabled by multiple friends to write a fic of them doing exactly that. So. This is technically the second chapter bc the first would be Hyth's challenge itself, but they're all self-contained enough that they work alone with background explanation. Enjoy 13k words of what was supposed to be a 4k smut fic that then exploded into Plot and Character Studies.

Lahabrea

Styx had to admit, they weren’t… entirely sure how they were going to approach Lahabrea.

Not that they were at all adverse, but without Hyth’s prodding they’d have never gathered the boldness, the audacity. The man was stern and focused on his work above all else, and certainly not the type to fool around. Especially with Azem, who was undoubtedly the greatest headache for him on the convocation more often than not.

Styx knew that he didn’t hate them, or even truly dislike them, for all that he was often the first to criticize their methods and actions. But that didn’t change the fact that they were in opposition more often than not and that he would likely respond scathingly to a “distraction from their duties”.

Then again, perhaps it was simply a matter of constraints to work around.

He wouldn’t look favourably upon a distraction from his usual duties, so they could approach him towards the end of the day when those duties had reached a point of being set aside anyway. And he wasn’t the type to casually fool around, especially not with the one who was often a thorn in his side - though accidentally, usually - but conversely, his frustration with them could be an opening to offer an outlet.

How likely he was to accept it was another question altogether.

And… they did owe him somewhat of an apology. Not for quelling the volcano, but their use of Ifrita had been-

Well. They’d always intended to apologize to him for it, this just gave them a good opportunity to offer it.

So it was that two bells after the official end to the work day, as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, found Azem knocking on Lahabrea’s office door with the curls of anticipation and nerves twisting in their stomach.

Frankly the only way this could go wrong was if he took insult, which they strongly hoped he wouldn’t. There was no reason for him to, really, and they knew that at worst he would likely dismiss them with irritable exasperation at the potential waste of time, but… well, their mind had always oh so helpfully conjured the worst case of any scenario they’d ever envisioned.

The flare of aether was sign enough of acknowledgement, and they steeled themselves and pushed open the door into the office.

Lahabrea was sitting at his desk and, given that the majority of the paperwork was on one side of it in designated files, they assumed that he was largely done for the day.

The office had long been altered to reflect a design very similar to that of what they remembered of his office in the Akademia Anyder; with dark stone edged with gold, desk of a dark wood, shelves of books and concept crystals along the walls, and a dark leather lounge with a low table to the right. It was lit more by the lamps along the walls than the rapidly dimming light from the arching windows to his back. It was both nostalgic and a bit comforting in its familiarity. His expression was neutral, rather than pulled into a tired frown, which was… a relatively good sign.

It at least meant that he wasn’t in a foul mood already.

“Azem,” he greeted neutrally as he looked up, voice not giving away any particular emotion. “Is there aught I can assist you with?”

… or perhaps he was upset. He was being suspiciously cordial given that he was undoubtedly still irked about their unauthorized acquisition and employment of Ifrita to stabilize the volcano less than a decade ago. While not as incised about it as Pashtarot, he’d been very vocal about his displeasure with the whole situation as he’d led the formal dressing-down of Azem by the Convocation in the aftermath. Not to mention their and Elidibus’ meddling about the Pandaemonium incident, their avoidance on the subject of their “familiar” in the aftermath, and his own personality shift in the wake of reclaiming his soul shard…

They eyed him warily. “Not as such, but I thought that time enough had passed to broach the subject of Ifrita without setting implications of excuses.”

He watched them for a moment, then released a sigh. “You are not one to make excuses Azem. While I may find your explanations excessively detailed and opinionated at times, they never deviate from factuality and into vacuity.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “If it is an explanation you seek to offer, you need not go to the effort. You were thorough enough with your report the first time, and I know well enough what motivates you to piece the events together myself.”

Azem found themselves struck silent at his words. That… wasn’t what they had expected. “I… see.”

“Nor are you one to offer an apology for your actions when you feel them justified.” Lahabrea tilted his head in a way that they could almost see his eyebrow raised behind his mask. “So what, pray tell, could have brought you here?”

They hesitated. “Not… apologies for my actions, perhaps, but for possible insult that could be taken from them, yes.” Azem answered carefully. “Ifrita was a powerful and well-crafted creation, and I’m not in the least ignorant of the time, effort, and care that went into her development. That I took advantage of that so soon after her approval and induction to the archives is an action I am well aware could be construed poorly. Of that, I am more than willing to offer an apology - even if no offense was intended.” Their heart twisted in their chest, awaiting his response. No matter how much time passed, he never became less intimidating - especially when he was in a clear position to offer scathing rejection.

Lahabrea considered them for a long moment, crimson eyes as unreadable as ever behind his mask. “… as I said, I am aware enough of your motivations to know your intent with your actions. While admittedly irate at your callous and blatant flaunting of protocol, I took no offense at your actions with Ifrita. The concept was created and submitted to the archives to be of use - not in that manner, perhaps, but if I wished to control how a concept were to be used I would never submit anything for public use - even restricted as it was. While I may disapprove of the manner, the utilization was within rights.”

… oh. Well today was a day for revelations wasn’t it?

Before they could respond, however, Lahabrea continued. “However; while the apology may have been genuine I can see clearly that it was also an excuse and a veil for your true purpose of being here. Speak plainly, Azem - you waste both our time with this vacant exchange.”

They felt their spine stiffen against their will at being called out, opening their mouth to respond… only for nothing to escape. What could they say? This hadn’t gone at all how they’d expected, and they’d been on the back-foot since the beginning. They had no idea how to proceed from here.

Especially given the excuse they had used to be here, it… full transparency likely would be taken as an offense to both his time and his assiduity. Frankly this whole approach, hells this whole challenge, had been ill-formed. They’d become so used to the ease of their relationship with Hythlodaeus and Hades over the millenia that they’d forgotten how complicated and difficult it was to court someone into bed - or elsewhere - without predetermined attraction.

They hadn’t thought this through, and they were going to fail before they’d even begun. The mortification burned through their stomach, twisting their mouth down into a frown as shame made their head dip. They had no recourse for this; it seemed Hyth had won without any effort and that they would simply have to take whatever he set for the loss consequences.

“It… doesn’t truly matter,” they murmured. “I rather overestimated your ire over my actions with both Ifrita and the island, and I see now that further pursuit of the matter unnecessary. I apologize for taking your time.” With another dip of their head they turned to leave, frustration and shame at their own cowardice a cocktail in their chest.

“Azem.”

Their body froze at his voice, layered with aether and command woven into one - the same technique he and Elidibus used to take control whenever debates became too unrestrained amongst the Convocation meetings.

He stood, an implied expectation laid at the action. As much as they wished to flee with their pride somewhat intact - if wounded - they couldn’t simply ignore his own silent demand. They slowly turned back towards him, shoulders reflexively curled.

Lahabrea stared at them for a long moment then reached up to pinch the bridge of his mask and sighed. A moment later he was stepping around the desk and walking towards them, stopping less than an arm’s length away to look down at them.

(They always forgot, somehow, exactly how large and imposing he was in close capacity. While they and Themis were admittedly smaller than most - and given the information on dynamis Hermes had brought to their attention, what it was and how it applied, combined with they and Themis’ unusual attunement to emotions of those around them and Venat’s dabbling as Azem while carrying them, they had theories as to why - Lahabrea was several heads taller than them and it was… immensely imposing when he did so intentionally.)

“As fellow members of the Convocation, regardless of seniority or approval, we are equals of our positions. Yet you stand there as uncertain as an Akademia student being chastised.” He stepped past them, circling behind them, and though they tried to turn their head and keep him in their peripherals their hood and mask - on, following protocol for once, and they cursed themself for it - blocked their view. “If you wish for something then speak it. Hiding behind empty platitudes is hardly befitting of your station - as either a Convocation member or as Azem - regardless of expected reactions.”

