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“I’m so sorry,” Vhedalis said for the fifth time as he pulled Arvain into an empty room.
“It’s fine, really,” Arvain sighed. “It’s just a shirt.”
“Perhaps, but I should have been more careful with that wine goblet.” Vhedalis eyed the purple stain on the champion’s shirt. “Perhaps I can make it a little better. Here, take it off and I’ll look around for something to use.”
Arvain raised an eyebrow, and Vhedalis flushed.
“What?”
“Trying to strip me?”
“I - no! I, I just-”
Arvain laughed as Vhedalis turned bright red, and pulled his shirt over his head. Vhedalis tried not to stare at the way Arvain’s muscles rippled with the motion, nor to ogle the man’s soft belly or plentiful bosom - but then his attention snapped to the chain around Arvain’s neck as he saw for the first time what was on it.
A locket.
The locket. His locket.
He stared wide-eyed, only catching himself from reaching for it as his hand extended and closed half the distance between them; he snatched it back in shock and spun around, moving to pick up the discarded shirt instead. Perhaps Arvain wouldn’t notice, Vhedalis would just put a little distance between them-
Arvain took him by the arm before he could escape, pulling him back against his chest and taking Vhedalis in his arms.
“Deshival,” he murmured softly. “It is you, isn’t it?”
Deshival swallowed thickly, unable to think of a way to spin a denial without a lie. He trembled in Arvain’s hold, afraid to speak, and just looked to him; deep blue met honey gold and riveted into place.
“How?” Arvain asked, gaze searching. “I… I saw you… I thought you dead.”
“I was,” Deshival said, voice cracking. “Briefly.”
“But you never sought me out.” The disappointment and resignation on Arvain’s face was subtle, but no less sharp a knife.
“I- I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” Deshival rushed to say, stumbling over his words in his haste to soothe his ex-husband. “After - everything, really - and I had to keep my past hidden, you know it wouldn’t go over well for anyone else to know-”
“Of course I’d want to see you,” Arvain said softly. “I always wanted… I’d hoped…”
A sound from the hall forced Deshival to tear his gaze away, and he froze. “Someone’s coming.”
He pulled away from Arvain, snatching the man’s shirt from the ground, and frantically scanned the room for hiding places. There! He took Arvain by the arm and bodily shoved him into the room’s closet, following quickly after and shutting the door behind them without a sound. The old, familiar panic began to seep in as the darkness closed around them, but he leaned against Arvain and focused on the man’s breathing, staving it off with the tangible proof he wasn’t alone in here.
Arvain carefully rested his hands on Deshival’s waist as they both kept quiet and listened, trying to make out what was happening outside the door.
Deshival startled as a voice spoke into his ear. “The Lovers to The Tower. I hope you're in the ballroom because we may have a lead.”
He glanced at the door with a wince, straining again to hear something out there. Finally, he raised his communicator amulet to his lips and half-whispered, “I'm, ah- otherwise occupied. Following a different lead thread.”
“Alright, well, let us know if you find anything.”
Rey sounded disappointed, but they could hardly sneak out now. She would just have to manage on her own; or rather, with Nohi’s help. He ended that train of thought abruptly as someone in the room began to speak, focusing to make out the words.
“...should reconsider, my friend, or you may find the consequences… unpleasant.”
Well that was ominous. If they’d been able to see, Deshival and Arvain would have exchanged looks.
“You haven’t even told me who this benefactor you’re working with is,” a second voice protested. “Surely you can give me something more before deciding whether or not to join you, this is all so hush-hush I don’t even know what you’re asking me for, Chabathier.”
A long pause.
“I’ll have to ask for… permission. I’ll seek you out after.”
“...Very well. If you don’t mind, I am going to sample some of those new pastries the Stagsuns requisitioned for the affair, I hear the lemon cream filling is to die for.”
“Yes, yes.”
There was the sound of a door opening and shutting, and for a long moment there was nothing. Arvain moved to exit the closet, but Deshival pulled him back and waited.
“My lord, this is Chabathier. Yes, I - Well, no, I haven’t been able to - I - Please, my lord, I am certain I can convince him to join us, but he wishes to have more information first. I - Yes, I know your identity cannot be compromised, my lord, but surely I can hint at some involvement from the crown? Just to convince him of our legitimacy before you bind him?”
