[ this can’t go on. he thinks it again and again as nikolai touches him places that no one else can. fingers searing the r that few find intelligible (if they’ve seen it at all), brushing his ear in lieu of pressing his pert mouth there. how is it fair that he can reach out and do what he likes, but when kaz reaches back — he cuts off the childish thought. this is the way it’s been from the start. better to tell himself that all nikolai claims to desire is dependent on convenience (comfort when at his lowest and loneliest) or his desperation to be useful (re-assembling his rattling pieces). one night, no more. the same thing he said in fjerda despite kaz’s protests. if nikolai were well, he never would have returned. when he becomes well again, thanks to a devil’s bargain, he’ll return to ravka and end this for good.
kaz fails to listen carefully to nikolai’s reply, lost in the touches given over like they’re nothing. they’re not nothing. they’re incapable of being categorised as such. every single one tugs him nearer, nikolai’s gloved hand as good as hooking into his neck, a different sort of shiver inching down his spine. there’s uncertainty, of course, leading him to fidget until he’s comfortable on nikolai’s firm chest. eventually, his heartbeat replaces the sounds of the waves, steady and alive.
if anyone else told him they wanted him to find peace in the water, he’d laugh. only in death. instead, his pulse flutters. ]
There’s no peace for someone like me. [ fearful and fearsome, a self-made monster. ] There’s only you. [ for want of entombing himself at nikolai’s throat, he turns his nose into his silken shoulder, breathing in the palace perfumes and seasalt. in embracing him, nikolai presses for an intimacy that leaves kaz questioning the rules of this engagement. is he allowed to touch? nikolai’s mouth warms his hair, but it seems different when he initiates taction now, like his wanting itself is corrosive. is this how nikolai had felt the first time they kissed, knowing that it might be the very thing to drown him? ]
I despise your neighbourhood. [ muffled, so kaz lifts up to settle one hand beside nikolai’s head, while his injured palm balances over his heart. the fur blanket slips down his back. his eyes are as wild as they are aching. ] But one night isn’t enough. I’ve left you too many times already. [ his mistakes as painful — worse, than nikolai’s, because he failed to use his cleverness to understand this person who matters above all else. fuck the crow club, the merchant council, and all of ketterdam. ] I’m staying tonight. Tomorrow. [ on the sofa, he anticipates, if nikolai makes a hat-trick of his rejections on this miserable night. ] Even if I don’t know how to be close to you and not want — to kiss you now. [ his elbows bend, lowering as if he might. ] You don't have to do anything. You don't have to say it. [ all of that seems irrelevant, when nikolai himself, whole and hale, is the goal. ] I’m staying.
[ because kaz brekker does whatever he wishes. and he wishes for nikolai to know that he’s wanted, even if that feeling isn’t returned. for him to be safe, even if nikolai would rather drown. it matters not if he hates kaz for his stubbornness in this. kaz already decided he was willing to pay any price to shelter him. ]
no subject
kaz fails to listen carefully to nikolai’s reply, lost in the touches given over like they’re nothing. they’re not nothing. they’re incapable of being categorised as such. every single one tugs him nearer, nikolai’s gloved hand as good as hooking into his neck, a different sort of shiver inching down his spine. there’s uncertainty, of course, leading him to fidget until he’s comfortable on nikolai’s firm chest. eventually, his heartbeat replaces the sounds of the waves, steady and alive.
if anyone else told him they wanted him to find peace in the water, he’d laugh. only in death. instead, his pulse flutters. ]
There’s no peace for someone like me. [ fearful and fearsome, a self-made monster. ] There’s only you. [ for want of entombing himself at nikolai’s throat, he turns his nose into his silken shoulder, breathing in the palace perfumes and seasalt. in embracing him, nikolai presses for an intimacy that leaves kaz questioning the rules of this engagement. is he allowed to touch? nikolai’s mouth warms his hair, but it seems different when he initiates taction now, like his wanting itself is corrosive. is this how nikolai had felt the first time they kissed, knowing that it might be the very thing to drown him? ]
I despise your neighbourhood. [ muffled, so kaz lifts up to settle one hand beside nikolai’s head, while his injured palm balances over his heart. the fur blanket slips down his back. his eyes are as wild as they are aching. ] But one night isn’t enough. I’ve left you too many times already. [ his mistakes as painful — worse, than nikolai’s, because he failed to use his cleverness to understand this person who matters above all else. fuck the crow club, the merchant council, and all of ketterdam. ] I’m staying tonight. Tomorrow. [ on the sofa, he anticipates, if nikolai makes a hat-trick of his rejections on this miserable night. ] Even if I don’t know how to be close to you and not want — to kiss you now. [ his elbows bend, lowering as if he might. ] You don't have to do anything. You don't have to say it. [ all of that seems irrelevant, when nikolai himself, whole and hale, is the goal. ] I’m staying.
[ because kaz brekker does whatever he wishes. and he wishes for nikolai to know that he’s wanted, even if that feeling isn’t returned. for him to be safe, even if nikolai would rather drown. it matters not if he hates kaz for his stubbornness in this. kaz already decided he was willing to pay any price to shelter him. ]