Summary: In which Silvairre asks Samilen out on a date for the very appropriate holiday, and we learn they look very good in dapper suits.
Note: This was written as a Valentine’s day gift for me, and I couldn’t be ever more grateful for it ;w; nothing quite hits me in the feels like that Soft Samivairre Content(tm)
-
Samilen grabbed Silvairre’s hand and pulled him to the edge of the crowd near the Ampitheater, various couples and friends just eager for chocolate spilling out in a massive line. Silvairre allowed himself to be pulled along, not even grumbling, how could he when Samilen’s face lit up just looking at all the decorations.
He gave the Carpenter’s hand a gentle squeeze and was a bit amused that Samilen jumped and bushed out his tail like he’d forgotten he’d dragged Silvairre with him. Maybe he’d thought Silvairre would let go and just let him run ahead?
“Do you want to go?” Silvairre asked with a small nod to the line. Samilen stared at him, face blank.
“With me.”
No response.
“Samilen?”
SIlvairre was beginning to get worried, his boyfriend was just staring at him, “Samilen?”
Finally, Samilen pulled his hand from SIlvairre’s to sign quickly, “you want to go? With me?”
Silvairre smiled and shook his head, “yes, Samilen.” The beam and joyful wiggle of his boyfriend’s ears- which he did not think was cute- his hand almost rising to his mouth at the mere thought of denying he thought it was cute and he could hear Leih scolding him in the back of his mind. Ah, why not?
“You’re adorable.”
Now Samilen’s ears flashed back to against his head and he shook it quickly, looking away in embarrassment.
“I mean it Samilen,” Silvairre held up both hands to prove neither was in front of his mouth, “you’re cute.”
Samilen still looked embarrassed as he asked, “what’s gotten into you?” His head tilted quizzically.
It was Silvairre’s turn to fluster, he couldn’t pin his ears back but kind of wished he could, “I- it is the season for such things isn’t it? And you seemed so excited to go, if you don’t want to-”
Samilen huffed and caught his arm gently, tugging on his sleeve the way he did when Silvairre started to look away from him, “I do, I do!” His tail swished happily behind him.
Silvairre smiled down at him and ducked his head to place a quick kiss against Samilen’s lips, the way his eyes fluttered as Silvairre pulled back, he was always so soft it drove him wild.
“Why don’t you meet me here tonight,” he offered quietly, “Luciane and Beatin are hardly going to come between us and that gives us time to get cleaned up, and perhaps we could get dinner?”
Samilen’s eyes drifted to the crowd and then back to SIlvairre and nodded eagerly, his ears wiggled excitedly, and he gently pulled Silvairre back down to press a kiss to his lips again. Gently he butted his forehead into Silvairre’s with a rusty purr, Silvairre gently stroked the hair on the back of Samilen’s neck, Samilen blinked slowly at him before he pulled away.
“Meet me at sunset?” Samilen signed so confidently but his eyes stayed on Silvairre’s face as though one day he might see something other than the devotion that filled Silvairre’s chest every time Samilen asked something of him.
“I’ll be here.”
-
“You look worried, Silvairre.”
Leih peered up at him as he leaned against the wall in his usual spot. His hand drifted upwards to brush against his lips.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Luciane gave him a look from where she stood, Leih smothered a laugh, her teeth peeking out in her mirth as Silvairre turned to stare at the wall across the room, far over Leih’s head.
“Are you worried about a date tonight?”
“Why would I-“
“Silvairre,” Luciane cut in, “if you are going to lie this much, please learn to do it well. Leih, if he doesn’t wish to talk about it then he must come to see the truth himself.”
Silvairre shot a dirty look at Leih who grinned at him with ears and tail wiggling.
After a moment he went down the stairs, with all the grace he could muster, to approach Leih.
“I might simply be concerned that I have nothing appropriate to wear,” he tried to ignore Leih’s growing smirk, “and attempting to figure out how to address that issue.”
Leih turned to Luciane, “can we go early? Silvairre needs my help with something!”
“Leih!” He knew this was a mistake.
“Have fun you two,” the guildmaster’s voice was warm, “and Silvairre, be grateful. Leih has offered to take your duties tomorrow should you wish to take the day off.”
Silvairre’s head turned to Leih who simply blinked up at him, “what else is family for?” She grabbed him and pulled, “now come on, let’s go make you look good!”
-
Silvairre’s worries had been for naught, between himself and Leih they’d dug through his closet to find some old clothes he hadn’t worn in years but had, by some miracle of the twelve, remained in good condition.
Slightly nicer than his usual outfit, and more relaxed, the last touch had been a clasp around his neck, one that was a striking silvery gray, Leih insisted it brought out his eyes.
Samilen was waiting outside the theater, eyes lighting up when he saw Silvairre and definitely roaming over him in a way that made Silvairre yearn to drag his lover into one of the private corners of Gridania and tell him exactly how and where to put his hands. The fact that Samilen likely wouldn’t be opposed didn’t help.
Neither did the white suit Samilen wore, the same soft shade of white as his hair, Silvairre wet his lips with his tongue, unable to take his eyes off Samilen.
“You look stunning,” Silvairre breathed, Samilen’s ears twitched and he looked away, his ears and tails wiggled and Silvairre offered his hand to him.
“Now then, did we want to get dinner first or get in line and hope we beat the crowd?”
Samilen took his hand with a warm smile and pulled him to the line leading out of the Amphitheater, Silvairre followed after, twinning his fingers with Samilen’s as he followed.
Your words earn only a blink from confused golden eyes, staring at the subject of your surprise, which curls up contentedly in your arms.
The Keeper looks at the cat for a few moments longer before he slowly signs, 'But I'm Sami.'
"No no, you're Samilen-" you gesture towards the Miqo'te as best as you can with your arms being occupied. "-and this little one is Sami!"
The cat barely stairs in your arms, merely turning his round little head towards the man he earned his name from. Little green eyes meet with gold, leaving Samilen (the large one) with no shortage of visible confusion.
"I found him!" you finally say, as if that would at all help through the awkwardness of the introduction. "He was lost and lonely out in the twelveswoods-- I couldn't leave him all alone."
'But you named him after me?'
Samilen eyes you warily, finally emphasizing his nonverbal words by pressing his hands to his hips, mouth pursed and ears twitching. The smaller Samilen--the one in your arms--lets out a little noise.
You console the cat for a moment, brushing a hand over the top of his head before looking back at Samilen.
"Doesn't he look like you? Grey and white, really cute? I figured the name was perfect for him."
Though it takes a breath before the keeper is able to parse through the non-hidden compliment in the words, he still makes the motion to cross his arms firmly, cheeks dark but expression no less serious than otherwise.
The cat makes another noise before wiggling out of your arms. When it falls to your feet, the small Sami quickly steps over to the larger of the name, rubbing both face and body against the side of Samilen's leg. It does this for a little while before you see the weak damn of denial break within the keeper's chest.
He sighs, arms falling enough so that he can sign a few words of defeat.
'Can't we name him anything else? Like Patches?'
"Of course we can't! He already has a name and it's hardly right to change it."
Though you see Samilen roll his eyes at the logic, it doesn't stop a gentle smile from creeping over his lips. He kneels down and eventually reaches out to pet the cat, which starts to purr loud enough that even you can hear it.
Summary: For all the awkwardness in their past history, the conversation between Samilen and Silvairre was surprisingly pleasant.
And if Samilen’s eyes just so happened to linger on the archer’s lips, imagining what it would be like to kiss that smug look from soft lips, to feel those callous fingers over sensitive skin--well, that’s Samilen’s own business.
Business he’ll take care of. Out in the woods. By himself. Later. While no one was looking.
Note: Get yourself a friend who will write indulgent fic for your birthday of your catboy oc and his asshole not-quite-boyfriend, and subsequently realize that you yourself have not written anything for them despite that not-quite-boyfriend being one of the biggest ships with said catboy oc.
Regardless of my personal failure for Samilen’s lovelife, thank you for the beautiful fic @runningwolf62! <3
-
"Luciane sent me to speak to you about an order our guild placed."
The voice makes Samilen look up and the face makes his hands still on the wood he was working. It's been five years since he last saw Silvairre. Five years have changed them, stripped them both of their Twin Adders uniforms, (Samilen first and he could never go back, the mere thought almost puts a tremble in his hands; and then everyone in Gridania knew Silvairre's shame. Well maybe not everyone but that had been the hot gossip for a bit.)
"Of course," Beatin says without hesitation and a calmness Samilen wishes he possessed because right now he doubts he could finger spell a letter nevermind a sentence. Of course, then Beatin has an advantage on him. It isn’t his ex-crush that just walked in and smacked him across the face with the fact that he is very much not an ex-crush. That, or he has actually gotten hotter since Samilen last saw him. Either way, his heart slams against his chest like a rhythmless drummer and his mouth feels dry as sandpaper.
Beatin glances over at him and seemed to realize his apprentice was in the middle of a crisis. And he does what any loving and responsible guild master would. "Samilen, you too, you'll likely be helping with this order."
So, the next time when Silvairre came again and Beatin was nowhere to be found, leaving Samilen to deal with him he knew the guildmaster had done it on purpose. He idly thinks about how best to word his threat to take a hacksaw to Beatin’s prized lumber as he dusts the sawdust off his hands and rises to greet Silvairre.
“Hello,” he signs to Silvairre, the archer paused a moment before he asks.
“Do you prefer to speak in handspeak?” His slate gray eyes reveal nothing as he watches Samilen. Like Samilen he would’ve learned the basics from the Twin Adders, enough to pass messages between units when stealth and distance were factors but Samilen was unsure how well used those skills were and if he’d furthered them to the level he would need.
He shakes his head and adds, “I only sign but you can speak or sign as you wish.”
Silvairre nods once slowly, “in that case Luciane sent me to inquire about the order, we have seen several new recruits in recent days,” his distaste leaks into his voice, but he continues easily, “so we need to increase the order.”
Samilen nods and asks a few questions, such as how many recruits, what race, how tall, how experienced (he needs to know to know what lumber he can use).
He and Silvairre talk business for nearly a bell, Silvairre’s not even trying to haggle, (Luciane and Beatin have an understanding and Silvairre and Samilen are not about to disturb such an arrangement) but there’s just so much to know.
He does know that once he finishes his work for today he’ll have to go gather more lumber, Beatin will allow it, Samilen is well trained to gather lumber without angering the elementals. Slowly he and Silvairre begin to shift to small talk, discussing their respective guilds, neither addresses the history between them but make simple small talk, how the guilds are growing, it’s a bit startling how easily he and Silvairre talk around the Morbal in the room.
