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On the way back through the Dvalmar Pass, Julien blacks out and gets thrown out of a tavern they had already purchased rooms in. This is obviously not ideal, so Julien is limited to two drinks per day, and he begins to have those nightmares again. The ones that had begun after Maharlian Falls and have never stopped without enough liquor, or drugs, or something to spin him out until there is nothing left but unconsciousness. Now that he is lush with new horrors, he does not dare to sleep without the absolute assurance that he will not wake until morning.
And yes, he knows it’s stupid, and reckless, and needlessly risky considering their situation. Were he not looking down the blade of a far crueler knife, he would agree with Thaisha when she tells him as much (with a stein of ale in her hand, no less). But he cannot. He blinks away the image of his father’s flayed corpse and lays out the facts for her as politely as he can; if he does not drink, he will not sleep. If he does not sleep, he will be entirely ineffectual in battle. If he is fighting poorly, they are fucked.
She gives him the kind of look one would give a particularly insensible old man and suggests he try and tire himself out in other ways. He suggests she go fuck herself. This time he has the wherewithal to remove himself from the tavern before he begins throwing punches.
It is easy enough to slink into the alley off one side and wheedle some pipeweed out of the scruffy kitchen worker for far too much copper. It makes a shitty joint that he is trying and failing to light with even shittier matches. When the head scrubs off the side of the useless emory board for the ninth time he nearly screams, spiking the pack into the dirt in frustration. Here is the great heir to the Davinos line and protector of the house Royce, unable to strike a fucking match. Stuck watching a damp afternoon fade into an equally damp and miserable evening outside an inn that is little more than a niche in the rock of a mountain. At least his anger is honest, he tells himself, but it is a poor consolation prize.
“Julien?” A familiar nasal voice filters around the side of the building.
Julien lets his head loll back against the bricks and spends his last few seconds of peace trying to summon the energy to be cordial.
“Uh, are you alright?”
“Fantastic,” he says, voice dripping with disdain as he pinches the unlit joint between two fingers, staring at the grimy wall in front of him.
Occtis sighs. Julien hears him approach and lean on the wall beside him, mirroring his posture. Julien does not have the patience to deal with this shit, and he is trying so very hard to be good. “What did they send you out here for?”
“They didn’t send me for anything, I came out here to tell you that Thaisha has calmed down and you can come back in, but I see you’ve clearly got better things to do.”
“Oh, fuck you, Tachonis.”
Occtis says nothing but gives him a smug look he must have stolen from Thaisha, glancing down at Julien’s hand. “Do you need a light?”
Julien grits his teeth. “Yes.”
Occtis squints a little at the joint, muttering something under his breath before closing and opening his fist to reveal a thin yellow flame dancing in the center of his palm.
Julien only hesitates for a moment before lighting up and taking a drag. Gift horses and all that.
Occtis extinguishes the flame by closing his hand again, shaking it off as if it hurts. Julien is tempted to ask, but then what would it matter, the man’s dead anyhow. He has this tendency to just stare, and Julien withstands two minutes of it before glaring at him over his right shoulder.
“Are you just going to stand here?”
“Maybe,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. Julien imagines his head imploding like a melon dropped off a balcony. It does little to help.
“Where’d you get that?” He nods at Julien’s left hand.
“Bummed it off a barback. Why, you want some?” He holds it out to the other man between two fingers, surprised when he actually takes it. He expects the young man to cough and hack after a single drag, but he just inhales deeply, eyes closing as he leans against the brick wall of the building behind them.
“Since when did you smoke?” he asks.
Occtis blows smoke out in a practiced hiss, away from Julien. “Since before I met you. I did have a life, you know.”
Julien finds he can actually believe it. With the blue cast of early evening on his face, he almost looks like a real man. No one he would have talked to in life, certainly—Julien doesn’t typically go for twinks, and even before the massacre he found the Tachonis rather distasteful, but—someone. Julien’s own losses leave him no room to mourn others, but he feels compelled to do so for the man Occtis could have been.
But he’s getting too maudlin. He course-corrects by thinking about fucking Occtis again. Weed has always made him horny anyhow.
Julien leans back against the wall, staring out into the quickly darkening alley before them. “I suppose you don’t strike me as the type.”
