makinglies | Catching Flies With Honey

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Catching Flies With Honey

The hardwood of the floor dug into Chris' knees, like sharp pinpricks of the reminder he wasn't seventeen and learning how faith worked anymore. Five years down the line and he'd learned to accept the discomfort as part of his devotion to Bane; the black hand favored pain and promise of ruination and those who took power for themselves.

Was he proud of his servant? His cleric who took up his banner with the promise to overthrow those also loyal to him? Probably. After all, this was exactly the kind of game the Dark Tyrant loved.

So Chris didn't move or grab a pillow from the stiff and unyielding couch in the alter room, or move his hand even though he knew it was pressed into the discolored spot of the floor where his cousin's blood had soaked it.

They'd done what they could with the place, cleaned it, painted it, let those go who wished to leave the memories behind with a generous parting gift to get their lives started over. Some had stayed and neither he nor Rhyt could thank them enough; this whole thing was hard enough without needing to hire a whole new staff they likely couldn't trust not to stab them in the backs.

Of course, even if they'd needed to do that, they would have had their 'Guardians' all the same. A God's blessing, their friends. He and Rhyt had stayed up many nights to begin picking at the strings of the tapestry the Listers had smothered the city in, and many of those nights had ended in more than one drink, minds fried, and simply reminiscing to each other how lucky they were to have Amnos, Silver, and Ra'ah at their sides.

Even if her gentle ribbing about the latter most member of that group usually ended in playful wrestling on the study ground until one of them sat on the other in victory.

Chris could feel a soft smile spreading on his face as his thoughts wondered to their resident rouge, his bright eyes and soft hair...the way his skin felt under the callouses on Chris' hands and the sounds he made when they fooled around...

A flush of heat ran through him and he sat back on his heels, hands running down his face and then through his hair. So much for praying.

Muttering small, insincere, Elven curses under his breath, Chris stood and winced at the protest of his legs. How long had it even been? An hour, maybe half more? It was getting late. He blew out the candles he'd lit and replaced the rug they'd put in the room to cover the bloodstains before moving out into the upstairs living area. It was really a glorified landing that held a couple couches at this point, for all the junk they'd sold, only replacing the necessities. He and Rhyt might have wanted to live in this dumb house to dance on the Lister's grave, but that didn't mean they wanted to sleep in their beds.

A quick glance out the windows into the garden confirmed the time, the low, orange light of twilight washing the reds and maroons of the mansion in a warm, almost welcoming glow.

Silver was likely at the pub listening to Candle perform, they'd be back late. Amnos and Chastity were likely somewhere in the house, maybe the library or out in the gardens. He made a mental note to check with the workers tomorrow about the timeline for their house, he wanted it ready before the first (of what Chris suspected were many) little Stonehuer arrived. Rhyt and Ra'ah...honestly, he didn't know. They could be anywhere in the house or not in the house at all...and since they were both rogues, he likely wouldn't be able to guess anyway.

Chris cast Light around him, the ball of radiance following over his shoulder in lieu of a candle as the cleric made his way downstairs to the dry storage. He could call on someone to get a drink for him...that was what nobles did, right? They snapped their fingers, rung a bell, and their servants did everything for them. By all rights, that was what the now-Sonom staff were being paid for. It made the back of his mind itch at the thought, like someone had cast an antimagic field on him and rendered him useless.

No, let the staff clean or cook or take care of the house that was too big even for the six main inhabitants living there, Chris could get his own drink. Something he politely told the two Tabaxi he came across as he went, both offering to help.

No, a drink...maybe a large one or the whole bottle and a glass, if the mood took him, and he'd retreat to those couches back upstairs to watch the rest of daylight's final breaths.

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There was a voice in the back of his mind that was fighting this, that was trying to tell him to slow down, stop man his post on this whole issue-

But it was a swiftly losing battle. Ra'ah was a drug and Chris was addicted, he needed this. Needed him. Ladies in Swallow's Charm had spoken of love and lust as two separate things, the needs of the body and the needs of the heart. The idealistic and the realistic. Kayt had taught him the real difference. The needs of the mind and the needs of the soul. Lust was well and good for a night, maybe more, but it wouldn't keep your bed warm in the colder months when he or she went home to their partners.

