[ he expects an argument, though he doesn't intend to yield no matter what it costs him. in the end kaz bears it all anyway, drawing him into a searing kiss laced with pain and promise. he trusts kaz to keep it, to keep him in the way that nikolai needs him to even if kaz may not agree. he leaves him for only a moment, returning with not only the kit but having fetched kaz's discarded clothes from the night before, jacket, vest, and trousers settled in an untidy heap on a stray pillow. no doubt there are weapons and other valuable objects hidden inside pockets and linings. nikolai feels a pang of guilt; he should've made certain kaz had them earlier. should've told him where his own weapons are kept, should've shown him the brace of pistols in the trunk at the foot of the bed, the knives he used to throw with tamar now in a gleaming case at his desk.

is this all he wants? it feels like an impossible question to answer, the sort of thing he hasn’t bothered being truthful about in years. he’s always wanted more, always craved more attention, more affection, and it’s no different now, his fingers restless as they travel along the fabric of kaz’s shirt, holding as still as he’s able while his wounds are tended. there’s a careful sort of hunger in kaz’s gaze, something that twists knots in nikolai’s stomach, and he can’t help but feel as though kaz is leading him even now, but in this way he doesn’t mind quite so much. ]

I should be asking you that, since you’ve yet to master voicing your desires at will. [ kaz’s hands are efficient but gentle, his fingertips cool when they brush bare skin. when the work of the bandages is done, nikolai strays nearer still, greedy for the sight of him like this, boyishly undone. he flicks open the buttons of kaz’s shirt, knowing that he should be doing precisely the opposite, that there are affairs that need seeing to before their voyage, but the rising need between them feels heightened in its urgency, and for more than just a touch or a kiss.

when he brings their mouths together this time he slips his tongue past kaz’s lips, slowly seeking entrance, his fingers threading gently through his dark hair. he allows himself this moment, unhurried, the full weight of his want poured into one kiss. kaz’s mouth tastes like honey — and sudden copper when his tongue brushes a tender cut at the inside of his cheek, a brief tang of blood. he remembers waking to the hot, salty kiss sealed in blood and draws in a sharp breath, tensing. but he also feels the afternoon sunlight warming the back of his neck, hears kaz’s soft promise still ringing in his ears. i’m not going anywhere. ]

When you feel me— [ his voice is just a whisper, his eyes closed as his hands travel down kaz’s body, fingers drawing slowly down the hard planes of his chest, tracing over the cage of his ribs and dipping down to loosen his trousers. his lips relocate to his cheek, his jaw, nudging his head up so he can kiss along the line of his throat, charting a path that cuts directly over the bruise. ] My hands, my mouth — [ his palm presses to his cock, flooded with the sudden realization that he has not touched kaz in so long that he aches for it now, his mouth seeking his lips once more. ] Is it me you feel? Or is it —

[ the words are swallowed in a desperate kiss, loathing that this doubt plagues his mind, that the monster has taken even this from him. ]