#this turned out so good and i'm ngl i'm a little mad about it dsndjknas

[lvllns]

ma la paura è di tuffarsi e non volare

redacted asmr | gavin x freelancer. gender neutral. ~2.2k words. rated m for the end which gets a tiny bit spicy.

Freelancer is standing on the opposite side of the room, eyes a little wide. “Hi,” they whisper, voice gentle. He swallows hard. “Hey.” (or: but the fear is to dive and not fly)

[read on ao3]

—

“This,” Gavin says, “is fucking ridiculous.”

It had seemed like a good idea up until thirty seconds ago when he felt the first licks of heat off Freelancer’s aura, their key sliding into the lock of their apartment and sending nerves—(nerves!)—skittering up his spine. He strains to listen. Strains to catch the thunk of the lock. The scuff of their boots on the concrete of the building’s hallway before—

“Gav?”

—their voice rings clear from the door.

He’s not proud but he has half a mind to phase somewhere else. The only thing keeping him sprawled out on their couch is that he knows they know he’s here. Their aura has gone bright, swirls of emotions and sensations and Gavin can hardly catch any of them except happy. That cool, pale pink that always makes his throat catch.

“In the living room.”

His voice shakes. Is his voice shaking? He can’t really tell, he thinks it is. Mile a minute thoughts racing through his head and he can’t quiet them and fuck, fuck, he could fix this. In the time it takes for Freelancer to get into the living room, he could erase everything and pretend it was never going to happen and that he was, in fact, not going to reveal a piece of himself he’s kept hidden for so long he almost forgot what they looked like.

Gavin swallows.

Sits up and braces his forearms on his thighs, the material of his jeans scratching at his skin. He takes a deep breath. Runs a hand over his face, up, up towards his hair until his fingers rest along his temples. Gavin exhales slowly.

He’s been thinking about this for a little bit now. Showing Freelancer a piece of himself that he prefers to keep close to his chest. Freelancer had been studying with Damien today, and Gavin had spent most of it pacing around their apartment. The one they share together. Where he told them he loves them and they said it back, making his heart feel like it was trying to rip out of the base of his throat. Freelancer had asked him, once, if he had horns like Caelum, and he had shrugged. Played it off with a vague not quite before letting his teeth find their throat, effectively shutting them up for the next twenty minutes. They never brought it up again. He still isn’t sure if he loves them more for it, for reading his discomfort, or if he wishes they had pushed him a little.

Maybe they would have reached this point before now.

It was twenty minutes ago when he threw himself onto the couch dramatically even though nobody was home to see it. He whipped his shirt off. Let his jeans hang low on his hips. And eased some of his magic away from his head. The cloaking, the hiding, the magic that makes him able to feed freely without breaking covert because even though memory modification is something he can do, and has done, sometimes it’s just easier to let someone remember they’ve been fucked senseless by him. And maybe on occasion, the sex had been so good he would have felt bad depriving them of that particular memory.

So, he’s kept his magic close. Kept pieces of himself hidden, and really, it’s not like he cares that much. He’s much happier on Elegy. His astral form is just what it is, a side of himself he wears when he goes to Aria for whatever reason before shedding it like snakeskin as he slips back to this plane.

Now, now though. He wants to share this with his Freelancer. His deviant.

After the inversion, after all of that…Gavin knows they know he loves them, he just wants to show them how fucking deeply it runs.

It feels like a breaking. Like his ribs have been twisted and split. Pulled away from his chest to expose the blood-soaked heart of him that beats steadily within. He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t give parts of himself away like this, but he also never thought he’d ever tell someone he loved them so, first time for everything he guesses. Gavin’s magic pulls back and his horns glitter into existence. His hands are shaking, he can tell that much when he touches them. Swallowing, he drops his hands back into his lap and looks up.

Freelancer is standing on the opposite side of the room, eyes a little wide.

“Hi,” they whisper, voice gentle.

He swallows hard. “Hey.”

They take a step closer, head tilting. Gavin fights back a wince. He knew this was going to be kind of a thing. That they were going to want to look and probably touch, definitely touch actually he knows how tactile they are, and he has to remind himself it’s not the gawking kind of attention. It’s not open mouth poking and prodding and what else can you change do you have a tail too what about hooves like he’s some kind of caricature.

What he absolutely didn’t expect is:

“I bought cupcakes.”

Gavin blinks. “I. What?”

Freelancer holds out a small white box, the name of that little bakery they insist on dragging him into every week scrawled along the top of it. “Cupcakes.”

“Okay,” he says, drawing the word out.

A grin crawls across their face, crooked and warm. “Feels kind of appropriate now. This,” they say, eyes moving pointedly to his visible horns, “feels special.”

His throat is dry. No, his mouth is dry. Everything is dry except his skin which he soaked in lotion this morning. Tongue thick in his mouth, he nods slowly. “It—I don’t—“

“I know Gav.” They set the cupcakes down on the coffee table. Moving to sit next to him, legs tucked up. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, voice hoarse and he is absolutely not playing this off like he wanted. He should have known they wouldn’t treat him like an object to be examined. They never have, why would they start now? “They’re just—“

“Don’t,” they say. “Don’t lie, we both know they’re more than that.” Freelancer holds their hand out, palm up and fingers spread. Gavin slips his hand into theirs. Soaks up the slight chill of their skin against his hotter temperature. They curl their fingers, wrap them around his with a soft squeeze. “I love you.”