Love was being that partner, the one they went home to, straying or otherwise. Love was when the heart, body, and soul spoke as one and said 'this one.'

'Please.'

'I need him more than my next breath.'

Chris needed Ra'ah more than his next breath. His kisses trailed from Ra'ahs lips to his chin and neck, a 'please' in their fire across tanned skin. This was the one Chris' heart and body and mind and soul all wanted.

And it scared the life out of him.

So he pulled away to take both of their glasses and set them aside before clutching at Ra'ah's shirt to walk him back towards the couch behind him, controlled desire raging in his green eyes. He marched them back until Ra'ahs knees hit the couch, scraping against the stone but holding steady while Chris knelt between Ra'ah's legs and kept desperate fingers patiently clutching at his pants.

Breathless, he looked up to meet Ra'ah's eyes. "Ya say the word, putta stop to it. Aye?"

Ra'ah smirks and tilts his head back for Chris' lips. He releases a breathy laugh as he's pulled and tugged, eyes twinkling with mischief and desire.

He's known love before. He loved Tyrian, he was his first real love and his first true heartbreak, but this was something different. The way he and Chris came together was so natural and while they may not have been keen on each other from the beginning it hadn't taken long for Ra'ah to gain a large measure of respect for Chris and vice versa. His relationship with Tyrian had always carried some level of antagonism between the two of them, a pampered prince and a desert rat didn't make immediate friends, but there had been enough for Ra'ah's heart to be caught. With Chris, there seemed to be a gravity he couldn't fight at all. He was quickly becoming wrapped in that pull on his body and his soul. The enormity of it was terrifying but as each day went by he found himself craving Chris more and more and who was he to deny that?

The back of his knees hit the couch and he goes down to it heavily. He watches Chris with hungry eyes and that self-assured smile on his face. "I'm not stopping you." He says softly, completely at Chris' mercy. He keeps an ear out should someone decide this particular balcony was where they should be at that moment, though if Amnos or Rhyt had shown up he wouldn't stop Chris from whatever he had in mind. Rhyt had walked in on them at least once by now and Amnos was so open with things that he doubted he would care. All the better, because Ra'ah really doesn't want to pull the plug on this no matter how much they really should talk about those deeper feelings. His cock is already growing hard behind the cloth of his pants and with Chris down on his knees before him he couldn't say no. Those feelings would remain unspoken for now as Ra'ah reaches up, cups Chris' face, and runs his thumb over his lower lip. "I'm yours," he says softly, smiling and silently conveying all the emotion he can in that simple statement.

Those two words shake Chris to his core, chilling and thrilling him all at once. It's enough to slow him, his mind, to make him pause. Without looking away, one of Chris' hands comes up to curl around the back of Ra'ah's so he can turn and press a kiss to the pad of his thumb.

"And I, yours." He says it with too much reverence for a casual thing, for friends with benefits, for whatever they're supposed to be.

Before he can linger on it any longer, his hands are back at the tie of Ra'ah's pants and hasty but skilled at opening them to reach in for his prize. He needs to stop thinking and he needs Ra'ah to stop thinking before this tips onto complicated grounds. Chris' slender and long fingers curl around Ra'ah's cock and free him to the evening air, it's warm weight long-familiar in his hand. He leaned in to lick a stripe up the length of skin, but spared no more time before taking the head into his mouth, eager to get to work pleasing his lover.

Three little words and Ra'ah can feel his core trembling. He stares down at Chris not daring to hear more in those words. They should talk, he should go back on his word and stop this now so they can talk this out and know if this is a temporary bliss or if there is something deeper and intrinsic about all this.