And if Samilen’s eyes linger on Silvairre’s hands and arms, on his face, imagining what it would be like to kiss that stupid smug look off his face, to feel those callous fingers over his skin – wrapped around his tail as Silvairre moaned his name – well that’s Samilen’s business. Business he’ll take care of. Out in the woods. By himself. Later. While no one was looking.
-
After some time alone to handle his wood and also gather some lumber Samilen has a much clearer head. He cleans his hands and begins the trek to carry all the wood he’d gathered back to Gridania, moving at an easy and comfortable pace as he takes trails he knows and remembers as though he wore them himself.
He knows all the paths that would lead him through the forests and avoid the predators and Ixal. The paths that the prey followed and the ones they avoided now.
He isn’t the only one that knew these paths though, and his ears flick as something rustles. He sets his pack down and rests his hands on his familiar ax before they drift to his bow.
SIlvairre comes around a tree with a frown, the man lowers his own bow and looks Samilen over, “what are you doing out here?”
Samilen raises his hands, “gathering lumber.” His ears twitch against his head and he watches Silvairre curiously, “you?”
Silvairre pauses, his jaw work absently a moment, “I was on patrol, as all the archer’s guild is expected to do of course. I did not realize you were out here. Is the Carpender’s guild that low on wood?”
Samilen gives him a playful grin, “almost as if someone recently ordered a large shipment of bows.”
“Ah.” Silvairre grimaces, “I see.” He watches Samilen a moment longer before asking, “do you require help carrying those back?”
Samilen’s ears twitch happily but he shakes his head, “I can take care of this.” Reaching down he grabs the bundles of lumber and easily lifts them, smirking at Silvairre’s stunned look. He can’t say anything though, with his hands full he’s unable to sign. So, he simply nods to the man and moves past him to continue heading back.
“S-send word when the order is complete!” SIlvairre calls after him, Samilen glances over his shoulder and gives a smile and quick nod. The light through the leaves dapples over Silvairre, Samilen thought he saw a faint blush over his face but from this distance couldn’t be sure.
Samilen would just be grateful Silvairre hadn’t heard what he’d been up to before he started gathering lumber.
-
Unfortunately, Beatin and Samilen had apparently not made clear enough that this order was important and that Samilen’s lumber supply was not to be touched. Samilen storms off to go more lumber leaving Beatin to grumble about having to take a saw to apprentices. He’d made a decent amount of progress thankfully that even with his lumber supply being raided by other desperate carpenters – high quality elm! High quality! And they just snagged it for a TABLE – he wouldn’t be set too far back having to run to gather lumber.
Samilen’s mind was fully focused on gathering lumber as quickly as possible, with the occasional stray thought as to what revenge he could demand for his lumber supply being raided admittedly, that he was finished before he expected. He set his hatchet down and slowly sank down to sit and catch his breath, drink some water, enjoy the forest, try not to plot murder of his fellow carpenters.
It wasn’t long though before his peaceful moment was ruined by the sound of voices. Samilen’s ears prick up when he recognized the voice speaking.
“I am simply curious if he is around, I would rather not get hit with a hatchet.”
“Ha! Silvairre you have got to learn to lie better.”
“When you learn to fix your form.”
“Why you-“ the sounds of bickering were startling birds away but Samilen knew the pair all too well, a faint smile crossing his lips as he watched Leih and Silvairre move into view. He was hidden from sight by the undergrowth and the fact they’d turned their attention on each other rather than their surroundings.
“I don’t get why this is such a big deal Silvairre!” Leih threw her hands up in the air, her tail lashing behind her as she looked up at him, “just ask him to dinner or to get a drink and get it over with!”
Silvairre’s hand rises to his mouth - a shame, he has such nice lips Samilen muses - “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
Leih sighed and her ears and tail dropped, “Silvairre. For the sake of the guild, I’m asking you to fuck that carpenter before you explode.”
“Leih!” SIlvairre sounded scandalized, Leih barged ahead before he could begin to scold her, “there are at least three betting pools SIlvairre! Luciane asked me if I knew anything, me! She’s worried about you, moonstruck as you are. Or whatever you are. Like I said, just ask him for dinner or a fun night, whichever you want, so we can all stop thinking about your love life.”
Surely… did Leih mean him? Samilen leans forward now, eager to see the outcome of this disagreement.
“We are simply- There is a history there one does not simply- I’ve barely spoken to the man!” Silvairre is definitely flustered, “And you have no right to talk to a senior member of the guild-“
“Drop it Silvairre I’m talking to you as a friend,” Leih’s arms fold over her chest, softening as she looked up at him, “you might be a right pain in the tail but you’re a good archer and a good mentor, when you let yourself be.” Samilen smiles to himself, he remembers the arrogant archer he knew in the Twin Adders well, it’s good to see that the rumors that Silvairre had begun to lighten up recently have truth to them.
Not that he hadn’t seen that from the way the man treated him, but this was almost adorable, like watching your crush get teased by a younger sibling.
Silvairre folds his own arms and jerks his head away, “and how am I supposed to ask him to dinner when everyone knows Samilen hates crowds? Where am I supposed to take him?” Samilen’s chest tightens, not only was he very much the carpenter ins question, Silvairre had been thinking of his comfort. Gods, what he’d do to this man if he would only ask.
“Your barracks?” Leih’s smile is devilish before she grows more serious, “poor excuse Silvairre, you’re not seeing clearly because you don’t want to. You could ask him to a picnic in the woods, it’s not like you don’t know all the best places to hide out here, and we’d give you privacy, I’d make sure of that if nothing else.” She taps her chest and then pats her quiver, “believe me, I’d make sure no one got any ideas about spying.”
Silvairre’s definitely a bit pink now but he shakes his head fondly, “I thank you for the offer Leih, I do, but how do I even know if he likes me in return?”
“If he didn’t, we wouldn’t have a betting pool going with some of the carpenter’s guild.” Leih grins and Silvairre’s jaw fell open.
“Well it’s not as though I knew about that!” he defends himself as Leih laughs, her ears and tail wiggling, Samilen’s are as well, shaking with a silently laughter.
Leih gives him a light shove, “why don’t you go look for him, I’m feeling a bit hungry, might go hunt some squirrels.”
“Leih…”
“I’ll meet you at the archer’s guild Silvairre, I’ll be fine, the coeurlclaws never come this way.” Leih huffs, “we have more to worry about from random poachers than any groups. I’ll be fine, and if he’s not around just come find me, I’ll be over by the Lethe, shouldn’t be hard for a master archer like yourself to find me!” She winks before bounding away, leaving Silvairre standing there flummoxed.
Samilen slips out of the undergrowth, Silvairre whirls, aggression melting away to be replaced with embarrassment as he recognizes, “Samilen.”
He offers a small wave.
“How much did you hear?”
Samilen hesitates, considering how to word his response but that’s enough of a pause for Silvairre to groan, reaching up to rub at his eyes.
“Wonderful, wonderful, when I get my hands on Leih,” Silvairre starts to turn away, Samilen lunges forward to grab his arm, make him stop.
Silvairre halts but does not look at him, “I do not need your pity, Samilen.”
Samilen frowns, his tail lashes behind him. The silence stretches before Silvairre finally seems to realize that he needs to be looking at Samilen in order for him to speak.
“It is not pity,” Samilen signs quickly, he knows he looks hurt, and Silvairre grimaces slightly. He trusts guilt if nothing else to keep him here. He wants to flee himself on some level, to go back to his plants, to his carpentry and pretend he heard nothing. That there is nothing to have heard in the first place. Just a silly crush left over from a life lived years ago. But they are here. Standing in the woods, waiting to see if one of them chickened out.
Silvairre seems unsure how to continue, Samilen tugs absently on his hair, trying to get his thoughts in order. He knows it is most certainly not pity that draws him to Silvairre and is grateful that similarly it is not pity that drives Silvairre to him, the mute carpenter with a past so painful to talk about he has lost all his words.
He knows that what he wants is a fantasy he’s long had, to press his lips against Silvairre’s and drag him into the woods, push him against a tree, find all the spots that made the archer come undone, the mere thought makes his dick twitch in excitement.
He tugs on Silvairre’s shirt, to pull him down to his level, the words aren’t coming to his fingers in any way he can make into something sensible. Silvairre bends slightly, and Samilen about knocks his archer’s cap off when he catches his face to kiss him.
Silvairre tenses before melting into it, his fingers run softly through Samilen’s hair, lightly tugging it in just the way Samilen likes, the way that soothes him and focuses him, helping him focus on the man kissing him, Samilen guides him back, deeper into the woods.
Fingers slip under clothing, Samilen shoves Silvairre up against a large oak tree, there’s no one around but them but the thought that someone might find them excites Samilen and he nips lightly at Silvairre’s lips. His ears flick against Silvairre’s hands, he can feel the archer’s pulse thrum under his palm as he slides his hands over the exposed skin, they can find what bush his shirt ended up in later; right now Samilen needs him, needs to be in SIlvairre.
Silvairre seems more than ready to go with that, only breaking from kissing Samilen to ask, “do you… do you have…”
Samilen flashes a coy smile to retrieve the bottle from his things, Silvairre raises an eyebrow at that, a bit of his haughtiness returning.
“I won’t ask why you bring that with you into the woods when I’m grateful you have it.”
Samilen considers answering honestly, telling Silvairre how he’s pleasured him to the thought of what he’s about to do to the archer but he has more important things for his hands to be doing right now.
“Let… let me.” Silvairre offers his hand for the now uncorked vial before Samilen can pour it over his fingers, “you need your hands free.”
Samilen beams at him as he hands it over, ears and tail wiggling with happiness and excitement, Silvairre flusters at his obviously touched expression.
“It’s what anyone should do for you,” Silvairre rolls his eyes, managing to look remarkably composed for a man about to finger fuck himself open against an oak tree, “honestly, don’t settle for anything less, or they’re not good enough for you.”
“Should I settle for you then?” Samilen asks with a smile, his partner huffs as though offended.
“I don’t think anyone is settling for me,” Silvairre replies, his free hand brushes against his lips before slipping his fingers inside himself with a low groan. He looks down at Samilen through half-lidded eyes, his long lashes fluttering against his cheek with each curl of his fingers.
Samilen’s cock twitches eagerly, he watches Silvairre as a man transfixed. Each muffled gasp sends spikes of desire through him. But it is the soft sigh as Silvairre slips his fingers out of himself that all but ruins Samilen.
“Come here Samilen,” Silvairre orders and Samilen is powerless to resist. Silvairre wraps his fingers around Samilen’s length, stroking him quickly to slick him up, Samilen clings to his arms to steady himself, breathing in the faint scent of sweat from Silvairre. He peers up at him, to find the haughty mask Silvairre wears has softened.
