Archive of Our Own

'This is stupid.'

'You may call it what you like.' Lucanis tossed the flour sack towel over his shoulder and crossed his arms. 'Go on, do you think it will bite?'

Davrin begrudgingly submerged his hand in the bowl until the water displaced nearly to its edge. 'There. You happy?'

'On occasion,' said Lucanis, leaning his shoulders back against the mildly cool stone of the wall. 'Now we wait.'

Davrin huffed. 'We? I don't need supervision to soak out a splinter.'

'And I needn't spend my valuable time fussing over you, I'm sure,' Lucanis agreed. 'Yet I persist.'

'I guess your demon isn't the only spiteful one,' Davrin muttered.

'You seem to carry your fair share of it as well. Perhaps, in time, you could be friends.'

'Ah! Great. Demonic pals.' He rolled his eyes briefly. 'I'll pass.'

Lucanis pushed off from the wall, going over to the baker's rack to check on how the sourdough was faring on its second rise. 'Never let it be said that I withheld the olive branch.'

'Yeah, well, until this olive branch gets out of my hand, I'm withholding judgment.'

'Your judgment has been far from withheld so far,' Lucanis pointed out, leaning to dig in a cabinet for the little jar of pinoli he'd brought back from the previous trip to the market. Expensive little things, even more so when trade routes were so fraught with peril these days, but vital for the perfect pesto. 'Though if you've been holding back, I welcome a return to honesty.'

Davrin said something Lucanis didn't quite catch, but had looked up to address him again just as the heavy cedar door opened barely enough to allow Bellara to squeeze through, and she closed it after herself immediately. One of the many little quirks of someone who didn't grow up around doors.

'Oh, hi Davrin! Why's your hand taking a bath?'

'Nasty splinter,' said Lucanis before Davrin could reply. 'Size of a—'

'Oh, I'd rather not know the size of it,' Bellara interrupted. 'Hand stuff weirds me out. That and eyeballs, but I don't reckon Davrin ever gets splinters in there. I hope! You don't, do you?'

Lucanis gave her a shallow bow. 'My apologies. I'll refrain from discussing hand stuff in your company from now on.'

'Why are you smirki—oh. Not Hand Stuff hand stuff. Probably ill-advised when you've got a splinter the size of a thing, though.'

'You may be right,' said Davrin, clearly tamping down a smile.

Bellara stood on tiptoe to peer around Lucanis, knowing not to crowd him when he was getting out a knife. 'If I can just squiiiggle past you here in a sec and, oh, thanks!' Lucanis handed her the wrench she'd misplaced. 'I knew I used it when we were building the shelf!' She gave Davrin a little wave. 'Good luck with the splinter! If you need some really, really advanced tweezers, you know where to find me.'

'I'm sure regular ones will do the trick just fine,' said Davrin, settling back a bit in his chair, hand still soaking. 'But if I ever decide to tame these eyebrows, you'll be the first to know.'

'Never!' said Bellara as she opened the door as little as possible. 'You've got magnificent eyebrows, don't you dare.' And she slipped out into the courtyard again with a muffled 'Caretaker! Hi! I was wondering if y—' as the door shut behind her.

There was a long moment of quiet, until,

'Advanced tweezers,' said Lucanis.

'Really, really advanced,' Davrin reminded him.

Lucanis shook a small handful of the pine nuts onto the butcher block and began to finely mince them. 'I believe there are some areas where technology has done enough. You may take your hand out of the bowl whenever you like, a few minutes is all it needs, unless you want the wood to expand further, of course.'

'Definitely don't want that,' said Davrin, neglecting to add that of course he knew that, he'd been dealing with splinters of all shapes and sizes since he was a kid, and having some foppish little fancy-man condescend to him about it hadn't been on his to-do list that morning or any other, and—

'Davrin?'

He looked up from checking the splinter, which had already started to work its way out. 'Yeah?'

'Thank you.'

Davrin frowned a little. 'For what?'