A thrill shot down their spine at his words. He - of course he’d realized their aim, and they once again cursed themself for their lack of forethought. He was tens of millenia older than them, infinitely more experienced - of course he could recognize when someone held intentions towards him.

They bit their lip, frozen, unable to force the words past their lips.

(If there was one unfortunate thing they and Hades had in common it was the inability to force their pride to the wayside and willfully embarrass themselves.)

Lahabrea sighed, and for the first time in the conversation the sparks of irritation were laced through his voice. “As ever, you try my patience.” They could feel him stepping closer behind them, his presence burning hot and his voice much closer than it had been before. “Speak, Azem. What precisely did you come here for, and why should I give you what you seek?”

Azem couldn’t withhold their shudder, the command in his voice breaking through their hesitation. “An extension of the apology, should you be so inclined to accept it. As I said, I assumed your ire deeper than it was and meant to offer an outlet if you so wished.”

He was silent for a moment, and Azem wished they could see his face to weigh just how that was taken. His presence seemed to ease, and they weren’t sure whether to take that as a good sign or a bad one. When he did speak it sent a bolt of molten heat directly to their core.

“I’m beginning to think you simply enjoy being punished.”

Their knees went weak at the words as their breath caught in their breast. Not that he was wrong, precisely, but they certainly hadn’t expected him to say that. “I-”

“I did not give you leave to speak.”

It was all they could do to keep themselves upright as his aether-laced words lashed across them and stalled their voice in their throat.

He stepped back around them, severe red mask working well with his frown to make them feel pinned into place beneath his crimson gaze. “I know not whether what drives you is true contrition or selfish wants given excuse.” Even without his aether woven into his words, they could feel it all around them, blazing hot and overwhelming. Their breaths came more heavily as they tried to swallow back a whine at the heavy sensation. “But regardless, I wonder if you are truly prepared to accept the consequences of what you offer.” He stepped closer, mere ilms between them, forcing Azem to crane their neck to look up at him as they panted for breath and clenched their hands in their robes. “I am not wont to force others to conform to my views, regardless of whether I disapprove of their actions. But if it is punishment you seek…” He lifted his hand sharply and a sigil wove itself beneath them, chains springing forth to wrap around Azem and force their hands behind their back, and Lahabrea caught their chin with his hand to steady them as they staggered. The events together took less than a moment, and the motion of them knocked their hood off. Lahabrea looked down upon them with crimson eyes that blazed as he finished, “… I will be more than willing to provide.”

Everything seemed to still all at once as they stood there, chest heaving as they struggled for air, heat pervading the space around them and sinking directly to the core of their being. Lahabrea continued watching them, unmoving, waiting for their answer.

Giving them the chance to change their mind now.

Stars, as though they would after that implied promise.

They leaned into his grip the slightest bit that they could. “I do not take actions heedless of the consequences,” they forced out. “If the actions I take have consequences then so be it - I am not so unconfident in my judgements as to shy from them.”

His head dipped for a moment before he scoffed quietly. “I find myself unsurprised.” He released their chin and they felt a keen edge of anticipation as they heard the click of the door’s lock behind them, felt the activation of silencing wards as he reached up and plucked their mask from their face. “This is a boldness more befitting of Azem.”

Stars above, if he was trying to ruin them with words before even touching them it was working.

Lahabrea stepped away, walking back to his desk with a measured pace, and set their mask down on the edge of it with a soft click. When he turned back to face them, it was with the same stern, impassive expression he usually wore, with no sign of affection at their state beyond his burning eyes. “You’ve a word, if it becomes too much?"

They swallowed with a nod. “Starfall.”

“Good. I trust you’ll not forget it.” He examined them silently for several moments, as though they were one of his creations and he was determining the best manner of handling them, before he tilted his head the slightest bit to the side thoughtfully and brought a hand to his chin. “Given your apparent fondness for fire, perhaps we should begin with a review of its properties and the inherent danger of engaging with it carelessly.”

Azem had but a moment to think that they were in trouble before the chains wrapped around them burned, the fire-aspected aether pressing through their clothes and against their skin and then sinking beneath it, intense and borderline unbearable, toeing the line of pain and then crossing it.

The kind of pain and heat that made the noise that tore itself from their throat into something between a moan and a cry as they arched against the chains.

They could feel it spreading, feel the aether twisting and twining against their own, sinking deep inside them as it snaked through their body. They trembled against their bonds, trying to keep to their feet.

For but a few moments they managed, barely, before it abruptly pulsed and scattered through their whole form, more akin to a jolt of levin than fire, and they cried out again as their legs gave out. A hand caught their arm, holding them upright, but rather than offering relief it only intensified the aether and they wavered in his grip with a quiet groan.

“Given your excessive recklessness in throwing yourself into increasingly dangerous situations, I wouldn’t have thought you so easy to curb.”

Azem shuddered at the words, the heat of their own pooling beneath their stomach. “Th-this is… a bit different,” they managed out, trying to focus on his face and ignore the fire within them. “Normally the pain isn’t quite so- ngh- targeted.” Had it just been pain they could have endured it just fine - they’d experienced far worse, and even Ifrita had managed some particularly painful wounds of this type but magnified - but that it was the borderline between pain and pleasure, and with such intent…

He was silent for a moment, allowing them to catch their breath as the aether’s intensity faded away to a gentle warmth that they didn’t trust for a moment. “I see,” he said finally, releasing their arm, and they blinked in confusion as the chains dispersed.

“What-”

“Put your arms above your head.”

Levin shot through them at the words and they bit back a strangled noise at it. They complied shakily, watching him from the corner of their eye as he considered them.

Chains wrapped once more around their wrists and seemed to hang from empty air. They tugged at them, testing to see if there was any give, idly considering - distracting themself - if he was using a gravity, time, or wind spell, or if it was a purely aetheric calculation… regardless, there was no pliancy to them. Azem was well and truly trapped in place, and even if their legs did give out they would find no solace in the support of the tile floor below.

Their heart was thundering in their chest as they tried to keep their breathing even, tried not to give away just how affected they were merely from this.

“I must admit, this compliance is… unexpected. Given the trouble you’re so fond of causing, I expected more resistance.”

They huffed out a playful laugh. “I told you, this is an apology of sorts.”

“Is it?”

He sounded distinctly doubtful, but before they could respond the aether flared again and knocked out another strangled sound as it tore through them. They tried to trace the sensations, the aether following along their own and twining with it to redouble its own effects, but it served only to make them more aware of its effects on their body.

The way their robes shifted and chafed, their hair sticking to their neck and falling into their eyes, sticking to their lips, sweat cresting their brow, and the slickness between their thighs turning sticky as they pressed them together in a futile attempt to relieve even the slightest bit of pressure…

The flare likely lasted only a few moments, but it felt like an eternity before it once again died down and left them able to focus on keeping themselves upright on shaky legs, gasping for breath.

Lahabrea was still simply observing them with crossed arms.

They waited him out, slowly regaining control of their body as the heat remained a dull burn and their shaking faded to something more manageable.

Though the ache between their thighs did not, and they rubbed their legs together while trying to ignore the sensation of emptiness. They’d just barely started, Azem wasn’t going to give in so easily.

Whether he would even try or not, Lahabrea would have to put in effort to make them beg.

His eyes narrowed behind his mask, though, at something about them that he’d noticed. They tilted their head at him.

“I suppose I was incorrect about your lack of resistance. You simply cannot help yourself but cause trouble.”

Azem shivered at his tone, mind flitting through potentials as to what he meant. “How so?”

“For someone supposedly offering themselves for punishment,” he said lowly, and a moment later they stiffened as cool air encompassed their bare form, and he flicked a glance down to where their legs were pressed together, “you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Ah.

They bit their tongue as they felt more aether weave around them, and their legs were forced apart by the chains around their ankles. The chains burned hot, but the polished tile beneath their feet was cold even beneath the sigils of Lahabrea’s spell.