Arvain stiffened, and Deshival yanked him backwards before he could try to leave the closet again.
“What are doing?” Arvain hissed. “He’s talking to Valmore, we need to stop him!”
“You and I are both unarmed, but he might not be,” Deshival whispered back. “His function is money, so long as either I or my partner takes him out before he leaves the gala it’s fine.”
“You can’t seriously-”
Footsteps approached their hiding place, and Deshival quickly reached up to seize Arvain by the hair and pull him into a searing kiss. Confused, Arvain froze for a moment, before tangling his hands into Deshival’s hair and melting into him. As the closet door swung open, Deshival let out a practiced moan.
“Unbelievable,” Chabathier sighed.
Deshival leaned back and looked at him with his best confused slut expression, all wide-eyed and pouty lips. “Ummm, we’re a little occupied, mister…?”
Chabathier stared at him. Behind the man’s gilded fox mask, Deshival imagined he was raising his brow in disapproval. He looked to Arvain, who was fortunately playing his part perfectly by gazing at Deshival with a dazed expression, and sighed again. He shook his head and walked off, exiting the room and slamming the door behind him.
Deshival turned back to Arvain. “Sorry, it was the best way to - mmfph.”
He cut off in surprise as Arvain practically lunged for his lips, pressing their mouths together with a desperate hunger. Apologies forgotten, Deshival surged into him in return, running his hands up Arvain’s chest and shoulders to bury them in that golden hair he’d missed so much. Arvain took him by the waist, pulling him closer without pausing his assault on Deshival’s lips. For a long moment there was nothing else in the world but the two of them, entwined again and at last.
“I missed you so much,” Arvain muttered hoarsely, and the illusion was shattered. “It had been years, Dess, and then you - you had to go and - and it’s been years again since.”
“I’m sorry,” Deshival whispered. “I - I didn’t realize. But I’m here now.”
Arvain kissed him again. “Tell me you want this. Tell me it’s not just a cover.”
Deshival froze, making Arvain pause. He drew back, eyes wary as he searched Deshival’s face - but rather than rejection, he saw only fear and uncertainty in the man’s expression.
“Deshival?” he asked softly.
“I want you,” Deshival said in the barest of whispers. “I’ve always wanted you. Cover’s just an excuse, to - to take advantage.”
“Take as much as you’d like,” Arvain murmured, before pulling Deshival flush to him again and kissing the sense out of him.
Deshival moaned softly as he felt Arvain’s growing erection press into him through the fabric of his pants. He slid one hand between them to palm it, making Arvain groan into his lips.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I can’t help it,” Arvain started, cutting off with a strangled noise as Deshival lightly squeezed him.
“Please,” Deshival asked hoarsely.
Swearing, Arvain pushed him back against the wall of the closet, shoving his pants halfway down his thighs before hiking Deshival’s dress up to the waist. Leaning into Deshival, Arvain lifted the man’s hips - prompting Deshival to wrap both legs around his waist - and captured his lips in another searing kiss.
As the tip of his cock ghosted over Deshival’s entrance, however, he paused. “Wait, are you sure you want to do this here? There’s a perfectly good bed out there-”
“It’s been seven fucking years, I want your cock inside me now, Arvain,” Deshival hissed.
Arvain immediately obliged, slowly pushing into him, and Deshival moaned. He clung to Arvain as Arvain thrust into him, eyes fluttering shut.
“Hey, no,” Arvain chided. “Look at me when I’m inside you.”
Deshival blinked his eyes open again, searching for Arvain’s, and flushed a little at the resulting smile.
“There you are. Look how pretty you are, taking my cock like this.”
Deshival flushed bright red, surprised by Arvain suddenly taking charge, but he couldn’t help the way it affected him - his cunt grew noticeably wetter, making Arvain groan at the sensation.
“Fuck, Dess. You feel so good,” he mumbled. “Don’t know how much longer I can last like this.”
Deshival whimpered as Arvain shifted one hand to thumb at his clit. “There’s - we can always go for a round two.”
“Good idea.”