Chris doesn't give himself time to think. He's moving again and Ra'ah is leaning back to get a better look as a familiar act is made new by the surroundings. The sun is setting behind Chris and making his blonde hair light on fire. He's beautiful like this and Ra'ah eyes go soft with an emotion he has yet to name aloud. He strokes his cheek with his thumb and swallows hard as he's pulled free to the night air. His senses are hyper-aware and he hisses a little as he sucks in a breath and tosses his head back at that one lick. It set's fire to his skin and he hardens further. There's no going back now, not without some physical detriment to his own well being and that's not allowed. He looks back down his body to Chris and again he's struck by his beauty. "You're beautiful," he whispers further stroking his cheek and carding his fingers into his hair.

Chris hums his acknowledgement, pleased with the compliment and with the knowledge that when he presses his tongue to the underside of Ra’ah’s dick, just below the flare of the head, Ra’ah will feel every vibration.

He lingered there, laving his tongue along every detail before slipping more of the length into his mouth. He couldn’t get the whole thing in his mouth without that nearly-useless gag reflex making the fun more difficult, but he used his hand to rub and trace along the rest. Maybe another time he’d suggest seeing just what the limits of that reflex were...if it could be suppressed...if there was a next time.

It was easy enough to brush aside both thoughts with his attention so fully devoted to drawing those wonderful sounds he knew he could get from Ra’ah. There was an added thrill of wondering if someone in the garden might hear him, maybe even someone inside. It wasn’t a side of himself he’d considered, but the coil of excitement in his stomach was undeniable. He could feel himself getting wet as heat pooled between his legs.

As his mouth sunk down as far as he could go, a different urge overtook him, hanging at the back of his mind and unshakable. His heart pounded a little faster and color visibly tinted his hollowed cheeks as his free hand slipped up to find and grasp at Ra’ah’s to tangle their fingers together.

He sucks in a breath as vibration runs through him. It's a delightful trick and he moans softly in appreciation. He strokes his fingers through Chris' thick waves and watches every move he makes. He watches as his lips turn from a delightful pink to ruby red as he works his magic. It's always a treat to see his cock disappear into that wanting mouth and some days Ra'ah does wonder how much deeper could he go if they tried. He's already done far more experimental things with Chris than he'd ever done with Tyrian, though being on the road hadn't helped that, but each night he and Chris come together he finds himself cherishing it. It's more than the fear that this night might be the last, it's that somehow Chris makes it special. Both of them are always willing to try something a little different and Ra'ah loves that. He'd heard offhand from the women in his tribe how sex could get boring. How they'd tune out and think of other things while their men pleasured themselves. None of that ever sounded appealing to Ra'ah. If the person you loved was willing to give themselves to you why wouldn't you make it special? Chris did that and Ra'ah did the same in turn. It was a perfect give and take and as he watched Chris work his magic he could feel himself building to that climax.

What he hadn't expected was for Chris to take his hand then and clutch it like it was a life line. He squeezes his hand in as much desperation and those 3 words are right on his tongue, but saying them now would seem hollow. Of course, you could say that when someone had you in the most intimate of places, but was it the truth? No, that would have to wait till this was over and they were both satiated.

"Come here," he says gruffly, voice already gravelled from the moans Chris has pulled from him.

Chris squeezed his hand to show he'd heard, but took his time with coming up, letting each inch slip slowly from between his tightly pressed lips. His hand followed behind only a moment after his mouth was free, pumping slow and languid a couple times before Chris finally rose from the floor (much to the relief of his knees) and climbed onto the couch beside Ra'ah. He sat with one knee on the cushion, his other leg straight out beside him so he was turned toward the other man, allowing him a chance to lazily trace along his length again with one finger.

Chris leaned in so his mouth was close to Ra'ah's ear, his hair falling into his face as he did. He knew what effect his accent had. It was funny to him, he'd grown up being taught differently, that the refined tone of a nobleman would be more preferred in mixed company, but apparently that only held true of Melavaunt, not that he'd tried his original accent on Ra'ah before, but something told him it wouldn't quite be the same. It might not necessarily make sense to him, what his voice did to his friend, but Chris certainly enjoyed the reaction all the same.

"Cannae help you, fine sir? Is there a service I might do fur ya?"