Lucanis swept the minced pinoli into his hand, then into a little dish to wait until he could chop enough basil to go around; Harding had seen great success in growing the finicky purple variety from Rivain, proving that practically anything would grow in the Fade if you paid it enough attention or, in the case of basil, ignored it entirely and 'forgot' to water it more often than not.

'Allowing me to help.' Lucanis set the knife down and brushed off his hands. 'In captivity, one is reminded of all the little facets of mortal interaction one finds beyond their reach—the ability to hold the door for an old woman carrying her shopping, to ask someone a question as soon as it pops into your head, to hear a stranger across the street say "bless you" when you sneeze. Simple moments of communion with others that we take for granted every day.' He shrugged. 'Being able to do things for others reminds me that I am free.'

'I… didn't think of that,' said Davrin.

'And you're free to go right back to carving and get another splinter to keep that one company.'

'Not if I can help it,' said Davrin, the beleaguered splinter skewered on the end of his toothpick knife. 'This bastard's going in the fire. What were you going to say it was the size of?'

'Half a pecan,' said Lucanis. 'Or a leaf of sage.'

'I always compare things to bugs or berries,' said Davrin. 'Reckon that's growing up in the woods for you. Emmrich goes by candies.' He got to his feet, flicked the splinter into the fireplace and emptied the bowl down the drain grate.

'You should bandage that,' Lucanis reminded him, knowing full well that he'd never seen Davrin use a plaster in their entire acquaintance.

Davrin didn't acknowledge the remark, but said instead, 'You're welcome.'

Lucanis smiled.

* * *

'This is stupid.'

'Fine, don't come crying to me when you miss your shot again.'

Lucanis scowled at Davrin, who merely smirked back; Smug one gets what he wants, Spite grumbled in the back of his head. Forming complete sentences—that's when you know you haven't had enough espresso. 'And what makes you an authority on throwing things? I've been Throwing the Wings since I was a child. I've been throwing knives since before you were born, you—'

'Yet you struggle with follow through specifically when you have to take a leaping strike from below, because you're favoring your left knee for the landing! Big, open meadow in the middle of the woods with some convenient boulders to jump off of, no deepstalkers or cultists for at least a mile and a half. This gives you the chance to actually practice.'

'I mean, he's got a point,' said Rook, scraping some mysterious wildlife leavings off the sole of one boot. 'It's not like there's a sparring ring at the Lighthouse, we don't want you to fall off the courtyard, and Isabela's pissed that no one will let her bet on you anymore.'

'You don't "let" Isabela do anything,' said Taash, stretching their shoulder until it popped, making Bellara wince.

'Doesn't that hurt?' she said.

'We fought a dragon three days ago, what doesn't hurt?'

'I never agreed to this,' Lucanis pointed out, bringing the conversation back around before Spite could get his hooks in.

'And you don't have to,' said Davrin. 'I won't call you a chicken, but… well,' he shrugged. 'Assan seems so eager to help.'

'Don't weaponize your bird son at me,' Lucanis retorted. 'That's far from sporting.'

'Who said I played fair? Come on, Lucanis, it's just a moving target. Are you afraid your reflexes are a little rusty?'

Lucanis glared at him, but didn't have the heart to glare at Assan, who was sitting politely on the sidelines with a bit of old sacking in his beak that had been magically scorched with a crude doodle of Ghilan'nain's head with X's for eyes, because clearly this had been schemed ahead of time.

'Let's make it a team effort, maybe?' said Harding. 'I can always use the practice, too. Haven't had many bad guys to shoot lately.'

'We've had plenty,' said Taash. 'But you've had a cold. You gotta rest when you have a cold. That's the rules.'

Harding huffed, pretending she wasn't still a little stuffy. 'I did!'

'Under duress!'

'Well, you had a sore throat for a week and didn't do anything about it.'

'My throat's always sore. If it's not, that's when you worry.' Taash tipped their head to one side in an attempt to crack their neck as well, but an ear cuff fell off partway there.

Lucanis caught it midair and handed it back. 'My reflexes are fine.'

'But look at Assan's little face,' said Harding.

