[ it’s as galvanising as he thought it would be, to kiss that stupid grin from his handsome face. everything. it shouldn’t surprise him but it does. second son, boy king, privateer, life stolen by shadows — of course he’s greedy. for things he can’t have; for the things he, inexplicably, can. nikolai hadn’t been shy about his wants, had kissed and touched him, pushed him for more without treating him like a fragile, broken thing. and kaz had risen to the challenge, hadn’t he? answering every question with yawning want. the same as nikolai does for him, straining against his hold in a way that sets his limbs on fire. he wants to release his hands and let them have everything they touch. he wants to keep them pinned beneath him forever. the enormity of his desire overwhelms him, a hundred contradictory and layered wants wrapped inside it.
his nails drag back down nikolai’s throat to thumb over the mark he left earlier. he meets every kiss, dizzy from the contact, from the words nikolai says and can’t mean. every demand stokes the heat in chest. the parts that haven’t, can’t, will. (the r on his bicep, the violence in his hands, the pale skin beneath his protective armour.) a shocked, broken sound climbs his throat. higher, hotter. the chill of the dead and the sea forgotten, at least for as long as nikolai consumes him. doubts cling to the rungs of his ribs, like to be smoked out. how many pretty tales has nikolai lantsov spun before? for ravkan pigeons. the arm pinning him trembles. kaz forces it to keep hold. why would he lie? then, quieter: why would this be true?
because nikolai has more hunger than sense. a man with dwindling self-preservation, caught in a love affair with death, looking and sounding as affected by kaz as kaz is by him. you were all that kept me here today. he knew that, but hearing it aloud is another thing entirely, a blade plunged somewhere vital. the thought of losing him —
it tips the scales. their vulnerability is split, divvied between them months ago. do you think i would ask for more than you can give? yes. are you afraid that there isn’t enough? yes. nausea roils low in his stomach. he’s fucking terrified, and he looks it, features slacker and slacker with each of nikolai’s confessions, brows high and lips parted. his knee digs into nikolai’s arm, barely on the right side of rough. kaz could break it, could crush his windpipe and release him from his suffering. dirtyhands would. he lifts his ungloved hand from nikolai’s throat to curl in his golden hair, forcing his head back and leaving him bereft of his mouth. thief. ]
Of course it’s too much. [ the drag of stone on stone, bitten back with surety. but what does that mean? when he’d said there was no such thing, not in the matter of nikolai. ] Of course I want it. [ a shake infiltrates his voice, but he won’t let it overtake him. ] Everything. You. [ can’t say, i’ve never given that much — not to anyone. it still feels significant to hush, ] Just you, Nikolai.
[ a deliberate, conscious choice after agonising over it for hours in his skull, in his room, retching over the side of the volkvolny. why would this be true? because they’re the same in an essential way. greed is their lever. greed for attention, revenge, love, power. different aims, all controlled by the same mechanism. ]
All of you.
[ a brief hesitation, watchful for a rejection of those terms through his lashes. (everything for everything.) he releases the hand pinning nikolai and eases his leg back, inviting his touch. they need to find shelter and a healer before one of them passes out, but first — kaz bends to kiss him desperately again, to tug his bottom lip between his teeth, one bloody hand in his hair and the other cupping his cheek. ]
no subject
his nails drag back down nikolai’s throat to thumb over the mark he left earlier. he meets every kiss, dizzy from the contact, from the words nikolai says and can’t mean. every demand stokes the heat in chest. the parts that haven’t, can’t, will. (the r on his bicep, the violence in his hands, the pale skin beneath his protective armour.) a shocked, broken sound climbs his throat. higher, hotter. the chill of the dead and the sea forgotten, at least for as long as nikolai consumes him. doubts cling to the rungs of his ribs, like to be smoked out. how many pretty tales has nikolai lantsov spun before? for ravkan pigeons. the arm pinning him trembles. kaz forces it to keep hold. why would he lie? then, quieter: why would this be true?
because nikolai has more hunger than sense. a man with dwindling self-preservation, caught in a love affair with death, looking and sounding as affected by kaz as kaz is by him. you were all that kept me here today. he knew that, but hearing it aloud is another thing entirely, a blade plunged somewhere vital. the thought of losing him —
it tips the scales. their vulnerability is split, divvied between them months ago. do you think i would ask for more than you can give? yes. are you afraid that there isn’t enough? yes. nausea roils low in his stomach. he’s fucking terrified, and he looks it, features slacker and slacker with each of nikolai’s confessions, brows high and lips parted. his knee digs into nikolai’s arm, barely on the right side of rough. kaz could break it, could crush his windpipe and release him from his suffering. dirtyhands would. he lifts his ungloved hand from nikolai’s throat to curl in his golden hair, forcing his head back and leaving him bereft of his mouth. thief. ]
Of course it’s too much. [ the drag of stone on stone, bitten back with surety. but what does that mean? when he’d said there was no such thing, not in the matter of nikolai. ] Of course I want it. [ a shake infiltrates his voice, but he won’t let it overtake him. ] Everything. You. [ can’t say, i’ve never given that much — not to anyone. it still feels significant to hush, ] Just you, Nikolai.
[ a deliberate, conscious choice after agonising over it for hours in his skull, in his room, retching over the side of the volkvolny. why would this be true? because they’re the same in an essential way. greed is their lever. greed for attention, revenge, love, power. different aims, all controlled by the same mechanism. ]
All of you.
[ a brief hesitation, watchful for a rejection of those terms through his lashes. (everything for everything.) he releases the hand pinning nikolai and eases his leg back, inviting his touch. they need to find shelter and a healer before one of them passes out, but first — kaz bends to kiss him desperately again, to tug his bottom lip between his teeth, one bloody hand in his hair and the other cupping his cheek. ]