“Everything alright?” he asks, studying Samilen’s face with a piercing gaze, eyes of a hawk, a true archer. Samilen nods and Silvairre’s mouth twitches just slightly.
“Good,” he pulls Samilen flush against him, “tap my arm twice if it’s too much for you.”
Samilen grins at him but nods, with an excited wiggle of his tail he slips into Silvairre, the archer’s eyes roll back and he breaths Samilen’s name like a prayer.
Samilen waits a moment before gently poking Silvairre’s chest to get his attention again and raises his hands, “you too. Tell me if it’s too much.”
Silvairre huffs but nods, “alright.”
Satisfied, Samilen pushes him against the tree, his partner grunts in surprise as Samilen begins to thrust into him, eager to please him, to watch Silvairre spill over, to hear his name said like that again, he wants to feel Silvairre orgasm around him, to watch his face go slack with pleasure. When Samilen was done with him they might have to change Silvairre's title to something akin to ‘Silvairre the mostly Virtuous’.
Silvairre does not disappoint, gasping Samilen’s name was an eager desperation, but he’s quick and clever too. So observant, Samilen loves that about him, almost cumming early when Silvairre tugs on his hair to pull him back so he can kiss him. Silvairre, pinned between him and the tree, is warm and pliant and pants into his mouth between kisses, so warm around Samilen that he could cum from that alone. He nuzzles his face into Silvairre’s neck, he considers nipping a mark there before deciding against him, he doubts the elezen will forgive him for ruining his reputation in the Guild.
But he wants to mark him, to leave a trace of this encounter between them somewhere. So, he bites down on his shoulder, Silvairre throws his head back with a shout of Samilen’s name, tightening around him, so warm, so perfect, but not climaxing, not just yet. Samilen drags his tongue over the bruise and purrs with pride.
Silvairre, not to be outdone, slides his hand down Samilen’s back and gives an experimental tug on his tail.
Samilen presses against him and moans, fingers digging into Silvairre’s hip and giving a particularly deep thrust. It’s slightly painful but he loves it, better than he imagined-
“Gods Samilen,” Silvairre moves with him, “gods, fuck, just like that, don’t stop,” the archer has never looked so flushed or sounded so flustered, and Samilen feels a twinge of pride that he can do this to him. He rocks his hips upwards, pulling another gasp of his name out of Silvairre.
The elezen pulls his tail again, and Samilen nips him for it, he wants to focus on Silvairre and if he keeps that up Samilen will come too soon. He takes a deep breath, unable to look Silvairre in the eye and softly, against his skin, he rasps the first words he’s spoken in some time.
“Cum for me Silvairre.” His voice cracks from disuse, he barely recognizes his own voice, he hears Silvairre’s breathing hitch before he cums over their stomachs, he clings to Samilen, seeming to anchor himself to the miqo’te not the tree.
“Samilen?” his name is a question, and Samilen’s only answer is a groan as he cums, filling Silvairre.
For several moments they stand there, panting against each other, the light breeze welcome against Samilen’s flushed skin. He finds his focus again as Silvairre’s fingers card slowly through his hair, with just enough pull, the way he likes it.
Samilen pulls out, Silvairre doesn’t even twitch, simply continuing to pet him, eyes trained on Samilen like a hawk. He seems to find what he’s looking for though, as he nods.
“Perhaps we could do this again sometime,” he pushes himself off the tree with an easy flex of his shoulder muscles, gods Samilen could admire those all day, “somewhere where I won’t get splinters in my back?”
Samilen grins and his ears twitch, once more he signs, “what do you have in mind?”
Silvairre catches his jaw to press a kiss to his cheek, “you tell me when you’d like a drink, consider it a standing offer. Dinner and a repeat performance.”
Now that was something Samilen could agree to and he nods eagerly. Silvairre smiles, an actual genuine smile that makes Samilen’s chest warm, before he looks around.
“Now where in the twelve’s name did you throw my shirt?”
send ♥ for a drabble of my muse’s thoughts as they wake up beside yours
When Samilen’s eyes open, he expects to see light filtering in from the window. He expect to feel heavy with the aether coursing through his veins and seeping deep into his soul. He expects the sensation of dread and misery to immediately wash over his thoughts, as his mind but distantly recalls how close he had come to a fate worse than death itself.
He expects it. He prepares himself for it.
But when Samilen opens his eyes, lets himself blink the sleep from his eyes, the keeper finds himself embraced by something far different than the morbid understanding of his failure as the Warrior of Darkness. Instead, he opens his eyes to find a man sleeping soundly beside him. The Exarch.
G’raha Tia.
The realization snatches the breath right from Samilen’s lungs, rolling back into his mind with the events of the last 24 hours. The light. The Exarch. Hades.
He remembers it all so clearly, and yet remembers coming back to the Crystarium with the promise of nightfall once more, of normalcy returning to the First for once in over 100 years. He remembers feeling so scared, so tired, body aching but he without a single care in the world to give it more than a passing thought.
He must have fallen asleep at some point, or simply passed out from the strain. Given that, after a glance around the room, Samilen realizes that he was within the walls of the Ocular, he assumes that it was the doing of the man beside him who had taken him into the warm, gentle embrace of both his bed and arms somewhere in Samilen’s slumber.
There are still half-healed wounds laying upon G’raha’s face, and Samilen too can feel the deep ache in his bones from all that’s happened, but none of that really matters--Samilen feels safe. He feels secure. For the first time in a long in a long time, he isn’t afraid to close his eyes again, shift closer to G’raha’s body, and allow himself the luxury to fall back asleep without so much as a thought to anyone or anything else in the world besides the two of them.
Summary: Samilen Jawantal, the Warrior of Light, has recently taken on the duty of learning the dying art of red magic. Between the wonderful teaching of X'rhun Tia and the passing on of his Soul Stone, Samilen has learned a lot even in a short period of time, but there's something wrong. The Soul Stone is passing on more than mere techniques and knowledge--emotions, memories, all of them intertwined as one, bringing Samilen closer and closer to the man who had entrusted him with it.
Samilen finally seeks out X'rhun for help in combating these feelings, but what will happen to the Warrior of Light when he is caught in a balancing act of not red magic, but love and lust?
Note: This is an ongoing adaptation/formatted version of an RP I have been writing with my fiance (@blood--hunter) putting together my Keeper Miqo'te WOL (@samilenjawantal) and X'rhun Tia, the red mage teacher. Let me know if you spot any formatting errors!
X'rhun does not like aetherytes. They give him a sense of vertigo and make his stomach do flips. But he had been in a rush and the rush had taken him all the way to Gridania. Samilen had given him a call, just an hour before. The poor boy. Had something happened? His voice had been tense, sad and X'rhun begins to consider if Samilen was simply unused to be relaxed, taking it easy, if only for a day. Gridania is a beautiful city, but he has not been here in years. He looks around, trying to find the grey skin and white hair that marked Samilen's presence.
All things considered, Samilen is grateful that his voice did not break in the call. What had started as a peaceful day had quickly turned cold, his hands on the handle of an axe feeling so unfamiliar as though they were not his own, as if the trees around him that he knew so well were alien to him--an activity he had once found to be his source of peace had quickly reared its head to reveal nothing but emptiness and agony.
He could barely bring himself into the Black Shroud, could hardly pull his axe into the air--only for it to come down weakly upon the trunk of a tree, his eyes welling with tears that he could scarcely understand the source of.
He couldn't just pretend that things were normal.
The silent air that was once peaceful now leaves him anxious, the lack of people around him bring forth the fear of an enemy hiding in the shadows, the loneliness that he had once found familiar is now cold and frightening. The emotions hit Samilen like a wave, worse than even when he had faced Leviathan itself, and left it hard to breathe; he felt like he was dying, scrambling for any sense of self or meaning when the whole world felt like it was crashing down around him.
So he called X'rhun. The first person that had sprung to Samilen’s mind who would help him, be there for him. X’rhun Tia.
He summoned the man with all the stability he could force into his voice, constantly holding back a sob in the back of his throat in how his mind, body and spirit yearned nothing short of the man; even as he stood without the gear of a red mage on his body, Samilen could feel the stone burning against his chest, as if right next to his heart. Everything in his very soul wanted nothing more than to see the seeker, to hear his voice and feel his warmth if only to remind Samilen that he wasn't alone.
And so he sat next to the aetheryte like some sullen child waiting for their parent, his eyes still burning with the tears he'd long wiped away. His heart still hammered and his breathing felt too quick, but he had enough experience in muffling his emotions around people in his younger years that he could at least look slightly composed.
X'rhun is able to find him quickly enough but he does not like what he sees. He is disheveled as if a storm had blown him to the side. He moves to Samilen, X'rhun is on his knees before him eyes worried and hands on his shoulder.
"Samilen! Samilen look at me- what happened? Did someone hurt you?"
Had his actions in the tavern brought him to this state? Had something happened in Gridania? A death? The Seeker feels panic and worry bubble up in his chest, trying to get answers from the man. The balance he had so wanted Samilen to find was completely gone from him, in its place was this deep sadness that even X'rhun could feel. What had happened? And when?
It's almost as if Samilen feels the older seeker's presence in the aetheryte square before he finally touches down in physical manifestation. It's not a secret that teleporting takes effort and focus, drains even a man with the constitution of a mountain--and still, the moment that X'rhun is physically there, his eyes seek out and turn to Samilen almost instantaneously. The keeper thinks that he should feel some sort of comfort in that, the fact that X'rhun seeks him out as if a dear friend--are they friends, can he call them that yet?
"Nobody hurt me," Samilen says quickly, his voice too soft and his hands twitching nervously in his lap, aching for something to touch, to feel, and eventually he relents enough that one of them reaches up to start pulling through his own loose hair. "I just--I tried to do what you advised, I tried to relax and be alone and I just--I couldn't, I couldn't do it X'rhun I just-" He feels his breathing quicken, his heart hammering against his ribs.
X'rhun looks around. There were too many people here. Samilen couldn't express himself among these other adventurers so he stands him up, tugging him away from the crowd and into some deserted back alley.
As soon as he is sure they are out of sight of any prying eyes he places his hands on Samilen's shoulders, focusing on him.
"Tell me exactly what happened."
No one had hurt him, Samilen had said, and yet he stood before X’rhun hurt and confused all the same, eyes wet and face hot with an expression the elder Miqo’te could so easily see as shame and misery.
Samilen continues to tug at his hair with one, then both of his hands, combing them through soft silvery locks until they almost start to pull in what might seem painful--the pain anchors the Keeper somewhat, pain always seems to pull the thoughts down when they threaten to overwhelm him to the edge of sanity, but he hasn't been in any battles that left injury or bruises or scratches upon his body in several days and he can't keep control of his hands and just--
"I tried doing what I used to do," he whispers, fearing that his voice is too soft for X'rhun to understand. "Before the Scions I was just--I was a botanist and carpenter. I....kept to myself. Alone. I tried doing that again and I..."