It got to them - the coolness of the air against their skin, being fully exposed in the middle of Lahabrea’s office, windows uncovered (though they were several floors above ground level and were thus unlikely to be seen, the thought of the danger alone was arousing enough), while the man himself remained fully robed, the threatening heat still tracing through them…

Their head fell back with a quiet groan, feeling the burn of embarrassment spreading across their face and down to their shoulders, across their chest. They clenched around nothing as the heat flared once more through their core.

Not that they would admit that, as much as they wanted-

They were abruptly dragged out of their thoughts by a warm touch to their side - a physical one, unexpectedly - and they inhaled sharply at the burning sensation that was painful.

Azem looked back forward to see Lahabrea staring down at their (distinctly flat, so probably not that) chest and side with a severe frown and-

Oh. Right. They hadn’t gotten that healed yet.

“It’s fine,” they said quickly, trying to pull his attention away from the myriad of minor acid burns and long scratches stretching from their left shoulder to hip - the result of their most recent escapade helping some of Halmarut's words suppress an escaped specimen - and back to what was supposed to be happening. “It looks worse than it is, and it doesn’t even hurt-”

“Why,” he asked, dangerously quiet, “have you not gone to a healer?”

Shit, they were in trouble. “Because I’ve been busy since I’ve gotten back, and I didn’t want to bother Emmerololth or her Words with minor injuries.”

“Minor-” he snapped- then stopped and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his mask with a deep steadying breath. “Azem.”

They set their jaw and stared stubbornly up at him.

It took several moments before he sighed deeply and reached up to pull off his mask and hood in order to glare at them properly. “You are incorrigible,” he said scathingly. “However busy you may have been, it would take naught but a bell, at most, to find a healer available. Emmerololth could heal this in ten minutes. And yet you use the excuse that you were so busy as to not have time available, rather than simply admitting that, as per usual, you are being exceptionally careless of your own wellbeing.”

They hunched their shoulders, looking away. “I have been busy,” they mumbled. “And it didn’t seem worth the effort of hunting someone down, they’ll heal fine on their own.”

“Ridiculous,” Lahabrea snapped again, and Azem glanced up, startled, at the thread of genuine anger in his voice. “There comes a point where recklessness crosses over into foolishness, and ignoring your injuries that could otherwise be easily healed is well beyond that line.” They tensed as the chains tightened around their wrists and ankles, and Lahabrea rested a hand upon their shoulder over the injury. “I will heal you this time, but I will be informing Emmerololth of this.”

Oh no. That was a double edged knife of a promise. Emmerololth would be holding this against them for years, and Lahabrea-

Their thoughts were interrupted once more by his aether, only this time its form was… different. Not the fiery inferno of before, but an altogether rougher sensation prickling through their body over the wounds. akin to the sanding paper artisans used, dragging along their skin and making them cringe and squirm away. Not that there was anywhere to go with the chains holding them still.

It was - not pleasant, certainly; with aether dragging across raw nerves and forcing their body to rebuild itself rapidly, Lahabrea making no effort to smooth the process over and make it soothing as most healers did. But despite that, or perhaps because of it, coupled with the intensity of his focus on them, Azem found that the ache between their legs only worsened even as they tugged and pulled against the chains in a futile attempt to escape the sensation.

Lahabrea sighed, stepping closer and dropping his other hand on their hip irritably to keep them in place. “Hold still.”

“Easier said than done,” Azem shot back mutinously. “You aren’t precisely making it-” they cut themself off with a sharp noise as his aether flared again, chains snaking down around their arms and up their legs to keep them more firmly in place. The aether beneath their skin turned hot again, balance tipping back into fire as their injuries vanished and Lahabrea returned to the task at hand.

“Given your extensive experience with injuries and their discomfort, I would have expected you to endure a simple healing with more poise.” He narrowed his eyes and stepped back, and the sand paper-esque aether returned - beginning where their injuries had been and sweeping slowly out through the rest of their body as though hunting for any other injuries that had been overlooked.

Azem twisted and writhed in place with small whines and moans, helpless to escape it or the heat creeping ever so slowly through them. Every nerve was alight, and their face burned crimson as they felt the slick leaking from them and dripping down their legs and to the floor below as they clenched around nothing.

It was the sweetest form of torture, and Lahabrea undoubtedly knew it as he watched them with narrow eyes and crossed arms.

They wanted him to touch them again, properly this time, but they knew he wouldn’t. Not unless they asked.

Begged, more like, and that wasn’t happening. They weren’t that far gone. Not yet.

But he would make them.

He wouldn’t give them what they wanted unless they spoke it aloud, that much they knew, and the thought alone made their head drop back with a quiet moan.

The feather-light brush of their long hair against the curve of their ass made them shudder, the slightest sensation of touch beyond the burning chains. Not that it actually helped anything, but they would take anything at the moment. Anything physical. Anything beyond his intangible, inexorable aether spreading through them.

They shook as the heat wove through their abdomen, pushing them closer to release, cresting upwards on a wave of pleasure that began to drown out the discomfort. They were close, heart beating louder in their ears as their limbs trembled and their chest heaved, and they arched up as the heat curled and they began to tip over the edge-

-it vanished, the warmth and aether both, and they keened as they yanked against the - also abruptly cold - chains. Their body shook and shuddered, but they couldn’t tip themselves over that edge with no way to touch themselves.

They’d been so close-

Azem slumped in their restraints, trying to catch their breath. Admittedly they had expected it, but still. “That- was cruel,” they huffed at him.

He arched a brow. “I don’t recall offering you any sort of reward. This was meant to be a punishment, yes? You’ve done nothing to earn release.”

That sent another shiver through them, body tightening around the aching emptiness in a futile effort to push itself further. “I see. So you’ll simply toy with me until you’re satisfied?” Although there was an implication there that he may decide not to let them come at all, which was… mildly terrifying to consider.

“Until you’ve learned your lesson,” he corrected indifferently, though the furrow of his brows and searing focus of his gaze said otherwise. “And you’ve admitted to such.”

That sent a shudder down their spine and they bit their tongue to ground themself. So he was, in fact, going to force them to speak their mind. Beg for release.

Excitement pooled in their stomach even as they narrowed their eyes at him. “And what lesson would that be?”

“Your blatant disregard for protocol, and your adamant rejection of conscientiousness towards your own salubrity, to start.”

They arched against their restraints with a choked gasp as the aether returned forcefully, crafted through words and will both, and burned through them once more. They ached for breath, straining fruitlessly against the chains.

Once more they began to crest, tipped to the edge, and then refused when the aether vanished. Twice, thrice, and their eyes were wet as they came down yet again. Still they bit their tongue, refused to cave.

“Stubborn, as per usual.” Lahabrea said flatly, dragging their clouded attention to him. “Must you withhold acknowledgement of indiscretions?”

They tried to speak, voice failing them, and swallowed and tried again. “I acknowledge indiscretions, but I’ll not apologize for those actions which I consider worthwhile. I won’t apologize for that which I don’t regret; merely that which I do. As I said before, I don’t lie. An empty apology is meaningless words.”

“Stubborn,” he hissed, making them flinch at the flare of aether. “Perhaps I have been too lenient.”

What? What did that mean, what could he possibly-?

Their thoughts were broken by the sudden surge of aether that flooded them. Blindingly hot, searing its way through their whole body and making them arch and writhe against the chains, broken cries and moans falling helplessly from their lips as their mind went blank. It was- a lot. So much, nowhere to go, no way to escape it, and they felt themselves being dragged once more to that edge.

Except this time, when they reached the crest of it, it didn’t disappear.

But neither did they tip over the edge.

They were instead balanced on the very edge of it, forced to that point but unable to fall over it. Their body refusing to come.

