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Aren sat in his tent, important missives stacked at his elbow on the low desk, completely unable to focus on his duties. Dark fingers repeatedly brushed over the velvet box cradled between his hands like a worry stone. With a heavy breath he set it aside only to pick it up again a moment later. Kiran was meant to arrive any moment and Aren still hadn’t decided if he would present the man with this token; had already put it off three separate times in the previous weeks.
He opened the box to stare at the custom earring set nestled amongst the purple silk. At the end of the post was a pea-sized ruby set into the crossguard of a gold dagger. The blade curved down to a ruby that hung from the tip like a drop of blood caged in thin coils of gold. A flick of his wrist snapped the box closed and he forcefully set it next to his knee, pulling his focus to the paperwork in front of him.
The first few pages were difficult, his eyes darting to the side frequently, but he was able to settle into the familiar rhythm of the chore: approving or denying special requisitions, responding to report requests from superior officers, and making rotation changes based on his own reports.
“Hard at work as usual, I see.”
Aren’s eyes flicked up quickly, the only indication that Kiran had managed to sneak up on him. Sometimes the man’s talents still surprised him. There was a warm smile directed at him from the half-elf and he felt himself returning it easily as he rose from his position and walked around the desk to pull Kiran into a welcoming kiss. It started soft, softer than normal, but Aren’s thoughts still lingered on the box, on the step he wanted to take, though fear continued to stay his hand.
“What's on your mind?” Kiran asked, breath hitching when Aren’s teeth caught his lower lip, tugging, then soothing with a swipe of his tongue.
Aren hesitated, trailing his mouth along Kiran’s jaw to his ear, pulling the tip between his lips and biting down just enough to get that - there it is. Kiran mewled deep in his throat, hips twitching under Aren’s hands. The possessive portion of him surged to the surface and his fingers dug into those slim hips, thumbs pressing into the dip in the muscle.
“That’s not an answer,” Kiran whined as Aren bit down just below the angle of his jaw.
The chuckle that left Aren was dark and low, the smirk he wore moving firmly into smug territory at Kiran’s responding shiver. There was something in the way Kiran always responded so strongly to him - every hitch of his breath, every twitch of his fingers twisted eagerly in the fabric of Aren’s tunic, every gasp and moan as Aren methodically placed marks across his body - that made him never want to stop.
“Someone’s very demanding today,” he hissed against Kiran’s ear.
Curling the fingers of one hand into Kiran’s hair, he pulled just hard enough to give him access to that beautiful, pale neck. He ghosted his lips down, teeth pressing down on the pulse point for a moment, until he could rest them against his collarbone, giving a quick nip before dragging his mouth back up the center of his neck to bite at his jaw. His other arm circled around Kiran’s waist to pull him tight against his own body. The feel of Kiran panting and squirming against him was intoxicating.
The worries of the day melted away, like snow at the first touch of spring. How had he made it so far without this man to ground him? How had the duties of his position not crushed him under their weight before Kiran walked into his life? It was these thoughts that pulled him back from dragging Kiran to his bed, pushed him to stand at arm’s length with his hands resting on the shoulders the man who meant the most to him.
“There is something,” he started, pausing for a breath, “There is something I wish to give you.”
Kiran’s breaths were labored, still dazed, but he swallowed and nodded, following easily when Aren tugged him over to his desk and maneuvered him to sit. With only the slightest hesitation, he grabbed the box and placed it in the half-elf’s hands. His own hands were trembling, so he clenched them and placed them against his thighs as he sank to one of the pillows on the ground. Red eyes tracked every movement of the other man, waiting.
Kiran’s brows furrowed, confused, but there was also a bit of trepidation there. His thin fingers brushed over the top of the box, cautious like a rabbit in the face of a possible threat. Aren could feel his heart thumping in his chest as Kiran finally flipped the box open and then felt it drop when the younger man froze in obvious fear. Neither said anything for several minutes, the silence stretching between them painfully.
“I can’t-”
“Why?” Aren interrupted, tone a little sharper than he’d intended.
“You don’t…” Kiran trailed off, searching for words or refusing to speak the ones he wanted to.
He licked his lips and swallowed, then closed the box and tried to hand it back to Aren. The drow shifted backward, planting one hand on the ground so he could duck his head and catch Kiran’s gaze. He studied him, never letting him break eye contact for more than a few seconds, and what he saw made his jaw clench against the urge to growl.
“If you even think,” he started, voice tight and low, “about trying to reject this for any reason but that you don’t want it, that you don’t feel the same as I…”
“But, what will peop-”
Aren cut him off again, this time with a harsh kiss, the thumb of his free hand pressing hard into the hinge of Kiran’s jaw and his teeth catching, sharp, against his lips. He felt smug satisfaction roll through his chest when Kiran’s lips chased his as he pulled away. The words that he thought would fail him in this moment seemed to be scrambling to break free instead.
“I want this, with you, for as long as either of us have.” Aren’s breath caught on the next words, though, and these he had to force out, “If you do not, tell me now. Tell me now and things will be as they were before everything, and I promise your service will not be affected; but I cannot have you and yet not have you.”