There is honey in his throat. Thick, gold honey that sits on his tongue and runs down. Swallowing up his words. He opens his mouth only to close it and shake his head, his grip going vice tight where their hands are tangled together. Another deep breath, another moment to gather himself. To find his footing on this uneven ground. The mountain trail is long and narrow but he can see where it opens up in front of him. Where all of these steps will get easier. “I love you too,” he says, voice stronger than he thought it was going to be and steady, so steady. He’s so fucking sure, he’s never been so fucking sure of anything in his entire life. “I love you so, so much.”

He catches their eyes, finds them glossy with tears but before he can do anything, they’re laughing. Wiping roughly at their cheeks with their freehand and laughing. “Fuck, you make me so fucking happy Gavin.” Smiling, wide and honest, they catch his gaze. He realizes, suddenly, that aside from the initial moment they saw him, they haven’t even looked at his horns. “So yeah, thank you for this. It’s a gift.”

They make a soft little sound, something he can’t remember ever hearing, and then, without warning, their thumb is wiping along his cheeks. Brushing…brushing tears off of his face. Gavin blinks. “Oh.”

“Are you okay?” they ask, frowning hard enough that the little knot between their eyebrows becomes visible.

He smooths that away with his thumb. “I’m fine.” The look they give him could be described as dubious disbelief, at best. He smiles. “Really, my love, I’m…I’m wonderful. Perfect, even.” He forces himself to breathe a little more slowly. What had Caelum called it that one time he was helping Freelancer? Resonant breathing? Something like that. Gavin exhales and reaches up to cup their face. “This was just a bit more than I was expecting, I think.”

“Good more?”

“Yes, good more.” He clears his throat. Swallows the honey down until his tongue is free once more. “I haven’t done this,” he says, eyes flicking up towards where his horns sit, “in so long. It’s easier to keep them hidden, and the last time I decided I wanted to let my magic rest a little bit was at an empowered club which went…poorly.” Gavin grimaces. Freelancer gives his hand another reassuring squeeze. He glances at them. Finds them attentively listening to him like he knew they would be, and fuck, fuck, his heart is going to leave his fucking body. “Aside from when I’m in Aria, which is very rarely, they’re hidden.”

Freelancer hums, considering, and cocks their head to the right. “I think they suit you.”

Gavin laughs, a sharp thing that melts into something softer as it trails off. “Do you now?”

They nod. “Yep.”

“Maybe…maybe I’ll show them off a bit more.”

Their expression shifts, just a little, and then, “Whatever you’re comfortable with, love.”

He can’t help the goofy smile that immediately takes over his face. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, leaning closer and watching delightedly as their pupils dilate, breath hitching.

“Always,” they whisper, words washing across his mouth like a promise.

“Thank you,” he says.

And then he kisses them. Their lips are cool, tasting like the chapstick they keep in their bag, and he presses closer. Pulls his hand from theirs, reluctantly, and catches their hip, moving them enough that he can push them against the sofa. They gasp underneath him and he slips his tongue into their mouth, ripping a moan from them. One hand grabs the back of his neck, blunt nails pricking at his skin, and the other sweeps up to his forehead. Smooths his hair from his face, avoiding touching his horns and they’re being so, so fucking careful.

Gavin pulls away, panting for air. “You can touch them.”

They blink a few times, chest erratic as they try to catch their breath. “Are you sure? I don’t want to, I don’t know, hurt you? Overstep?”

He didn’t think it was possible to love them more than he already does but it is.

With a soft groan, he ducks his mouth to kiss their throat. “I love you,” he says against their skin. “Touch if you want, I don’t mind.”

Tentatively, they brush a few fingers along the base of one of his horns. Gavin shivers.

“Oh fuck,” he says, hips twitching. “Fuck, I forgot how—”

“They’re sensitive?” they ask and oh no. Oh no. He knows that tone. That’s the voice they use when they’re thinking about something, plotting and planning, and usually that’s fine except this time it’s directed at him with this bit of knowledge. Gavin opens his mouth to respond but they press their thumb along the base, where skin meets horn, and drag their touch around, and all he manages is a broken moan. “Interesting.”

He pulls back. Glares at them but they’re just grinning at him. “Devious little—” Gavin kisses them. Kisses the words off his tongue and out of their mouth. Their touch drifts up, up along the actual bit of his horn they can reach, and the sensation fades to something more pleasant and less overwhelmingly sensitive. He hums against their lips, pleased when they buck their hips up as his nails scratch along their back, near their spine. “Bedroom?” he asks, lips moving along their jaw.

Freelancer nods, quick and shaky. “Yes, Gavin, yes.”

It’s easy enough to step away, to ignore the high pitched whine that they make, and scoop them up. Their legs wrap around his waist immediately, hands holding his face steady so they can kiss him. They’ve already moved on from the horns, from this new aspect of him, and it makes something settle in his chest. He has no doubt they’ll exploit their sensitivity, and the thought makes him shudder as he walks down the hall to their bedroom, but an ache he didn’t realize he was holding washes away. A quick examination, one done after they’re laid out on the bed, bare, with his teeth pressing against their sternum, reveals that he had been concerned that this would change something irrevocably between them. Nail the fact that he’s an incubus home so hard that their opinion of him would change, and how could he have ever thought they would be so shallow?

He knows how, though. A sea of shitty experiences, of hands that grope and mouths that bite without thinking, coloring his world view enough that they’re still able to place doubt where there should be none.

As Freelancer wraps a thigh around his hips, hitching it up when he grabs it, one hand on his shoulder and the other weaving through his hair to hold him against their chest, he lets go of a part of himself. Lets go of that doubt, that little spot that he had been holding onto for so, so long, and opens it up. Opens it wide enough that they can get in now. He has nothing left of himself to keep in the dark, not anymore.

They sigh softly beneath him and Gavin wipes his attention of anything except them.