He tugs harder at his hair, unsure if it's the pain of yanking at it or the refresh of emotions that sift through his heart that brings the tears welling in his vision.
"I can't be alone again. It's--it's not the same. Nothing is the same--it's all wrong."
X’rhun’s voice is gentle as he murmurs to him, "It's alright Samilen. I'm here now. You don't have to be alone." He murmurs, taking his hands into his if only so he would stop hurting himself. "You do not want to be alone? Then you won't. I will stay here as long as I am able." He squeezes his hands gently, "I will help you find balance. Find peace within yourself. And then you can learn more and make your own oaths to keep. But you must first make an oath to yourself."
Samilen grips the older man's hands hard, as if trying to will out all the pain simmering in his chest through the pressure alone. Tears continue to well in his vision until they begin to fall, rolling down his cheeks and without a free hand to wipe them away--Samilen feared to remove his hands from X'rhuns at that point, they were shaking, fidgeting, beyond what he was used to when stress got the better of him and he fell back into mute handspeak.
"There's no peace in me," The keeper whispers, voice tense and distraught, as if he is just now realizing the fact. "There hasn't been any for years, not since-" His words choke up as the memories flood him--the Calamity, the suffering, the pain and loss of so many he held dear. The anxiety of being called a warrior, the warrior of light, forced into a role when all he wanted to do was curl up in the woods and die so the nightmares would stop. "-I think I'm broken."
"You are not broken," X’rhun says, worrying over the man and pulling him forwards, if only slightly. "You are not broken, I promise that to you. You are simply hurt. You are hurting and you have been for a long time--all you need is to heal."
X’rhun can feel the worry tugging at his mind. What could he do for Samilen? What could be done? He fixes the other man with a stalwart gaze. "I'll help you. This I swear. This is my oath."
Samilen takes the words to heart as best he can in his state, hands shaking in X'rhun's grip. It's hard to think and harder still to speak, so he offers but a nod in reply--there's little trust that the words wouldn't fail him in the moment, as emotions continue to rise and twist in the center of his stomach.
He stays like that for several moments, his eyes looking down and cheeks still wet with tears, trying to come up with words that encapsulate what he's feeling: he just doesn't want to let X'rhun go.
In the end, words don't come. Instead it's action, a spur of the moment impulsiveness that makes Samilen tear his hands from the others grip and throw himself forward, wrapping his arms instead around the seeker's neck and pressing his face into the others chest.
"I'm sorry," the muffled words sound heavy with guilt. "I need you."
X'rhun feels his heart twist in kind. Had he known... Had he known that Samilen was in so much pain we would have never sent him off alone. He was his mentor, and he had left his student to suffer on his own. Never again.
"There is no guilt in this," He says, petting down his back before wrapping him in his own hug, "There is only the understanding that we must heal these wounds. No matter how deep."
X'rhun had wounds of his own, wounds that he would like healed. But Samilen's were not the kind that could be fixed with retribution for those lost. No. It could only be fixed gently. Slowly. And that's what he would do.
For someone who knows next-to-nothing about the ills that plague Samilen's mind, X'rhun is kind and warm in ways the keeper never expected to feel from someone, much less someone he scarcely knows for longer than a few moons. It's...a nice feeling, to rely on someone else instead of being the one relied upon constantly. There's a kinship in it, in feeling the older miqo'te's hands on Samilen's back, arms tight and comforting in the way only physical pressure can offer.
"I don't want to be alone anymore," Samilen says, speaking as much to the present moment as to his life in general regard--the one thing he thought he loved most, solitude, is but his abusive lover. "I can't be alone anymore. It....scares me." He knows no other words to describe the feelings that clutch his heart, and he hopes desperately that X'rhun understands. "Stay...with me? Or I'll go back to Thanalan with you--we can start training again, anything but this, I'm so sorry."
The seeker blinks down at Samilen, drawing away from him enough to stare down at the other man. "We will go where you wish. For now, we needn't worry, we must simply take care of your most basic needs, such as food and a bath?" He asks, giving him a small smile. "Not to say that you smell, but I believe that one would help clear your senses. And am I correct in guessing that you have not eaten as you should?" If he was hungry and dehydrated then that was probably affecting his current mood, exacerbating already-problematic levels of stress.
For a moment Samilen merely stared at the other man, words leaving him as he figured if it was more appropriate to shake or nod his head. When he seemed to come up with no proper answer, the younger man merely huffed and pressed his face back into X'rhun's chest, thoughts finally settling into something that vaguely feels like calm--calmer than before, at least. Calm enough to realize that he should feel embarrassed and ashamed, but not calm enough that it stops him from enjoying the warmth of another body.
"Hungry," Samilen mutters into the softness of the seeker's red jacket. "And thirsty."
X'rhun nods, combing a hand through his hair. "We'll get you to the inn." He says, "I'll get you food. You'll eat. You'll bathe. Then you'll rest." He murmurs. He wraps an arm around his waist, beginning to slowly lead Samilen towards the inn. He would buy a room and stay with him tonight.
Gods, if he'd have known. He would never have sent him here. Alone. Trapped. Gods damn him for not thinking beyond surface lust and his own problems, when Samilen had more than his own share and still did his best to learn red magic ontop of it.
There's neither argument nor resistance from Samilen as he merely allows X'rhun to guide him forward, one step after another. The of them gather only a handful of stares, though it could have been more due to the seeker's bright attire than anything else--and luckily, there was nobody that Samilen was at all familiar with, just anonymous faces and eyes of people he'd never see again.
He didn't say anything at all until they entered the adventurer's guild, X'rhun gently in-step with Samilen as the two made their way to the inn counter. The younger man kept his eyes down through the ensuing conversation, if only so he could focus instead on the warmth of X'rhun's body and the pressure of his arm wrapped tight around his waist.
The inn room is a simple procurement and X'rhun is quick to escort the both of them to it. It is better than some of the back alley beds he has laid himself in. He helps the younger miqo'te into the bed, wrapping him with blankets. Food is also quick to arrive, served by a staff member who barely gets a word out before he is shutting the door in her face. It’s not that the seeker means to be rude, but more that his thoughts are almost obsessively upon the well-being of the other man in the room with him.
Samilen.
Piled on the plate is a hearty meal for even a Roe, and with it a stout glass of sweet juice that he hopes the younger Miqo’te will like. X’rhun moves to him, sitting the goods down beside him before he himself takes a seat on the edge of the bed.
"How long has it been since you took a meal?"
Distantly, Samilen is aware of the fact that he hadn't been treated like this in a long time--though he could recall being tucked into bed by his mothers and father, those memories were many years old and hazy within the keeper's mind. The warmth of the blanket wrapped around his shoulders is a comfort, one that he selfishly enjoys while X'rhun steps around the room doing things that Samilen should have been capable of doing himself.
Should have, but yet he isn’t.
"I don't know," the man finally answers, honest as he thinks back to the last time he had eaten a full meal and not merely subsisted on what he could hold in one hand and eat. "A few days? I've eaten rations since, it's just been...." he pauses and takes a breath, the smell of a warm, fresh-cooked meal lingering on his nose. "...busy."
He eyes the plate with some manner of interest, debating if it was worth it to leave the comfort of the blanket even if it meant to eat--it was comfortable and plush, a stark difference from the thin layers of cloth he typically was used to having with him in missions outside the city.
X'rhun's brow creases in worry but he nods. That wasn't good. But at least Samilen still had some interest in eating, if his reaction was anything to go by. He was worried what 'busy' meant. Was busy having a mental break down? Or was busy doing more work for the Scions? He didn't know for sure and that was probably a bad sign. X'rhun takes up the plate, sitting it on his own lap as he picks up the fork, shoving it into a sliced popoto and bringing the still steaming root to Samilen's mouth. "Don't worry," He says, voice gentle, "I'll help you eat."
Samilen lets out a sigh as he pulls the blanket tighter around himself. He's several seconds from relinquishing the warmth in favor of filling his stomach, but X'rhun seems to beat him to it--there's a piece of popoto hovering a few ilms from his lips and, for a moment, Samilen's golden eyes flick from the food to the face of the man holding it for him.
He's not quite sure how to feel about it. Though Samilen certainly feels no disgust or anger welling in his stomach at the notion of being so intimately cared for--like a child--a blooming of heat still rolls across his cheeks. He silently looks on at the food for a few moments longer before, slowly, he parts his lips and takes the food into his mouth, chewing slowly and savoring the warmth against his tongue.
Watching Samilen eat eases nerves more than X'rhun would like to admit. Samilen is at least still able to eat and enjoy food. He had not refused it. So the seeker picks up another morsel with the fork, offering it to him as soon as he's swallowed down the last bite.
Slowly his chest is unbinding from the worry. Good food, a bath, and some rest would do Samilen well, and then perhaps they could speak about how he felt and how they could find his balance again. Having a negative mental state would not help him learn Red Magic, would not help him save the world like it seemed he was destined to do.
There's a lot of things that Samilen doesn't quite understand in the moment; most of all, he hardly understands why X'rhun seems to care as much as he does, why he's gone to such lengths to make sure that Samilen is comfortable and fed--the notion seems reserved but for best friends and lovers, parents and family, so he can't understand why the older miqo’te would take so much time from his own life to sit there and fork-feed someone who should have been more than capable of feeding himself.
Still, Samilen doesn't complain.
Though he knows that he should, though he knows he should feel ashamed, he continues to eat every bite offered to him with eyes shy and looking only at the offered food than at the other's face. He knows the feeling would just get worse if he did look anyway.
It doesn't take too long before most of the plate of food is empty and Samilen, for once in weeks, feeling pleasantly full. It had grown to be a treat in recent weeks to have the time, money and attention needed to enjoy an actual meal.
"...Thank you," he says, finally unwinding the blanket around himself--now that he could think, he could also begin to feel awkward, nearly disgusted at himself, so realize that he shouldn't keep X'rhun doing things as if he needed to. "You don't have to stay here--I mean, doing this, it's....I should be able to take care of the other things myself."
"It's not a question of if you should do it, it's a question of if you need help," X'rhun says, putting a steadying hand on Samilen's shoulder. "You can ask for help."
He can feel the concern starting to bristle again within his chest. The other man was going to work himself to the bone if he didn't take a break. No. X'rhun would not let that happen. He would take care of Samilen until he could care for himself once more and then they could work together to make Eorzea a better place once more.
"I'm a grown man," Samilen says, though he hates how his voice breaks as he says it, as if the universe itself has conspired to shame him for some ill he's committed. "I should be ashamed of needing help for basic stuff like this, you shouldn't have to feel obligated to help me."
