A RELUCTANT KING

The contracts bear both our seals. We are bound now, in the eyes of gods and men. — @hisbitten

the strife king grins, hidden behind his mask. he lounges on the bench tucked into the alcove, oxblood eyes regarding his beloved. his furs and pelts keep him warm on this winters night, and he finds the fashion of his people to be even more stunning when adorning his jewel of the coast.

“you speak so solemnly for a wedding vow,” he murmurs, rising to his feet. that they are alone is the only reason he does not immediately reach for the grief maker, the weapon he had bonded with since he'd first reached adulthood. “is that how your golden coast would have you celebrate?”

he grabs demos' hips, pulling him flush against him; one hand moves up to the back of his neck, the other staying at his hip. as he gazes up at him, his attention does catch on the key he'd given him when they were both young, glinting in the firelight from it's place around demos' neck.

owned as ever.

“let me show you how us filthy bloodletters celebrate a well-earned union," he murmurs, his voice a near growl.

#★ | guided by love and purpose (ic)#★ | raging battles and golden blood (royalty)#★ | in the middle of my chaos there was you (kleis)#hisbiter

"It is an official document, a record for the archive. A stop to other plans. It is solemn in its own way, even if we both enjoy it." Demos points out, putting the copy of the wedding certificate back down on his desk as he hears heavy boots behind him. He turns barely in time to not crash into his husband, huffing a little at the speed at which he is being pulled in.

Tan hands rest atop furs outlining the strong chest beneath loosened shirt ties. A sight he admires for a moment before gazing up at him. Listening. A quirk of the lips as the man grows hungry.

If it weren't for protocol and that mask, he doubts the king would ever serve his kingdom. Especially with how intensely those eyes can look at him.

"As I've told you many times before, and you clearly haven't listened to, our celebrations will last an entire week beginning from tomorrow. Though we are married now, the public event will be at noon leading into five feast days." As he says this, a hand lifts from the man before him to the key at his clavicle, toying with it.

As ever, he is one to toy with the impatience of the other. Kleis had his strength, strength enough to rip of his mask and both of their clothes to ravish him. But he wouldn't.

"There will be parties, drinking, arena battles, the works. But tonight? I scheduled this for us. Us alone." With that the other hand at Kleis' chest lifts to touch the chin of his mask, tilting the war king's head where he needed it. Seconds later, the golden key was set in its lock and turned.

For a moment he pauses, golden eyes staring into red, before he leans back and pulls the loosened mask from its owner. Demos stands firm, lips slightly parted as he awaits the intensity to come.

it's both a request and an order. they won't talk any more about this tonight, saving it for the morning. and so kleis falls silent, knowing his injuries will both be less vibrant and more achy and swollen the next day. it's a no-win situation when it comes to comforting his love. he knew this when he left just before dinner, and he knows it now, carrying the weight of that shame.

it had been a good fight, though. a bloody, drawn out one, but he'd won in the end. these are things he wishes to share with demos, wishes to get praised for. all the applause in the world means nothing if his love can't celebrate too. but asking for this, now? far too soon.

he backs out of the embrace and takes demos' hand with his good one, and leads him upstairs. they'll close their night together.

⊹.𐕣.⊹

it's nearly afternoon the next day when kleis wakes up. his body greets him by replaying every jarring collision and point of contact from the night prior, his skin and muscles aching and pulsing in time with his heartbeat. the pain meds wore off, and he needs more. his dominant hand feels like one of a lego person's, stuck in a curved shape from the swelling against the tape. he flexes his hand and clenches his teeth against the ache as he gets up.

his first conscious thought is ow. his second conscious thought is entirely driven by the fear that he's gotten blood on demos' sheets. he stiffly makes his way to a sitting position, moving his legs off the mattress. his bandages held overnight, which is great. the pillow looks to be unscathed, which is also good.

he's not so sure about the impacts that broke skin on his torso, but he'll check that later. for now, he needs relief.

he's just…gonna have a sit, first. right here, on the edge of the bed. with his blood rushing in his ears, he doesn't hear demos at first.