Lucanis looked at his little face. Assan squawked encouragingly and did a little shuffle of anticipation for flight.

'All right,' said Lucanis. 'We practice.'

After twenty minutes of throwing dozens of whittled blades at the target (which proved that this had been schemed well in advance), Lucanis vaulted off a tall rock and drove his prop knives into the sack with such force that they both snapped at the handles, and he dropped into a tight roll as he landed, springing to his feet again just in time to catch the broken pieces as they fell.

'Wow , nice one, Lucanis!'

'Great job!'

'See, what did I tell you?' Davrin wasn't smirking, now, giving him a genuine smile as he clapped Lucanis on the back. 'You stopped getting in your own head about it and you took her down like a champ, I knew you could. Keep up that form and we're golden.'

Spite was seething, practically stomping his foot for attention after the action had blocked him out for a while. Damn smug one! Smug one thinks he helped. Gave us fucking splinters!

The last thing Lucanis was going to do was let Davrin know that.

* * *

'This is stupid.'

'Yeah, this is a real bastard you've got here.' Davrin changed the angle of the work light he'd borrowed from Bellara, and was starting to wonder if he should get her advanced tweezers, too. 'I don't know how you're not already full of splinters every day of your life from climbing trellises, you essentially don't have calluses. These are the hands of a literal baby.'

'A Crow's hands are his first weapon,' said Lucanis. 'I take care of them. Or I try to.'

'Is that why you buy that expensive mink oil cream that reeks of roses?'

'It doesn't reek. It has a very delicate scent.'

'If you're surrounded by people smothered in cologne, maybe.'

Lucanis rolled his eyes, but kept his hand perfectly still to allow Davrin to work. 'Do you honestly think that the world's most formidable professionals at sneaking up on people are capable of doing so after throwing on a hearty splash of Orlesian Petit Mort?'

Davrin huffed a laugh. 'You may have a point.'

'Unlike those tweezers. Should I surrender myself to Bellara's contraptions? You can give up, I won't be shocked.'

'You could have chosen so many other words to end that sentence, and yet.'

'What? It's the truth. You've been laboring away longer than it takes a mark to dig their own grave, I'm certain you have better things to do with your time.'

'Maybe I don't,' Davrin hedged, casually save for the position of his shoulders. 'Maybe I've given up on something else and this is a good distraction.'

'Oh? Do tell.'

'That wasn't an invitation to Story Time, Lucanis. Let me work.'

'If you like.'

A few moments ticked by, according to the little cuckoo clock Harding's mother had sent them; on the hour, which coincidentally chimed while they were grumpily giving each other narrow-eyed looks, a little mabari popped out and ran around on a mechanical track. Then,

'Just tell me.'

'No,' said Davrin.

'I'll be eaten alive by curiosity.'

'No, you won't.'

'I'll sneak around and find out for myself.'

'No,' said Davrin, with an unkind dig of the tweezers, 'you won't.'

'I'll get it out somehow,' said Lucanis, unflinching and with a little smugness of his own that Spite gleefully cackled over in the background, and added, 'Some Wardens are so easily bribed—' as Davrin twisted the tweezers and yanked, precisely how Lucanis had predicted he would.

'There! Thank the fucking Maker, I thought it'd be with you into old age.'

'I don't think I've ever heard you thank the Maker before,' said Lucanis, inspecting the tiny drop of blood where the splinter had been, unable to avoid feeling a bit pleased with himself.

'Only if it's extra blasphemous,' Davrin pointed out. 'It's no fun to swear by the elvhen gods anymore, for obvious reasons. Might as well piss off somebody else's while I'm at it.'

'Yet I can hear the H in elvhen,' Lucanis noted, his tone deliberately neutral. 'When you were new to the team, you said "elvish", if I recall.'

'Yeah, well, being around more of your own people again means you pick up on some things,' said Davrin, 'even if it's just one letter. Things change, sometimes I change with them. You're bleeding.'

'I bleed often, it's no trouble.'

'That's not the point. I'm supposed to be doing first aid.'

