Work Text:
Water, is taught by thirst
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Water, is taught by thirst.
Land—by the Oceans passed.
Transport—by throe—
Peace—by its battles told—
Love, by Memorial Mold—
Birds, by the Snow.
- Emily Dickinson
Arthur stood in a pool of water. No--a lake.
No--a bathtub.
No--a sea.
The space around him shifted as he tried to get his bearings. A sheen of mist enveloped the edge of the water, distorting the dimensions of the space. The smoky tendrils kissed closer, cloying.
Arthur took a step forward, trying to see, trying to gaze out beyond the fog. Suddenly, with a bubbling groan the waves pulled him under. He cried out, seeing nothing, hands grasping at nothing. The water roiled and churned around him, thick and suffocating. He couldn’t sense which direction was up, couldn’t find the surface, he was just…
Lost.
“Arthur!”
Arthur startled awake at the voice.
“Arthur, wake up. You’re breathless and shaky. Take it easy. You were dreaming.”
Arthur shook his head, trying to dislodge that pervasive fog from his mind. “Right…sorry, I…yes.”
“What was it about? …Kayne?” John asked hesitantly.
“No, no, thankfully. No, I was…just in a pool of water. Surrounded by fog. I fell, and…oh, forget about it,” he said quickly, throwing the covers off and stretching languidly once he climbed out of bed. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve got so much to do, I want to get started.” He made way for the dresser.
“Arthur…”
“I said it’s fine, John.”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” John paused. “Well, it’s just…we were so tired, we just fell into bed last night, and you…haven’t showered in a bit. You look a little unkempt, is all.”
Arthur took a breath. “Right. Right, of course. Let’s…do that first, then.”
John was quiet then as Arthur prepared himself. He’d almost forgotten his friend was even there as he turned the faucet and stepped into the stream of water.
There was something in this darkness, he knew. If he could only orient himself, if he could only have any sense of direction. Just as the seed of intent began to form in his mind, the water surged and swelled, thrusting him once more above the surface where cool drops of rain fell onto his face out of a rumbling, cloud-choked sky.
"Arthur?" John ventured after a moment.
"Hm?" Arthur's head was leant back as he absent-mindedly scrubbed his hair.
"It's just...your hair has gotten quite long," John explained hesitantly. "It looks like you're having trouble getting the soap all the way through to the roots. I can--"
"It's alright, John," Arthur replied quickly. "You don't have to--"
"Arthur," John cut him off. "I want to help you. I like helping you."
Arthur was quiet for a moment.
"Well...alright then. Be gentle." His voice was part teasing, part sincere.
"Of course." John was nothing but sincere.
Arthur gathered a bit more soap in his right hand and began lathering his hair. His left hand ventured up to join the right, fingers weaving through Arthur's thick curls, lightly scratching the scalp. Arthur's breath quickened. It felt good. It felt really good. It was as though the disconnect between his hand and his mind tricked his mind into thinking the touch came from outside himself. Which it was, he supposed. It meant that the touch felt more like a head massage than a simple scrub. He let out a contented sigh.
"That good, hm?" Arthur could practically hear the smug smile in John's voice.
"Oh, come off it, you smug bastard. You're still only doing half the work."
"Oh?"
John's hand trailed down towards Arthur's neck, beginning to massage the muscles there, making its way to Arthur's shoulders. Arthur's heart began to beat faster.
"You have freckles here, too," John observed, circling a finger lightly on Arthur's left shoulder.
Arthur could only gulp in response, his throat having suddenly gone completely dry.
"Arthur?" John asked after a moment. "Are you alright?"
"Mm," was all he could manage.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Arthur's breath hitched. He shook his head.
"Do you...want me to keep going?" John asked softly.
Arthur couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't breath, couldn't think.
The dark sea surrounded him. Water, water, everywhere. There was something almost comforting in the way it filled his every sense and left no room for anything else. It felt…full. It filled his throat, his lungs. He felt the beating of his own heart like the crashing of the breaking waves.
"Arthur?" John asked again.
"Yes," came the choked reply, a gasping plea from a drowning man.
"Alright."
John's hand continued lightly dancing over the skin of Arthur's shoulders. The fingers traced down Arthur's right arm, then back up and over his chest. They came to rest over Arthur's heart.
He was floating. Or maybe sinking. Or maybe drowning.
"Your heart is pounding, Arthur. It's...it's hammering against your ribcage. Maybe...maybe this isn't such a good idea..."
As soon as the hand began to leave his skin, that dark sea suddenly felt cold, and dead, and empty. Arthur drew the hand back with his own, holding his hand over John's against his throbbing heart.
"Please, John," he pleaded. He couldn't say more. He only hoped his best friend would understand as he slowly moved his own hand away. John's hand remained for a moment, before starting to move lightly over Arthur's chest once more. The first time the fingers grazed a nipple, Arthur sucked in a breath, his knees nearly buckling.
"I like this, Arthur," John said as he let his fingers ghost ever closer to his nipples. "Your skin is soft and warm to the touch. I can feel your pulse quicken and your skin tingle when I touch sensitive areas. Like here," John's hand squeezed at Arthur's hip, eliciting another hitch of breath.
"Here," John continued, this time trailing a finger ever so lightly and slowly down Arthur's neck and chest, causing a shiver.
"And here." This time John's voice came with the hint of a growl as he drew Arthur's right nipple in his thumb and forefinger. "Oh!" Arthur gasped.
