Work Text:
“I think if I can just modify this section here from this rune to - perhaps - perhaps a connected set? To signify the whole rather than simply a specific portion? I can make it-”
“I just don’t see it,” Valmore said, frowning. He peered down at the multitude of papers scattered across Deshival’s workspace, covered in scribbled notes and sketches of various runes and ritual inscriptions. “How are you going to pull all of these together into one ritual? They’re so… disparate.”
“You’re not looking at it right,” Deshival complained. “We’ve been at this for nearly an hour-”
“Then help me understand,” came a murmur in his ear. A hand slid down his back, coming to rest at his waist as Valmore slid closer, practically pressing himself to Deshival’s side. “What should I focus on?”
Me, came a sudden, traitorous thought, and Deshival struggled to regain his ability to speak in the face of Valmore’s cool presence against his side. He trembled slightly, lips moving silently as he forcefully composed himself. Valmore was a close friend, but-
“Here,” Deshival croaked out, finally. “This is the keystone for the whole thing. If I can figure out how to arrange…”
Valmore slowly brushed his thumb along Deshival’s side as the smaller man spoke, keeping him from fully recovering. It was so distracting, being touched at all - let alone so much! Think of Arvain, he reminded himself internally, but another little voice whispered back, Why should Arvain care what we do now? He left us.
It was a testament to Deshival’s thorough research that he was able to keep talking despite this inner struggle.
“I think I see now,” Valmore murmured, still so intimately close in his ear. “Very clever, pet. I think this might just work; I’ll arrange for you to have the necessary materials.”
“Th-thank you,” Deshival stuttered out, trying to ignore the way his body was starting to react to Valmore’s touches. “I appreciate it.”
“Do you now?” the vampire purred into his ear, amused.
The hand on his hip slid forward slightly, and Deshival stiffened; a pause, and then Valmore pulled away. Deshival bit his lip to silence the whine of disapproval that bubbled in his throat at the loss.
“Well. I should be leaving, then, to make the necessary arrangements,” Valmore said, stretching. “And perhaps for a little rest afterwards.”
I have a bed here, Deshival caught himself wanting to say. Flushing slightly, he instead muttered some sort of farewell and made his escape from the room; when he returned, he knew, Valmore would already be gone. Collapsing onto the couch, he sighed and put his head in his hands.
“What am I doing?” he said aloud to himself. His skin still ached where Valmore had touched him, begging to be caressed again. He had a feeling it would only be a matter of time before his commitment to Arvain began to pale in the face of his need to be touched, appreciated, seen by another person. It scared him to consider - but what else could he do?
Arvain wasn’t here anymore - no amount of love or loyalty in his absence would change that. But Valmore… Valmore was.