#★ | guided by love and purpose (ic)#★ | dark clouds hover as oil paint dries (modernity)#★ | in the middle of my chaos there was you (kleis)#hisbiter

"Don't get up."

Come the words, soft but firm. Demos puts down his book and slides out of bed beside him instead. Coming around to try and shoo Kleis back into bed.

"There is pain medicine and water on your table, I'll get you some ice, a breakfast sandwich and some coffee. Anything else you'd like, text me. I'll get it before I come back upstairs."

The words almost sounded scripted, and that's because Demos had woken hours earlier and not only brought up the pain supplies for Kleis' waking, but also planned out what he'd do when Kleis finally woke up. He would worry about the dressings later, he just wanted to get energy and relief into and onto the man before anything else. That plan is what had settled him enough to read in the time that Kleis was still asleep.

With that, he grabbed his phone and hurried downstairs to reheat the sausage and scrambled egg sandwich he had prepared for Kleis earlier to reheat, along with the other promised items. In no time, a tray with a coffee, the sandwich and two ice packs wrapped in tea towels was set on his lap. Any other supplies placed at the bedside, before Demos climbed back in beside him.

"How're you feeling?" He asked then, looking the man over and ready to help. Doing things helped him come to terms with this far better, it always had.

@gloamios asked: alecto likes intricate layers of play between these pairs. it's nice, too, to see kal socialize with people who clearly need the kal special - gregarious and verbose without being threatening, at all. and she trusts kleis to keep an eye on kal; he just gives that energy. so she's able to watch kal and kleis out of the corner of her attention span, the two of them walking around the lower level of the kalecto house and out into the garden, kal giving kleis the whole tour. in return, she and demos are up on the balcony, on the second floor, each nursing a drink and mostly using the chance to converse. it's in this context that she finally asks what she'd been meaning to, for a while. "so...how did you two meet, exactly? you've kind of hinted at it with the separation talk but ... that could be anything." (mortal verse!)

Demos too keeps an eye on the two pups out of the corner of his eye, though is mostly looking at Kleis. Looking for signs of stress, anxiety. He didn't yet see relaxation, but they'd not long arrived and Kleis was in a new space — even with an old friend. He clutched his non-alcoholic spritz and took small sips as he got used to the balcony furniture and looked around this decent-sized home. The atmosphere of which definitely suited its occupants.

Then the question comes and Demos nods, realising that it was about time that he did share more about that. He'd shared the gist of the trauma after all, and it seemed there was something more to share about Kal and Alecto's story too. He'd shared their true names, their reunion. It was time to dredge a little, but he felt in a balanced mental space to do so.

"Yes I suppose it could. Uh, well we met in the military. Mandatory service assigned in infantry." In theory he could have found a way to dodge but he was desperate from escape from his family that he went, that and they seemed to enjoy showing that they were 'just like everyone else' through him participating. "We were bunk mates, in fact. Met in initial training and got lucky after that in staying together. Was a lot of sneaking around in showers and trucks and in sheds. Thrilling but not very comfortable."

#★ | guided by love and purpose (ic)#★ | dark clouds hover as oil paint dries (modernity)#gloamios

a deviation, an aberration. terms for an unwanted or not consensual difference settle on his tongue. he's not sure why the words are so strong, but he's in this state of open honesty, and they're too heavy to swallow down. they fall freely from him, into this messy offering to the father.

“i can't be saved. i'm too different." a pause, trying to wrangle his thoughts, but they spill out in half formed sentences, stumbling and wet and newly made, like a newborn deer. “i'm so angry, all the time. the world is so…so fucked up. and i'm jealous, so easily. i covet and i lie and i have addictions … all the little sins that make up humans. but i've … i don't learn. i don't get better. and i … i've tried.”

here, his voice breaks, his tears fall. a sharp pause and then, “…father, i've tried so hard. but i can't stop the need, the way it's so easy to cave. i'm greedy, wrathful, envious, lustful; i try to make up for it with hard work but it's never enough. and i'm scared that … that i've become more in love with my sins than with the savior."

his face crumples, and he bows his head, pressing his face into those gentle hands as he sobs.