Ra'ah waits for him, completely at his mercy. He watches with rapt attention as his cock falls from Chris' lips and he lets out a breathy moan of appreciation at the continued stroking. He shifts the hand from Chris' hair to his hip and holds him steady as he comes to him. He turns towards him and moves his hand from his hip to the ties of his pants. He can't help the grin that spreads over his face as the sound of Chris' voice sends shivers of delight through him.

It seems such a silly thing to be this entranced by the sound of someone's voice but he is. It's unique because he's never heard that type of accent before but more than that it's because that voice belongs to Chris. The combination is a heady tonic that makes his cock twitch in anticipation of what his words promise.

"There's something you can do," he whispers back, breath blowing hot over the shell of his ear. He tugs on the ties and slips his hand inside knowing just how far to go to feel the wet heat of him.

"You want this as much as I do," he whispers, "you can't deny that." He pushes further until the tips of his fingers are pressing against his hole. "Let me please you."

For all the confidence in his voice when he spoke, his heart thrummed faster as Ra’ah’s hand moved down to the tie of his pants, his own hand losing rhythm to simply squeeze the base of Ra’ah’s cock. Chris’ other hand moved to smooth across Ra’ah’s chest as he rocked his hips forward to try and get more of those fingers. He could practically taste how they’d feel in him and he craved it more than anything.

Ra’ah’s touch was intoxicating. One small brush and Chris craved anything more he could get. He was so desperately, exquisitely, lost to this man. His breath shuddered and he leaned in for a rough kiss meant to take Ra’ah’s breath from his mouth.

Another desperate beat of his heart and Chris pulled away with only a gasp between them.

“I do. I need you. Please.”

The surge of his hips pushes Ra'ah fingers a little deeper. The bare tips are in his head and he has to bite back a moan at how good it feels. He can already imagine that heat encompassing his cock.

Any sound he might have made is buried in that kiss. He returns it just as needy, just as desperate. He craves every part of Chris in a way he never would have imagined, certainly not after that last year. Amnos and Silver may have been the rope that brought him to shore but Chris was the port. He was where he wanted to be for the rest of his life and that thought scared him. Right now, those thoughts are far from his mind as Chris asks him for more and Ra'ah whispers, "as you wish," and plunges two fingers into the heat of him.

He knows by now how to touch him, their trysts have taken place over more than enough nights for him to be familiar with the clerics body and he works his fingers against all the right spots making sure he's ready for something bigger. He kisses him repeatedly, nipping at his lower lip and shifting to suck a light mark under his jaw. It pains him whenever Chris has to magic those marks away, though he understands it. A noble shouldn't go around showing his exploits of the night especially when there isn't a label to place upon that partner. Perhaps if they'd slow down they could talk about that fact, but Ra'ah doesn't want to slow down.

He presses his fingers in deeper and let's go of his hand to pull Chris closer so he has to straddle his lap. The new position is a little awkward for his wrist but he works through it until he's sure Chris is ready for him. He pulls his fingers free and pulls Chris' pants down just enough to be able to get inside of him.

Chris actively fights the urge to moan, a whimper and the torment of his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes slide shut take the place of his usual reaction. The quickly chilling evening air was reminder enough of where they were an who might hear them even as his heart and body simply wish to revel in the feeling of those fingers moving in him.

He'd have to consider it practice, he knew what came next and his usual exuberant volume wouldn't be appreciated out here. It was only going to get worse...or better, as the case may be.

Chris moves when prompted, barely aware of anything more than the feeling of being coaxed open. Then Ra'ah's fingers leave him empty and wanting, but unclouded enough to lean in for another kiss while he helps to move his pants down low enough. His hand slips back to take hold of Ra'ah's cock and hold it in place as Chris slowly began to lower himself onto it.

As the head pushed inside, Chris buried his moan in Ra'ah's mouth, his free hand tangling in the other man's shirt tightly as he continued to press further.

"Nngh!" Ra'ah's own moan is caught in Chris' mouth. He knows they should be a little quiet. While most of the help has left for the weekend it doesn't mean any one of them couldn't be out in the yard taking in the cool evening air. What would they think if they heard their new masters doing this out in the open? Surely it wouldn't be the worst thing they'd ever seen but scandalous all the same.