His body shakes for a moment, though it's the pressure of X'rhun's hand that quells anything worse, thoughts and emotions muted somehow in the other man's presence. Distantly, he can feel the warmth of something familiar against his brain--something small and crystalline, something that burns through the pouch around his hips even though he's not currently using it.
Despite himself, Samilen feels a bond between he and X'rhun, a pulsing sense of closeness that has found a way to wind around his soul, unyielding--he's not even wearing the soulgem and yet it's presence, it's influence is there, forming words that he otherwise couldn't say.
"I...I've....never had anyone to help me. I don't know how to ask."
"I don't feel an obligation, I want to help, Samilen." X'rhun murmurs, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "I will do anything to make you feel better. All you simply need to do is say the word." Though he knew it wouldn't be as simple as that. Samilen didn't know how to ask and thus he didn't know what he needed. X'rhun would have to make the choice for him, if only for now. "But at the moment I believe you should bathe and then rest, it might do you some good."
He makes a gentle motion towards the door that led to the bath that was just off the suite they currently resided in.
Samilen huffed, more out of lingering embarrassment than any actual sort of distress or annoyance. For all that he sputtered about in his own self-pity, the keeper was more than aware that there was no option other than to simply listen to X'rhun's advice, if only so that he could face the next morning with some amount of his personal dignity still intact and, perhaps, the hope that the older seeker could look at him the same way.
For all of the gentleness in his words, Samilen knew that there had to be some measure of doubt or aggravation, for what kind of man would have to rely so assuredly upon another, much less a man who had known him for just a handful of moons?
There's no reason for X'rhun to feel the need to help as he does, but Samilen is aware enough that he is grateful for it all the same--the only blessing he can recognize in his hazy self-loathing.
"I won't be long then," he says at last, dropping the blanket on the bed and, after a moment, steps over to the bathroom with the full intention of at least being able to wash himself without aid--he was not that far gone into a spiral of emotional turmoil, at least.
X'rhun nods, watching him leave before he lets out a long sigh. He takes off his hat, placing it on the best as he rubs a hand down his face. He shouldn't be doing this, no, but he was. Samilen was becoming attached and X'rhun didn't know what that meant. Was it the Soul Stone? Was Samilen doing this of his own volition or was it because the stone had told him to? He didn't know. All he knew was that he wanted to help the other miqo'te. He wanted to help him get better and then teach him the magic that he so wanted to learn. To have some sort of lineage after his inevitable demise.
He is drawn out of his thoughts as suddenly as they come. The link pearl on the nightstand chirps. An incoming message. When had Samilen even taken it off? X'rhun hesitates, only picking it up when it chirps again. It could be important, and since Samilen was preoccupied at the moment he could at least take the message.
No sooner than X'rhun puts the device in his ear he is berated by a voice, obviously young, asking Samilen where he has been and why he hasn't answered his messages.
The miqo'te isn't even able to interrupt the young man as he goes on a long tangent about responsibility, using words so utterly smugishly needless in their length that X’rhun’s mind almost shuts off completely.
But it does make his jaw tighten, his fingers twist into the bed sheet before he finally snaps, "Listen here you little-!"
"Who in the realm IS this?" Alphinaud says, cutting off X'rhun seemingly without breath from his former tangent. He doesn't recognize the voice on the other end of the linkpearl and he knows for certain that he reached out to Samilen. He's not sure if the words or the fact that it's not the keeper is more alarming, but it suffices to ruffle his feathers regardless. "Whoever you are, this linkpearl doesn't belong to you--where is Samilen? Samilen Jawantal? The Warrior of Light? I demand to know what you've done to him."
X'rhun growls. "I would ask who you are first!" He says, standing from the bed in his anger. "Who are you to be demanding of him such things? And to give him an earful about responsibility! You sound as if you are barely five summers old! Let alone old enough to be telling the Warrior of Light what to do!" His tail fluffs in anger, looking more like a feather duster now. His ears press flat against his head and he growls low in his chest. "I will not be telling you where he is or what he is doing! He needs a break from you and yours and I will be supporting him as such!"
"Mind your tongue, sir, for you are speaking with Alphinaud Leveilleur, a respected ally and sponsor of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn-" the young elezen can feel fire burning at the back of his tongue as he speaks, mind already a whirl for whatever reason that this man picked up Samilen's linkpearl--it only strengthened the wonder and worry he already held for the man, if only to know what things he's gotten up to in the days he's not been at the Rising Stones. "-and I will speak to Samilen Jawantal. It is imperative that he return to the Rising Stones with haste, and while I shan't reveal privy information to one I can only assume is but a hired guard of some sort, his task is important to the protection of Eorzea and her people."
Alphinaud. The name was familiar and it makes his stomach lurch as he is reminded of Alisaie. She had a brother of the same age as her, he remembered as much. So this was the Alphinaud she'd spoken of.
"Well, young sir," X'rhun says, drawing unnecessarily up to his full height. "If you must know. Samilen is taking a break. From all things. You included. As his teacher I have prescribed him to find his balance and, dare I say it, you are very much an unnecessary part of his life right now. Until he is in a better condition he is under orders not to speak to you."
Of course it wasn't true. X'rhun had not ordered him to do anything, but he very much disagreed with this boy bossing him about. If Samilen chose to speak with him then X'rhun would surely let him--but not until then and only then.
"Under order not to speak to-" the young voice starts, sounding incredulous and, if anything, with a loss for words at such a response. Alphinaud sputters for a few moments as he tries to catch himself, jumping from one thought to the next that only seems to leave him even more flustered than before. After at least three separate thoughts that all seem to go nowhere, he finally finds himself. "I don't know who you are, but if I hear naught from Samilen soon then the Scions will be sending someone to look for him. I have no idea what sorts of people he's grouped himself with, but it should not come before the needs of Eorzea."
And that makes the seeker see red.
"His needs may not come before the needs of Eorzea, no, but they do come before yours." With that he takes the pearl off, very nearly throwing it against the wall, pauses in the motion in the final moment to sigh and place it in the bedstand's drawer.
X'rhun knew he should warn Samilen, tell him that a small child would be banging on his door any moment now. If he knew anything about Alisaie, it was that she could be stubborn. If Alphinaud took after his sister by even an onz then he would be much the same.
The man approaches the bathroom, gloved fingers tapping against the wood. When he gets no reply he frowns, pushing the door open slowly. He did not want to peek on the man, no, but he was afraid that Samilen might do something to himself in his current mental state.
-
Samilen shuffles into the washroom and sheds his clothes slowly, one layer after another as if they are heavy lead weights. Though he makes little effort to fold them, the keeper knows that he will need to wear them after washing off, so instead he simply tucks them into the corner of the room in a vaguely organized pile on the floor. It's better than nothing at least, leaving Samilen to glance over the tub with a curiosity--it has rather intricate piping, giving the option of a bath or a standing shower, which is more than he could say about some inns farther out from the main cities.
Opting to stand in a spray of hot water, the man begins to turn over the faucets, enjoying slightly the white-noise of water as it begins to splash down into the tub.
He steps into the warm spray of water with a sigh. He can't remember the last time he got to take a shower, much less a warm one, so he counts the blessings in that X'rhun had the mind to take him to stay at the inn, and into a room well-equipped with luxuries he would never spend the extra gil on if it was his own decision alone.
After allowing himself to settle in the hot shower of water, Samilen brings his hands up to wipe at his face, if only to wash away the tears that had long-dried over his cheeks, to soothe the ache of his eyes. Even as his mind tries to empty itself it feels heavy with vision and memory, of the seeker's warm hands and gentle voice, of how he so earnestly offered his attentions to as simple an action as feeding Samilen but a few minutes prior. Samilen thinks on how it felt to be cared for in even the smallest of ways, with actions he should have been able to do himself.
He feels a gentle twist to his belly, a reaction he's long grown used to at the thought of X'rhun, and curses the soul crystal that sits in the pouch among his gear--he hardly knows if the gem is to blame anymore for how such thoughts of the older miqo'te plague Samilen's mind, but it's a convenient object to direct his annoyance at all the same. Ever since that evening at the Coffer and Coffin Samilen has found something different in his bond to X'rhun, something deep and unexplainable--his thoughts to the man are fonder than they should be, edging on something perverse and inappropriate. He was a trainer, a man beyond Samilen's reach and many years older--it is cause enough for shame that he had to come rescue Samilen from his own emotions like a frightened child.
So why does his stomach twist and his heart leap at the mere thought of X'rhun?
The ache only grows harder to ignore as Samilen stands beneath the spray of water, feeling it roll down his skin. An ache for something he's yet able to describe, something distant and fuzzy around the edges--like a memory long forgotten. He wraps his arms around himself as he breathes, letting the motion itself comfort him, the simple act of breathing in a slow, even form. Though it calms his thoughts, Samilen is surprised that it does nothing to soothe the ache in his belly. Every thought of X'rhun only seems to make it worse, make him yearn for the older seeker as if a parched man may want for water.
It's not until he realizes that the ache is much lower than his stomach that it becomes clear what the feeling is that evades Samilen so. Golden eyes glance down to find himself hard, cock throbbing, wanting for an experienced hand, a calloused hand from years of swordplay. It doesn't take a genius to realize whose touch Samilen longs for, and so he merely groans, rubbing his hands over his face as he realizes but the ache he feels in his chest.
Whether it be the fault of the soul crystal or not, Samilen can't ignore any longer the genuine lust and longing he feels for X'rhun.
So when X'rhun opens the door of the washroom, it's to find Samilen leaning forward with one hand on the wall in front of him and the other pulling feverishly over his cock. Wet, silvery-white hair sticks to his neck and shoulders and flushed face, his jaw dropped and lips parted to let out one soft moan after another. The water has lost most of its heat by this point, gone lukewarm at best, but Samilen can barely conjure up a single thought as he tries to find completion.
"X'rhun..." the keeper murmurs, voice taught and breaking with the name, as if the very sound itself is cause for his aroused distress. "Please...please....f-...uck..."
All he can think of is the touch of the other man. The assuredness of each caress, the power in every grip, everything between the way he once had his arm around Samilen's waist to the tight grip of his hand around the young miqo'te's throbbing dick just outside the Coffer and Coffin. He's stopped trying to understand the emotions that fill his mind, stopped trying to lay logic over them--right now, all his body wants is release, attention, the beautiful chaos of climax--though his own hand pales in comparison to what he craves more.
Sky-blue eyes widen at first. X'rhun hadn't been prepared for such a .. lecherous display. He had only meant to warn him of the boy on the link pearl, but it seems that Samilen had taken his physical needs into his own hands.
Gods. There’s no denying the sudden twist of arousal in the seeker’s stomach as he watches Samilen stroke himself over with the shape of his name on soft lips.