“Neither do you. It’s a dirty habit. I’m surprised Aranessa abides.”
Julien laughs humorlessly. “She doesn’t.”
Occtis raises an eyebrow. “You’re that upset with her?”
Julien snatches the joint back out of Occtis’ hand. “I am stressed and forbidden from drinking. I need some sort of vice or I will go mad.” He takes a drag and holds it in, relishing the burn against the back of his throat. “She is also not present, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Have you ever just been sober for a while?” Occtis says like he’s about to launch into a treatise as to why drugs are bad. Julien came out here to escape the sanctimonious bullshit inside, he is not going to take it from some two-bit bone puppet.
“When I fuck,” he lies, making direct eye contact with Occtis and blowing smoke into his face, hoping it will throw him off the topic.
The boy’s undeath has given him a very effective poker face. “You weren’t sober last time.”
Last time was extremely ill-advised. It was also the hardest he had come in ages. He blamed it on that stupid flower (and extreme stress), but the fact that he still thinks about it makes that hard for even him to believe.
Occtis turns to look at the empty alley. “I know that Thaisha got two rooms. She said something about wanting space. I don’t really recall.” His voice sounds too deliberately casual and Julien smiles.
“Interesting,” Julien says, taking another drag.
Occtis scuffs at the ground with his shoe.
“When you were alive,” Julien says, exhaling smoke, “did you prefer tobacco or pipeweed?”
“Tobacco, usually. Why?”
“Has anyone ever mentioned shotgunning to you before?” The answer is obvious in the way Occtis’ eyes flick to the ground. If he could be he would be flushed a lovely pink right now.
“No,” he admits quietly “but I’m not stupid.” Sometimes his age is so very visible.
Julien sighs dramatically and turns to look at Occtis, flicking ash onto the dirt. “Come here.”
He shuffles forward awkwardly, letting Julien take hold of him and position him how he likes.
“Just so you know this kind of high doesn’t affect me anymore,” Occtis says, trying to be casual.
“Pity. Well, I suppose we’ll just have to keep testing that,” Julien says and kisses him, pushing the smoke into Occtis’ mouth. Neither of them seem to care if any is inhaled at all, falling into each other like men starved.
“Mm, the room, come on, Julien.” Occtis tries to pull him back to the mouth of the alley, where they can go back to their rented room like normal people, but Julien wants to get out of his head, badly enough that he’s smoking—badly enough that he’s sneaking around the rest of the party like teenagers to fuck a dead man whose existence ought to make him burn with rage. He needs the thrill or he’s going to snap. He pushes Occtis against the wall to an answering squeak that sounds uncomfortably vulpine. Occtis still groans like a man when he sucks a mark under his ear though, batting faintly at Julien’s head, hissing, “What if Thaisha sees?”
“Oh, what horror,” Julien drawls, grinding himself against Occtis. “She thinks you finally got laid. Then she’ll stop bothering you about it and I’ll stop having to bail you out of your ridiculous lies.”
Occtis looks like he has something to say about that, but then Julien rolls his hips in a way designed to drive all the thoughts from his mind and it works exactly as intended. They continue on this way, Julien using dirty tricks to keep Occtis from saying something moronic, Occtis continuing to make adorable little cut off noises, rocking against Julien’s thigh until he’s hard and panting when he remembers to breathe at all.
Someone passes the alley. They freeze for a moment (Julien mostly because he can’t afford to catch a public indecency charge while they’re all on the run), but the person doesn't even notice, the sound of boots on stone echoing as they clomp off into the early night. The thrill hits Julien in a hard wave of adrenaline as he curls back around the man in his arms. Fuck, he wants more of that.
“Julien what are you—Julien!” Occtis hisses as Julien sinks down to his knees.
“Shh, it’s alright.” He undoes Occtis’ fly. “There’s some crates over there, we’re mostly hidden from sight. You just have to be very quiet.”
“Mostly!” Occtis’ voice goes high the way it does when he’s overwhelmed in battle; he is never going to be able to hear it again without thinking about this. Good.
Julien pulls him out and palms him a bit before placing the tip against his lips. “Like I said, be very quiet.”