'I'll hardly fault you for a speck of blood.'

Davrin sat back and moved the work light away on its springed neck. 'I always thought that if I made you bleed, it'd be from a punch in the face.'

Lucanis was surprised into a smile. 'You may yet, the night is young.' And without really thinking about it, he sucked the drop of blood from his finger.

Davrin's expression wavered. 'I, uh. I promise not to punch you right after the first aid. I'd just be making more work for myself.'

'Ah, but you love to stay busy. All your little carvings standing in a row. Which one got damaged? Last I knew, you were working on—'

 'The Warden who initiated me, yeah.' Davrin sighed and strolled the tweezers over his fingers for a moment before setting them down, wondering why Lucanis always made him want to fidget. 'One of those flying rocks slammed into another one at just the wrong time, jolted the crap out of me, and the entire arm I'd just detailed with scale mail sliced clean off and skidded over the side.'

'I'm sorry to hear that your artwork went to waste after so much effort.'

Davrin's brows drew together slightly in disbelief. '"Artwork"? I don't know about that.'

'Liar. You have special chisels the size of those tweezers, no one but an artist puts that much intricacy into something so small.'

The back of Davrin's neck prickled with warmth. 'Well, I guess… maybe it's art. Kind of needs someone else to look at it for it to be real, though.'

'I'll look at them any time you like,' said Lucanis.

'That's what Bellara said, too, until I caught the look on her face.'

'No, no, I'll do it properly,' Lucanis insisted, with a characteristic good-natured expression that was nearly but not quite a smirk, 'I'll even critique! You seem the sort to thrive on insults.'

'Critique isn't the same as being insulting.'

'Ah, but I thought you said you weren't an artist. How do you know?'

Time to change the subject. 'You have blood on your lip.'

'Yes,' said Lucanis, uncrossing his legs where he sat so that he could lean forward with his elbows to his knees, fingers steepled at his chin. 'A speck perhaps the size of the head of a pin, yet you haven't stopped looking at it this entire conversation, save only when you deliberately look away. Why is that, Davrin? Planning your punch?'

Time to hastily change the subject again. 'We're done here,' he said, getting up, 'I'll let you get back to—'

Smug one leaves! NO ONE can leave!

Lucanis was on his feet in the blink of an eye, and caught his arm. 'No,' he said softly, 'we're not done here, and you know it.'

Davrin's heart leapt into his throat, thudding like the punches that would've been so much easier than this, whatever this was. 'I don't know what you mean.'

But he discovered that other things were easy, like letting Lucanis back him up against the chair until his choices were to either stumble or sit. It was easy to just sit down, wasn't it? It was easy to shift the slightest bit to make more space as Lucanis rested his knee against the triangle of seat that could be leaned on between the canted-open shape of Davrin's thighs. It was easy to hook two fingers under Lucanis' dandyish starched collar and tug, to draw forth an almost purring laugh that made Davrin shiver against the warmth from the hearth. It was easy to stop caring what anything Meant.

It was easy to forget how to breathe.

'Beautiful boy,' Lucanis murmured, tipping Davrin's chin up to look him in the eye. 'How has no one snatched you up yet?'

Davrin thought of a thousand things he could have said, after the fact. He thought of clever rejoinders and flirtatious backtalk and all manner of excellent lines, but all that he could say, all that he longed to say from a bone-deep conviction that banished any doubt, was merely this:

'Please.'

Lucanis leaned so that the thigh between Davrin's pressed just a little, just enough to notice, and that subtle ache, that warmth at the base of his spine he'd always tried to ignore whenever they bickered or fought beside each other or saved each other's lives for the nth time, bloomed and uncoiled in a heady rush that was almost too much, almost enough to scare him away from this and shatter whatever fragile peace they now held, but—

'Shh,' and it wasn't shushing him, wasn't condescending, just a soft sound to comfort him and reassure Davrin that there was nothing he needed to say, nothing he needed to be doing other than this, just feeling Lucanis' hands on him and letting himself enjoy it. There wasn't any urgency or pressure or expectation, and even as Davrin wished he could leap ahead to whatever might come next he knew that he had to savor this, that he'd kick himself for eternity if he didn't relish every second, if he didn't let himself let go.

