#this is part of an ascended discord snippet i was writing for a cute 'essek puts a blanket on caleb who's asleep at his desk' pic

[saturdaysky]

WIP Chain Game

Tagged by @mithrilwren! Rules: Write the latest line from your wip and tag as many people as there are words in the line.

I opened up the most recent document in my docs folder and found a WIP I'd pasted in there which I had totally forgotten about, with a set of last lines that amused me.

“Why not? The hour is ours, Shadowhand.” Caleb speaks the words against the soft skin of his wrist, playfulness turning his fond grin a little wicked. "Suborn me."

It is a terrible line, straight from one of Jester's novels, and Essek has no resistance to it. His voice slips into a low, sultry register with embarrassing ease. "I will do so, perhaps."

Tagging @aboxthecolourofheartache @renquise @mllekurtz @catalists @ariadne-mouse if you should wish and have not been so tagged already! And anyone else who might like to share. :)

Aaaand just because I haven't had time to write lately (booo), here's a longer snippet below the cut. The lead-up to those lines, plus a few after that grew as I minorly polish it just now -- just some fond, established relationship shadowgast stuff. :)

Instead, he smooths his hand over Caleb's hair and sets about tidying the desk to ensure any sensitive spell components are sorted and put away just so. Caleb will likely need them again tomorrow, once he has rested.

Beside Caleb's slumped form, Frumpkin lifts his head and stares at Essek with an assessing eye.

"Good evening," Essek says quietly, checking the seal of a jar. "You won't tell on me, will you?" Frumpkin stares at him, implacable, then stretches and butts his head against Essek's hand.

Essek feels a swell of fondness for the creature. "As it should be.” he agrees. “Your master does not take good care of himself, so it is up to us to do it for him." He reaches out and scratches the cat under its chin, because this too is something Essek can do with his gifted minutes. "It will be our secret."

He sets the last component into its place, then shifts away from the desk, floating quietly. Before he can move farther than a foot away, a calloused hand catches his wrist.

When he glances back, Caleb is staring at him with an amused, accusatory eye. "Essek," he murmurs in the soft tones of the recently-woken, "are you trying to suborn my cat?"

Essek has been working on Frumpkin for the better part of a decade, and he thinks he’s made good progress. "Perhaps,” he answers. “You know I am a fan of taking allies where I can find them, particularly when it is for an important cause."

Caleb sits up from his slump and rests his head on his other hand. “I do know that,” he says. He draws Essek's hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the knuckles. It's nothing more than a short press of closed lips, but the hooded blue eyes above are bright with intent. "I am just curious at the target you have chosen. What must I do to get you to suborn me as well?”

Oh. Well. “Surely I have already done so,” Essek offers. "You are here in my towers, after all." The corner of Caleb's mouth tugs up. He presses another kiss to the knuckles, soft and lingering, his gaze steady. A tiny spot of chill blooms on Essek's skin when he draws back. Maybe Essek isn't the only one doing some suborning.

“If you had," Caleb rumbles, "you wouldn’t feel the need to recruit my cat. I remain my own.” The edges such a statement might have had have been worn away by years, softened into affectionate teasing. Something in Essek glows at the comfortable familiarity; even now it takes him by surprise. His fingers twitch where Caleb has caught them; the calloused grip tightens in response.

Caleb continues, settling further into the fey mood that has taken him upon waking, “But you know, our goals are aligned in this. I could be persuaded to a bedroom, I think." He turns Essek's hand over until it is palm-up.

Essek arches a brow. "Could you, now. I would like to persuade you to rest, but you seem intent on making" — Caleb's smirk deepens and he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Essek’s wrist — "ah, making the case for other activities.”

“Why not? The hour is ours, Shadowhand.” Caleb speaks the words against the soft skin of his wrist, playfulness turning his fond grin a little wicked. "Suborn me."

It is a terrible line, straight from one of Jester's novels, and Essek has no resistance to it. His voice slips into a low, sultry register with embarrassing ease. "I will do so, perhaps."

He floats forward and cups Caleb's chin. Blue eyes widen, but before Caleb has a chance to make a smart quip, Essek tilts down and kisses him.

It is brief and intense, and leaves both of them panting a little when Essek pulls back. "But after you are thoroughly suborned," he says, gratified by Caleb's flush, "you will go to sleep."