And it was - too much, too much, they couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, they were numb except to the heat and pleasure and they twisted and cried out and tried desperately to push themselves over, to pull their legs together and force the orgasm to come, but they couldn’t. The chains served their purpose well, holding them firmly in place, and a sob pulled itself from their chest.

It vanished abruptly, the heat drawing back and allowing them back down, but their whole body was trembling and shaking as they slumped in the restraints, unable to hold their own weight. Their face was wet with tears, sweat slicking their body, and they’d never ached more desperately. Stars, they’d take anything right now. Something to fill them, to touch them, to push them over that edge.

The break in sensations allowed them to sense their own aetheric flow more clearly, though, and they almost immediately found the source of the problem. A spell woven to keep them at the brink and no further. The sigil of its form glowing slightly where it rested beneath their stomach, blurry though it was through their teary gaze. He’d used light-aligned aether, the bastard, inducing stasis under the conditions of his choosing, refusing their body to tip past a certain point.

They were completely at his whim, and there was nothing they could do about it.

(Well, they could. One word, one sign that it was actually too much, and he’d release them immediately. But they weren’t anywhere near that point. Not yet.)

They craned their neck to look up at him as he stepped closer to them and raised a brow. Waiting. They set their jaw stubbornly and stared back.

“Still you resist,” he rumbled, glaring down at them.

“Y-you know… my feelings- on the matter,” they stuttered out. “You- you’ll not- change my mind so- so easily.”

“Is that so?” he asked quietly, their only warning before they were once again dragged into the flames.

If they’d hoped their body would numb to the feeling, they’d have been sorely disappointed. If anything, it seemed only intensified this time. The anxious anticipation setting them on edge just before it struck and heightening it when it did. They went rigid and jerked against the immovable chains, anything to distract from the overwhelming aether dragging them under.

They didn’t- it was-

They couldn’t feel anything but the burn, the pleasure so sharp it hurt, the desperate ache of the emptiness and lack of touch where they needed it most, every nerve overstimulated to the point that they could sense naught else, ragged, desperate breaths tearing from their chest in a bid for air.

And it didn’t stop.

There was no recession this time, no diminishing in the aether. It took them to that edge, rising and falling in pulses and waves, and kept them there, merciless, until they couldn’t bear it.

All sense of time vanished in the face of it, they didn’t know how long it took before they broke.

But break they did, as they inevitably would.

“Please-” they choked out, pulling helplessly at the immovable chains. “Please, please, I can’t-” they gasped around the words, voice wrecked, as they stumbled over whine. “No more, please, please let me-”

“If you wish for release, you know how to receive it.”

They shook their head, forcing their eyes open to look up at him wetly. “Lahabrea-”

He stared down at them, seemingly unimpressed, though the way his jaw was clenched and his hands rested a bit too tightly on his arms proved he wasn’t entirely unaffected - not that they could truly register that through their haze. “I believe I made my conditions clear, Azem.”

They whimpered and their toes curled, throwing their head back as the aether flared somehow higher yet again and it burned. “Please! I’m sorry- I’m sorry for- for going behind your back, I’m sorry for un-undercutting the Convocation- I- I-” their voice broke into another sob at the next pulse of aether.

They distantly heard Lahabrea’s irate sigh, and arched up with a keen at the feeling of his warm hand catching their chin and pulling their face up sharply. They strained against the chains, trying to reach him further, as choked whimpers escaped them. “I ask not for empty apologies, Azem, for I am aware that you thought what you did to be necessary. My quarrel is that you did so without recourse. You did go behind our backs, and took exceptional risk of disaster in doing so. Taking a high level concept, invoking it to a powerful level, and intending to face it alone.”

Their nails dug into their palms at they strained helplessly at the chains, his aether pushing ever higher and hotter and staying there.

“Had Elidibus not alerted Emet-Selch to your reckless intent and beseeched his aid, you would have fought alone and the injuries you sustained would have been much worse. Had you failed, the island itself would have simply faced Ifrita’s wrath rather than the volcano’s - and the destruction could have spread beyond even that. Whatever your intentions, your actions were reckless and ill-planned, and your insistence in acting alone put you at a risk much higher than necessary. To say nothing of your refusal to pay heed to your own injuries in the aftermath.” Their breaths were pulled from them in little gasps as his words wrapped around them, their intent echoing through the aether he’d woven through them. “I care not for empty apologies, but I expect you to acknowledge your failings and the anxieties they caused.” They barely registered his glare through teary eyes, dark and frustrated as it was.

“I’m sorry,” they choked out, trying to focus enough to think through the hazy burn and the desperation. So close, pushed to the edge but never beyond, wound so tight it hurt. “I’m sorry, I’ll- I’ll be better. I promise, I- I’ll be more careful, I won’t-” another pulse made them arch and flinch with a cry, “Please, please please please I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t- won’t- won’t go on my- my own next time- I’ll- I’ll find someone to help and- and act as a con-contingency, I-” they sobbed, babbling, desperation driving their words.

Lahabrea’s hand slid upward from their jaw, catching their hair in his fist and jerking their head back, drawing another keen from them. “You will also not hide your injuries, or ignore them, regardless of how minor you may consider them,” he growled. “When you return to Amaurot from now on, you will find a healer - be it Emmerololth or one of her words, or even Elidibus or myself - and have them tend your injuries. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Azem choked out, tears spilling from their eyes. “Yes yes yes, I understand, I promise, anything, I will, I-” Another shudder wracked them. “Lahabrea please!”

“Very well then,” he murmured, and they felt the hand not fisted in their hair reach down to brush against the sigil on their stomach, unraveling the spell, and then dip down further.

His fingers dragged across their clit to hook into their entrance just as another pulse of aether flared through them, and they were wrenched over the edge with a wail.

Their entire body went rigid, every muscle tensing and pulling sharply against the restraints, and they couldn’t breathe as their vision whited out. Everything was overwhelmed by the heat and relief that flooded through them, pleasure so sharp it was like needles dragging across their nerves, and they couldn’t register anything else through the sensations.

When they did finally come back to themself sometime later, blinking spots from their eyes hazily, they were pressed up against Lahabrea with one arm beneath their shoulders and his other hand resting on their waist to support them. They hadn’t yet been released from the chains, but they had loosened to allow Azem’s body to relax.

Their face was wet and they were still wracked with shivers, uncontrollable little spasms from their overwrought nerves and aether. His own had withdrawn from theirs, but they could still sense the little traces where it hadn’t yet fully dispersed.

Azem didn’t try to move yet. They remained slumped against him, pressing their face into his still-clothed chest, and tried to regain their bearings.

He allowed them there, unmoving and dazed, for several minutes before he asked quietly “Are you ready to be released?”

Another shudder rippled through them and they pressed closer against him. They were ready to be let down, yes, their shoulders and hips prickling in discomfort from the extended time in this position, but… they didn’t want him to let go yet.

The abrupt absence of heat after the prolonged exposure to it had left them oddly cold, and they didn’t want to lose the warmth of his body against theirs.

His thumb traced along their spine. “Azem?”

They trembled a bit, but gave a tiny nod in answer to his question. The chains dispersed from their limbs, leaving them unexpectedly unbalanced and their arms dropped down to clutch at his as they tried to regain their balance. He tugged them upright, still supporting them, and they leaned against him even as they found their legs and flexed their shoulders. The pins and needles sensation made them wince.

They’d half expected him to push them back and tell them to redress themselves, but he didn’t. He allowed them to stay where they were, and they were grateful for it. Styx still felt a little like they were floating. Unfocused. Dizzy.

Cold.

After a few more moments Lahabrea let out a quiet sigh. They flinched and clung to his arms with a little bit of panic as he shifted back and cold air rushed into the space left behind, but rather than removing himself from their grip he instead pulled them along with him. Around the low table and over to the lounge seat against the wall.