He didn't realize his fingers were tucked into Lucanis' belt just like they had been under his collar moments before, until the slightest shift in posture made him aware that his hands had moved without him thinking.

'May I kiss you?' Lucanis whispered, glancing back and forth between Davrin's eyes, entranced by the warmth and the fire reflected in them. He knew that the answer didn't have to be yes—that knowledge was part of why he asked, after all—but even if the answer was no, there was something here, threads tangled together until they both snagged on a feeling and couldn't turn away. Even if the answer was that Lucanis stood up and Davrin politely took his leave, there was something here, a moment of connection that in all his months of confinement he had never even allowed himself to contemplate, for fear that his loneliness might become something brutal, something alive, something that could be used.

Lucanis didn't want it to be easy. Ease, in his experience, led to complacency, and complacency to destruction. One of his fellow Crows had joked upon his return that aside from revenge, he probably wanted to get himself to one of the really top-tier brothels and spend a princely sum on the finest whores money could buy, for surely a man imprisoned could think of little else upon his rejoining the world beyond his cell; the idea had made Lucanis shudder, not out of disgust—everyone knew that backwork was one of the cornerstones of any civilized society, as vital as any other trade—but out of fear of what sort of man he could have become if that were what he sought at once.

It was more difficult to get along with regular people, now, even other Crows. It was difficult to find ways to rest. It was difficult to even just lay down, much less allow himself to sleep, much less allow his mind to meander down the paths it chose in slumber, and so daydreams were all he had as a way to unwind. He'd replay them in his mind and change subtle details, sometimes repeating things precisely the same as he'd done before in favorite scenarios that always brought him comfort. But lately, it had become easier to integrate aspects of his new quest into his fantasy life, people and places that had never graced his daydreams before were now allowed to slowly, tentatively step through the wreckage of his mind and soothe him.

It was difficult to allow himself to imagine a life where any of those daydreams were within reach. It was difficult to allow himself this moment, but Lucanis held a certainty tight in the fist of his heart: always ask whether something is welcome, and you will never be without an answer.

But it was easy to trust Davrin, wasn't it? With his no-nonsense approach to their mutual tasks, his blunt but good-natured mockery at times, his fierce loyalty. It was easy to tell him the truth.

It was easy to remember to breathe.

'Yes,' said Davrin, nodding, barely an instant after the question was spoken. 'Yes.'

But as their lips met and a dizzying warmth unfurled in Davrin's chest, he felt something else: the cool flat of a small blade against his throat, its edge tilted just enough to feel it when he swallowed, and that was enough to make him want to throw everything off the dining room table and ravish Lucanis right there, but he didn't know who would be doing the ravishing because nothing had been established or discussed, and he didn't want to make Lucanis feel—

But it was easy to let all of that go, let his overthinking drop away and embrace whatever came next.

'I thought I'd make this interesting,' Lucanis whispered, kissing Davrin's neck just above the point of the blade. 'What do you think? I'm accepting critique.'

'It's perfect,' said Davrin, tipping his head to the side just enough to bare more of his neck to him, and silently flicked open his wickedly sharp toothpick knife, the point resting gently but undeniably against Lucanis' jugular. 'Don't stop.'

He hadn't been able to taste the blood, but the night was young.

Lucanis let his eyes fall closed for a moment and went completely still, relishing how he could very subtly feel Davrin's pulse through the handle of his dagger, but he couldn't resist kissing him again, it was too good to stop for too long. He loved the way Davrin's breath hitched when Lucanis grazed his lower lip with his teeth, and was pleased that he'd known just what to do, trusting his instincts rather than doubting them. He wanted to show Davrin that he understood, that their antagonism was part and parcel with a sort of underhanded courtship that men had been pursuing for hundreds of years, that every snap of biting sarcasm was like unto a flirtatious compliment or fond remark—it said, You're worth the energy, it said, You're strong enough to take it; you're good enough for me. It spoke volumes that they both heard, and the fact that they did genuinely irritate each other was merely a bonus.