Still, Ra'ah can't help but want to pull more of those moans from Chris. With his hands resting on his hips, he leans back a bit so he can thrusts his hips up into his wanting body. He himself moans as heat envelopes all of him and he kisses Chris harder to hide it.

Ra'ah thrusts up into him and draws a sound from Chris that struggles between a moan and a whimper as he tries to tamp down on the volume. It's enough to get him moving again, though. He pulls back a bit to brace his hands on the back of the couch behind Ra'ah's shoulders and begins working that wonderful dick with expert rolls of his hips. Chris wouldn't call himself the best at sexual encounters, he was hardly a master of any sort, but he knew how to ride. His well-toned abdomen made the push and pull of friction between them all the easier and he used that to his advantage to fill Ra'ah's world with pleasure to begin pushing him towards that edge.

"Oh...fuck..." Chris let out a shuddered breath as one of those strokes in dragged sweetly along the wall of him and ended deep. "Ra'ah...need this. Need you...so badly. Please." He could feel it, that stirring low in his gut, more of those deeper thrusts and Chris didn't think he was going to last long. Luckily, that wasn't the game tonight, tonight was more about...well...more. He wanted to revel in it.

Ra'ah gasps and moans at each delicious roll of Chris' hips. He might not have thought himself a master of sexual encounters but Ra'ah would disagree. Every encounter they had was perfect just as Chris' was. Granted Ra'ah was a bit biased, but he couldn't help that, not as he was overcome by pleasure with each delicious roll.

He drags his hands from his hips up Chris' shirt and finds his small breast. He cups it and squeezes a little, not much to hold onto but more than enough for Ra'ah to get pleasure out of the gesture and give it in turn as he thumbs across his nipple.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins at the thrill of potentially being caught is not going to allow him to last long, but he's fine with that. He mumbles Chris' name over and over, whispering sweet words and compliments at how good he felt. He wants to take Chris back into the bedroom and make love to him properly but for now this heedless joining out in the open was enough. He needs Chris just as much, more, and he wants to give him everything he can.

He moves his hips with him and ducks his head against his neck as he feels release coming close.

"With me," he gasps, "come with me." He sucks another mark under his jaw and presses his fingers against Chris' skin.

Chris shudders as those skilled fingers ducked under his shirt and toyed with his nipple, the sensation sending a current of pleasure through him. Little whines and gasps replace words as his mind lost focus on anything that wasn’t the feeling of those hands or Ra’ah moving inside of him.

As a cleric, his first and foremost devotion should be to his god. Bane had been his first and last thought Each day since he was seventeen. For five years, he’d been dutiful in answering the call the Black Hand had crafted just for him...but something had shifted. His benedictions carried the flavor of a different name on his tongue, whispered with the same reverence Chris spoke in prayers every morning. The call he longed to hear was his name, not whispered in dreams, but called in longing and a different kind of desire. The touch he longed for wasn’t the cold brush of his God’s sign, but the warm, desperate, grasp of a thief’s hand. The thief who’d stolen more than his body or even his heart, but his soul as well.

Chris poured his worship onto the man below him, no different than if he were a god himself. With a groan he couldn’t bare to stifle, Chris’ grip tightened and his muscles clenched as he came with a desperate cry and pushing himself down as far as he could with little pulses of his hips to take Ra’ah in as deep as he could have him.