He settled down on it with his back to the arm and shoulder to its back and tugged them down as well. It was with a burst of relief that they clambered on after him, tucking themself between his side and the back of the couch and burying their face back into his shoulder. He shifted to find comfort, and his arm fell back around them as his other hand settled on their head.

It was comfortable.

A quiet comfort, a soft, unexpected indulgence that they basked in with relief for a while.

After a time they slowly returned to themself fully, mind focusing back in on their body, and they sighed softly as they shifted to a more comfortable position, noting distantly that it was now fully dark outside and the buildings glimmered through the windows.

“You’ve returned to sensibility, I take it?” Lahabrea asked.

Azem made a small noise of agreement, twisting to look up at him. “As much as I ever have sensibility, I suppose,” they quipped weakly with a small smile.

He sent them a dry look in return. “Perhaps I should use alertness as a descriptor, then.” He examined their expression more closely, seriously. “You are unharmed?”

They nodded. “I am, yes. It was… intense, but it wasn’t overmuch.” Styx made a face. “That was underhanded though. Extracting a promise from me like that.” And now that they had given their word they had to follow it. Ugh.

“Given your stubbornness, the options to obtain your word are limited. I merely utilized the opportunity offered.”

Was that why he had accepted their overtures? Well, it was unlikely to be that simple, but… that was more devious than they’d have expected from him. Grumbling they shifted their position, throwing a leg over his to straddle it and folding their arms against his chest, plopping their chin atop of them to pout up at him. “Underhanded,” they repeated.

He’d tensed at their sudden shift in movement, hands hovering above their body awkwardly. “You may say that as many times as you like, but mine own words are equally true. No amount of childish petulance counteracts such.”

Azem huffed at him but didn't argue, instead focusing on him. He was - and had been - making a valiant effort to seem unaffected. But he wasn’t quite looking at them directly, his body rigid against the couch, and though it was difficult to make out against his dark skin there was a red flush across his face and ears.

He wasn’t as impassive as he was attempting to seem, as proven by the way he jerked with a sharp inhale, hands falling sharply to their waist and eyes snapping back to them, as they shifted to press their thigh against the semi-hardness beneath his robes.

“Azem,” he growled warningly, voice strained.

“Lahabrea,” they responded with a small smirk. “Is aught amiss?”

He narrowed his eyes at them. “What are you doing?”

That made them pause, raising their brows at him. They’d thought that would be… rather obvious. “Hmm, returning the favor I suppose?” They shifted again, leg grinding up and drawing a hiss from him.

His hands flexed around their waist, pushing them back the slightest bit. “That is unnecessary,” he said firmly, despite the strain in his tone.

They froze at the words, confusion and a sting of hurt settling abruptly in their chest like ice. “Unnecessary?” they repeated, tilting their head, trying not to show the sudden hurt, the self-consciousness at his words. Had they misinterpreted his responses? He’d seemed to be enjoying the situation, to the degree that he was willing to show at least, but had he not… Did he not wish for them to reciprocate?

The thought, that he was content being the instigator but that their touch was so unappealing to him as to refuse it, hurt. Perhaps they’d misinterpreted his open concern earlier into something more fond than it truly was. If so then they would certainly not push, would leave at his word and accept that they’d misconstrued his reactions, but… it was… it felt…

Lahabrea’s next words broke them from their sudden spiral of panic. “You’ve received what you came here for, yes?” He asked, glaring down at where his large hands circled their waist, avoiding their gaze. “There’s no need to insist upon requitement out of obligation.”

What?

Hurt gave way almost immediately to… not offense, precisely, but… indignation. Their hands tightened on his robes as they quietly asked, “Do you truly view me as so conceited, so self-serving?”

He frowned, gaze returning to their own. “Tis hardly a matter of conceit, merely pragmatism. You had a purpose for coming here, with that purpose fulfilled you’ve no need to travail yourself with a mere unconscious consequence.”

Styx stared at him, unable to form words to respond for a moment.

That was… absurd. Absolutely ludicrous, and it made a thread of concern wind through the back of their mind. A whisper of thought, wondering precisely how bad it had been with Athena for that to be considered a reasonable reaction. But they ignored it, it wasn’t relevant at the moment nor was it their place to pry beyond what they and Themis already had, and they instead focused back on him. “If it were something I considered a travail I’d not have approached you to begin with,” they said flatly, eyes narrowing at him. “I am also not one to simply take my own pleasure and leave my chosen partner without care, and I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I would be. If you do not wish for my touch, or find my attention to your gratification so distasteful, then simply say so and I will accept it and leave.” Much as it may hurt to be so summarily rejected now. “However if it’s simply an assumption of obligation then I assure you, I’m more than willing to reciprocate and more than capable of doing so.”

Lahabrea was the one seemingly struck silent this time, expression startled and a bit confused; something deeper in his eyes that flickered by too quickly for Styx to interpret. But he didn’t push them away, didn’t scowl and tell them to leave.

They took that as implicit permission to continue, watching his face closely as they pressed their thigh back to him. His hands flexed once more around their waist, but he didn't push them back this time. Styx continued watching his expression as they ground gently against him, the way his brows twitched and lips tightened in an attempt to control his reactions and maintain his composure.

They had every intention of unraveling that composure soon enough.

He tensed as they wove their aether through his robes with the clear intent of unmaking them, but didn’t stop them. They took a moment to examine him once they were gone, sitting up and leaning back as their hands dropped to cover his on their waist, and felt their brows quirk in interest as they realized that his undershirt was just form-fitting enough to make the muscle tone beneath visible.

It made sense, of course - creating new concepts put him as the first one in the line of fire when they inevitably went awry in the process, so he would have built up just as much physical strength as aetherical - but somehow they’d never actually considered it.

Well they certainly were now.

Despite their sudden urge to see beneath the black fabric, they didn’t want to rush this and make him uncomfortable - well, to a degree that he became averse to their attention, at least - so rather than vanishing his undershirt they slid their hands beneath the bottom of it to trace along the line where skin met the fabric of his podea. They watched the shudder race through him, jaw tightening, but he made no move to stop them either.

With another gentle twist of their aether - light and careful, still sore and a bit overwhelmed from his earlier attention - they unraveled his undershirt into aether as well and had to stop abruptly.

Ah.

Their impression had been correct, but… underestimated, somewhat. They were unused to anyone being as clearly muscled as Hades, who regularly swung around a sword as large as he was despite his grumbling about it, but Lahabrea was… fairly close. And he was littered with scars, though that was much less surprising. Smaller ones all around, but a few larger ones as well. Scratches across his ribs, a line stretching over his shoulder, a faded burn mark across his other shoulder and neck, and a strangely shaped scar over his chest that they couldn’t quite guess the cause of at a glance.

It took him shifting beneath them uncomfortably after a few moments too long of staring to drag them back to attention, finding him looking at a point just past their shoulder pointedly.

They trailed their hands up his torso curiously, accepting his unspoken request to move on, and traced their fingers across the scars along his ribs. They were tempted to ask after their origin, but- well experience told them that most Amaurotines found scars unsettling and avoided conversation about them. Something about an experience being so dangerous and damaging that it left a mark even healing magic couldn’t fix made them uncomfortable.

(Granted a number of their own were due more to lack of proper care on their part than lack of a healer’s ability to fix it. They liked their scars, even if Hades and their compatriots found them endlessly frustrating and disquieting.

Styx just found them fascinating.)

Each scar a story untold, an experience unique to the bearer.

Given how on-edge he already was, though, it was probably best to leave it alone. They couldn’t deny that there was some disappointment to the thought, but they weren’t willing to make him truly uncomfortable by asking after potentially unpleasant events.