Occtis’ eyes roll back into his skull when Julien takes him into his mouth for the first time. He has to cover his own nose and mouth so he doesn’t make any sound. That plan is entirely forgotten when Julien swallows around him and the wizard grabs at his head, a reedy moan filtering past his hand. Julien pulls back again, suckling at the head enough to make Occtis squeak. He knows how he looks like this. How some men think sucking cock is an act of submission he does not know; it’s intoxicatingly powerful to have someone at your mercy like this.
“I’m sorry, I'm sorry,” Occtis whispers, his hands pulling back to lay flat against the wall. The sight hits Julien hard and he groans, licking at Occtis sloppily. “Oh, Julien, fuck. Your mouth.”
He’s heard this hundreds of times before, but the fact that it’s a man he will have to someday kill makes it hit him harder this time. He really needs to get fucked before he crosses some wires.
“What do you think they’d say, if they saw you like this?” he says, kissing down Occtis’ shaft. “Fucked in a dark alley like a common whore.” Julien lets the words drag out of his mouth, the low rumble of his voice sinking into his lover’s skin. He can’t see Occtis’ face as well as he had before, dusk having given way to early night, but he remembers their past encounter well enough to know the expression on his face. The way his eyelashes flutter when Julien degrades him a little before replacing it with praise. He lets that warm him, palms himself through his pants.
“You like it though,” he says. “I can use you any way I like, if I make it good for you.” He bites a mark on the soft of his bloodless thigh, a tease.
“Just about, yeah,” Occtis laughs, his voice tight.
“Slut,” Julien says, taking Occtis back into his mouth. Pot, kettle, but who cares. Occtis just whines, a muscle in his thigh twitches. He isn’t too big, enough to be satisfying if he knows what to do but he isn’t particularly difficult to take. After reducing him to to wordless whines and twitching hips, Julien says, “You want to fuck my mouth, yes?”
Occtis nods.
“Do you think you can get hard twice tonight?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” Occtis says, his eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t even know I could get this far, I mean I haven’t since—you know.”
Julien does know. Julien also needs him to kick this sudden burst of modesty lest the high actually hit here and he fall to the temptation to ravish the boy in a damn alleyway.
Well, if it’s a day for testing hypotheses. He pulls away from Occtis’s body, making sure to meet his eyes when he speaks. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I am going to get up off my knees in this filthy alley, and I am going to go inside and go to the room. You will wait at least ten minutes before joining me. If the ladies are in the tavern, say you’re going up to resolve some sort of argument we just had. If they ask for specifics, just say you really have to go right now. I don’t trust your improvisational abilities. Do you understand?”
Occtis nods. Julien tucks him back in his pants, redoes the button fly, and gets back on his feet, wincing at the way his knees pop.
“When you get up there,” he says, tipping Occtis’s chin up, “I want you to fuck me.”
Occtis visibly jolts, a breathy little sigh slipping out of his mouth. Julien can tell he wants to move, but he stays still and obedient as Julien kisses him, pressing the faint taste of sex into his mouth. He chases after him a little before remembering himself. Good.
“Remember, ten minutes.” He walks back down the alley, pausing when a rush of magic brushes the dirt off his hands and knees. He just shakes his head and continues to the room.
—-
Occtis thinks he’s going to collapse before Julien walks out of sight, his legs are trembling so hard.
He keeps his head and hands pressed hard against the brick wall to keep from touching himself, begging his erection to dissipate enough that he can sneak through the tavern bar without having to put his jacket in front of his pants like a nervous teenager. Which he barely isn’t. Shapers, what is he doing? Not everyone can be Julien Davinos about their problems, and his body apparently has decided to retain this last human indignity.
This likely wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t still taking (incredibly small amounts of) the ligustrum solution. His ideas about it helping improve the appearance of life were correct, much to his delight. Due to their current circumstances, his mind has been entirely focused on the way it affects his most base autonomic functions and not the potential to fuck Julien into next week. But of course now that the man has activated his sex drive he can’t stop thinking about anything else.
Nevermind the fact that he has no idea how to actually go about topping someone. Julien has been relatively nice about his gaps in education until now, but what if this is the final straw? As unlikely as it is logically, the loud hateful part of his brain starts to beat its drum, and by the time ten minutes is up, he’s worked himself into a lather about it.