Ra'ah had never been a religious man. Sure, the people that had taken him as their own had those they worshipped and some even said that finding him had been god's will, but that meant nothing to him. It had been a fortuitous chance for him. Who knew what would have become of him if he hadn't been found? But Ra'ah didn't really think that God had anything to do with it. More than that, the idea that believing so fiercely in one's God could grant magic had never been something that sat well with him and what had happened to Tyrian didn't help either. He knew better than to say this to those that worshipped, though Bane was a definite exception as nothing good seemed to come from him, then he'd met Chris. Chris, a man so beautiful he'd been physically attracted the moment he saw him. His initial demeanor had tampered some of that, but as they grew closer it came right back to the surface and seeing him use Bane's power to help them, well, it was hard not to be thankful even to a God that seemed not quite as good as Chris believed him to be. As the days passed Ra'ah did start to believe in something. He believed in Chris. He believed in his ability to do what he wanted and what needed to be done. He saw in him someone he was willing to follow and in that he did begin to worship him in love. Every night they came together, whether it was this passion, or something skirting the lines of a 4-letter word neither had yet dared to say aloud, Ra'ah worshipped him. He showed Chris those feelings that were as of yet buried inside him. Feelings that were far easier to show rather than say. Every kiss and reverent gasp of Chris' name was a benediction.

It was no different now. As Chris came apart and Ra'ah felt his walls quake around him he was pushing up into him and releasing his devotion. He holds Chris close and whispers his name against his skin. He moves his hand from Chris' hip up to his back and strokes him softly in a silent moment of devotion.

He kisses the vein running up Chris' neck, along his jaw, and to his lips. The kiss is soft and sweet at odds with their rushed intimacy. He lingers there and feels his breath against his skin. "I want to take you inside," he whispers barely moving from him to speak. "I want to do this properly." Though what exactly 'this' means is up for debate in his mind. Love making? Talking about their feelings? Ra'ah isn't entirely sure, but the growing chill and fading light is no place to linger.

The kisses are soft and gentle and act as little points of revitalization that rouse Chris from his post-coital haze. The last one nearly took him back into it, the tender press of lips to his own drawing a small disappointed sigh When Ra'ah pulls away. The words whispered to him complete the swing of his emotions and he nods.

Chris moved gingerly, careful for both of their sakes as he disentangle their limbs, slipped his pants back up, and tucked Ra’ah back into his own pants with a brief kiss to his cheek as Chris stood. His legs were a little shaky, but in the best kind of way, and he didn’t let it stop him from collecting the glasses and bottle to take back inside.

He didn’t want them to, but his thoughts stirred and swirled like leaves caught in a brief evening breeze. He wanted nothing more than to fall into Ra’ah’s embrace and revel in how their bodies moved together until morning’s light.

Yet, he couldn’t. Or shouldn’t. They did need to ‘do this right.’ It wasn’t fair to either of them; Ra’ah didn’t deserve to think this was something it wasn’t while Chris pined and painted him with emotions he didn’t want, and Chris didn’t deserve this heart-chilling fear as he hid those emotions in a corner.

“Ra’ah...” His voice fades out in hesitation as he turns to the other man. A gentle but still hesitant smile crosses Chris’ lips as he tries to cover. “...would you mind getting the door?”

Ra'ah helps get them both into a proper state as much as he can. He steadies Chris and smiles softly in quiet thanks as he pulls away. For just a moment, he has that fear clutch his heart. That feeling that this was the last time. Chris will collect the glasses and thank him for a nice evening and disappear. Perhaps not from his life, they did have a city to help maintain, but these moments between them would be gone forever.

He takes a deep, steadying breath and stands from the couch. He fixes himself up, too lost in his thoughts to really offer help with the forgotten glasses and bottle. He looks up when he hears his name and his own smile is just as small and hesitant. "As you wish," he says softly as he goes over to open it for Chris. On instinct, he places his other hand on the small of Chris' back and helps lead him through as if he needs the guidance.

The gesture is small and unlike some men who might use it as a way to suggest their partner needs extra assistance, for Ra'ah it only means that he wants to touch Chris always. He wants to have his hands on his person in some way, an arm, his cheek, the small of his back, anything that would suggest this connection is something more than a temporary thing. He wants desperately to believe that this feeling inside him will be acknowledged and something more can grow from it. He has felt love before, of course, he has, but this pull Chris has over him is something completely different. It goes past his skin and past his heart to his very soul. It's a connection he hadn't had with anyone else, not even Tyrian, and it's something he's terrified of.