So instead they leaned forward and traced their lips along the same path as their fingers had, the resulting shiver from him pulling a smile from them against his skin. They worked their way up slowly, allowing their teeth to graze him here and there, though they never bit down. His hands tightened on their waist regardless, soft breaths pulled from him with each implied action, until they reached his neck and stopped. They felt him shudder beneath them as they finally bit down, gently, sucking a bruise into his skin as their hands found his pecs and squeezed, and his head dropped back with a quiet groan.

It made something smug settle in their chest.

They moved up his neck one small mark at a time until they reached his jaw and pulled back to admire their work. The bruises were small, barely visible against his dark skin - especially in the dim light of the lamps - but they were there, and Styx had always liked to see their marks on their partners. Lahabrea shifted beneath them, turning his head to look at them as his eyes blinked open, and they found their gaze drawn to his mouth as he panted for breath, overcome by the urge to kiss him.

Styx leaned forward and tilted their head slightly, slowly enough that he could turn away if he wished. He didn’t, though, and instead tilted his head towards them and allowed them to press their lips to his.

You could tell a lot about someone from a kiss, Styx had found, and how they reacted to it. Their first thought was how warm he was - hardly surprising in the literal sense, they’d felt how hot Lahabrea was the moment they touched him and fire was his element - but it still somehow took them by surprise. They slid their hands up to wind around his neck, one hand settling there as the other tangled in his hair, and pushed themselves up to get closer to that warmth. They could taste the lingering coffee as their lips moved insistently against his, felt the way his hands pressed more bruises to match those left earlier by the chains into their skin, the rough scrape of his beard against their chin, and their thoughts were filled with static as they pressed closer and chased the heat of him.

The warmth was a surprise not due to the physical sensation but due to his own tendency towards cool stoicism, the distance he held others at, his impeccable control over his emotions and reactions at all times. And yet they could feel his tremors beneath them, feel the flickers of his aether escaping his grasp and winding around them, the way his hands clenched about their waist despite the sweat slicking them, his desperate breaths brushing feather light against their lips as they shifted their position and pressed their tongue to his lips.

There was something heady about drawing Lahabrea of all people into this desperate state, of seeing his usually-unwavering control slip away as his hands grasped at their back, one reaching up tangle in their hair and pull them closer against him, hips rutting against theirs.

The kiss quickly devolved into something frantic and messy as the heat and aether built between them once more, and Styx released his neck to instead reach down and fumble for a grip on his podea and trousers, attempting to feel out the composition of them to unmake them. They couldn’t focus, couldn’t think around the feel of his lips, his tongue, his hands, and found themself having to pull away and gasp for breath in an attempt to clear their thoughts.

Their chest heaved as they tried to regain their composure, leaning into his grip as their thumb traced the back of his neck, and they blinked down to find him watching them with a burning crimson gaze they usually got to see only in the most pitched of convocation arguments. It sent a thrill down their spine and they flashed him a small, wicked grin that belied the sudden flutter of nerves in their stomach.

Rather than speaking and risking a misstep, though, they instead wiggled back and reached down - purposefully dragging their palm across his clear interest to make his hips jerk - to hook their fingers in the top of his podea and trousers, flicking him a quick, questioning glance. He’d tensed up again at the motion, a bit of the fire cooling to embers in his eyes, but he still nodded sharply in acquiescence. A moment of thought and a twist of aether and the last of his clothes vanished to reveal-

… oh.

Well.

Perhaps they’d underestimated the amount of effort that this would require.

Their sudden pause and flicker of apprehension must have been more obvious than they’d meant it to be, because Lahabrea grimaced with a glance away and said, “You do not need to-”

“No,” Styx interrupted firmly, “I’m going to. I want to. It’s just… going to take a bit more work than I expected. Wouldn’t be the first time.” No, the first time had been Hades back when they’d been in their final few centuries in the Academia, and had spent a very nerve-wracking first time together trying to figure out if he’d even fit. Styx had been determined, Hyth had been supportive, and Hades had been nigh-panicking afraid to hurt them. They’d managed in the end, had made a habit of it even, but it had been… eye opening. This would be much easier in comparison. On impulse they leaned forward and pressed their lips to his again for a few lingering moments before pulling back. “Have some faith in me.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Easier said than done when you’ve made it a habit to push yourself past your own bounds of acceptable harm.”

Styx stuck their tongue out at him. “That’s an entirely separate issue for outside such dalliances as this. I know my limits.” Usually. This fell easily within them, either way. “I’ll just need prep, which,” they reached down to dislodge his hand on their waist, intertwining their fingers and bringing it up to skim a kiss along the back as they turned their head to look at him, “is simple enough to provide.”

They saw and felt the shudder he made at that, eyes flashing hot as he dragged them back into a kiss with the hand still in their hair. His other hand disentangled from theirs and slid down their body with clear intent that made them groan softly into his mouth.

Despite his earlier tension he didn’t hesitate or waver as his hand slid between their legs to find their wet entrance and spread them open, easily pressing two fingers in without pause, and it made them sigh against his lips as they rolled their hips against him. It was easy to get lost in the sensations of it, as his lips pressed against theirs and his fingers curled within them as he worked them open. They hardly noticed when they were loose enough for him to press a third in, the sting as he spread them open negligible comparatively.

They definitely noticed when he pressed a fourth to their rim, pulling back and resting their forehead against his with a sharp breath, forcing themself to relax. He’d stilled, though, watching them alertly without pushing forward. “If it’s too much-” he began.

“-I’ll tell you,” Styx interrupted pointedly. “I’ve taken this much before, it’s just been a while. Please trust me.”

“Given your incessant tendency towards recklessness and negligence of your own health, I can’t say I’m particularly inclined to,” he muttered beneath his breath, making their eyes narrow, but he accepted them at their word and twisted his wrist to work his pinkie into them as well. They closed their eyes and breathed through the stinging ache of it, forcibly relaxing themselves as he slowly worked them open. The pain faded quickly enough, leaving them with just an edge of hunger for more.

They tugged gently at his hair. “I’m as prepared as I’m going to be,” they murmured. “I can take you.”

Lahabrea sighed, muttering, “Impatient.” He shook his head. “I can’t decide if recklessness or greediness is a better description of your drive.”

Styx narrowed their eyes at him, reaching down to tug his hand from their body and pull it up to their mouth. “Perhaps that depends on the situation.” They watched his expression slacken and pupils blow out as they wrapped their lips around his soaked fingers. They tasted the tang of themself with a soft moan, making him shudder and his eyes flash as they dragged their tongue across his skin, sucking softly just to watch Lahabrea’s control slowly slip and feel his hand tightening in their hair. They rolled their hips, dragging their entrance across his long neglected arousal and felt a curl of satisfaction in their chest and pleasure in their gut as his hips jerked in response and his expression twisted with a gasp.

They pulled away from his hand with a small grin and a few last kitten licks, then reached down to wrap their hand around him and tug. It was clear how close he was to falling apart entirely by the way his head fell back with a badly stifled noise as he trembled beneath them. They’d intended to move on immediately, but… Styx found themself watching him with fascination as he slowly lost the fight with his composure as they continued to slowly stroke him.

The way his expression twisted, eyes squeezed shut, his brows furrowing and mouth falling open, sweat shining on his heaving chest and his hips giving little jerks in response to their movements, one hand tangled tightly in their hair as the other once more clutched desperately at their hip, even his aether twisting up from beneath his skin and little sparks flickering here and there around them…

It was a side of him they’d never expected to see, and it made them want to both draw this out to cherish it and to chase after more.

But they didn’t want to push him over the edge too soon, so with a twist of aether they summoned a bit of oil onto their hand and spread it over him before pushing themself up on their knees to line him up with their entrance.

His eyes opened to watch them as they slowly sank down onto him, grip tightening as they stopped with a wince at the stretch. Even with preparation… well, they were significantly smaller than him.

