[ he sinks to the bed with a soft smile, teeth catching his bottom lip. it's as good as a yes. he intends to ask again, intends to show him gardens and lakes and the way the sun and the moon share the sky on summer nights, if he can time this right. he intends to take him apart in his sprawling bed, to slip into the water with him and try to bleed a bit of his fear away. maybe kaz will hate all of it, too much light and sun and fresh air for someone used to ketterdam's dreary skies. maybe he'll get to see the flushed little strip of sunburn across his nose again. ]
I cannot guarantee your safety if Zoya catches you stealing, and I'd advise you to keep your hands off of any sapphires you might find. She likes those. [ what will zoya say when he declares kaz brekker a guest of the crown? unknown. nothing good, but surely something entertaining (to him, perhaps not kaz). he stretches pliantly when kaz pins his wrists above his head, eyes glowing a hazy amber in the lamplight as he watches him steadily. kaz seems so sure that he can rest, so much that nikolai wants to tip over into the territory of believing him. maybe this is it. he feels strangely content now, his greed fulfilled with a promise. ]
Is that what you want? [ a quiet murmur, lips curving. kaz voices his desires more often now — demands them, sometimes — and maybe it doesn't register to him anymore, but nikolai still notices every time. to touch you. expected. for you to let me. perhaps he does have a habit of hijacking these moments with his eager hands, hard to control the way he wants and wants and wants. harder still when he knows kaz wants it too, has never had the means to have it before, years of quietly burning need caged inside of him for — only the saints know how long. knowing all of that, he can hardly be expected to keep his hands off of him, to abstain from coaxing those soft cries and full-bodied shudders out of him again and again. he has so many years to make up for, after all. so much untouched want inside of one boy.
but kaz has already given him something precious. hope. he can give this back to him, something that he wants. a chance to explore his own need with his own hands. another step. kaz can map out his own path of stones now, with a safe place to land if he falters. something honeyed swells in his chest when they kiss, growing even sweeter when kaz's mouth trails down his jaw and presses to his throat. he arches, lips parted around a quiet sigh as kaz bares the planes of his stomach, muscles tightening. one hand comes down, fingertips dragging along kaz's side and trailing lower along the length of his thigh. ]
How do you want to touch me? [ his other hand reaches up, blackened fingers running along the sharp cut of kaz's cheekbone, pushing into his hair and coming back down to trace his mouth. he slips a finger gently past his lips, stilling briefly, then slowly past his teeth to seek the tip of his tongue, warm, wet. want pools in him, hooking his finger as he pulls kaz gently down to him. can't help himself. a rueful smile, fingertip stroking the soft pad of his tongue before sliding away, his hand leaving a wet trail down his own bare stomach. ] Have you thought about having me like this? Tell me.
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I cannot guarantee your safety if Zoya catches you stealing, and I'd advise you to keep your hands off of any sapphires you might find. She likes those. [ what will zoya say when he declares kaz brekker a guest of the crown? unknown. nothing good, but surely something entertaining (to him, perhaps not kaz). he stretches pliantly when kaz pins his wrists above his head, eyes glowing a hazy amber in the lamplight as he watches him steadily. kaz seems so sure that he can rest, so much that nikolai wants to tip over into the territory of believing him. maybe this is it. he feels strangely content now, his greed fulfilled with a promise. ]
Is that what you want? [ a quiet murmur, lips curving. kaz voices his desires more often now — demands them, sometimes — and maybe it doesn't register to him anymore, but nikolai still notices every time. to touch you. expected. for you to let me. perhaps he does have a habit of hijacking these moments with his eager hands, hard to control the way he wants and wants and wants. harder still when he knows kaz wants it too, has never had the means to have it before, years of quietly burning need caged inside of him for — only the saints know how long. knowing all of that, he can hardly be expected to keep his hands off of him, to abstain from coaxing those soft cries and full-bodied shudders out of him again and again. he has so many years to make up for, after all. so much untouched want inside of one boy.
but kaz has already given him something precious. hope. he can give this back to him, something that he wants. a chance to explore his own need with his own hands. another step. kaz can map out his own path of stones now, with a safe place to land if he falters. something honeyed swells in his chest when they kiss, growing even sweeter when kaz's mouth trails down his jaw and presses to his throat. he arches, lips parted around a quiet sigh as kaz bares the planes of his stomach, muscles tightening. one hand comes down, fingertips dragging along kaz's side and trailing lower along the length of his thigh. ]
How do you want to touch me? [ his other hand reaches up, blackened fingers running along the sharp cut of kaz's cheekbone, pushing into his hair and coming back down to trace his mouth. he slips a finger gently past his lips, stilling briefly, then slowly past his teeth to seek the tip of his tongue, warm, wet. want pools in him, hooking his finger as he pulls kaz gently down to him. can't help himself. a rueful smile, fingertip stroking the soft pad of his tongue before sliding away, his hand leaving a wet trail down his own bare stomach. ] Have you thought about having me like this? Tell me.