#★ | guided by love and purpose (ic)#★ | dark clouds hover as oil paint dries (modernity)#★ | in the middle of my chaos there was you (kleis)#hisbiter

There is calm silence as Kleis collects and spews his thoughts, his worries. Worries, he wonders if Kleis would tell him outside of this moment. Though he has no time now to think on that. In this moment, he is fully present and taking everything in. Trying to see what he already sees in Kleis in a new light, and this scene makes it so. Demos reacts emotionally as if he had heard this for the first time, it's almost overwhelming.

He sees the path to abject despair approaching, and already one hand moves to cup the back of Kleis' head right as the man leans heavily into the other. Already, he was shifting himself to prepare for what he wished to do, accuracy be damned, and he does it smoothly as Kleis begins to sob. As one hand cradles the back of the man's head, Demos' other gently presses to his back, guiding him into a firm hug and keeping him there. Encouraging him to take comfort in this way, not to fight it.

For a while he says nothing, letting his actions bring comfort (he hopes). It's only when he thinks Kleis might be calm enough to listen, and he is very certain on his words, that he does.

"What you love is no sin, my child." He says, tears stinging at his own eyes. "It is natural and it is inherent. God does not make mistakes, does He? You made no choice to love as you do, as other sins are a choice, it is inherent. God chose it to be that way. It is not wrong to follow that."

Highlighted passages and websites and words quoted come to him now, arranging the words of tolerant people into something he hoped fit. Though his heart squeezed as he now was about to add some of his own observations.

"But you were punished, scolded, shunned and that led you to other sins. To stifle the urge, or to deal with the pain of its absence."

He thinks of the Kleis in his fight clubs, and himself staring down a bottle of something or other.

" You are not the only one to struggle that way, many do."

His lips press to the crown of Kleis' head, his own need shining through for a few moments as he prepared to speak what he hoped might work most.

"You are not too different to be saved, and you don't need to be."

He hopes his own words can be enough for Kleis to begin to believe it. Though he has his faults, Demos can't think of a person more deserving of peace and happiness in himself than Kleis. He is perfect as he is.

kleis nods, burying his face in demos' shoulder. he wraps both arms around him, ignoring the twinges of pain. his undamaged hand rubs over his spine, up and down, firm and unyielding. he's not going anywhere.

“yeah, love. promise.” he means it, giving his word to his love easy as breathing. he stays in the embrace for as long as they both can, before he pulls back, not wanting either of them to fall. “upstairs, c'mon; wanna check me over?”

it's a genuine invitation, to let demos see in the bathroom light now what the morning light will ultimately reveal. but he knows it has to be on demos' terms.

#★ | guided by love and purpose (ic)#★ | dark clouds hover as oil paint dries (modernity)#★ | in the middle of my chaos there was you (kleis)#hisbiter

The promise falls easily from Kleis' lips, but that is what makes it so difficult to believe. Now he has seen clear as anything that it is hard for Kleis to pull out of this world he survived in. But he says nothing, he just hopes it holds true.

"No, no I can't. It'd just-" He waves a hand, unable to quite say the words to describe the way he might just go back into panic the more he saw of bruises. His mind has been picturing violence and death for the past few hours, he needs relief from it.

"We can just go to bed...no more tonight." No more arguing, no more pain, no more of that. A deep sigh comes then, an attempt to even himself out without pulling away from things.

his full name is a sharp tug on his leash. he pauses, taking in the tone shift, the gentle hands on his face, the use of his full name. obediently, he leans into the soft touch, and then he hears his love address him as father xenios would, in that role, should he want to take it. his mind grows light, his body heavy, his heart bucking in his chest.

he swallows as obedient stillness falls over him, something far different than how he usually feels when engaging in play. but this whole scenario is different.

he's asked to confess and the script pours out of him in an agonized, soft whisper.

