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[The first thing Sorey thinks as he falls is what Lailah said as they left Camlann; that without his domain, all of them would instantly be hellions. The ground collapses beneath his feet, the wind drake behind him snaps up his cloak in its jaws and he sees the terror on Mikleo's face just before Symonne's laughter shrieks out and he and the drake fall together.

If they're too far away from me-

He can still feel their connection. He can still feel them, even if they can't go to him, and Sorey prays that's enough.

Wind rushes past them and Sorey tries to wrench out of the drake's grip (It's gotta be a wind seraph, Zaveid had shouted as they were thrown into the thick of battle in the tight corridors of the fortress), twisting and turning, sword in his hand. They'd weakened the drake considerably as a team but he's not sure he's powerful enough on his own to purify it, not even with all the strength he's gathered. Not without the others.

Hopefully, because Rose is there, they'll be okay. Please, please, I can't lose anyone else-

They fall far but hit a collapsed spire at an angle; in the mess the drake releases Sorey (or maybe his cloak tears, he can't tell) and he tumbles, bumps against it and hits the ground hard enough to rattle his teeth in his head and jar his bones. He pushes himself up, ignoring the bruises and aches, the constant, thumping worry of his heart and puts his sword between he and the drake as it sways up to its feet.]

Don't worry, [he promises the poor thing, because thank god, thank god it's not a dragon yet. There's still hope.] I'm going to save you. Don't worry, it'll be over soon.

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Sorey...

[Dezel peers blindly up into his face. He's concerned about the way Sorey hangs his head. It's okay to be nervous, but he hopes he hasn't made Sorey feel awful somehow, or lords forbid, sad. The wind seraph feels he should do something but he isn't sure what. He feels so utterly useless when confronted with human emotions. But... maybe Sorey's okay? Maybe he's just gathering himself up...?

I do love you. Five Lords, they haven't even broached that topic yet, but there it is. Sorey is sweet and direct as he is in all things. There is no doubt that Dezel is falling-- and hard.

Sorey shifts and touches his hair. Dezel breathes out slowly despite his panicking heartbeat and strokes his way up the other's arm.

And then he hears his name.

Sorey whispers it with love in every syllable, as if it isn't a name but a spell, and it pulls at everything Dezel is and could ever be. It binds him and it frees him all at once, breathes color into memories, breathes life into barren chambers of his heart. He shivers again and clutches Sorey's arm but not enough to hurt.]

I-- I love you, too.

[There was never any other answer, but he feels so dumb stuttering it out like he's some kind of teenager. Not to mention he is blushing badly. Maybe Sorey won't notice. Dezel decides to make sure of that by touching Sorey's chin and guiding him into another kiss. The kiss is practically burning and a touch more desperate. Hungrier, somehow.

There are a lot of words for what he feels, but this isn't the time. When it comes down to it... Dezel's always expressed himself with actions rather than words.]

[Like Sorey could miss the way Dezel suddenly comes alive under him; it's like when he'd first woken, Dezel's arms tight around him as he gasped into his hair.

Sorey slides off of Dezel, but only far enough to roll onto his side on the futon, pulling Dezel along with him. This is somehow more comfortable, with them side-by-side, both equal, neither of them falling into the old roles of Shepherd and sublord or seraph and human. It's just Sorey and Dezel here.

Sorey smiles into the kiss and pulls back, burying his nose in Dezel's hair and pushing a leg between his.] You always smell so good, [he whispers, hands exploring Dezel's skin, down his side, stroking his chest.] Like the air at the very top of the mountain. Like Elysia...

[Dezel goes willingly-- more than willingly, really-- as they roll over together. He decides he likes this, too, even though it's nice to look up into Sorey's face instead of down. There's something satisfying about curling around each other like this, and he takes it a step further by tangling their legs somewhat.]

