#v. da2

[xbornhungry]

❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜ || @ofandrastes , from elliott!

the words nearly topple ellis. it feels like a confession, making the air between them thick & tangible. elliott is a curiosity. it's difficult to imagine a world in which he wants ellis at all. so his confession fills him with a blatant sense of satisfaction, it jolts through his body. elliott admitted to wanting something, wanting him. he tries to keep his heart from soaring at the notion.

" use your manners, " ellis chides, though there is a smirk playing at his features. it was ironic, coming from him. he was one of the last people who should be preaching about manners. he had offended the wrong patron of the hanged man, ending in him smashing the man in the side of his head with a full mug. it was a waste of mead, but what followed was a satisfying domino affect. with a few proper redirections, a rather large fight had swarmed the bar.

it had created just enough chaos for them to slip away into the night. for ellis to press elliott against the shadiest wall he could find & steal an adrenaline-fueled kiss, followed by a savage bite in the crook of elliott's neck. his heart was still beating furiously in his chest, his body is flushed & hot … though he's sure it's not from the fight.

it was all he could do to breathe. he stands on the cliff's edge of elliott's desire. it would be too easy to fall into it, to let it wash him away & into whatever wicked thoughts elliott played at. he knows that desire will be gone by morning when the world expands beyond a smoky barfight & a streetlight rendezvous. for now, though, he would revel in it. instead of falling over, he holds himself a little taller. he hooks a finger under elliott's chin & draws him closer. he denies them both the indulgence of a kiss, but he does linger close enough to share a breath. a promise, with a condition.

" a 'please' would be a good start, " his voice is low. they are alone, he thinks, but this moment belongs only to them. ellis takes elliott's chin between his fingers to hold him in place, " i know you've got it in you. "

[xbornhungry]

LAP ( ellis just lay ur head down on his lap, the big angry mage man will stroke ur hair & later pretend it means nothing, just 2 dudes being dudes ) || @ofandrastes

the night had been wonderfully, incredibly long. they chased one another into bed & ellis had rode elliott until he scarcely knew his own name. the both of them were covered in bitemarks & bruises, sticky with sweat & otherwise. testaments to the way they were slowly becoming tethered to one another. marks that would keep ellis on the edge of desire, coming back & sniffing out any sentiment elliott had left to spare the next day & the day after that. it was rare, he knew, but when he could find his way back into elliott's arms… well, he was sure nothing else was sweeter.

part of him thought to flee, to throw on his clothes & go before elliott remembered he wasn't allowed to treasure anything, especially not ellis. unfortunately, ellis had never been good at reasoning with himself & so he had decided to stay here, in bed his body & soul bare before elliott.

it was humiliating as it was sweet. he felt pathetic, but he craved a softness only available to them in these endorphin-filled moments. temporary & private, they could at least pretend they were allowed to be soft. ellis curls up at elliott's side, his head nestled too sweetly in elliott's lap. a moment of safety that he thinks only elliott might be able to provide. he tenses up, half-expecting elliott to push him away. to recoil at ellis' lightly veiled vulnerability.

instead, something wonderful happens. at best, he had thought elliott might let him lay there. to revel in the comfort of being close to the most divine force of destruction he had known in his life. a hand settles on his head & he shivers. he can't help but lean into elliott's flat palm as he extends his fingers into ellis' hair. he melts into the affection, the tension falling from his body for the first time in days.

" oh, elliot, " ellis' voice is soft, nearly a groan. he hadn't meant to let the words slip out but he hadn't been able to stop them either. something pangs inside of ellis, a feeling the is bold & warm. it twists in him & the faint shimmer of it is enough for him to know he is doomed. a tremble cascades over ellis. he swallows harshly. reality threatens to creep its way back into the moment & he tries nuzzle into elliott's thigh to try & ignore reality's brutal glare. his lungs tighten in his chest & he speaks before he can think better of it.

