sleepytimejunction | oh my god there was one bed.

oh my god there was one bed.

[You know how it is. A new location opens up in the City, and then they're off to investigate despite all of the weird shit that's happened in the past. By now, not a lot surprises Daan; not to say he doesn't react to anything, but it's more with exasperation than anything else, and this isn't especially all that different.

The residential district that opened up felt off already. Most of the buildings uniform, some odd loft-like setting inside of them. More like a single room cottage than housing, but it's also the kind of place he wouldn't have minded staying as a kid. Not exactly saying much, but it's a sturdy roof over the head and, presumably, some clean furniture.

The problem is that the door has locked behind them, and there aren't windows, otherwise breaking out would be too easy. Because of fucking course.]

It's about that time that I wish I had any lockpicking skills at all. Then again, I doubt that'd do us much good here...

Anyway. If we go have anything like past patterns to go by, this should be temporary. So we've got that going for us.

[Probably.]

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[It's simple and he wishes there was more, but it's still good. Vergilius is here, this is solid, this is real, and it's more than he'd ever think to ask for. He pants, trying to focus on keeping his grip steady and the motion continuing, stroking them together, constant precision.

Daan groans into Vergilius' mouth, his lips getting reddened and plump from the attention.] Fuck. [He swallows and nods.]

Yeah.

[Whatever he wants, Daan thinks distantly. Which is funny, because that's what Vergilius basically told him to do earlier.

But Daan's hand moves more quickly, but just as smooth, only pausing to toy with his thumb to rub over both of the heads of their dicks. Precum is smeared around messily before he goes back to firmly stroking both of them, quick and sure.]

I've got you.

[Vergilius isn't a vocal person - he doesn't consider himself, so, not liking conversation unless necessary and more likely than not to remain silent. Which is why it comes as a surprise to hear the discrete whimper that comes from the back of his throat as the doctor does his good work below.]

Daan.

[The times he said it before was on purpose. The name now is said with a low keen, injected with an intense amount of emotions he barely knows how to express on a good day. I want more of you. I never want this to end. I want you to destroy me. I give you and you alone permission in everything.]

[Maybe I lov-]

You've...got me. [His ears feel like they're going to burn through his hair. The earring dangling feels like an ice cube in comparison. Vergilius reaches down with his hand - a decisive movement, his fingers curling around the other's as he adds to the movement. He wants to see Daan's face. He wants to see a man who has suffered so much to experience all the pleasure he can handle. His scars are rough, but his grip is solid, cupping him as he now moves with him in tandem.] I got you...ah, too.

Edited 2023-10-15 10:52 (UTC)

[Though he does like the sound of his name on Vergilius' lips, this is the moment he swears he's never heard it spoken in such a way and so beautifully. He's never heard Vergilius sound like this, and fuck it's a treat. He wants to hear more of that, he wants to find more ways to make Vergilius feel good and forget everything else around them even just for a little while.

And what's wild is how this has nothing to do with Sylvian's influence. None of her shit is spoiling this, this is just them, and there's nothing better.

There's a quick gasp as he feels the pressure of Vergilius' hand added to his own.]

Fuck, Verg--

[Daan can't even finish the other man's name. He's too overwhelmed, a heady mix of emotion and pleasure. Eagerly, his hips buck against their hands, grinding against the other dick, the heat and his heart and it's enough. What else could he even dream to ask for?

When he comes, he mewls, brows knitted and mouth open, feeling his spend release hotly into their grip.]

[It feels like a sound that will be burned into his head for a long time. His eyes bore into the man with rapt attention, as if to capture him all - but then, his body reacts in time and drags him back in. The heat splashing against his hand and splattering against his abdomen is soon intensified as he follows in tandem with his own release.]

[Vergilius moans - it sings through his ribcage as he feels his body quake and shiver with the thrust of his hips into that tight grip. Even as it starts to calm down, his other hand reaches up to cup the man's face, pull him in.]