They walk down the hallway and Ra'ah helps again with the door to Chris' room, conveniently the first available. Their nightly activities aren't limited to one or the other as mostly it only matters which door is closest. Ra'ah assumes tonight will be no different though he does want to speak to Chris. He wants, needs, to do this right. Amnos' words are still ringing in his head, brought back to the forefront now that Ra'ah isn't distracted by Chris and amplified by that cold fear in his heart. He's nervous and his smile doesn't carry the usual confidence.

Something's off. Not in the touch at his back or the presence at his side, but in how Ra'ah is here with him, but also not. His mind is elsewhere and Chris' mind, as unhelpful as it is, provided exactly what he didn't want to hear.

He was having second thoughts. Doubting wanting to be with Chris. Regretting, but was too kind to say anything.

Maybe he shouldn't say anything. Maybe he should say something and tell him it's okay, that he doesn't have to stay-

His thoughts whirl about as they enter his room and Chris set the bottle and glasses on the small table near the one cushy chair he allowed himself. It was larger than he strictly needed, as was the bed that dominated the center of the room, but it was comfortable. The richly made rug that sat in the center of the room was the single decor that he'd maintained. Otherwise, it was mostly sparse and impersonal. The drapes were often pulled back from the windows to allow the sunlight in, there was a small bookcase with a few books he'd brought with him or taken from the repurposed Lister-now-Sonom library, the armchair nearby and it's accompanying table. On the other side of the room was the one wardrobe with all of his clothes (a bit more now that he could afford them) and the door to the attached bathroom beyond.

All-in-all, it was a functional and nice room, perfect and far nicer than he'd ever had before.

He gestured to the bed and turned the chair so he could sit in it with his knees drawn up to his chest facing him. "Ra'ah...I...I dunna what ya had in mind tonight...but-" He hesitated again, but decided to switch tactics in the next breath. "Somethin's botherin' ya. Will ya talk to me 'bout it?"

Edited 2020-07-30 01:20 (UTC)

Whether by virtue of the room being large or Chris not having many possessions the room appeared far cleaner than his own. His own room has daggers strewn everywhere and a nest of blankets and pillows in the middle of the floor. The bed was nice, it certainly did the trick when it was his room the two fell into, but when he was by himself Ra'ah craved something that felt a little more like home. He wondered if he'd ever get used to it.

He follows Chris into the room, looking around as if something were likely to change, and when Chris sits and takes the chair he sits on the bed as he's asked. The position isn't one Ra'ah is used to seeing. Chris usually has his knees akimbo or taking up space with his arms. Now he looks so small and it's all Ra'ah can do to keep from wrapping him in his arms and apologizing for making him worry. As it is the question makes that pit in his stomach deepen and the frost in his heart threatens to drop it down that dark abyss. He swallows hard and leans back a bit onto his hands trying for all the world not to look as nervous as he feels and failing spectacularly at it. It doesn't take a high insight to be able to tell that he's bothered.

"It," he pauses and takes in another breath, sighing slowly before continuing, "it's something I need to talk to you about, needed to talk to you about."

He pauses again and leans forward resting his hands on his knees and forgetting a little. "I'm," dear gods above why is this so hard to say? "You," he tries again uncharacteristically tripping over his words. He's purposefully not looking at Chris as he talks. "You know that before all this...before I met you and even before I met Amnos and Silver, I had a partner." His voice grows quiet as he talks. It would have been so much easier to just spit it out.

"Chris, I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. Please, don't leave me.

But he can't. He feels he has to explain himself in some way, has to prove that this isn't just pretty words. He wants to do this right and yet he's so nervous that it's going to turn out all wrong.

There was a squirming in his stomach when they'd walked in here, a squirming that intensified as he'd opened his stupid mouth. A squirming that reached it's peak as Ra'ah's own discomfort and hesitant stumbling became more and more evident.

If he'd kept his mouth shut, maybe this could have gone on longer.

Now Ra'ah stumbles on his words and in the span of a breath, a sharp, shattering chill spikes from his gut to his heart and snap-freezes those butterflies to leave them shattered in his gut. It spread and gripped his insides so tightly, he thought he might start shivering for it.