Lucanis felt the slender blade press just a little harder against his throat. 'I said,' Davrin told him, his voice low and hungry, 'don't stop.'

'We can't carry on in the middle of the dining room,' Lucanis noted. 'Someone might come in.'

'Who's fault is that? You're the one who started it.'

'I believe we both started it, in our own ways.'

'Do you want to move?'

'My room is right here.'

'Your room is the damn pantry.'

'Being near food makes me feel safe,' said Lucanis. 'Just as being near you does the same. I never have to worry that I'll be deprived of nourishment.'

'That's kind of a heavy thing to bring to the table when we're making out,' said Davrin. 'But I know what you mean. Lead the way.'

As soon as the door closed behind them, Davrin pinned Lucanis to the back of it with a forearm across his collarbone, making it difficult for Lucanis to raise his arms, and held his knife just under the angle of his jaw. 'Does this make you feel safe?' Davrin murmured, with the barest hint of mockery in his voice.

Lucanis' pupils were wide and dark, his breath picking up a little faster. 'Yes.'

'How about this?' Davrin leaned in to kiss him again, but instead caught Lucanis' lower lip between his teeth and tugged until it slid free, enjoying the soft sound Lucanis made in response.

'Yes.'

Davrin moved his arm so it pressed against the base of Lucanis' throat, and gently traced the curve of Lucanis' mouth with the tip of his blade. 'I kind of hate that I want you,' he said conversationally. 'You really do get on my nerves.'

'Personally, I enjoy that you get on my nerves.'

'Never said I didn't.' The knife pressed against Lucanis' mouth as if it were telling him to keep a secret, and he ran the edge of his own along the column of Davrin's throat.

When Davrin's blade moved again to drag slowly along his cheekbone, Lucanis said, 'Do you always bring knives to bed? That seems more on-brand for myself.'

'Oh, are we going to bed?' That subtle hint of mockery reappeared for an encore. 'On a cot that regularly collapses on one side if you sit in the wrong place?'

'We could always go to your bed,' Lucanis pointed out, 'but I fear the momentum would be lost, unless you'd like our friends to see you held at knifepoint.'

'Pantry it is, then.' Davrin stopped pinning him so he could use his free hand to unfasten Lucanis' trousers. 'This okay?'

'Absolutely.'

Davrin has successfully gotten the suspender buttons undone with one hand, but the main button was giving him trouble.

'Let me,' said Lucanis.

That got him the knife to his throat again, making him shiver. 'I got it.'

'I could—'

'I said I got it.'

And as soon as he had, Davrin knelt, pinning Lucanis by the hips with his forearm just as he'd done with his collarbone, flicking his knife closed and tucking it away in his pocket. For some reason the pressure was exquisite, and Lucanis made a sound in the back of his throat that made Davrin's heart skip, urging him on.

Davrin nuzzled at his still-growing cock, almost affectionately but not quite, inhaling the scent of the surrounding curls with a long breath, lips brushing against him now and then. Lucanis held his dagger steadily against the bolt of Davrin's jaw, enough that whenever he opened his mouth Davrin would feel the edge bite against his neck.

'Does this make you feel safe?' Davrin asked again, a softer warmth than before.

Lucanis ran his hand over the clipped-short fuzz of Davrin's curls right where they faded thicker, cool fingers against his scalp. 'Yes.'

Davrin looked up at him, his eyes so easy to get lost in if Lucanis allowed it. 'Do you want me to suck your cock?'

Lucanis swallowed and nodded, eyes falling closed for a moment. 'Please, Davrin.'

'I see you've remembered your manners.'

'I never forgot them.'

'Says the guy with a dagger to my throat.'

'Politely.'

Davrin laughed as he unpinned him, and the deep thrum of his voice so close made the back of Lucanis' neck tingle with sparks. 'I'll grant you that.'