[He kisses him. And he kisses him again. And again. Like he hopes they'll melt each other down, swallow each other whole.]

[There's nothing better.]

[It's easy to just let himself be pulled down, and he pants into each kiss, the contact lazy but eager to continue to drown into every bit of affection that he's being given. He doesn't want to stop, truth to be told; he wants the moment to live on for awhile more as he meets Vergilius' lips over and over.

But he eventually needs air and pauses only to rest his forehead against the other's, taking in air. It wasn't even a proper fuck and he isn't sure if he's actually ever felt this good before. Horribly ironic, all things considered.

Daan settles in for another kiss now that he's less out of breath.]

Feeling good?

[That's more important to him, he finds. That Vergilius has no regrets about it, regardless of wherever this path leads them.]

[Now that the body is easing back into languid afterglow, the thoughts of before come in like a blood-red tide. It's the best he's felt in a long while. The warmth here persists, even if it wasn't "proper" - it settles into his chest, gladdened by the other's touch.]

[He doesn't deserve any of it.]

[But he won't be so harsh to Daan. Precious, beautiful Daan. He won't lie to him. He can't.]

I'm feeling more than good.

[His eyes crinkle in the way only they can, filled with an affection that he can't even begin to hide. His hand slides up to cup the man's ear as he kisses him on the tip of his nose.]

You?

[Hey what the hell, that kiss on his nose is cute. It earns a little laugh and he closes his eye, leaning into Vergilius' hand.]

Yeah. Better than I have in a long time, I think.

[When he opens his eye he does see the look on Vergilius' face, what awaits in his gaze. It's... warming, seeing him like this. It feels also fragile, but Daan realizes he'd do nearly anything to make him feel this way again and again.]

Hm, hang on. [Maybe it's fastidious of him, but it's a bit hard to turn back after what the von Dutch estate had to offer. With his clean hand, he fumbles around for a moment until he can get into his pants pocket to pull out a handkerchief. It isn't immaculate cleaning, but it's better than nothing as he gently helps to tidy up their mutually soiled hands. He pauses, then opts to do the same for Vergilius' stomach. Not perfect, but whatever.

Satisfied, he opts to be a bit more selfish and settles his weight down at the Fixer's side, resting his head against his shoulder.]

There we go.

[Well, he can hardly blame a doctor for being the type to clean up messes. The handkerchief tickles against his scars, then his abdomen, and everything now feels cool. Maybe that's why he instinctively leans back against the man when he finally drops down to his side. The heat. The connection.]

...In a long time, huh.

[His hand now moves, also selfish, to drape over the other man to pull him closer.]

[A pang in his heart echoes. How many mistakes will you make like this until you finally learn its not worth it?]

[He tries his best to ignore it.]

I like...when you laugh, Daan.

[Elise had never been much for physical affection, including after sex or even when they slept in the same bed. For a moment, Daan is still when he's pulled close, mostly out of being bewildered before he immediately figures out how much he does like it. He loops his arm loosely around Vergilius' waist and presses himself up against him, as if contact alone could fill a void in him.]

Well, who knew how good you'd be at making me laugh.

[His voice gets softer.] You're sweeter than you let on. I... understand why, all things considered. So I'm happy to keep it my secret.

...

[His secret. Daan is now someone who has seen the soft underbelly of the dragon. He knows how to deliver it a terrifying blow. He doesn't think he minds giving Daan this, though.]

[What he does mind is the potential of this blossoming, of him giving in to simple human need for someone at his side, and how dangerous that is.]

[He sighs a little, head resting against head.]

...I don't think I'm very sweet at all. But I guess I can't see me the way you see me.

Maybe it's the lack of depth perception on my part. [His tone is wry and he places a hand over Vergilius'.] Don't get me wrong, I know you can be a prickly bastard, but I like that about you too.