Do I? I never really noticed... [His voice is soft, amused, a little floaty. He's distracted by the touches even as he returns them in kind. Dezel draws his ungloved hands through Sorey's hair, gradually slipping downward to learn every dip and vein in Sorey's neck and shoulder.] Too wrapped up in others. It's one of the senses I still have.

[He gently works at the knots in Sorey's shoulderblades, though he's not sure if it's actual tension or just Sorey being built. Sometimes it's hard to tell. Sorey's the type to stifle his anxiety so it comes out physically in other ways. Some are too subtle for Dezel to pick up, like if there are circles under the eyes, but he always notices someone's posture.]

... Your scent is sometimes a little different, but most parts are the same. Tanned leather. Old feathers. Something else-- some kind of polish, I think it's for your weapons. And this other thing I couldn't figure out for centuries. A little tangy, something like grass, and with a note of vanilla--

[He breathes in deeply. He can't smell it too much now, but he remembers it clear as day.]

It's the glue used to bind books. Old books. That's... what that was.

[The journey definitely put even more muscle onto Sorey's already solid frame, though he's still growing, but the knots Dezel finds are real and when he digs his fingers into them Sorey groans, going pliant in his arms. It's true that he's been stifling himself quite a bit; unwilling to put Dezel out or to trouble him any more than he already is, knowing that most of the questions he wants answered won't be until he meets up with everybody, nervous over how he's going to react when he sees where Alisha and Rose are buried (if their graves are even still intact). The passage of time has rattled him more than he thought it would, and though Dezel's presence has been a blessing that's kept him rooted, he can't help but be troubled by it.

This certainly helps though. And though it's embarrassing, Dezel nuzzling him and telling him he smells like leather and feathers and old books, well, if Sorey wasn't already sufficiently wooed, he'd be there now.]

Now you're just trying to butter me up, [Sorey mumbles with a smile, blushing as he runs his hand up and down Dezel's side. Don't think about the time apart, don't think about the sad memories. He's right here, with Dezel in his arms, and most of his friends still alive.]

I want- I want to make you feel good, [Sorey confesses with a little bit of embarrassment.] No- amazing. I want you to feel amazing. What can I do?

[Dezel makes a noise not unlike a soft chuckle.] Nope. It's the truth. I lie about as well as you do, or at least that's what the others say. [A sigh, half-exasperated; it's difficult to sound inconvenienced with lovely calloused fingers sketching across his skin. He presses his lips to Sorey's temple and lingers there for a few seconds, simply enjoying the fact that they have this.

Dezel's fingertips freeze behind Sorey's neck. Whatever he was thinking of saying promptly vanishes.]

Sorey...

[He could almost say something like you already do and mean it completely, but he's never been that kind of bold. Dezel doesn't respond immediately; he appears to be considering his options as he draws invisible lines down Sorey's chest and lower, lower, lower-- until he pauses with his hand on Sorey's lower stomach.

He doesn't touch the obvious place. It would be easy to, and Sorey would probably enjoy it, but Dezel wants Sorey to set the pace. He's aware of the irony even as he's asked about what he wants.]

... Touch me?

[His fingertips slip lower, stroking at the fold of Sorey's hip and thigh. He hopes he's giving Sorey ideas. If he isn't, well, maybe it's hopeless after all.]

I want to feel you. In every sense of the word.

[Dezel had asked for it before, touch me whispered fervently into his skin but Sorey hadn't obeyed, still too nervous and too self-conscious to do what he'd really been asking. But now, with Dezel so close and his hand curling along the inside of Sorey's thigh making his breath hitch, Sorey finally realizes what he wants.

He wants to be desirable. He wants- he wants Dezel to think of him as something irresistible, and it's such a base want that he flushes with it, but at last he knows what he can do about it. He can't suddenly become more beautiful, can't suddenly become more knowledgeable, taller, older, but what he can do is listen to him, listen and give him what he asks for.