‘It’s fine,’ he tells himself, Julien knows what he’s getting himself into with this. He knows exactly how much I don’t know, given that he’s taught me most everything I do know.
Even in his mind, he sounds like a loser. He shakes his hands out and goes anyway. Even if he fucks everything up it will at least hopefully prove an amusing anecdote someday.
Occtis nearly sneaks by without notice, Vaelus catches his eye and he shakes his head, mouthing, “You didn’t see me”. She winks fast enough for it to be mistaken for an odd blink and returns to her conversation. For a moment he’s certain that Thaisha will somehow sense his intentions and catch him in a lecture about poor life choices. But that’s stupid; she is gesticulating the way she does when she’s a cup deeper than she ought to be and in the middle of a great story, and Vaelus is a fantastic listener.
He pauses outside the room, overcome with nerves once again. Stalling makes it worse. He holds his breath and turns the doorknob.
Julien is lounging on the bed flipping through one of Occtis’s journals. Any lingering nerves disappear in an instant, replaced with hot rage. What right does he have to just thumb through Occtis’ most precious belongings? He doesn’t go grabbing for that gaudy sword to make a point.
“That’s mine,” he says tightly, closing the door behind him.
“I know,” Julien says. “You’ve got decent skill with illustration. At least when it comes to animals and objects. I’m not entirely sure who this is supposed to be but if anyone actually looks like that, I feel sorry for them.”
Occtis lunges for him and Julien dodges, evading his grasp and trapping his hands before he can finish a single somatic.
“You’ll get it back when you’re good,” he says, squinting at the picture one final time before tossing the book onto the bed.
“Or what, you’ll go show everyone my subpar illustrations?” he says a bit lamely.
Julien just stares at him imperiously and orders Occtis to undress him.
Occtis fixes him with a look. “Are you fucking kidding?”
“Do you want this or not?” Julien sneers, releasing Occtis’s hands.
Occtis’ eye twitches but he gets down on his knees to begin undoing the buckles on Julien’s shoes. This is fucking humiliating, and he is unsure if it is in a fun way or not. The task does calm his racing thoughts as simple things often do.
Julien does absolutely nothing to help Occtis aside from raising his arms to help pull his shirt off his head. Prick. It does give Occtis some time to contemplate Julien’s body though, which is distressingly beautiful. He didn’t have the time to really look at him in their previous encounter, addled as they were. His skin is mottled with bruises, scars both surgical and torn. Evidence surgery does interest him, a keloidal slash several inches above his hip with the small pinprick scars of distressed stitches, so it can’t be terribly old. But there is also something wrong about it, a sloppiness at the edge of what ought to be a thin uniform line. His hand moves around to Julien’s back, palpating gently to find there is a corresponding scar. He was run through. He looks up at Julien, who is already ready with an answer.
“I was stabbed, and it ruptured my appendix.”
“Were you in active combat?”
“No,” Julien says, sarcastically. “I was stabbed in a bubble bath.”
War would explain why he wouldn’t have access to magical healing, but it is surprising that a man of some power was not prioritized. Perhaps it was just that much of a touch-and-go situation.
“Two birds one stone, I suppose,” Occtis says, moving his hand from the scar on Julien’s back down to the waistband of his pants.
Julien snorts. “You have apocalyptically poor bedside manner.”
Occtis gives Julien a flat look, pausing for a moment. “Yes, there’s a reason I’m a necromancer.”
“Oh, so the dead don’t have standards?”
“I’d say both their standards and priorities are rather different,” Occtis says dryly as he removes the final piece of Julien’s clothing, leaving him bare on the bed, entirely unashamed. Julien leans back a bit, preening under Occtis’ gaze.
“Now undress yourself,” Julien commands with a lazy flick of his hand. Occtis scowls at him, but he wants this too badly to take up about it. To Julien’s credit, he is perfectly respectful, which for him means touching himself lazily, watching Occtis’ every movement like a predatory animal. It should not make him harder, but it does.
He struggles with the urge to cover himself as he unbutton his trousers and sheds them and his underclothes in one go. He is softer than he would have been in life, he’s sure, and it’s embarrassing. The entire thing is embarrassing.
“Come,” Julien commands, patting the bed next to him. Occtis goes, and is surprised when Julien tugs him into his lap, grabbing his ass to make him squeak.