X'rhun presses forwards, first shedding his coat and then his boots. His shirt is next, then his pants. The gloves are last and they fall to the floor in line with his other clothes. His fingers are quick to over take Samilen's pumping them in a slower rhythm now. He feels dirty, walking in and taking over like this, but his cock has already sprung to life at Samilen's sweet words.
Samilen himself is near sobbing, hand tight around his cock but bringing him little to no relief; if anything, the attempt only makes it worse, the fire coiling around his belly like a vice grip that seems to show no mercy. He's about to let out a thick sob of aggravation when he suddenly feels the pressure and warmth of another body up against him and--
"X'rhun!?" the younger man all but gasps, feeling the seeker replace his grip and stroke him in earnest. The surprise leaves him reeling, gasping as shock and pleasure seem to coil around one another in compliments. "I thought--ahhh--I'm sor--rry."
Samilen's eyes shut tight and he brings a hand to his lips, biting down on his knuckle with the hopes only to muffle out all the sounds, the foolish apology and the foolish words that might otherwise tumble from his lips.
"No apologies," X'rhun says, allowing his hand to pump Samilen. "You needed this? You said you didn't know how to ask, now I am giving. Is this alright?" He would stop, walk away, if it wasn't. But he had an idea that it was welcome. "We'll start with this for now. If it continues we'll move to something more ... intimate." That was a better way of putting it than saying he would fuck Samilen raw in the shower. He would fuck him up against the wall, hot and his breath on his neck. "This is not a burden, simply something we can do together. A project to work on." Maybe that would help to settle Samilen's mind. Something to work on. Yes.
Or maybe it was to settle his own mind more.
Samilen nodded his head fervently but wordlessly, fairly certain the answer was to one specific question but deciding that it applied well to the rest of the man's words. He could hear them, could feel the other's breath against the back of his neck, but it was hard to understand most of it when X'rhun's calloused fingers were wrapped so perfectly around his dick, pumping hard and fast and leaving stars flickering behind Samilen's eyes.
"Very alright," the man finally had sense to say, his hips pressing back and finding a welcome, hard shape jutting against his ass; it only seemed to make the fire burn hotter in his belly, if only to know that the action wasn't one-sided . "So very alright."
He keened as X'rhun's fingers found a pace that pushed him closer, so close to the edge that he felt almost feverish, but Samilen felt nothing short of wondrous and hot and perfect in being under the mercy of the other's hand, the control of his pleasure left to the yearning of someone he yearned so lewdly for.
X'rhun purrs, nipping at the shell of Samilen's ear. He continues his breakneck pace, feeling the urge to kiss or bit at Samilen's neck but that would be too... familiar and he wasn't exactly sure how the other miqo'te felt about this yet. This ... relationship? Between them. All he knows is that when he grinds his cock against the other man's ass it causes him to groan, letting out a swear as he tries to gather himself, for Samilen's sake.
"Do you want more of this, baby?" He manages to murmur, hiding his face against Samilen's shoulder, "Do you want me to fuck you more?"
"Fuck," is all Samilen has to say at first, his mind practically reeling at the petname as it lingers in the hot, humid air. It's the second time he's heard it and the second time still his body reacts like lightning, cock throbbing so hard that he wants to sob and can almost feel tears of delicious frustration gathering in the corners of his eyes. It's all X'rhun's fault, all the crystal's fault--all his own fault--but it's delicious and wonderful and Samilen doesn't want it to stop for even a moment, turning his head so he can even catch a glimpse of the man behind him, his sopping-wet tail trying uselessly to twist and wrap around the other's waist as if to tug him closer.
"Please," he finally whines. "Fuck me more fuck me more--I want to cum with your cock inside me-!"
X'rhun groans at that, bucking his hips up, grinding his cock against Samilen's thigh as he nods.
"Then you will.”
Slowly he removes his hand from Samilen's cock, letting the rock hard appendage bob in the air as he teases a finger at his hole. The water would have to suffice, since they were already both so wet that lube would not properly function. Besides, he wasn't about to leave Samilen's side to go fetch it.
Samilen hisses for only a moment at the relinquishing of pressure from around his cock. Though his ass presses back into the delicious, teasing pleasure of X'rhun's fingertip wetly pressing against his entrance, Samilen wants for more. His tail lashes again, loosened from it's grip and now wiggling uselessly around the other's arm.
When it's obvious that X'rhun has no immediate intention of returning his hand back to the keeper's throbbing dick, Samilen decides to take matters literally in his own hands, if only to sate the biting heat in his belly, to stave off the taut need that only gets tauter the more he feels that blunt, calloused digit rubbing at his hole. He reaches his free hand down between his thighs, fingers wrapping around his cock tight enough that it almost hurts, and he is quick to resume stroking himself in earnest.
X'rhun hums, smacking Samilen's hand away from his cock, nipping at his ear.
"You will only get satisfaction from me," He didn't exactly know where this was coming from, but perhaps it was the heat of the moment making him possessive. He presses his finger in, slowly as to not hurt Samilen, curling it. His cock is hard against Samilen's back, and he works hard not to thrust himself to completion against him.
There's a feeling that fills Samilen's chest, a feeling that he can scarcely describe when he feels his hand get smacked away from his own cock though it begs desperately for attention. He is certain that if it was anyone else behind him, anyone else pressed naked against his form, Samilen would have ignored their command with little hesitation (assuming he'd even be in this sort of situation with them in the first place). But for X'rhun, Samilen merely mewled through his teeth and listened, both of his hands moving to press up against the wall in front of him, leaning forward and taking the press of the other man's finger deeper within his body.
"F-...uck..." he hisses, toes almost curling when the curl of X'rhun's finger finds something that makes his body flicker with heat and delight. "R-right th-there, ahhh y-yesssss~"
The seeker can't keep the self satisfied smile off his lips. He presses another finger into Samilen’s ass, thrusting and twisting them both in earnest against the other’s tight rim. He was a large man, and Samilen himself was quite small. X'rhun certainly didn't want to hurt the man, this was supposed to be his release from ... whatever he was feeling. He leans into him, pressing kisses against the length of his neck.
"You won't cum until I tell you to cum." He murmurs, blue eyes hooded and dark with lust.
The words flood Samilen like lava, burning him down to the very core so much that it feels almost hard to breathe for a few seconds. They spark something in his mind like a whirlwind, turning his actions into instinct and his words into reaction with no filter.
"Yes sir," he moans, almost sobs as X'rhun's curled fingers find that perfect spot within him again. "Only wh-when y-ou...tell....meee~" Calloused fingertips rub over what feels like some patch of nerves that send pleasurable lightning up Samilen's spine--his tail all but curls around the other man's arm, thrashing uselessly otherwise. Heat blooms over his face and chest as his legs spread almost upon instinct, as if his body knew to prepare itself to be taken--and it couldn't happen quickly enough for the lust coursing through the keeper's veins.
X'rhun grunts, removing his fingers slowly, trying to ignore the way his dick twitches at the sound that very movement makes. He presses close, breath catching across Samilen's neck as he position's himself at the smaller Miqo'te's entrance. "Tell me if it hurts," He warns, teasing his head against the tight hole that threatens to engulf him even now, even as a hand goes to grip firmly onto Samilen's bicep.
Samilen tries to consider words, but eventually just nods his head and hopes that the man can see his acknowledgement. He feels X'rhun's body press against him, feels the hot, thick shape of his cock nudging inside. It's a lot to take at once, but the Seeker is slow and gentle--slower than what Samilen might have tried to greedily take for himself if given half a moment of control between them.
It's good though, so good, and he has to try desperately to remember to breathe as the head of X'rhun's cock finally presses past the tight muscles of his entrance--it's enough for him to shiver and shake, claws scratching uselessly against the cold, smooth walls that supported most of his body weight.
X'rhun maintains his threads of control, no matter how frail they have become with Samilen's wanton moans. He presses in closer, letting his chest rest against Samilen's back as he, slowly but surely, sheathes himself within the smaller man. He pants, brows creasing as he shuts his eyes against the stimulation. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't move, it was a desperate attempt not to hurt Samilen and he'd rather die than commit such an act against his ... pupil? Student? What were they now?
Thoughts and emotions drip through Samilen's mind like sand through barely-cupped hands. It's no use to try and make sense of any of them--all he can do is briefly catch each little snippet as it passes by in a whirlwind of heat and pleasure, to be better and deeper-considered far later into the evening.
Instead of logic or consideration or even the caution of shame to still his hands or mute his words, Samilen moans into the thick press of X'rhun's cock. It slides inside him with only the mildest of discomfort, though slow enough that impatience starts to trickle down through the haze of pleasure. He presses his hips back, hoping with all the desperation of a pleasure-driven man if only to hurry the Seeker's pace, to fill himself fully and sheath that beautiful cock within his needy body.
"X'rhun-" Samilen's voice breaks on the syllable of the man's name. "Want--...all of you. 'm not gonna---gonna break..."
With how perfectly such a heat fills him, Samilen already feels shattered, his mind warped around need and his chest aching for the intimacy of X'rhun's hot body pressed against his own for however long the sweet high of sex will have them.
X'rhun hisses against the sweet embrace of Samilen's body. He was warmth and heat around him, against him, pressed firmly against his chest and his cock. He was smaller, warmer, and every part of him shouted to just plow into him. To blow his load deep within the boy in front of him and be done with it. It's what a Nuhn would do. He swallows against the thoughts, closing his eyes firmly against the smells and sensations, against the incessant instincts that well up deep within his chest.
He fits his hands firmly against Samilen's hips, pressing his thumbs against the divots of his hips. X'rhun presses forwards with a grunt, the pleasure shivering through his nerves like lightning. And he should really know a thing or two about lightening. A sharp tooth peeks from betwixt his teeth, biting down on his bottom lip in some sort of vain attempt to stop himself from saying anything else ridiculous.
A gasp slips from Samilen's lips, one he can't hide fast enough. His lips part, his jaw drops and his brows knight tight above his tightly-shut eyes as the sudden feeling of spreading muscles and intrusion pass over him. There's a burn in X'rhun's girth, one that though the young Keeper had prepared for, it was still far from smooth and painless.
Though it brought a shiver down his spine and a stiffening to his body, Samilen couldn't much deny it was a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain, something carnal or perhaps even primal, a flicker of heedless abandon giving him the gift of not having to think at all about what he wants or how he wants it. Shame has little place in the baser activities of a creature.