And with every soft hum of contentment as Davrin kissed along the length of the shaft, that thrumming vibration wound its way to the base of Lucanis' spine, making him ache all the more. 'Good boy,' he said.

That seemed to strike a chord with Davrin, whose breath caught for an instant as he parted his lips to take Lucanis' cock into his mouth.

'You know,' said Lucanis, whose dagger didn't change hands so much as he sheathed that one and drew another in its place, 'you're at my mercy as much as I am yours.'

Davrin hummed in reply.

'All alone, no one close enough to hear you cry for help—though you wouldn't, would you?'

Davrin hummed again, taking him deeper.

'That's it, Davrin,' said Lucanis, 'good boy, take it at your own pace.'

Davrin looked up at him, then, with such an open expression of longing that Lucanis felt weak at the knees. Maybe Davrin only allowed himself that vulnerability when he didn't have to worry about saying the right thing.

'I wanted you from the moment I saw you,' Lucanis told him, running the dagger's edge gently along the sensitive curl of Davrin's ear. 'I didn't think I could, but there you were. Do you know how often I've daydreamed about this?' Davrin moved his tongue in a way that made Lucanis stutter out a gasp. 'I don't think I've been so preoccupied by desire since I was a teenager.'

Davrin sat back for a moment, now fully kneeling as he stroked Lucanis' cock. 'Didn't know I was such a distraction.'

'Not in a disruptive manner,' Lucanis assured him. 'More like the addition of pleasure when none had been present before. I value that, and I'm grateful.'

'How am I doing?' Davrin asked, unable to resist the possibility of critique.

'Beautifully,' said Lucanis, running the backs of his fingers against Davrin's left temple, the knife having truly changed hands now. 'Your lips are perfect.'

Davrin looked away a little shyly for a second, then looked back, a faint glimmer of defiance and challenge in his eyes. 'More.'

'Your complexion glows with a warmth I could happily curl up in forever.' Lucanis pressed the blade to Davrin's jugular, harder than before, just enough to sting. 'Your voice makes me ache, especially when you're angry.' Just a touch more pressure, a little more— 'I want you to hold me down and have your way with me.'

Davrin's reply was to take Lucanis' cock fully, taking a deep, slow breath before opening his throat to swallow the remaining inch or so, and Lucanis was so absorbed in this moment that he could pretend that he almost didn't notice the flash of the blade as it swept across the top of his thigh, so sharp as to barely be felt, a fine thread of blood blooming to the surface in tiny droplets that clung to the hair on his leg. But he saw it, he felt it, and he felt staggered by the trapped roar of need that beat against his ribs.

'Good boy, Davrin,' said Lucanis in a breathless whisper. 'I want you to take what you want.'

Davrin swallowed around him one after another, which almost felt like he was being stroked by his throat, and Lucanis had to use his free hand to brace himself, grasping Davrin by the shoulder in a way that felt both steadying and possessive.

When Davrin sat back to breathe for a moment, he looked up at Lucanis again and said, in that bluntly determined way of his, 'I want your come,' before plunging back down, sucking like this was the only thing in the world he wanted, stroking as he slid his tongue beneath the foreskin and circled the crown.

'Fuck,' Lucanis ground out through his teeth, his head falling back against the door, the angle of the dagger momentarily forgotten, nicking the side of Davrin's neck but neither of them cared, this was too perfect of a moment to worry. 'That's it, pet, please don't stop.'

But Davrin did stop, sitting back and touching the small wound on his neck, smiling, leaning back in to kiss the head of Lucanis' cock before nuzzling and lapping at the sensitive purse beneath, making his cock twitch for further attention. 'You like that?'

'Maker, yes.'

Davrin looked up at him with a faint smirk. 'You wanna fuck my throat?'

Lucanis was trembling. 'Davrin.'

'That's not an answer.'

'Please.'

Davrin smiled. 'I know a neat trick, but I'll have to risk the world's most collapsible cot.'

'I promise I'll catch you if you fall,' said Lucanis, and they both paused as the impact of that phrase, even mostly in jest.

Cot dragged out parallel with the length of the room, Davrin lay on his back with his head hanging off the end.