[And if anything, he knows that there isn't such a thing as anything being flawless. Whatever this is, whatever they choose it to be; they have their faults, but either you change or learn to live with them.

Although frankly, Vergilius is one of the more reliable people he's met in his life. What does that say about Daan or him? Maybe it's sad either way.]

That too? Mm. Note to self. Be worse.

[He does mean it as a joke, but part of it....might be a little sincere. If he was worse, this never would've happened. Daan, precious and beautiful, would've never got tangled up with him.]

[But...Daan is happy. That's really what's stopping him from simply acting on the urge to push him away. Daan is so happy.]

[He doesn't have it completely in him to ruin it.]

...You've liked me for a while, huh. [Not even a question. It's an obvious observation at this point.]

Pfff, okay, then I'm gonna just give back as good as I get.

[Ah.

Well, here he is, getting called out. Daan can't stop the intense blush on his face, and shrugs helplessly.]

Yeah. I wasn't... I don't know, I didn't want to make things difficult for you. Or... I suppose I worried I was projecting or something. Especially after I used that spell on your hand.

It was after that, for me.

After the spell?

[Sorry, sorry, he can't help it - he huffs against Daan's skin, hand reaching up to stroke his thumb over the other's earlobe. That blush is adorable. He's sure he'd be slapped a little for saying that again.]

You sure you didn't bewitch yourself?

Look at this guy. A real comedian.

[He grumbles, and it does nothing to pacify how red his face has gotten. It's dumb, he tells himself; he's been in love before. He's done unspeakable things, filthy actions, and seen just how depraved humans can get in war, and here he is blushing like he's a boy again.

Maybe Vergilius just has that effect on him. Making him comfortably vulnerable. No one's ever done that before.]

I don't know exactly when. Maybe when I remembered that you came for the cat, even though nothing could change me back except waiting it out. Or... when you wished me a happy birthday, even though I don't even have one.

It probably doesn't matter exactly what timing was anyway. But I know what I'm feeling pretty well.

...

[His face falls, ever slightly.]

[Now he's in love, and you did this. You cursed him. You, the horrible monster. You doomed him.]

I couldn't help it. [He finally says, his voice quiet.] You inspire that in me.

[I want you to be happy.]

[It's subtle, but then a lot of Vergilius' expressions are. Though Daan jokes about his lack of depth perception, he does have a sharp eye for detail, as is needed for him. So he notices.

Well. That's fine, this is fine.]

You know, we don't have to change anything between us if that's too much for you. I promise I'll understand.

[What's a little heartbreak, anyway? He's suffered far worse than this. He can suffer a bit more.]

I don't expect you to feel the same way.

No, that's...

[He starts, stops. Like he's tripped over thin air, and he's faltering to get back to balance.]

It's. [Another attempt.] I. I just.

[His heart feels like its melting inside his chest, eating away at his insides.]

I'm not someone who can...make you happy.

Hm, that so?

[Slowly, he reaches up, brushing his fingers over Vergilius' cheek.]

Isn't that up for me to decide, though? Because I'm pretty sure I'm already happy right now, with you. Either I'm easy to please, or you're really underestimating yourself.

...But like I said, we don't have to change a thing. I'm not gonna insist if you... I'll get it if you need space on this. Just know you don't have to worry about if you can make me happy or not. You already do that.

[No.]

[No, he can't let this happen.]

[Didn't the City beat it into him, time and time again?]

[He couldn't protect anyone. He couldn't protect the children. Everyone who cared for him, he couldn't protect.]

[Daan will lay here, comfortable, and then sometime Vergilius be holding his bloody body in his hands, with no ability to turn things back. That isn't even a question. It will happen. As sure as anything.]

[He has to stop this before it goes down such a path.]

...I'll lose you too, Daan. [He says, moving away from that tender touch.] I don't want you to fall into what I bear. You don't deserve that.

[Briefly, Daan pauses, watching how Vergilius flinches away from his touch. He knows this kind of sign, the way the past dictates how they can process or decide such things.