“Was that acceptable?” Occtis says trying to sound composed.
Julien considers it for a second, looking Occtis up and down, before deciding, “Yes,” and kissing him deeply.
The heat of his body is like being branded, and he welcomes the pain, his nerves shocking themselves back to life after what feels like years of silence. When he came the last time, with Julien’s softening cock sticky against his inner thigh, it felt like cold fire. He wants to know what it feels like to have Julien inside of him, surrounding him. Every way he can get the man. His voice is a little too breathy for his own liking when he pushes some of his cantrip lube into Julien’s hand, begging him to touch himself.
Julien makes a displeased noise and pulls back. “I am not doing all the work again.”
“I, uh, don’t know how to do this to someone else.”
“Well, you have to learn sometime,” Julien says, clapping him on the shoulder, a tight smile on his lips.
“O-kay.” Occtis clears his throat, hoping it might disguise his voice cracking mid-word. It does not.
Julien sighs, a bit dramatically. “I will help direct you, but you will prove competent or I will leave.”
That is a challenge Occtis can meet. “Understood,” he says with a curt nod. Julien pulls him in for another kiss, guiding his hand down past his balls to his hole.
Occtis rubs against him as Julien instructs, eyes flicking up to his face frequently and then at the last moment thinks better of it and hits him with a quick Prestidigitation. Julien jolts in surprise.
“What the fuck was that, Tachonis?”
“Magic?”
Julien’s face cycles through several expressions before he just shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just get on with it.”
“Sorry,” he mutters, before working a finger inside of him. He has enough experience with himself for this to feel somewhat familiar but dead Gods he really is tight, and so, so warm inside. It’s better than he imagined. He moves slowly, trying to memorize what it feels like as much as gauge his reaction.
“I won’t break,” Julien huffs.
“I’m literally inside of you, why are you being mean?” Occtis asks. Stupid question.
“I said I'd help direct you, didn’t I? Add another finger.”
That seems a bit quick but okay, Julien knows his body. Occtis tries to bully his second finger in before pausing to summon more oil. It goes easier, although Julien still hisses a bit at the stretch.
“You truly don’t know how to do this, do you?” he says with vague annoyance.
“I did tell you,” Occtis says a bit petulantly. “Just… How do I find—”
“If you would listen to me and—the left…”
Occtis finds what he’s looking for and Julien jolts slightly.
“Yes,” he sighs, his brow smoothing out before he winces, clenching around Occtis. “Don’t jam your fingers into it, my God.”
“Sorry, it’s different from this angle.”
“Just think about what you want, try and mirror that.”
He tries, scissoring his fingers a bit and wrapping his other hand around Julien’s cock, stroking loosely.
It’s fascinating to watch Julien actually relax for once. He falls back on one arm, and then back to the bed, sighing. Occtis builds a rhythm with both hands and Julien rolls his hips back a little to meet him. It’s intoxicating.
He’s getting that same flush from last time. Occtis is starting to recognize some tells. He frowns when Occtis loses his spot, mouth falling open with sharp shocky breaths when he has it. This can’t be anything special for Julien, but when everything falls into place for Occtis, it feels like he’s on top of the world. Here is a man who kills people with his speed and agility, undone by the small movements of Occtis’s weak body.
He pauses for a moment so he can readjust before leaning down and sucking a mark into Julien’s inner thigh to match his own. It makes him moan, full throated and deep, and a hand threads through his hair, gripping it loosely like a leash.
“Good boy,” Julien says, and Occtis whines against his skin. He meets Julien’s gaze and his eyes are dark with arousal. Getting fucked looks good on him; his lips are bitten red, and when Occtis curls his fingers inside him he sucks in a little breath. Occtis leans forward, licking at the beads of precome at the head of his cock. Julien closes his eyes when Occtis takes him into his mouth properly.
“Mm. Don’t come like this. I know you like sucking cock a little too much,” Julien purrs, and Occtis grumbles, but only a bit.
