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Utowin enters Easthies' quarters to find the tray of food he delivered earlier largely untouched.
Easthies himself is laid on an unmade bed, facing the wall. He turns at the sound of Utowin's arrival. Beneath a curtain of dark hair, his expression is flat and miserable.
"You've not made much of an effort with your dinner," Utowin says, and steps into the room.
The space is illuminated by a single lantern. As he crosses the room, Utowin's shadow cuts a strip across the floor and the bed, casting Easthies half in darkness. It emphasises his features harshly; the hollow of his cheekbones and the bruises under his eyes.
"I'm not hungry," Easthies says detachedly. House arrest hasn't made him any less stubborn, which would be reassuring if it weren't also frustrating.
"You sure?" Utowin stops next to the bed. "Don't want you burning through your rations, if you change your mind later."
Easthies turns back towards the wall. "I'll be fine."
Utowin sighs and drops to a crouch. In closer proximity, he finds Easthies' hair unwashed and tangled. He reaches for a particularly large knot and begins to work it out with his fingers.
Easthies stiffens but doesn't pull away. Touch isn't novel between them—though whatever it is they have, it mostly goes unspoken. Utowin is grateful each time he's allowed it.
He works efficiently, detangling Easthies' hair in sections. It's soft; smells of Easthies' scalp, the utilitarian soap he favours, and hints of salt air. Easthies says nothing, though the tension seeps reluctantly from his body as Utowin goes.
When he's finished, Utowin gathers and smooths Easthies' hair to one side. Catching the lick of the flame, it's an oil slick against the plane of his neck. Utowin presses his lips gently to the exposed skin there; does so again, when Easthies doesn't object.
"I don't need to be coddled," Easthies says, slightly strained.
"I know." Utowin responds between touches of his mouth. "I just want you to feel good."
Easthies makes a sound in his throat then draws himself upright, planting both of his bare feet on the floor. His legs are spread just enough for Utowin to settle on his knees in the space between them.
"You want to be useful," Easthies corrects. Not unkind, but even. Factual.
Utowin swallows. It always feels good, being subject to Easthies' judgement. "Will you put me to use?"
Easthies considers. Then, slowly, he brings the pad of his thumb to Utowin's bottom lip. Utowin's mouth parts automatically and Easthies presses the thumb inside. Heat floods Utowin's body, pools in his stomach and groin.
He laves his tongue over what's offered to him, wanting to be good. Easthies leans in with his eyes dark and focused. For a moment, Utowin thinks Easthies might deign to kiss him—instead Easthies withdraws, and wipes his hand on the sheets beneath him.
Utowin is embarrassingly hard already. He wonders, briefly and desperately, if Easthies is as affected as he is; eases Easthies' skirt up his thighs and finds the answer to be yes. Gratified, Utowin presses his nose and mouth to the clothed outline of Easthies' cock and inhales.
"Utowin," Easthies says, too affected to be truly admonishing. "I haven't bathed."
It doesn't bother Utowin. The smell is good: heady, uniquely Easthies in a way Utowin couldn't hope to articulate. Still, he draws away, taking Easthies' smallclothes down as he goes.
"Do you want it?" he asks, a little breathless.
Easthies nods, as frustrated as he is eager. Unable to give into his want without considering it a lapse.
Utowin dips down and takes as much of Easthies into his mouth as he can, almost petulantly. He wants to see Easthies lose himself. To be an outlet for whatever darkness lives inside Easthies, it feels more important to Utowin than any other responsibility in his life. He'd sooner give up being a Knight, or even a witch, than leave this to anybody else.
Easthies draws in a sharp breath and gets a hand in Utowin's hair. At first just resting it there; then, when Utowin pulls all the way off to mouth at his tip, goading, Easthies fists a handful to push Utowin back down. Utowin gags and grabs at Easthies' thigh. Forced down, it's the only way left to communicate how much he wants it.
That, and pressing the heel of his palm to his dick, muffling a whine around Easthies' cock. He's already getting close, could probably make himself come like this, through two layers of fabric.
Easthies bows forward, his eyebrows drawn together. His hair falls either side of Utowin's face and obscures what minimal light is being cast by the lantern. It narrows Utowin's world to only this: his service, Easthies' pleasure.
"Utowin," Easthies warns lowly.
Utowin grunts in encouragement and doubles down his efforts. It's moments before Easthies comes with a sound trapped in the back of his throat. Utowin looks up through a film of tears to watch as it happens; finds Easthies' expression raw and open as a wound.
Utowin finishes as soon as he gets a hand around himself proper. The pleasure of it is white hot and all-consuming. Easthies' hand stays in Utowin's hair while he comes down; as soon as Utowin cracks his eyes open, it retreats.
The time in which it takes Utowin to source some water from Easthies' vapour bubble is enough for Easthies to bring his shutters back down. Utowin returns to find him redressed, looking absently through his window. He accepts the water from Utowin without acknowledgement and makes no attempt to drink it. Too lost in thought.
Utowin doesn't need to ask to know what Easthies is thinking about. It feels to him sometimes that the distance between them is as vast and dark as the ocean beyond their walls, even when they're standing side by side.
It's a rare flash of resentment which drives him to ask, "Do you ever think some things are important than the pact, Eas?"
Easthies isn't thrown by the question. He doesn't even look at Utowin as he answers, simply: "No."
Utowin laughs, a brief and ugly sound. "Fair enough."
He takes up Easthies' tray on his way out of the quarters. "I'll bring breakfast in the morning," he says. "See if you can do a little better than you did today."
Easthies frowns. After a moment, he says, "I'll try."
Utowin's heart thumps unpleasantly. Perhaps he's being unfair. Easthies makes what concessions for Utowin he can. Has already carved out space in his life for Utowin to inhabit; has offered Utowin his companionship and his trust.
That Easthies would offer Utowin anything at all should be enough. Maybe it would be, if Utowin were a stronger man.
He takes a final look at Easthies' wretched, beautiful face, then turns to leave the room.