" i like this, when it's just us. " he doesn't dare look up, hiding his face against elliott's skin. it's the only thing he can hide now, he thinks, " it feels like a dream. "

[xbornhungry]

[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off (PROBABLY BLOOD AFTER A FIGHT and its on ellis' lower lip oop)

ellis' breath passes quickly, furiously, as he looks at the bodies piled around them. some of them were still breathing, but nobody had the audacity to move. there was little during the battle that he had noticed save for the metallic scent of blood & the quickest path he could find to kill. ellis was covered in a mix of enemy blood & his own, gore up to his elbows… his twin blades would need a good cleaning at the end of the night, that was for sure. he's scarcely returned to reality when he feels a hand on either side of his face.

ellis nearly lashes out at the presence. he wants to put his teeth to it, to add it to the pile at his feet. 'it' shifts to 'him' & elliott's features come into focus. some instinct in him begs to turn away, to hide when he is covered in the remnants of his own sin. that same instinct threatens to find comfort in those hands, rough & bloody as his.

blue eyes peer up at elliott, resisting how easy it would be for elliott to disarm him. he's too gentle, gentler than he's imagined when he thinks of how elliott might hold him. ellis often imagined rough fingers grabbing him by anywhere, anyway else. never did he think the other would wipe the blood from his mouth with such care, dragging the pad of his thumb down ellis' bottom lip. only now does he realize he could let go of the breath he was holding.

a savage sort of pride swells with the action. elliott could choose anyone's gore, anyone's mess. he wasn't the only one of their friends that was bleeding, all of them sporting the aftermath of their battle. but ellis was the one elliott fled to.

ellis can't help but sink into the embrace for just a moment, leaning into the palm of elliott's hand. the sincerity almost makes him ill, leaving him want to stay like that forever. he knows better. he does stay for a few moments too long & he thinks he's given his revelry away. so ellis hides his sentiment behind his teeth in a still bloody grin & gives into his initial desire.

he sinks his teeth into elliott's thumb. he's obviously delighted with himself when he does, gaze twinkling with mischief.

[xbornhungry]

WEARY :  for one muse to wake up after falling asleep on the other. ( elliott falls asleep on ellis sometime when they're traversing the deep roads maybe? 😴 ) || @ofandrastes

the deep roads were a wretched place, truly. being underground kept ellis' skin crawling, always sensing darkspawn just out of sight. half of them may be imagined, a fear integrated into his reality by a paranoid mind... but he couldn't be sure & so to him, they were all real. to sleep would be a death sentence, he thinks. so he sips cold coffee he'd made earlier in the day & decides to opt out of the indulgence.

he had settled earlier in the evening into a place beside elliott. out of everyone here, he thought the mage would fight the hardest if they were to come under attack. there was security in that ferocity. it was familiar as it was infuriating.

on a day to day basis, elliott was scarcely still. ellis would stuby him out of the corner of his eye, catch glimpses of the man beyond the necessity he had molded himself into. elliott rarely had the time to still his mind or body, always ready to meet the next challenge with the very ferocity ellis was drawn to. ferocity that had melted from his features in his sleep, leaving him in an oddly peaceful sleep. it was enough to make ellis' heart ache. he feels silly when the sentiment crosses his mind & he swallows it with a tight ball of emotion in his throat.

it seems wasteful to throw away this opportunity. so carefully as he could, ellis took his journal from his bag & produces a stick of charcoal. he would utilize this rare opportunity to commit elliott's face to paper.

when he cracks open his journal, it feels like a treat. the scent of parchment & dried ink fill the stale air of the deep roads. it was a private delight. there was something deeply satisfying about breaking elliott's strong features down into shapes, shading in the strands of hair that fell into his face too perfectly. he treasures the moment quietly, save for the scratch of charcoal catching on thick paper.

it must be a few hours before he stirs. ellis wishes he would sleep longer, stay closer. it's selfish - he knows elliott has responsibilites, that sleep is for those who don't have to worry. but he fears that he will wake up & push ellis away, denying him the closeness they had shared with elliott's head nestled in his shoulder.

" good morning, " his voice is stiff, anticipating rejection. he expects elliott to recoil when he realizes how close they are, sharing only a breath's space. it's not morning, ellis is sure. he keeps from meeting elliott's gaze, instead trying to cram the last few details he could into the sketch he was working on before they found the next reason to poke & prod at each other. his hand is smeared with charcoal & there is a smudge on his cheek, on his nose, on his forehead. he tries to sound casual, nonchalant. there is still a nervous tension under his words, " did you sleep well? "