[ a safe place to land. another puzzling, miraculous desire to consider. if the moment were less overwhelmed with want, he would laugh. do you believe anywhere is safe for me? his mind produces another piece of evidence, i am tired of tasting your blood. a wish to be safety, not danger. he can understand that, though he chafes against it. a decision made without him, like he’s too foolish or fragile to add compelling nuance to the binary of having and not having. hope persists in the lovely sigh he pulls from nikolai. the way nikolai allows his hands to be held.
his waiting pays dividends. a benediction. let me feel your hands, of a pair with his first confession. the kaz of now knows something he didn’t then: touch, and the feeling of being made real by it, has eluded nikolai for some time, too.
sat in the fork of nikolai’s legs, kaz slides his good knee up to improve his leverage and bracket nikolai on one side. he need only tug nikolai inches forward before he can rest their linked hands in his lap. keeps one gloved hand half-covering nikolai’s two, fingers soothing over the bruises at his wrist. the aim isn’t for nikolai to touch him that low — well — not in a fucking cave. presently, kaz doubts he could stand without dizzying, so he’ll call this a strategic respite to justify his selfishness. ice eyes thaw, brightening with mischief as he lifts his free hand to his mouth, catching the white tips of his glove in teeth and removing it with a jerk of his sharp jaw. the thick fabric falls away, cold nipping at his fingers. no matter. the fever will set in soon enough. he swaps hands, now grasping nikolai’s wrists in a shackle of soft skin — as if to say these hands are hostages, these hands are mine now — when he repeats the ungloving, head tipped back even further to expose the column of his throat, eyes momentarily closed.
can’t stop. he squeezes nikolai’s hands softly, bringing one to rest at his good knee and the other directly to his mouth, first to brush lips over the pulse throbbing in his wrist, then to kiss the centre of his black-streaked palm. a hitch of his breath into the contact (nikolai’s flesh at once firm and melting in his grasp). his other hand unbuttons nikolai’s coat from the bottom, just enough to slip under his layers as before, charting that fleetingly familiar trail across the coarse hair of his stomach, gentling up his injured ribs, skidding around his hip, and settling low on his spine to usher him close, closer, closest despite the tremor in his arm. he doesn’t take nikolai’s fingers in his mouth, unsure if he can without gagging on the sensation (but he wishes nikolai would encourage his efforts). his chin tilts upwards in defiance, stare unbroken. ]
My offer is final. [ treat him as a partner, or he’ll be impossible to reach. ] Do I have you still? [ his attention, his reluctant agreement. kaz knows better than to ask for all of him as was promised, however badly he longs for it. he kisses nikolai’s fingertips, only pausing to murmur, ]
I wouldn’t let you close if I didn’t know — if you weren’t what you are. [ if he were easier, whole and unbroken; if he weren’t burdened by secrets and monstrosity. nikolai’s dimming light is challenge enough, equally exposing and galvanising, for a shadow like him. a quirk of kaz’s head, tone nearly arch if it weren’t strained from both holding back and keeping himself anchored. ] You’re not the first person to try me. [ not a brag, but rather a careful hint at a secondary truth: you’re the first person to succeed. does he know that? ] But no one’s ever — there’s never been anyone like you. [ immediately. ] I do know how that sounds. [ wry acknowledgment of the irony in his choice of person, evident in the twitch of his mouth, recognition of nikolai’s physical threat. ] I know.
[ nikolai affords him a different safety than he would prefer, but kaz hopes he understands the value in it after his diatribe on revealing weakness in ketterdam. still, he anticipates hearing those truths will be too much for nikolai, and kaz will lose him again — so he chooses recklessness, catching one, then two, of nikolai’s scorched fingertips between his lips, sucking on them a second. a chill bolts down his spine, water rushing in his ears. breath held to stop the decay from filling his lungs, his eyes flicker open to catch nikolai’s stare as a flush bursts across his cheeks. if either of them had died today or last week — he parts his lips, to let nikolai push for more or startle away from him.
kaz tells himself he can handle either daunting scenario. ]
no subject
his waiting pays dividends. a benediction. let me feel your hands, of a pair with his first confession. the kaz of now knows something he didn’t then: touch, and the feeling of being made real by it, has eluded nikolai for some time, too.
sat in the fork of nikolai’s legs, kaz slides his good knee up to improve his leverage and bracket nikolai on one side. he need only tug nikolai inches forward before he can rest their linked hands in his lap. keeps one gloved hand half-covering nikolai’s two, fingers soothing over the bruises at his wrist. the aim isn’t for nikolai to touch him that low — well — not in a fucking cave. presently, kaz doubts he could stand without dizzying, so he’ll call this a strategic respite to justify his selfishness. ice eyes thaw, brightening with mischief as he lifts his free hand to his mouth, catching the white tips of his glove in teeth and removing it with a jerk of his sharp jaw. the thick fabric falls away, cold nipping at his fingers. no matter. the fever will set in soon enough. he swaps hands, now grasping nikolai’s wrists in a shackle of soft skin — as if to say these hands are hostages, these hands are mine now — when he repeats the ungloving, head tipped back even further to expose the column of his throat, eyes momentarily closed.
can’t stop. he squeezes nikolai’s hands softly, bringing one to rest at his good knee and the other directly to his mouth, first to brush lips over the pulse throbbing in his wrist, then to kiss the centre of his black-streaked palm. a hitch of his breath into the contact (nikolai’s flesh at once firm and melting in his grasp). his other hand unbuttons nikolai’s coat from the bottom, just enough to slip under his layers as before, charting that fleetingly familiar trail across the coarse hair of his stomach, gentling up his injured ribs, skidding around his hip, and settling low on his spine to usher him close, closer, closest despite the tremor in his arm. he doesn’t take nikolai’s fingers in his mouth, unsure if he can without gagging on the sensation (but he wishes nikolai would encourage his efforts). his chin tilts upwards in defiance, stare unbroken. ]
My offer is final. [ treat him as a partner, or he’ll be impossible to reach. ] Do I have you still? [ his attention, his reluctant agreement. kaz knows better than to ask for all of him as was promised, however badly he longs for it. he kisses nikolai’s fingertips, only pausing to murmur, ]
I wouldn’t let you close if I didn’t know — if you weren’t what you are. [ if he were easier, whole and unbroken; if he weren’t burdened by secrets and monstrosity. nikolai’s dimming light is challenge enough, equally exposing and galvanising, for a shadow like him. a quirk of kaz’s head, tone nearly arch if it weren’t strained from both holding back and keeping himself anchored. ] You’re not the first person to try me. [ not a brag, but rather a careful hint at a secondary truth: you’re the first person to succeed. does he know that? ] But no one’s ever — there’s never been anyone like you. [ immediately. ] I do know how that sounds. [ wry acknowledgment of the irony in his choice of person, evident in the twitch of his mouth, recognition of nikolai’s physical threat. ] I know.
[ nikolai affords him a different safety than he would prefer, but kaz hopes he understands the value in it after his diatribe on revealing weakness in ketterdam. still, he anticipates hearing those truths will be too much for nikolai, and kaz will lose him again — so he chooses recklessness, catching one, then two, of nikolai’s scorched fingertips between his lips, sucking on them a second. a chill bolts down his spine, water rushing in his ears. breath held to stop the decay from filling his lungs, his eyes flicker open to catch nikolai’s stare as a flush bursts across his cheeks. if either of them had died today or last week — he parts his lips, to let nikolai push for more or startle away from him.
kaz tells himself he can handle either daunting scenario. ]