He suddenly sped up his motions, hand and hips both, and Deshival came with a startled shout. His cunt clenching around Arvain drew him to climax as well, burying himself into Deshival as he kissed him again. After a few moments of catching their breath, Arvain hoisted Deshival into his arms and carried him out of the closet, kicking off his pants as he went.
“What are you - oh!” Deshival cut off as Arvain tossed him onto the bed.
“Round two,” Arvain said smugly as he kneeled between Deshival’s legs. He spread the lips of Deshival’s cunt with his thumbs, admiring the trickle of cum leaking from the man, before swooping down to lap it out of him.
Deshival, unprepared, let out a moan and wrapped his legs around him. Arvain’s tongue was relentless inside of him, but it wasn’t until Arvain withdrew and wrapped his lips around Deshival’s clit that he really started squirming. Deshival came again with a cry, which tapered into a strangled moan as Arvain kept going - the man began to finger him through it, never releasing his clit, and Deshival sobbed as Arvain wrung him dry.
Figuratively, of course, as betrayed by the obscene squelching noises that issued from his cunt with every thrust of Arvain’s hand. Arvain pushed him to the brink, until he was physically shaking with the intensity of it, before finally letting him go. Climbing on top of him, Arvain kissed the tears from his face.
“If you’re done, I’ll stop,” he murmured, expression soft as he gazed down at Deshival.
Deshival looked helplessly up at him, fully wrecked and gasping for breath. “Use me as you please,” he said hoarsely. “Please.”
“As you wish,” Arvain said, kissing him.
He moaned as Arvain pressed into him again, setting a slower pace from before. “Harder.”
“Are you sure?” Arvain panted. “I don’t want to hurt you-”
“If you’re going to fuck me, fuck me with everything you’ve got. Make me feel it into next week,” Deshival demanded.
Arvain growled. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”
“I don’t care, just-”
Deshival cut off with a yelp as Arvain pulled out and bodily flipped him over. He didn’t have time to react as Arvain seized his hips in a bruising grip and slammed back into him, driving his face into the pillows. Deshival moaned loudly as Arvain drove into him, making him unable to think of anything but how it felt to be filled and used so thoroughly. The room filled with the sound of Deshival’s cries and Arvain’s grunts as Deshival came loudly on his cock, clenching tightly around him as he cried out Arvain’s name. Arvain followed soon after, swearing as he gave one last thrust and was still, pinning Deshival to the bed with his weight as he came deep within him.
They panted together in silence for a moment, before Arvain carefully withdrew and laid down on the bed, pulling Deshival to him. Deshival snuggled into his chest contentedly.
“I love you.”
Deshival paused.
“You’re still just as beautiful as the day we met, you know,” Arvain continued softly, fingers threading gently through Deshival’s hair. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Deshival’s mouth was dry. “I… I have a confession to make.”
Arvain went quiet, hand pausing in its movements.
“I… I don’t look like this anymore. We used magical disguises for the gala, this isn’t… this isn’t really me.”
“Oh. Is that all?” Arvain’s fingers resumed stroking his hair. “Alright.”
Deshival shifted, blinking up at him. “Alright?”
Arvain shrugged. “I’m not so shallow as to care about a thing like that. You’re you. That’s what matters.”
“Oh. Um. Okay.” Deshival blinked back tears before Arvain could see them and misunderstand. “Would - would you want to meet? Again? After… this?”
“Of course,” Arvain said softly, smiling down at him. “I’d love to.”
“Okay.” Deshival swallowed. “My business card has my address on it, I’ll give you one after - shit. Chabathier.”
Arvain jerked up into a sitting position. “Fuck.”
“It’s fine, this is fine,” Deshival assured the both of them, helping Arvain locate his clothes in a rush. “We just need to spot him and I’ll tell Rey where to find him, she and Nohi will handle it. Come on.”
“Wait.”
Deshival turned to the now-dressed Arvain in confusion. “What, what’s wr- oh!”
Arvain swept him up into a searing kiss.
“For luck,” he murmured, and Deshival flushed.
“Who needs luck when I’ve already got you,” Deshival whispered back, taking Arvain’s hand and pulling him out into the hall.