"Oh gods, yessss!" Samilen all but hisses, his toes and tail curling as the man presses deeper and deeper still, pulling his hips against him in a possessive and powerful motion of command that in itself was arousing. He wants to mewl, to yowl, to hiss and spit--whether it's instincts going haywire in a response to pleasure or to some pheromone Samilen is yet to recognize, he can hardly know. All that his body knows is that he's being taken, being fucked, being split open on a cock so thick that there's no second-guess that X'rhun could have taken place as a Nuhn if he had decided to stay in his tribe.
X'rhun lets his nose slip against Samilen's hair, taking in his scent like that of a Nuhn in rut. He had to admit that the noises Samilen let loose between his lips were more than inviting. Some part of him wants to imagine a future with the other male. To call him mate. To keep him. But he knows that part is selfish. Too selfish. Too horny to even take the thoughts seriously, and yet...
"Do you like this," He murmurs into his ear, eyes closed as he begins to move in earnest now. The rotation of his hips are slow but they promise more, the night was still young and as long as Samilen still mewled and moaned beneath him he wouldn't stop. "Tell me what you want. Tell me how it feels." He presses his fingers harder against Samilen's hips, promising bruises. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
The entirety of a moment felt like a wave of heat over Samilen's body, threatening not just to send his thoughts swirling but to sweep them entirely out into the sea. The slow pace of the Seeker's hips felt maddening and deliberate, which only made the pleasure all the more tantalizing and raw and real. It carried with it the air of their time under the eaves of the bar in Thanalan--the heat and yearning and desperation--but this was more intimate and slow and tender. This was so much and, at first, Samilen merely mewled in unfiltered pleasure when X'rhun's cockhead rubbed perfectly up against the inside of his body, brushing over sensitive nerves.
"It feels so good--you're so fucking b-big--" Samilen breathes, his chest barely able to get in enough air to speak before his hammering heart needs more. "I want-....I...want...."
He takes in a breath, gulps it down like it's water and he's been without for weeks. Thoughts are useless, shame is useless--the young Keeper can barely register anything beyond the pleasure and heat and air thick with steam and pheromones of lust.
"Marks," he finally says, a desperate whisper. "Mark me up. Make me yours. Please. I--I want to feel it all in the morning. Want to ache and remember---remember this."
He lets out a breath through his nose. A part of X'rhun basks in the attention. He wants marks. He wants a mate. He wants X'rhun as his Nuhn and he would gladly give it to him. Instead he presses it back, stomps it down. He doesn't know what Samilen wants, not exactly, but he knows what he can give him.
To take right now ... it would be against his very teachings. Samilen isn't balanced enough to give, isn't balanced enough for X'rhun to ask something of him. A growl sounds from him as he presses forward, giving the Keeper a particularly hard thrust as he fights with himself. Not too much, but not too little either.
"I'll give you anything you want." He finally says, nipping at Samilens ear before his hands are moving down, pressing over his thighs and leaving scratches over the soft, sensitive skin. "Anything." He whispers, practically engulfing Samilen as he works himself into him.
Guilty. Selfish. Daring the young keeper to say the words.
Anything, he says, and the word echoes through Samilen's head. It's a whisper, a promise, and it's all the younger of the two men can do to clutch it against his chest and try to surmise an answer more than what he already forced from his moan-wrecked throat. It's confusing for a moment, unsure why X'rhun would have Samilen repeat himself, or--or was he saying it to himself? Was he babbling, lost in pleasure and barely knowing what he's saying? Though the questions slip into Samilen's thoughts, they too are quickly swept away by the rapturous pleasure eeking through his body, swallowing him up deeper with every slow but powerful thrust of the other man's hips. Every press of his cock, every reminder of how deep he's able to go that it makes Samilen gasp each time.
"Bite me," Samilen finally hisses, head tilting to the side in open invitation of his neck, where his aching body is naturally wanting to be claimed, to feel the sink of teeth of a dominant lover into his flesh. "I want it--want all of it--just give it to me, Rhun."
X'ruhn's jaw sets. There was a mewling, sex-wrecked man beneath him. His ever instinct was to claim to pump Samilen full of his seed and make him his. To bite down on his neck and make sure that every Nuhn that ever met him knew that he had been fucked and filled by another. That he was his and here he was begging for it. Did Samilen even know that that meant? To Seekers? To Nuhns? He tries to shake it off. No. He didn't understand and he didn't know what that meant. But he finds himself leaning, kissing and licking at his pulse, breathing in his scent even as his hips continue to work, continue to fuck the man beneath him.
This would be taking. It would be taking too much. Samilen didn't have this much to give.
"Samilen..." He murmurs, eyes glassy, cock deep within him.
Hesitation. Unsure. Caution. This Samilen could sense, could feel and taste it on the vapor-filled air. It wasn't for fear or genuine unwillingness, no--though addled with pleasure and seeking the euphoria that his body craved, the Keeper was still a man with senses enough to feel how X'rhun stiffened, how his voice was tense, how his breathing was strained and labored even with the slow and careful motions of his hips.
The water of the shower was starting to run cool, water dripping down hot flesh like a fresh rain, offering but the slightest shake of lustful haze from the younger man's thoughts so that he could speak with some confidence in his voice.
He had to weigh his words carefully--not in that he was afraid of indulging and having and wanting, but to make sure the message was clear, that he didn't addle X'rhun with the guilt of making a decision he assumed Samilen wouldn't want.
But he wants. He yearns. The feelings have been burning in Samilen's belly and chest since the moment he took the soulstone in hand--perhaps they had even been within him since he had first met X'rhun himself, made only unbearable by the intimate memories that drove such genuine but shameful feelings to the forefront of the Keepers mind.
"Make me yours," Samilen finally says, his tone biting and his body almost shaking with pleasure, muscles tight around the other's throbbing, wondrous, perfect cock. "If you want me, take me--make me yours." Shame was nowhere to be found in his mind in that moment, shaken clean by lust and want and pheromones enough to be drunk on. "Be my Nuhn."
X'rhun liked to think he'd journeyed and done much. He'd been wizened by years on the road and, before that, years in the resistance. He'd thought he'd seen everything. Evil kings, rebellions, the massacre of his friends, the rise of the Garlean Empire. But he had never done this. Never been brave enough, or stupid enough, to claim his most trusted of lovers. Even when they had begged him for it, he had not done it. He'd made it sound like a selfless choice, to not bind his lovers to a man who would, inevitably, wander too far. But even then he had known, as he does now in this moment, that it had been selfish. X'rhun hadn't been ready. He'd never been ready for it. He knew what the responsibilities would be and it had all seemed too much at the time. But now...
Now he had a mewling and withering warrior of light beneath him. None before him had known, had understood what his pain had been like. Samilen had slayed primals. Had slayed gods. All in the name of a greater good. And in doing so had lost much. Perhaps too much. Too much of himself. Too many friends. Finally someone could understand the pain and the triumph he had went through and maybe ... maybe someone finally understood Samilen.
It's almost beautiful, the way he presses himself against Samilen, the way he seats himself deep inside his lover, his mate. And the way that he opens his mouth wide against his pulse, breathing a hot breath there before he allows himself to bite down, to draw blood as he cums deep inside the younger man, groaning as his vision goes white and his world goes still. The cold water on his back doesn't matter. His code, the one he had lived by for so long, doesn't matter. All that matters is Samilen and only Samilen.
His mate.
His.
The world practically snaps, like a bowstring pulled too-taught by inexperienced hands over the ends of a bow. Pleasure and pain mix together into pure euphoria, an amalgamation of sensations that not only bring Samilen to the edge of climax, it outright shoves him off the cliff. The feeling is rough and hard and intense despite the slow lovemaking, the careful press of a cock inside his pliant, willing body, ridges constantly catching at the rim of Samilen's entrance and then--suddenly--it's all so much. Not too much, never too much, because Samilen knows that he could drink down this sensation for the rest of his life if he had the choice.
The pain of teeth sinking into the flesh of his neck is wondrous, dazzling behind his eyes and sending tremors of pleasure down to the tips of his fingers and toes. When X'rhun presses against him one last time, seating his cock to the base with hips flush against the Keeper's ass, Samilen can't help but let out a mewl. The intensity of feeling someone release inside of him, the heat of cum dripping down the inside of his thighs, of making him feel marked and used and protected in the most carnal ways--it's soothing, it's satisfying. He feels the way thumbs dig into his hips, knows that there will be marks across his skin and a heat within his belly for days to come--and Samilen smiles for it. He feels heat fill his cheeks and his lips quirk when another moan works its way from his throat, high and keening, a sound as welcoming as his body as orgasm milks the man's cock for all it offers, as if to coax out every little drop of his hot seed.
With every breath is X'rhun's name, a mantra on Samilen's lips.
X'rhun shudders, once, twice. He keeps his teeth sunken deep into his mate's skin. It will scar, like it is meant to, and those who know what it means will understand. Only after the blood begins to seep down his chin does he pull away. He chest heaves with each breath and he can feel his eyes slowly contract into small pinpricks of what they once were. His dick is still firmly planted in Samilen and he can feel it as his body wrings every last drop out of him. It's not unpleasant and he leans back into the, now cold, water as it rains down on both of them his hips spasming in a vague attempt at a thrust.
He swallows, coming back to himself. A conversation would need to be had. How much of this had Samilen truly wanted? And how much of this had been hazy lust?
The red mage tries to recall what his father taught him, going through his memories like an encyclopedia, or a manual. It was a hard bond to break, but it could be broken. Mating marks were the best way to ensure a proper mating, but it could be achieved in other ways. Usually cubs were spawned from marking but X'rhun highly doubted that such a thing would happen with this case ... He frowns, he knew a lot less about this than he wanted to and here Samilen was bearing his mark and his seed.
He slides a hand under the other man's chest, bringing him up to stand before pulling himself from him slowly. In one fluid movement the shower is off and in the next, Samilen is bridal style in his arms.
Samilen himself couldn't help but purr in satisfied delight as calloused fingertips brush against his almost too-sensitive skin, the rumble coming from deep within his chest. He felt so full, could feel the blossoming of heat in the pit of his belly. It was as if something deeply primal within his mind had been sated. Some fierce need, some unknown desire--it finally felt calmed by the warmth, the pressure, the pleasure and oh, yes, the slight pain with every shift of Samilen's shoulders and head, a reminder of the fresh mark bitten deep into his skin. He knew that there was significance in it, and deep down he knew exactly what he had asked for--but there was a strange fear that he had pressed to hard and pushed X'rhun into something he didn't want.
Luckily the afterglow was strong enough to stifle down most of the worries, keeping Samilen calm and placid as X'rhun lifted him into his arms and Samilen, instinctively, wrapped an arm around the back of the Seeker's neck. He lets out a soft hiss, a shiver working down his spine at the jostling of his body, the reminder of future bruises and the messy drip of seed finally working it's way out of his body without a cock to keep it inside.