(In retrospect they could probably have altered their body to make this easier, but they had preferred forms and while they’d change on a whim they still had set forms they preferred to switch to, and at certain times. Adjustments that didn’t fit one of their predetermined forms, or switching to a different form when they didn’t feel like it, tended to leave them feeling off-balance and wrong in ways they couldn’t quite articulate.)

Lahabrea was watching them alertly, though they could see how much restraint he was enforcing in himself as he fought against the urge to simply push up into them, and Styx felt a twinge of guilt at it. He’d been denied relief for a couple of hours now in his attention to them. They closed their eyes and forcibly relaxed themself, pushing up slightly to drop down with a roll of their hips to force him deeper.

Their head dropped back with a small noise at the drag and sting, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle and both the oil and their own body helped to prevent friction. It still took several minutes and some effort - and some pointed overlooking of discomfort on their end - but they finally settled with their hips against his as he clutched them tightly with an arm around their back, curled over with his forehead on their shoulder, shaking with the effort of his restraint. Styx ran equally shaky hands through his hair as they waited for their body to adjust enough that they could continue with minimal discomfort.

Turning their head to the side, they tugged at his hair to pull him up enough that they could press another kiss to his mouth - a distraction to them both as the heat and hunger built between their shaking bodies. It was an effective distraction as he pulled them tightly against him, mouth pressing to theirs with the desperation of someone starved and frantic, and they wrapped their arms around his shoulders and responded in kind.

The noise he made when they lifted themself up and then dropped made something hot burn in their gut alongside the pleasure. It made them want to draw it out of him again.

So they did.

And the bite of his nails against their skin as he bucked up into them to match their movements only fanned the flames of their own pleasure higher, their voice soon joining his as they found themselves falling to a haze.

Their thighs burned from the effort, though - this wasn’t their usual preference, usually they were being held down and fucked into whatever surface they were against - and while they certainly didn’t mind this, they weren’t sure they could maintain it for much longer.

It took a moment of readjustment, catching Lahabrea’s attention through his haze and pulling him forward as they laid back on the lounge. He caught on immediately and shifted forward to press them down into the soft material as his arm pulled their hips up into his next thrust and-

Styx arched up with a loud moan as the change in position allowed him to drag across the spot inside them that made levin shoot up their spine and spark through their body. They wrapped their legs around his hips and bucked against him, chasing that sensation again, and Lahabrea obliged as he leaned forward and pressed his face into their neck. He thrust into them hard, drawing a gasping cry from them as they clutched at his back and hair.

“Y-yes, there, that’s- good, come on-” they shuddered as they murmured in his ear, feeling increasingly frantic as the heat spread and built with every thrust. He shuddered as well as they continued spilling pleas and praises into his ear, pressing his mouth to their neck. They found their ability to form coherent sentences slowly deteriorating as he pressed his full weight against them and drove them into the fabric of the lounge. Hot and heavy, each powerful stroke dragging across their nerves and hitting deep within them, and as they tried to groan out his name they found the haze tangling their thoughts together and rather than his title what fell from their lips was “Hephaistos-”

They felt him jerk against them, stilling with a choked noise, and they had a sudden moment of clarity and anxiety that they’d misstepped before he pulled back with an expression that wasn’t quite vulnerable and eyes that blazed with heat and suddenly his mouth was on theirs, hungry and desperate. His hands clutched tightly at their skin and the power and depth with which he rolled his hips and plunged into them made them arch up and clench their eyes shut with a cry, trying to process the sensations and take the pleasure. Clearly his name had not been a misstep.

The intensity only built, his aether once again settling around them, twining through them, like a physical heat, and they gasped into his mouth, “Come on, c’mon- so close- Hephai- Hephaistos-” He groaned, and they dug their nails into his shoulders in an attempt to ground themselves against the pleasure that threatened to consume them as he pressed his full weight down onto them. Their thoughts scattered as they fumbled for words nigh incoherently “You- you’re- close too, right? C’mon c’mon please- so good, feels so good, Heph- Heph-”

Their words were cut off as his mouth sealed over theirs with a torn moan, his hips jerking against them and aether flooding around them as he shook apart. And they were so, so close- balancing on that edge even as he came- and they shoved the hand down between them to find their clit with their fingers and with a pulse of their own aether directly against that bundle of nerves they tipped over that edge with a quiet keen.

It was satisfying, being filled so deeply as they came, and they distantly registered Lahabrea- Hephaistos- shuddering against them as they clenched around him, drawing out both their pleasures. Spots danced across their vision from both the intense pleasure and the lack of air, before they finally came back down and slumped bonelessly against the lounge as they gasped for breath, turning their head away from his to reach it.

Styx lay there incoherently for several long moments, breathing, trying to regain control of their faculties. They felt shaky, and unfocused, but deeply satisfied and it was difficult to fight through that blur of satisfaction back to a state of coherency. His heavy weight pressing them into the couch didn't help - the warmth and the secure weight threatening to lull them into sleep if they allowed it. Hardly unusual - Hyth, Hades, and Themis had long learned that the easiest way to lure them into complacency was to lay atop them and compress them into a soft surface - but the unusual circumstances made them unwilling to allow themselves such complacency.

Not when they were unsure how he would react to the situation.

Focusing themself back to their body, they found Lahabrea burying his face into their neck as he trembled, trying unsuccessfully to calm his breathing. Slowly they reached up and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, making him tense up for a moment before they looped their other arm firmly around his shoulders to anchor him against them and he relaxed.

Their breath left them in a soft huff as the remainder of his full weight slumped atop them and drove the air from their lungs.

Minor difficulty breathing and the tickling of his own breath against their neck aside, it was comfortable and they found themself drifting into a near-doze again as they nuzzled into his hair and breathed deep the scent of coffee, parchment, and ink that suffused him. It was comforting, reminding them vaguely - unsurprisingly - of the Akademia. And it was… warm.

Styx traced inane gestures along his back to keep themself awake as they waited for him to regain his composure, feeling their earlier threads of concern returning as his trembling seemed to compound rather than diminish and he pressed his face more deeply into their neck as he slipped his arms beneath them and clung tightly. While it wasn’t unusual for their partners to be clingy in the aftermath of an intense bout - Hades certainly was, and hell Styx themself was - they… hadn’t expected it from him. Perhaps that had been why he’d been so tolerant of their attachment to him earlier.

Given the nature of his trembling and the slight hitches in his breath occasionally, however, they doubted it was a simple matter of post-coital haziness. He wasn’t crying at least, which was… probably a good sign, but it didn’t inherently mean that nothing was wrong, and maybe they’d been too forceful talking him into this when he had been hesitant, they’d thought it had been simple self-demeaning but if he hadn’t actually-

Styx took a quiet breath and forcibly cut their mental spiral of panic off there. If Lahabrea had truly been opposed to their attention he would have stopped them. Especially given the return of his temper in the months since Pandaemonium, and his other more fiery traits - he’d become more stubborn, not less, so he would have made it perfectly clear had their attention been unwanted.

No, this was something else.

Perhaps it was as simple as an emotional drop after the intensity. They didn’t exactly make it a habit to follow their fellow Convocation Members’ sex lives - except Hades’ because Hyth was a gossip sometimes - so they didn’t know how often he even did something like this. An extended session of intensity after a long dry spell could certainly…

Styx shook the line of thought away and tucked their chin over his head. Speculating would do them no good, and was pointless anyway. For now, the most they could do was to be there as an anchor and a comfort until he was steady again.

They weren’t sure how long it took for his shaking to fade as they traced their hand soothingly across his back and held him close, but it slowly did. Faded away into something truly relaxed and he shifted his head so that he was no longer hiding against them.

It took another few minutes for him to gether himself enough to seemingly realize their continued position and grimace, pushing himself back up. Styx pouted but released him to allow it, wincing as the shift sparked against their overwrought nerves where they were still joined.