"Mm, yes, I like this quite a bit. Seeing you flushed and gasping for me." John's hand continued downward, grazing over Arthur's midsection. "It looks like you're enjoying it as well," he said, with that same smug smile tinting his voice as he looked down to see Arthur growing and twitching in response to his touch. Arthur, for his part, was still barely aware of anything beyond this churning sea of feeling. All he knew is that he wanted to remain enveloped by it.
"Yes," he finally managed, though he put some definitive force in the statement.
"Good." John grazed and cupped Arthur's thighs, then back over his midsection before finally ghosting over his now hard cock. Arthur nearly bucked into his hand as fingers danced on the tip of his cock, tracing light circles.
John was slightly hesitant here--he knew enough about sexual beings to get him this far, but this kind of carnal expression was never part of his worship as it was for some gods. He was venturing into unfamiliar waters now.
Luckily, Arthur saved him from figuring out where to go from there, as he grabbed John's hand with his own, and began pumping their hands together along the shaft of his cock. "Oh, oh," Arthur moaned, rocking his hips to the rhythm of their hands. "Yes, Arthur," John coaxed, pumping his hand faster. Arthur gasped, moving his hand away to lean it against the wall as he pitched forward, shaking and gasping. "Oh," he moaned. "John, your hand...it feels...it feels incredible. K-keep going. Harder," he grunted, nearly a growl. John complied, squeezing his hand more tightly around Arthur's shaft, slamming his hand back into Arthur's balls with each pump.
"Oh, yes," Arthur moaned again in response. "I'm-I'm close, John, please don't--please..."
"Yes, Arthur," John moaned as well. "That's it. You can...you can let go, Arthur. Let go for me."
Arthur rocked in the roiling dark water, body swelling through each wave. He didn't try to fight it now. He surrendered to the pull of the water, letting himself be swallowed by the sea.
The clouds parted like a fever breaking, like they'd only been waiting for a long withheld acceptance.
As the sea calmed, the mist dissipated to reveal a dark sky dotted with stars.
When Arthur came, he saw stars.
He bucked into John as the cum rushed forth, covering John's hand as he kept pumping, hand squelching, until Arthur's knees went weak and he sank to the floor of the tub, spent. He could hear the faint whisper of John's heavy breathing.
“How…do you feel?” John asked hesitantly after a pause.
Arthur leant his head back against the cool tile.
“I feel…full. Whole. Right, in a way I never did with--well, like I never have before.” He closed his eyes for a moment, sighed.
"But in the eyes of society, that makes me wrong.” There was the slightest tremor in his voice.
John was quiet for a moment.
"Fuck society," he finally said. "First of all, Arthur, I've witnessed the breadth of your species' existence and I can tell you that for the vast majority of it, sex and sexuality have been a welcomed aspect of the human experience. Divine, even. So fuck any society that tells you otherwise. And when have you even cared what society thinks, anyway? You've tangled with beings and traversed realms beyond most peoples' understanding. You just fucked a god, Arthur. You're who they talk about in the ancient epics. Let this weak-minded society shame you but don't you dare fucking shame yourself. You are the Undefeated. You deserve worship, and you deserve to feel this way. And I for one feel better than I have in my entire aeons of existence."
Arthur was quiet for a moment, taking this all in.
"Thank you, John. It did...I do feel...good."
"That's it?" There was a hint of a teasing grin in John's voice.
"I--well--what do you want me to say?" he asked, a tad desperately.
"How about something like, John, your touch was the spark to light my heart, white-hot in the dark like a flash of golden fire.”
Arthur finally chuckled, shaking his head. "Jesus Christ.” Then, after a moment of thought, “You should take up writing."
John chuckled too. "You should compose something for me.”
Now that, Arthur could do. "I will."
After a moment, Arthur spoke again. "John...your touch felt like being lost at sea with a storm gathering and I didn't know if I should try to beat the current or simply let it pull me under. It enveloped me, in a way that felt equal parts safe, equal parts unknown and terrifying. As you--you grasped me, it was like watching a massive wave gather before me. When you told me to let go, I...I did, I let the wave crash over me, and it was the most exhilarating feeling, swirling in this dark space with you. And when I surfaced, when I came back to myself, it was like I could see the stars on that English shore again."
"Arthur," was all John seemed to be able to respond, his voice thick with feeling.
Arthur let a sly smile spread across his face. "Ha! There. Maybe I will take up writing.”
"Arthur." This time, John's voice contained the feeling of rolling one's eyes.
"Yes, yes! We can put a desk in the basement like at that barn…hopefully won't open a portal to another world, though..”
"Arthur!"
Arthur began to laugh. Despite himself, John joined him, knowing that his partner was merely teasing him, enjoying the rise he got out of him. It made John want to get more rises out of Arthur, too. But for now…Arthur was right, they had work to do.
"I really am looking forward to exploring this new life with you, John."
"Me too, Arthur."
"Oh, that's it?" Arthur teased. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he laughed, before John could interject. John chuckled.
"Don't worry, I'll get you back for all the teasing."
"Oh?" Arthur smiled as he finished dressing. "Then I'll look forward to that as well."
Arthur stood once again in a calm pool. No mist obscured the vast expanse, but he felt at ease.
He did not know what may lie ahead or lurk below. But he knew that whatever happened, he wouldn't have to face it alone.