He really does like it. He struggles to get hard on his own, but this works literally every time. The feel of a cock sliding along his palate makes it hard for Occtis to keep his eyes open, and he lets himself go a little fuzzy, spit dripping down his chin as Julien fucks his face. It’s one of the few times he doesn’t worry at all if he’s doing something wrong. Julien puts him right where he wants him, and does just what he pleases and all Occtis has to do is take it. And it feels so good. Maybe it’s the final spasmodic memories wired into his brain alarmed that his airway is being cut off, or maybe his oral fixation is just that intense, but he can’t help but moan a little when Julien hits the back of his throat.
“Fuck, Occtis,” he moans, and Occtis wants to hear him say his name like that always.
Julien grunts, “Either I’m going to come in your mouth or on your cock, choose fast.”
Oh, that’s unfair. Occtis hesitates long enough that Julien rolls his eyes and pushes Occtis down. “There, I made the choice for you, happy?
Occtis hums in delight. “Of course you are,” Julien says, just imperiously enough that Occtis twists his fingers cruelly inside of Julien. The knight yips like a startled animal, tightening his thighs around Occtis’ head. It continues like this, a battle of petty jabs as Julien’s moans rise in volume. His grasp on the back of Occtis’ head remains uncompromising, fucking into his throat viciously. He doesn’t give warning when he’s close, instead Occtis can feel it in the way his thighs tense, and pulls back enough to taste it when he spills across his tongue.
Occtis leaves his mouth open, punch drunk and hazy, letting Julien see the mess he’s made of him. He giggles when Julien swears and closes his mouth for him.
“Swallow.”
Occtis does as he’s told. He can deal with the consequences later.
Julien lies there, luxuriating in the aftermath for a while, long enough for Occtis’s head to clear. Occtis casts again to slick his own cock, hisses through his teeth at the first relief he’s gotten in ages.
Julien looks down the bed at him, lazy with pleasure. “Boy.”
Occtis drops his hand looking up at Julien guiltily, and Julien snorts. “You act like I’ll kill you for finding a little pleasure.”
Occtis pointedly does not elect to say what he wants to at that, instead going where Julien beckons him. Julien places one warm hand at the nape of Occtis’ neck, winds the other back in his hair, but doesn’t pull. Just holds him where he is, humming into his mouth. Sometimes Occtis wonders if he’s imagining a tenderness from Julien that never truly existed. Then he touches him like this, and things become far more confusing.
“Do you want to fuck me or not?” Julien asks, a little breathy from kissing. Occtis kisses him again, quick, just because he can.
“Yeah,” he breathes. He didn’t think that was still going to be a thing because Julien had come already, but he’s made it very clear that Occtis is to follow his orders. He lets Julien pull him down atop him, adjusting himself awkwardly on his hands and knees. “I, uh, I just put it in?”
Julien’s expression hovers somewhere between pity and disbelief. “It’s not advanced mathematics,” he says, voice dripping with disdain, “figure it out.”
“Very nice from someone who said they’d be guiding me,” Occtis grumbles, but supposes he does know the basic mechanics. He notches himself against Julien, and bites his lip against any embarrassing noises before pushing in, which is useless as he immediately moans at the sheer heat of his body. It’s better than Occtis could have dreamed, blindingly hot and tight. It takes everything he has not to shove in entirely and stay there forever, and he has to focus his entire mind on keeping his body contained and working properly until he’s fully seated. He’s forgotten how to breathe, collapsing on Julien’s chest. Julien grunts and shushes him, clenching down for a moment as he makes himself comfortable against the mattress. Occtis whines, grinding against him, as if he could get any deeper.
“Shapers,” He trembles, nose pressed into the thick hair between Julien’s pectorals, “It’s so much.”
“I believe you would say that when someone’s fucking you, not the other way around.”
Occtis reaches up blindly to put his hand over Julien’s face and gets his palm licked for his troubles. He wipes it off on Julien’s flank, pushes himself up unsteadily.
“It’s just—” Occtis cuts himself off, eyelids drooping as Julien’s fingers run back through his hair, getting a tight grip at his nape.
Julien rolls his hips against Occtis’. It’s barely a movement at all given that they are pressed nearly flush, but it’s enough to make his fingernails dig into Julien’s skin where he’s holding him.
“Move with me,” Julien says, and Occtis follows automatically, just enough to catch the rhythm. “Good.”
He stretches, moving his hips with a long sigh, letting Occtis fuck into him steadily at a new angle. “Fuck, like that.”