“forgive me father for i have sinned. it has been…two and a half years since my last confession." which is true, though the boundary of the scene still exists for him to a point. he knows, dimly, he's still at home, kneeling on the couch, not in a confessional with an actual priest. but his body responds, his mind responds, and the tears build.

when he looks at him again, daring to open his eyes, it's only a stolen glance before he averts his gaze. but that glance was enough to catch the afternoon sunlight bathing the crown of his head in gold; his own saint, his own savior. he swallows, and speaks.

“i've not found the lasting peace. i've stopped fighting, i don't do that anymore, but i still … i'm fighting every day. i want to be okay. i want to be worthy of christ's sacrifice and his teachings but i can't go to church, not anymore. and i know i'm hurting people around me with this conflict. i know i am. and my apologies mean nothing because … it still happens. i try to live as he would want, father, but … i don't think i am worthy."

though he starts soft, but steady, by the end he's merely whispering. he's so still, so honest, but nearly shaking with the effort to not lean into those gentle hands like they are everything, because they are. tears well but they do not fall, not yet.

#★ | guided by love and purpose (ic)#★ | dark clouds hover as oil paint dries (modernity)#★ | in the middle of my chaos there was you (kleis)#hisbiter

It takes everything in Demos to hold his expression to be neutral as the script of confession, before even the heavy confession had fallen from his lips. Despite all of this time, the script still flowed so smoothly. Engrained into him, or was it that it still haunted him?

And then his dear Kleis talks about being unworthy, about hurting those around him (probably himself). The sheer emotion in those eyes has his own stinging despite his restraint. Gentle hands continue to hold that precious face of the man so special to him, so kind and loving, yet who thinks himself so stained and unworthy. Of what, he doesn't know but can guess.

Oh Kleis.

Taking a moment to think, he lets his eyebrows furrow in concern as both he and the father would.

"Why don't you think yourself worthy? What has you doubting?" He asks, words so gentle yet still firm. Confident, as if he has all the answers and advice ready to give.

For Kleis' sake Demos hopes he has enough.

Kleis will come home to loud music playing, familiar loud music. Following it, he'll see his boyfriend watching the new music video he is in on the big TV. Demos looks up and puts his glasses at the end of his nose and looks him up and down approvingly. "My, my, my I'm getting double vision." — @hisbitten

kleis rolls his eyes, though he smiles fondly. his recent work has been more fun bits while people enjoy the show, and he's excited that he's been able to branch out (a little) from the way he looks. but being in a music video for a song about sexual freedom and shunning religious dogma around sex and sensuality sure is a choice. one his fans are loving and he's sure his parents are hating.

but none of that matters now when he comes home to his love enjoying the fruits of his labor. “you absolute sap,” he says, even as he goes right up to him for his usual get home kiss. “how many times have you watched it? it's only been live for a couple hours."

#★ | guided by love and purpose (ic)#★ | lights camera action (actor au)#★ | in the middle of my chaos there was you (kleis)#hisbiter

The glasses are abandoned on the table as soon as Kleis enters the room, already climbing over the couch to drape his arms around his boyfriend and get his routine kiss.

"How many times? What do you mean...the whole video is a couple hours long." Demos grins, a hand running down Kleis' chest and just enjoying these moments of pride. Pride *and* admiration for how sexy his boyfriend is, and how everyone knows it. This video had been on repeat since it got released, with Demos fielding texts from friends asking if he'd seen it with a photo of it on his big TV.

Another kiss is stolen.

"How do you feel? Ready to start your 'sexiest man of the year' campaign? Sign me up for your first endorsement."