'Are you sure about this? You've placed yourself in a somewhat challenging position.'

'I'm up for the challenge, trust me. Do you want to fuck my throat or not?'

'Yes,' said Lucanis.

Knives away, 'So you just cradle the back of my head…'

'Like this?'

'Yeah. And when I lean back my throat opens up straight so you can thrust as deep as you want.'

Lucanis felt breathless with want, and nodded. 'If you're sure.'

'As deep as you want. I mean it.'

That sent a fresh wave of shivers down Lucanis' back. He'd hardly been touched since his return from the Ossuary, and now things had escalated to this —it was intoxicating, how overwhelmed he felt, how every instant of contact was thickly heady with desire.

'C'mon, what are you waiting for?'

'I…' Lucanis shook his head, smiling. 'I want to hear you say it, that's all.'

Davrin rolled his eyes, but didn't sound sarcastic at all when he spoke. 'Please fuck my throat, Lucanis. I want it.' He wet his lips, letting out a breath that was only a little shaky. 'I want you to pound me until you shoot down my throat. Please.'

Lucanis smirked a bit. 'Well, with an invitation like that, I can hardly refuse.'

He maneuvered so that Davrin would be less likely to get a crick in his neck, took a steadying breath and slid his cock between Davrin's plush lips, unable to hold back a moan at the perfect heat of his mouth. As soon as he met resistance he hesitated, however, and Davrin urged him on by pressing his thumb against the cut on Lucanis' thigh, smudging the blood into a dark-edged streak across his skin, and Lucanis couldn't hold back.

He thrust smoothly into Davrin's throat and the slight obstacle became no more than a ridge to rub against, and Lucanis felt something he didn't have words to describe as he watched the shape of his cock move down Davrin's gorgeous throat—a possessiveness he would otherwise deny himself, a deep and resounding certainty that this is Mine.

Davrin moaned in the back of his throat with every thrust's recoil backward, grasping at Lucanis' hips and even tugging a little when he wanted more, until he was being well and truly pounded in a way that made his eyes roll back and his body completely relax in the paradoxical effects of surrender.

'Is this what you wanted, Davrin?' said Lucanis, his voice a little ragged with effort and need. 'All this time you just needed my cock down your throat?'

Davrin groaned, his hips twitching, the shape of his arousal more than obvious, a dark spot on his breeches from precome making itself known.

'Such a good boy,' said Lucanis. 'I won't stop unless you tell me. Two taps on the leg and I'll withdraw, understood?'

Davrin gave him a thumbs-up and swallowed around him for emphasis, making Lucanis moan and hasten to get back to plowing his throat.

'Fuck, Davrin, that's perfect. So deep…' Lucanis could hardly catch his breath, and couldn't stop himself from thrusting as deeply as possible, now, the pressure and pleasure building as one. 'Do you want my come, Davrin?'

His response was to grip Lucanis' hips so firmly he suspected he'd have a bruise or two tomorrow, even as Davrin struggled to breathe, and the moment Davrin dug his nails in, Lucanis came.

After a few moments that consisted of Lucanis staggering back against a shelf for support and Davrin sitting up, smirking and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he hadn't just been throatfucked within an inch of his life, Spite decided to finally speak up.

Smug one gets what he wants!

Lucanis was surprised into a laugh, and Davrin didn't question it.

'So,' said Davrin, turning to plant his feet on the floor, 'that was relaxing.'

'Relaxing?'

'What, are you not relaxed?'

'Well, I am, actually, but—'

'Just let me know whenever if you want to have another go, I'm game.'

Lucanis shook his head, smiling.

'What?' said Davrin, unable to keep from grinning, himself.

'We're both very stupid,' said Lucanis.

'Yeah? Maybe we are.'

'Definitely too stupid for advanced tweezers.'

'Oh, definitely.'

'You're incredible.'

'Hush.'

'I won't.'

'Yeah, you will.'

A dagger once again in his hand, Lucanis narrowed his eyes at Davrin and said, 'Make me.'