Kiran set the box aside and Aren barely had a moment to feel his world shift sideways before it was righting itself again. Gentle fingers grazed along his cheekbones until they slid back to clasp his neck, palms resting, warm, beneath his ears. A choked sound slipped past his lips when Kiran’s forehead touched his. He’d always felt those poems of love, full of longing and singular devotion, were exaggerations created to instill strong emotions in the reader. He was mistaken. The words on those pages didn’t come anywhere close to this feeling.
“Are you certain?” Kiran whispered, the words spoken so softly he almost didn’t catch them.
Aren leaned back just enough that he could see Kiran’s face clearly. He tilted his chin up with one hand to see beautiful grey eyes shining with unshed tears; to make them see that he meant every word.
“I spent my life not believing in love. Believing that if I ever found someone it would be a relationship of convenience, a way to increase standing for both of us, in one way or another. But you… you changed everything.” He brushed away Kiran’s tears with the tips of his fingers, in awe at the man before him. “Nothing in my life prepared me for you and I wish to never be parted. Will you have me?”
Kiran’s face crumpled and he just nodded vigorously, unable to say anything. Everything was right, perfect. Aren surged upward to capture Kiran’s lips once more, pouring his every emotion into that single action. Hands pulled and pressed - hard enough to leave bruises - until Kiran was resting in his lap and the kiss took a decidedly more needy turn. The possessive urges from before roared to the surface with renewed vigor - Kiran was his.
“Mine,” he growled, lifting him up to lay across the desk, papers be damned, “You’re mine.”
His fingers made short work of Kiran’s vest, pushing it to the sides so he could get his hands under his tunic. The whine that left Kiran had his fingers twitching and he rocked his hips forward, grinding against him. Kiran gasped, hands scrabbling above his head to grasp the edge of the desk.
“Good boy,” Aren said against his sternum, the tunic now pushed up around his armpits.
At this point he slowed his movements, dragging his lips in patterns across Kiran’s abdomen, pausing at random to bite into his pale flesh. With each bite he sucked and worried at the skin, just how he knew Kiran liked it, until they bloomed bright red. A mark that would last. A reminder that he was claimed. Kiran twitched and squirmed, pressing his hips up into Aren’s, the little gasps escaping past his lips building into groans and breathy pleas.
“You will not come,” Aren ordered, holding Kiran’s hips still.
His only response was a whimper and a nod. Then he leant back, rolling his hips at a leisurely pace, to watch Kiran’s skin flush red across his chest. He snapped his hips forward and Kiran bowed upward, muscles straining in his arms, grip solid on the desk, voice strangled as he held back his orgasm, and all Aren could think was-
“Beautiful. You're so beautiful, my Kiran. My heart. My soul.” Each declaration marked by a sharp thrust.
Aren moved one hand to press into Kiran’s pelvis and flipped open the velvet box with the other. He grabbed one of the earrings, careful not to damage it. Then he leaned back over his half-elf, never once changing the movements of his hips, letting the weight of his cock push against Kiran’s clit over and over.
“Wrap your legs around me and sit up,” he sealed the command with a kiss before moving backward, Kiran moving with him.
He removed the back of the earring and pressed the post against Kiran’s left earlobe, wrapping his other arm around Kiran’s shoulders to press the back to the other side. His efforts doubled then, cock pushing harder and longer. Kiran’s voice climbed higher, broken pleas falling around them.
“That’s it. You're doing so well. Always so obedient.”
Kiran whined, the sound long and drawn out, fighting back the orgasm with everything he had. That's when Aren took pity on him, breathing heavy against his left ear.
“Come for me,” he hissed and pushed the earring through Kiran’s ear in one swift movement.
With a keening cry, much louder than he’d dared before, Kiran came, fingers clutching Aren’s jerkin in a white-knuckled grip. The sound and sight sent Aren over just moments later, hips jerking erratically as he groaned against Kiran’s throat. They fell against the table, breathing hard, and Kiran wrapped his arms around Aren’s neck, anchoring him in place.
Aren let them bask for a few minutes, watching blood from Kiran’s ear drip onto the desk. It was sure to stain. The thought put a smile on his face and he leveraged himself up to look down at the man below him. So beautiful. He pressed a kiss to Kiran’s lips then sat back to grab the other earring and place it in his love’s hand.
“It’s your turn,” he said, turning his head to present his right ear.
From the corner of his eye he watched Kiran run his thumb over the earring and glance between it and Aren’s ear. He waited, and watched, letting the moment stretch between them. It was surprisingly comfortable.
With a flex of his abdomen, Kiran sat up and Aren’s cock twitched, a valiant - if fruitless - attempt to get to round two faster. His attention was drawn back by fingers tracing the shell of his ear. Kiran was curled over him, setting the two halves against his earlobe, and he kissed the tip as he pushed the post through. The sensation made Aren gasp and he felt the heat of a blush spread over his neck. Almost as if he knew, Kiran ran his fingers down his neck and across his collarbone, placing another kiss on the tip of Aren’s ear.