“Oh,” Occtis says, and takes initiative, grabbing Julien’s hips and fucking him properly. Yes, this is easier than he thought it would be.
“There we go,” Julien sighs, looking supremely satisfied, his dark curly hair draped over his pillow like a boudoir painting. This seems to be where he belongs, comfortable and pleasured at someone else’s hands, a high flush rising on his cheeks when Occtis finds a good angle. Occtis would never have been one of those people, the pleasurable type, not the least because it’s remarkably hard work to have sex with someone. Julien is working with him but he is not used to this type of movement, and it remains awkward and jerky despite his undead strength and similar stamina. He digs his fingernails into his palm to center himself. He wants to do well, to show Julien a good time at the very least so he might allow him to do this again.
Julien groans, his head lolling to one side. “You’re lucky that I just smoked,” he says, “I might be able to get hard again. It feels fantastic when someone comes on your cock, I want to see your face.” Julien’s voice has a certain amount of smug amusement in it but Occtis is still overcome with the feeling that he is being terribly selfish. If he can’t get hard again does that mean he’s doing this entirely for Occtis’ benefit, and he doesn’t really know how fast he can bring himself to finish (he’s assuming it will be sooner rather than later, but his body doesn’t like to make sense).
“Are you, uh. You’d tell me if you were tired of this, yes?”
“Occtis.” Julien tugs his chin up to meet his eyes. He looks fucked out, mouth bitten red, flushed down his chest. “You feel good.”
Occtis whines, unable to look away from him.
“Ah, praise,” he says, that awful smug smile breaking over his face. You want to be a good boy for me, yes?”
He’s going to die here, isn’t he? At long last Julien Davinos will have his way and Occtis will meet his second death before anyone gets to come. He clears his throat.
“Yes,” he pants.
“You’re going to do what I tell you?” Julien pets along Occtis’ bottom lip, pushing his thumb between his lips and pulling his mouth open.
“Uh huh,” Occtis says, helplessly.
Julien draws close just to spit in his mouth. This time the humiliation hits just right and Occtis whimpers, moving faster. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the room as Julien hisses a quiet, “Yes, like that.”
Occtis can’t look away from him, the ruddy blush on his face as he chases his own selfish pleasure, the way his cock is making a valiant effort to harden again, twitching against his stomach. Occtis feels stripped of his words, scraped raw. He isn’t even sure he could cast if he needed to right now. A dangerous position to put himself in with a man who has multiple times said he would kill him, but at this point the risk feels addicting.
“Fuck,” Julien gasps, his body snapping tight around Occtis, making him moan louder than he’d meant to. He tries his best to mimic what he thinks caused that reaction to little avail.
“Change the—angle of your hips,” Julien says, and there. The both of them groan, Occtis is almost positive he won’t last another thirty seconds if Julien keeps gripping him this tight.
“Good boy,” Julien says. “Good—ahn, fuck.” He whines, voice breaking as the first real cracks start to form. Occtis burns, tucking his face into Julien’s neck. The grip on his hair turns painful as Julien grows increasingly quiet, yielding only the noises Occtis knocks out of him with each thrust. He’s so close, his teeth ache with it.
“Can I, please,” Occtis pants, and Julien nods, one leg wrapping around Occtis’ backside, pressing their bodies together.
Occtis has never come this hard in his entire life. It feels like he’s dying in reverse, his body restitched with pleasure as he chokes some incoherent noise out into Julien’s mouth, pressing as deep as he can to ride it out.
It’s insane the way this stupid thing can make someone feel and act, this little bit of closeness. He shivers down his entire body, stretching like a lazy cat. For a moment everything is warm, his limbs tingling like he’s just awoken from a very good sleep. Julien squirms and he pulls out gingerly (weird sensation), and curls into his shadow’s arms.
He exists in that twilight space where the body reforms itself after a particularly mindblowing orgasm. His nerves pop and hiss like meat on the fire, but it can’t overshadow how good it is, just to be here. To be held with Julien’s stubble brushing against the tender nape of his neck. He snuggles back into his hold and tries not to think too terribly much. Fails the moment he realizes Julien is still hard.
“Do you, uh. Can you come again?”
“Probably,” Julien says, sounding just a touch sleepy. Another wave of pride sweeps over Occtis.