They both hissed in discomfort as he slowly pulled out of them, and Styx felt their face burning again as they felt his spend begin to leak out of their gaping hole. They dropped their head back and threw an elbow over their face in an attempt to hide the embarrassment, though they weren’t sure how much they succeeded.

A touch on their abdomen made them peek out and they felt the twist of his aether, and a moment later the fluid was gone.

They probably shouldn’t be surprised he was the type to prefer rapid cleanup, honestly.

Styx considered him a moment, analyzing his expression, and he looked… well, tired. But beyond the obvious there was something vulnerable and uncertain still in his eyes, his movements, and Styx sat up to get a closer look. Or- well, tried. They sat partially up before their lower half gave a definitive twinge and they stilled with a wince.

Unsurprisingly, they were going to be very sore from this.

His brows furrowed but they waved off his concern as they slowly sat up and shifted into a position that didn’t make them twinge. “I’ll be fine, just sore.” They yawned and stretched, reaching their arms above their head. “Give it a few days and it will be gone.”

Lahabrea sighed. “Once again, you prove my point. Your complete lack of consideration for your own-”

Styx leaned forward to slide a hand around the back of his neck and drag him down, pulling his mouth to theirs to cut him off. They managed to distract him for nearly a minute before he caught himself and pulled back to scowl at them.

“Stop that. You cannot expect to avoid a lecture by-” They leaned forward to do it again, grinning as he pulled away to growl, “Styx!”

The use of their name rather than their title made something warm spark in their chest. “Hephaistos,” they shot back, watching keenly as he stilled and his breath caught for a moment. “You can’t compare some minor soreness to a genuine injury and you know it. A potion and a couple of days and it will be gone without a trace.” They glanced down to the darkening bruises on their limbs and waist from the chains and his hands respectively. “Same with the bruises. You need not concern yourself with my health over it, I promise.”

He frowned at them, reaching out to catch their wrist and trace his thumb across the chain-pattern. “I could heal them now.”

“Or you could not,” Styx countered pointedly. “I like seeing the evidence of my dalliances for a few days after the fact. It’s not like anyone else will see them, or they’ll cause any harm. Merely a harmless reminder.”

“I am once against reminded how little I understand your mind,” he sighed, shaking his head.

They hummed, trailing their fingers along the line of bruises on his own neck. “I suppose you’re going to heal these then.”

Lahabrea’s head tilted the slightest bit with a confused expression as his other hand lifted to join Styx’s. “Heal what?”

Styx blinked at him. “Can you not feel them? Granted they’re not exactly what I would call obvious but I left a few bruises too.”

“No…” he pressed his fingers into his skin a bit, and shook his head. “They clearly weren’t deep enough to cause pain.”

They hummed, considering for a moment, then ducked forward to curl against him and rest their head against his chest to drink in his lingering warmth and listen to his breathing, his heartbeat. He stiffened, startled, and they half expected him to finally lose patience with their affection and push them away, but he didn’t. Instead he continued tracing their bruises with the hand around their wrist while his other dropped around their shoulders.

It wasn’t what they’d expected from him, and it made them wonder.

Was it deprivation? In the thousands of years since he’d killed Athena and broken his soul, had he been depriving himself of anything approaching that which she’d burned him so badly with? Or was he normally like this behind closed doors with those he trusted, and he simply wore the cold distance as a particularly effective mask to the rest of them? Judging by his earlier reaction, and previous observations from their time on the Convocation, Styx found the first more believable and the thought sent a pang through them. That he was so touch-starved that he found their sudden touchiness gratifying rather than irritating…

They didn’t know if the painful emotion in their chest was anger or compassion, or a mixture of both, but it made them lean into him a little more and close their eyes with no intent of moving until he made them.

… a decision that lasted until they nearly toppled over when they dozed off, and he settled them off of his lap and stood with a slight grimace as he stretched out an arm and shifted his weight to favor the leg he’d had folded beneath them.

Oops.

They scrubbed at their eyes as they stood and stretched as well, arching their back, and watching his gaze slide across them from the corner of their eye. Even with all that had happened there was some amount of pride at being able to catch his attention of all people.

And with that said-

Styx flashed him an innocent look and took a chance. “Care to share your bed for a night?”

Lahabrea stilled, turned to give them a sharp, searching look from where he was pulling his robes on. “Do you not have another? I’d have thought you’d return home to your lovers.”

They would not be doing that, no. They could, of course, neither would begrudge them it, and they were fairly sure Hyth did it occasionally, but it felt.. awkward, even knowing neither would mind.

Not to mention Hyth would probably eagerly wake them up before the sun in the morning like the godsforesaken early rising madman he was in order to get the details, and they and Hades would have to kick him out of bed and all three of them would spend the whole day cross.

They shrugged, glancing at the chronometer on the wall that they hadn’t been able to see from the lounge. Not quite midnight. “I could, but I wouldn’t want to wake them. Or wake Hades, rather, and if I don’t do it coming in then Hyth will when he starts interrogating me on what I’ve been up to lately - assuming Amphitrite did submit that concept with my name attached as an advisor he might be very cross with me - and I’d rather not do that to him. Besides,” they flashed him a smile, stepping close with as much mischief as they could in their body language, “I thought I’d established that I like dalliances to linger.” They shrugged, leaning back more casually. “If my partners are amenable I prefer to stay the night. If you’d rather I not, though…”

He met their eyes, scanning their expression intently as though looking for something. But apparently finding no hint of falsehood - which there wasn’t any, even if they weren’t voicing their own worries for him - he looked away and continued redressing. “I am not… opposed.”

Perking up with a flicker of relief in their chest, Styx smiled at him and followed him through the portal he made.

His bed was soft and his body was warm, and Styx’s only regret was that they were asleep nearly instantly and didn’t get to take advantage of curling around him.

They almost regretted it the next morning when he awoke them an hour before sunrise, and they realized with horror that he was akin to Hyth in his preference for getting up early.

His grumbling and complaining as they made the process of getting them up as difficult as possible was amusing though, especially since they took the opportunity to be as sleepy-clingy as possible while they still had the opportunity. His irritation was nearly as feigned as Hades’ was, though, so they weren’t too worried.

And they had to admit, he made amazing coffee.

As they walked to the Capitol next to him, they mentally marked the situation off as a complete success with potential for follow ups in the future. It had been fun, much more so than they’d expected, and they certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to do it again if it arose.

Their thoughts scattered and they froze as they entered the building to find a figure waiting inside.

A very familiar figure.

Hythlodaeus turned to greet them with a smile that was just a touch too cheerful. “Ah, good morning Lahabrea.” He turned his attention to them, and Styx felt the sudden urger to bolt. “Hello Styx. I think we need to talk about the quality your advice.”

Lahabrea snorted quietly and continued to his office, leaving Styx at Hythlodaeus’ ire-driven mercy.

“At least it’s not… technically… a shark…?”

“I see this is going to necessitate a very long conversation about technicalities.”

“Look, I’m sorry- it wasn’t my fault-”

“Styx- Styx get back here-”

. . .

A few cameos from Styx’s own crippling self-worth and anxiety issues, it’s fine.

Granted in terms of Laha’s touch starvedness they’re partially right, given my headcanons. I headcanon Laha to naturally be very affectionate and touchy to people he's close to, but then Athena happened (and she was not affectionate and tended to shrug him off unless she had something to gain from letting him) and that completely vanished - one more thing locked behind his mask. And now he's whole again and trying to adjust to it, and Styx is being extremely affirming and affectionate and he can't quite help himself from leaning into those tendencies again.

#ffxiv #lahabrea #hephaistos #azem #lahazem #fanfic #smut #this was a lot of fun to write #their dynamic is fun #it almost makes me want to create a branch timeline where styx falls for him rather than hyth and hades and ends up willfully changing fate #because they're not willing to let this go and abandon him to his fate #i do not have time for yet another au timelinnnneeeee #hythlodaeus is a gremlin #so is styx

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