It's selfish and awful, but all he can think of about the prospect of dying is so what? Death for himself has never been a frightening concept, only dying before he'd ever know the truth about Elise. But that, in turn, is probably also cruel to Vergilius, who has a more fragile heart than he cares to admit.]

Considering the kind of places we're from... well, I can't blame you for being afraid.

So you tell me, then. What the fuck do I deserve? [When all he's ever gotten was being spat in the face by gods, their twisted morality, and probable betrayal.]

And when do I get to tell you what you deserve?

Edited 2023-10-16 18:49 (UTC)

[He almost perceptibly winces at the curse - of course Daan isn't happy. Who would, after a moment like they shared?]

[But it has to be done.]

[He's resolved to sink in the well of his karma alone.]

...You deserve to be happy.

[He's sincere about that. He means it with every fiber of his being.]

Doctor. [Please.] Daan. I don't deserve you.

Don't "doctor" me. This isn't my office.

[And it feels-- after all of that, after hearing his name spoken like that, and how much all Daan wanted was to keep hearing it. Like he was worth something, like he was adored, loved. Vergilius does say his name here, but Daan's reaction to hearing "doctor" after all this is completely an impulse kneejerk reaction, angry and a little hurt.

He breathes in, trying to ground himself. Trying not to spiral. It's... difficult, when all of his instincts tell him to hiss and lash out not unlike he'd done with Midnight in the past. Frightened of being vulnerable or close again.]

Then I guess it's a real conundrum when the happiest I've been is with you. Isn't it? Even in this... I don't know, not even an argument with us.

[Slowly, Daan sits up, but not exactly pulling away from Vergilius.]

I can't make you change your mind. But I'll tell you what I think you deserve. I think... you also deserve to be happy. Even if the things in your life tell you that you have to be otherwise. The things that have hurt you, the things that have been taken from you.

I don't know everything you've done or not done in your life. How could I? But I know what you're like. You care, more than you want to admit. You can be a bit cold, but you think you have to be. But you also try to do the right thing anyway. Even if you don't always know what that is, you try, and that's hell of a lot more than most people.

...And you're the first person I've been with that's... probably ever cared about my happiness. Or what I wanted. And I feel weirdly okay being open with you.

So there you go. In so many words, I think you deserve to be happy, too. Even if you're scared to take it. It doesn't even have to be with me, Vergilius. But you do deserve even an inch out of this shitty world. It won't give it to you otherwise.

[He's never had anyone talk to him like this. A part of him wants to snap in anger. Another part of him wants to hang his head, ashamed, admonished. It's one thing if this came from a stranger, where he could simply let it all slide off his back and move on solidly without a care.]

[Hearing it from Daan makes him feel something twist in the depths of his stomach. His eyes widen - that red gaze, staring through the shadows of his hair, fixates on the other's face.]

Funny how...I could say the same things about you.

[He reaches up, fingertips grazing against the man's cheek.]

I'm a killer. I'll continue to kill. I've bathed in blood like nothing else. Am I not anathema to you?

Edited 2023-10-16 20:15 (UTC)

[Well. All of that near-righteous frustration is almost sapped from him with the way Vergilius looks at him. The touch against his cheek. Daan closes his eyes briefly, his lips trembling for a moment before he hesitantly leans his head into the fingertips daring to touch him.

Yeah. That's fair. At least half of what he said -- if not more -- was probably also describing a bit of himself. Yet he's a bleeding heart in a lot of ways, too. His stark inability to turn his back on patients who genuinely need help. He's a sucker, sometimes.

Maybe Vergilius is, too.]

I don't know that I'm that much different, to be honest.

[Carefully, he reaches up to touch the back of Vergilius' hand.]

I'm not unfamiliar with the amount of blood on my hands, too. Maybe it's drops in a pool in comparison, but it's there.

But I wouldn't ask you to be anyone else other than who you are.

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