But he doesn't say anything. Not yet. He is hard-pressed to find the words to start the conversation now-hanging between them. Though the last time could have been chalked up to a rendezvous of hormones, this is far more serious--something that can't be alluded to or assumed, can't be hidden or swept out of the air. Samilen hoped, dreadfully, that he didn't force his mentor to do something he didn't wish for.
X'rhun carries him into the bedroom. Both of them are dripping wet but he can't find it in him to care. He lays Samilen down on the bed, making sure he is comfortable before he goes back into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him, taking a deep breath before grabbing his trousers and slipping them on. Only because he wanted to save face, that's what he tells himself. Not because his cock was already stirring again. Certainly not. He puts on his shirt too, for good measure. Maybe it would make Samilen feel better. Maybe. He grabs several towels as well, moving back to the bed with them in tow. His Ma-student. His student looks pliant and soft against the downy sheets and he can't help but purr at the sight. He kneels at his beside, beginning to massage the wet out of his hair with gentle circles.
It is only after he has dried Samilen's hair that he dares to look at the mark. It is bright red against his gray skin and some deep part of him is proud. Proud that he was able to mate such a magnificent- X'rhun shakes his head. No. He shouldn't be thinking like that and yet-
He moves, his own teacher would have been proud at how agile he was, moves over Samilen's body and to the other side of the bed so that he might have easier access to it. To his marking. He approaches it like a nervous animal. Tentative. Gentle. Skittish. And then, when he believes that nothing will harm him. He begins laving over it with his tongue. The taste of blood is still there, but he can't help the purr that leaves his chest as he licks it, again and again. Goading it to heal. Breath hot on Samilen's neck.
Samilen can't remember the last time he felt...blissful. He can't remember a time where he had the freedom to simply not think about much of anything, to simply lay on the bed with his mind still swimming with pleasure and body humming with satisfaction. He can't remember but a single time where he had found himself in this position but able to owe the blood and marks and ache to something other than a hard-fought battle against a primal or an army or....or anything else. He can't remember a time where he didn't feel the weight of the world on his shoulders or the burn of the Scions' gazes upon his back--because he wasn't allowed to fail. To relax. To want something for himself. To want someone else to save the world--to take care of him for once in his time as the 'Warrior of Light'.
He's nervous when X'rhun returns, only because he returns with clothes on; it makes the keeper suddenly feel ashamed, or at least as if what they did was stupid or silly, to be forgotten as quick as their last heated exchange under the starry sky of Thanalan. He worries about that, because he cannot forget it--Samilen can't forget how happy he felt when X'rhun's hands lay on his hips, their lips together, or even the silly, stupid but beloved sensation of the man pressed against his body, orgasm passed but drinking up the mere intimacy of still being connected to one another.
So Samilen doesn't meet the other's gaze, his throat tight and his heartbeat skipping. He suddenly feels like a child, in a way, as if he's made a mistake to be chastised about once he too is in a proper state of dress.
But when X'rhun shifts, moves to the other side of the bed--when he leans down and presses his face into Samilen's neck, his tongue over the still-aching mark, he can't help but let out a noise. It's something soft, a mere whisper of a mewl, something he tries to muffle even as his body shakes and one of his hands shoot out to grab a fistful of the other man's shirt, as if making sure he couldn't pull away.
"Please," Is all Samilen can say.
X'rhun closes his eyes. His lips a thin line. His ears pressing back against his skull. He had to admit it. Admit it to himself. He'd been trying to teach Samilen, yes, but he'd also wanted ... this. He hadn't wanted to be alone anymore. He'd tried to teach Alisaie (mind you he had never thought of her romantically or sexually as she was just a child) but she had run off as soon as she'd had a firm grasp of her training. But then Samilen ... Samilen had been different. Maybe that's why he'd allowed him to have the soul stone. Maybe that's why he'd let him have the piece of himself. Maybe that was why he was letting him so close. Maybe ... Maybe...
He licks the mark one more time before he moves, moves to claim Samilen's mouth with his own, moves to press close against him. He fits his mouth against his, the click of teeth, the swirling of tongues. X'rhun sighs and it feels like he's letting out decades of stress. Of holding back. Of not allowing himself to have this. It had always been something. The revolution. The death of his comrades. Ala Mhigo's occupation. He'd always been chasing it. Always been trying to fix something but now..
Now he loses himself in the kiss, loses himself in the smell, feel, taste of Samilen Jawantal.
A shiver of delight spills down Samilen's spine as X'rhun all but climbs atop him, their lips pressed hard and tongues pressing harder against one another. Fingers grip hard into the soft fabric of the Seeker's shirt, joined by a second hand as they grasp at his chest needily, stupidly, the confusion back once more for why X'rhun thought it necessary to clothe himself in the first place. Though he may feel shame of it later, when his mind not so clogged with emotions, but Samilen was needy and desperate to keep the other man close, to feel his warmth, to enjoy the fleeting time with him for as long as he and fate would allow it--because she wasn't often kind to Samilen.
"Why did you get dressed?" The younger man finally forces himself to ask, if only to still his hands from trying to remove the offending undershirt. If there was a reason that he did so, and a reason that Samilen had to respect. "Do you--do you need to leave?"
He hates how the words spill from his lips, the whisper almost fearful against X'rhun's mouth, eyes afraid to open and meet his gaze.
X'rhun closes his eyes, only lifting up enough to stare down at Samilen's face. It was open, wild with want. X'rhun could paint a million pictures of it and still never get it right. He shivers, feels his cock stir once more. He clears his throat, eyes dancing away.
"It was to ... hold myself back. In case I take you again before your mind is yours once more." it was the truth. X'rhun wanted to speak with Samilen before they began to fuck like they were in heat. Which he was liable too, with the way that Samilen looked at him and they way his mark sat on his neck. He swallows. "I wish to ... I wish to make sure that this-" He nods to the red welt on the other man's neck, "-is what you want. What you truly want. Outside of being sex addled."
He presses a gentle hand through still damp white hair, "And ... I want you to rest. Truly rest. I do not know how long it has been since you've done so and I ..." He presses his forehead against Samilen's unable to stop the small source of affection. "...I worry for you Samilen."
The words are sobering. Samilen tenses for a moment, feeling it work into his jaw as teeth clench tight and anxiety wells in the back of his head. Though his eyes open he cannot stare into X'rhun's own for very long--perhaps just a breath of time, though the touch of X'rhun's forehead against his own offers some mild comfort. Though he knows his own feelings, the way that the other man speaks, the way he words his thoughts--Samilen is unsure if he should feel ashamed or not for feeling the way he did--the way he still does. He nods after a moment, knowing that no words that come from his lips would be seen as honest until X'rhun was satisfied with the air between them--but it still frustrated Samilen.
"You would be the first," he says at last, eyes drifting off to the side. "Or at least the first to offer more than empty words."
Samilen takes a moment to take a breath, and then finally lets it out, speaking once more before he can allow the morbid weight of his words to sink too deeply into the air.
"If you want to put space between us until you are satisfied to know I'm telling the truth, then so be it. My answer will be the same as it was when you came upon me in the bathroom."
X'rhun nods. He wants to be sure ... to know that what Samilen says is what his heart of heart wants. But even these words give him hope. Make his heart catch and beat faster. He can't hide it from himself now. If Samilen will allow it, X'rhun wants to be in love with him. Wants to keep this mating. Wants ... everything from him. He closes his eyes, tries to focus against the tightness in his chest. "I believe you." he says, letting his fingers card through the other man's hair, focusing his eyes on the movement of his own fingers. "But this ... conversation. About what we both want ... it will wait until sunrise. Until we are both well rested and ready for what that entails." He lets blue meet yellow again. "Samilen I ..." He lets out a breath through his nose, swallowing thickly. "... Have much to say about the matter."
He moves, pressing a gentle kiss to the mark on his neck, before he is pressing close to Samilen, maneuvering them both until chest meets back and an arm is slung over the other's waist. "But I will not say them. Not now." He murmurs. "Not until we are both rested."
Deep down, Samilen is comforted by the seriousness of X'rhun's tone of voice. He is comforted by the care and concern as much as he is frightened by it. It would be too easy for someone to take advantage of lust-addled emotions and euphoria-induced infatuation, especially for someone as broken as Samilen is under the weight of anything that doesn't pertain to slaying primals or saving lives--things that need no extra thought needed to understand them. For as much as he feels anxious about words to be held in the morning, he is comforted deeply by it--that X'rhun sees his emotions as something worthy of caution, emotions worthy of thought and attention and....respect.
It is more than he can say of many people even when emotions of infatuation weren't caught up in the mix. He swallows down a stone in his throat and takes in a breath, merely letting his body press back against X'rhun's own as they lay together in bed. He appreciates the weight of the Seeker's arm over his body. It makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip a little.
"Okay," The man finally says with a nod, letting out a breath. His eyes start to shut and his mind slow down at last to the yearning for sleep that overtakes him.
X'rhun relaxes at that, lets his guard down. Samilen was not going to be angry with him. Would not scorn and shun him. At least, not this night. Not right now. He lets his nose press against white hair, he lets his eyes close, and most importantly he lets himself go to sleep.
Send ♥ For A Drabble Of My Muse’s Thoughts As They Wake Up Beside Yours
When Samilen awakes, it’s to the dripping warmth of sunlight upon his skin. It’s to the warmth of arms around him, firm and unyielding and filling him with comfort. It’s to the blankets half-on his body, instead tangled around his legs and arms and nearly falling off the far edge of the soft mattress beneath him.
When he awakes, it’s beside the man he adores.
Or rather, he would be merely beside X’chai, if the other’s body wasn’t nearly curled around him like a child might clutch at a beloved toy. Their limbs are about as tangled together as the blanket wrapped between them; Samilen can feel the softness of the Seeker’s tail even wrapped around his own in a coiling of white and gold fur.
Samilen’s eyes open to the sight of his partner in a slumber as rare as it is deep, dark circles sitting stubbornly beneath his sightless eyes. It is both comforting and worrisome to see the man in such a way; though Samilen is happy to see him in such a deep slumber, he knows well how it only comes about, when X’chai is worked hard as his own Free Company’s leader. Managing so many people, so many jobs, so many things--it’s beyond what Samilen thinks most people are capable even with the help of several others, and yet the Seeker takes so much of the responsibility upon himself with but a charming smile to wave away any worries for him and his health.
But at least he slumbers at last, clutched tight to his Keeper lover and getting the rest he’s sorely earned.
Samilen feels a soft smile on his lips in the gentle warmth of the moment, staving off the feelings of responsibility to instead curl closer, tucking his face into the other man’s throat and mouthing silent, sweet words of love against X’chai’s skin.
Eventually, Samilen falls back asleep, smile yet lingering upon his lips.