If he'd stayed quiet, maybe they could have continued to pretend.

Ra'ah brings up the previous lover and Chris can feel the chill spread out to his fingers and up to his mind. 'You fool. You already knew this, you already-' He nods, not trusting his voice. He'd already known this would be the outcome and he'd let himself hope because he was a child with a child's delusion.

Just like before.

What sensible part of his mind (or maybe the opposite-maybe the last shred of hope) remained, needed to hear the words first. Needed to know.

The silence between his words stretches out like a chasm. He's terrified of jumping it, knowing full well the darkness that lurks down there. He'd lived in it for a better part of a year. Tyrian was down there in that dark abyss, but Chris was on the other side. He had to make this jump.

"You know that he," he swallows hard again. His mouth feels so dry and he wishes he had the sense to fill a glass before he started this. He can feel his fingers trembling just under the skin. "He died and it," His voice hitches and he has to pull in a breath. He never talked about this. He only mentioned it in so much as that his friends knew he'd lost a lover and blamed himself, but none of them knew the full breadth of that. "It was my fault." His voice shakes and he hates himself for it. "It was my fault, I couldn't protect him and I...I'd hate myself if the same happened to you."

He's made of ice now. It's in his fingers and toes and even his hair and he couldn't move now if his life depended on it.

He didn't know everything about Tyrian, really almost nothing, but he doubted it was Ra'ah's fault. Or, just as likely, not directly his fault. Unless he'd stabbed the man himself, there was little doubt it was just an unfortunate set of circumstances.

And Ra'ah continued and Chris couldn't move or nod or do anything but trust his voice not to waver as he finally spoke, his tone careful for lack of anything else to cling to.

"I can ta'care of myself, Ra'ah. Have done fur years. I get it, though...if ya..."

He took a breath that wavered at the very end and he instantly berated himself, his thoughts tearing him apart for his selfishness. Chris needed to let him off the hook, it wasn't fair to make him carry it all.

"...if ya need to stop...this cause yur not ready or yur not past 'im, I get..get it. Ya owe me nothin' 'twas- I..." Heat finally bloomed in the corners of his eyes, but he refused to acknowledge it or let it fall. "I cannae see you hurtin' so I want ya to do what's best for ya."

The sound of Chris' voice wavering draws his eyes up. His jaw drops a little as he sees the blooming redness there and for a moment Ra'ah doesn't process the words he's saying.

"What?" He blinks. "Chris, what are you saying?" He moves as close as he can while staying on the bed. "I don't need this to stop." He reaches out for him to try and take his hand. "I need this...Not...not for us to be apart, Chris." He swallows hard again and lets out a shaky breath. "Chris, I need you more than anything I've ever known and stopping..." his own voice catches as the very thought shakes him, "Stopping isn't something I can do unless it's what you want." Though it would kill him inside. Dramatic perhaps but it felt true.

The ice encases him, but Ra'ah reaches out and it's like a lifeline that he needs to take or die here. A horribly dramatic thought for a horribly dramatic reaction as he takes another shaky breath to keep that heat in his eyes were it is and cracks the ice around him to grasp at Ra'ah's hand.

He shouldn't have said anything at all, he was wrong about that too, he should have left him finish because now-

now...

The words start to register and his fingers grip tighter, like it was all that was holding his hope together.

He liked to keep his emotions close to his chest, liked to maintain a tight demeanor and not let anyone know what was going on in his head. When it came to Ra'ah, though, it was like it all went out the window. How could one word from this man shatter his world in one second and piece it back together in the next? May Bane save him from this particular pain.

"I don't." It's barely more than a whisper. "Gods, tha's the last thing I want. I- yur not just sayin' that, right? You're not just tellin' me what I wanna hear cause I'm trash at handlin' this as good as I thought?"

He was practically pleading and he could feel the ice slowly shifting as something warm and hopeful and terribly dangerous bloomed in his chest. If Ra'ah was just giving him lip service, Chris didn't think he could survive it...but if he meant it...if he was saying what Chris thought he was saying...gods above please.

"...Say what're it was you were gonna say."

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