“Do you want me to help with that?”
“It would be polite,” Julien says.
Occtis rolls over so he can face Julien, who is gazing at him with heavy lidded eyes.
“How?”
Julien kisses him. “Use your imagination.”
Occtis can immediately think of several things that he wants to do to Julien with varying levels of complexity, but settles for fingering him again. Julien hums when he presses back inside and strokes himself loosely, looking lost in a haze. Occtis crooks his fingers in the precise way he had memorized earlier, causing his knight’s voice to break off into a surprised cry.
He catches the edge of Julien’s expression before he schools it into something more put-out. “I hate you,” he says, breathily.
“I hate you too,” Occtis replies, his stomach squirming pleasantly.
Julien growls, tugging cruelly at Occtis’s hair. Occtis bites down on the skin in front of him. He hopes it leaves a mark. “I want to see you come this time,” he says, “Your face, I mean. For research purposes.” He can almost hear Julien rolling his eyes.
Not a very smart thing, being actively judgemental to a man so close to your prostate. Occtis twists his fingers again, wringing a strangled cry out of the man under him. Julien is desperate, fucking himself on Occtis’ hand, entirely unconcerned with how he looks (wrecked) or sounds (wonderful). Something catches on a dirty voyeuristic part of himself that he’s tried to deny for ages. He wonders if Julien always looks like this, so open and needy when properly fucked. Maybe if he could figure out how to get him like this all the time, he could crack him open to see all the parts of him that lie furled in tight corners.
Just when he thinks Julien has reached the edge again, a muscle in his forearm seizes up and Occtis has to pause. Julien grabs him by the scruff of the neck and drags him close.
“Keep fucking me or so help me I will hold you down and jerk off on your face,” he snarls.
Occtis whimpers. If he was going to be able to get hard a second time that would have certainly done it. Alas. He pushes past the discomfort and Julien’s hands pull tight in Occtis’ hair as he tenses and breaks with a deep groan. His body flutters around Occtis’ fingers as he strokes himself through it, and Occtis really hates that he can’t get hard again because he needs to feel that on his dick as soon as humanly possible.
Fuck,” Julien sighs, wiping a hand down his face. “I need to smoke more often.”
Occtis nods aggressively and Julien laughs, patting the back of his head like a dog. He’s always strangely kind in the aftermath, letting Occtis cling to him, petting down his back and shoulders with long passes of his hand. It feels natural then that his hand moves lower, kneading and grabbing at his ass (what little there is to grab), spreading his legs just a little. Julien treats his things nicely, so Occtis isn’t afraid, not even when Julien rubs at his hole, teasing him for a few long delicious moments before moving on.
He spreads Occtis out and just looks, hands palpating different parts of his body, trying to find something. Occtis assumes he’s trying to mark the places that would lead to an efficient, swift death. He stretches out his neck, mottled with imprints of Julien’s teeth, and closes his eyes. He could kill Occtis now with no resistance, and Occtis knows it’s stupid. But it feels right. Something this good is going to have an equal and opposite reaction and Occtis would really rather get it over with. And yet.
Julien appears to find whatever he was looking for and leaves Occtis lying half crumpled in bed as he busies himself with the rest of his nightly routine, mostly consisting of tying his hair back, washing his face, and going the fuck to sleep.
This sort of intimacy should hurt, people don’t just do this without a reason; especially not Julien, and Occtis doesn’t fool himself into thinking he’s that good of a lay. But every time Julien keeps deferring the pain. He’s afraid that when it does come, it might shatter him.
He prestidigitates the sticky wetness away from his oversensitive body, and tucks himself as close to Julien as he dares when the other man slides back into bed. There is only a token grumble of discontent before Julien moves his arm so Occtis might pillow his head on his shoulder. If he is lucky, Julien will sleep for at least six hours tonight, which means four hours of free time for Occtis. He ought to be continuing his work but he is warm like this in a way that actually means something to him. Even as his nerves fall away again, lapsing into dormancy as any lingering arousal leaves his body, he finds it easier to fall into that sweet in-between space Vaelus had helped him find and doze there as peacefully as he can manage.
Neither of them mention that it’s always more peaceful with the other by their side. That might just be a bridge too far.