@hisbiter statement: kleis' birthday sits neatly in early april, april 10th, claiming the first of the double digits for itself. square in the midst of aries season and the beginning of warmer weather in much of the northern hemisphere, kleis' birthday marks the hard edge of surviving winter and false springs and all manner of challenges. but, like the man himself, the birthday is haunted. catholic easter haunts the date, sometimes landing prior, other times landing after, or even on the same day, and orthodox easter does not wait much longer. it casts a shadow upon the occasion, no matter where it falls, simply because it is so close. the urge to spend birthdays atoning at midnight mass keeps kleis yearning for forgiveness and atonement. all of that is context for why kleis, in the days leading up to his birthday, is insatiable, clinging to demos with hands and mouth, seeking to earn that forgiveness that his god gives so freely. after pulling back from one such heated entanglement on the couch, kleis barely manages a few breaths before diving back in for more. (modern verse!)

unprompted | Always Accepting

With how close easter and his love's birthday had come this year, Kleis had been more notably clingy and restless and demanding in his needs. It's seasons like this that remind Demos that religious trauma still holds Kleis up in chains, how deeply it can take root and how deeply it can hurt when applied with guilt and shaming. Day by day he becomes more grateful that he was raised without that, lest he think he might not have made it to meet his tortured soul mate in the first place.

Kleis has survived a lot, and yet even now together it old wounds will not let him be happy. Demos wishes so badly that they would leave him, like the ghosts Kleis had helped banish.

Already today, Demos had tried to service him, to tire him and show him that he was loved and safe and everything that usually could calm him. But already he was barely being given a moment to breathe before trying to pull more out of Demos. It was getting to be too much, but he really didn't want to do anything that would make Kleis feel any more guilt than he already did.

That's when the thought arose that he should bring up his intended schedule on something he had been researching quietly in the background. Kleis had talked to him before about bringing father xenios into things as more than just a namesake. Seeing new friends at the club had awoken a need in him, one that was more than just sexual. Demos had been unsure, since he had no religious experience to draw from to be this for him, but had promised to look into it. Perhaps he should have expected that right now would have been the right time to employ it. He'd just let nerves get the better of him, despite all the talks he had had with Erzebet and research he had done when Kleis was at work.

This was important to Kleis and his healing and he didn't want to mess this up, but Kleis needed something more than usual play could give him.

And so with a deep breath, and some recap of his notes and techniques an actor friend of him had told him of, Demos puts on again the slower, more soothing edge to his voice that he employed outside of the private rooms of the club, one of his persona there. This time with the intention to take it further than a voice and a name.

"Kleisthenes," His hands reach to clasp both sides of the man's face and lift him away from his neck, to gaze down at him. The words slow and soft, showing their worry but with less intensity as he would a lover. "My child, please. Still yourself."

He uses such a title that he has seen many times used by a priest to his flock, and he hopes it works here along with his full name, to show there has been a switch. That Demos is ready to give more of what he'd talked about needing.

"You're growing restless, something troubles you." His thumbs so carefully rub over cheekbones. "It is time to confess it."

#★ | guided by love and purpose (ic)#★ | in the middle of my chaos there was you (kleis)#★ | dark clouds hover as oil paint dries (modernity)#nsfw #hisbiter #(demos and I are unsure but so worried for kleis)

endiness

SAM REID Answers Fan Questions

veritasetvino

Fine, yeah. Fine.

planetmagic

#★ | moodboard (aesthetic)#nsfw

zombienecroboy

"does the puppy want a bone?" but I just shove my dick down your throat

rosejuicewonderdrunk

All my friends are tired of knowing what it is I’m going to say before I say it. I am afraid I will love you forever and we will never be in the same room again.”

— Mary Lambert, from “Shame Is an Ocean I Swim Across”.

#nsfw #★ | moodboard (aesthetic)

b-yyearns

hickies and bitemarks on thighs. thats it. thats the post.

a nod, dark eyes looking up to his love. there's a moment of silence, of dreaded heaviness between the two of them. he doesn't want to break it, his usual headbutting strategy through life, but he knows demos won't, and he can't let the imposing silence win. he can't leave demos in this hell that he put him into.

“okay; c'mon, love." he closes the distance between them, and offers a hand to him. his off hand, the arm with more bruises on his forearm from blocking punches. there's some swelling in his knuckles but he's not taped up. it's the best he can offer and he's offering it to demos. he'd offer everything to demos.