Gods, he's more than happy to give him what he asks for. And when he finally tucks his hand inside the barely-there folds of Dezel's robes, finds the half-hard line of him (and he's hot, Sorey hadn't thought about it but his skin is so hot) and drags his palm up along the underside of Dezel's cock, it feels a little more like what he's wanted. Yes, this is it; he tilts his chin up to follow Dezel's arch, exploring him, touching him and watching the wonder flicker over his face.] Good?

[Dezel already desires him. He doesn't want Sorey to be older-- god no, he's waited long enough, and he doesn't want to change anything about the way he looks because Dezel doesn't care. Sorey isn't inadequate in any way, not when it comes to loving a seraph like him. Just the notion is enough.

Thankfully, Sorey doesn't need any more persuasion than that. The younger man touches Dezel, gods, he's been waiting so long-- and he comes alive in a way that is not terribly unlike the fervent whispers of his true name. Here in the comfort of his friend's arms, Dezel can say he is safe. Wind seraphim don't usually have homes, but Dezel-- Dezel has always thought of his home in terms of people.

He shivers and tilts his head back, gasps hotly. He isn't sure if the lights are on or off and he doesn't really care at this precise moment. What he wants is more of that. He tilts his hips into the touch, his skin tightening beneath Sorey's tentative touches.]

Nnh-- Sorey, [he huffs insistently, rather than giving him a straight answer.] Do you really have to be such a damn tease?

[He hooks his leg over Sorey's hip and pulls him that much closer. Rather than try to negotiate two sets of limbs in the space between the two of them, he drags his nails up the back of Sorey's thigh instead, all the way to his rear, which gets an appreciative caress. He thinks Sorey doesn't mean to be a tease but that doesn't mean Dezel can't tease him back. The seraph dips his fingers at the apex of Sorey's legs-- specifically so he can massage at the sensitive skin behind his rocks.

Someone had pressed here once, for Dezel, while they were at it. Something about how close it was to the pleasure spot had made him scream like nothing else. He wonders if it might be the same for Sorey.]

Edited (I CHANGED AN ADJECTIVE, DEAL WITH IT) 2017-04-23 09:36 (UTC)

[Dezel dragging his hands all over Sorey's legs and between them, behind them, grabbing and squeezing and stroking until Sorey's a blushing, bubbling mess, the hand stroking along Dezel's dick trembling with it. He knows Dezel doesn't think he's actually a tease (not on purpose anyway), but when Dezel presses against him Sorey gasps, clutches at him with his free hand, arching against him hard.]

Wh-what- What was- [It had felt like lightning, like a shock of so good stabbing through him, making his own length twitch with the intensity of it.] Ohhh, Dezel, please, again, [Sorey moans, rocking his hips down against Dezel's hand, his own stilling in its ministrations. Sorry Dezel, you just seriously distracted him.]

[That's a very good reaction, and it makes Dezel groan in turn. He loves the way Sorey completely forgets what he's doing so he can press himself against the seraph, desperate and wanting and completely blindsided. Dezel smiles with a hint of sharp teeth. He definitely wants to hear that again.]

Like this? [He twitches his fingers again, presses harder against Sorey's perineum; though he goes slowly, thickly, in a very slight imitation of thrusts.]

Hmm... I'm gonna regret giving you ideas.

Oh gosh, [Sorey mumbles, hanging onto Dezel instead; that feels too good, that feels way too good, like its filling his head with instinct and stripping away all his nervousness and reservations to stuff the holes with a primal want. He wants more of that, he wants it harder. He wants to do it to Dezel too, wants to hear Dezel gasp and stammer and groan.

It's too difficult to keep up with the banter with Dezel doing that, maddeningly slow when Sorey just wants him to speed up and press.] Nnhgh, I can't b-believe... Dezel, if you k-keep doing that I'm- I'm not gonna make it, I...

[Dezel chuckles lowly. He's pretty sure he did the same thing when that was tried on him. It ruined him, that's for sure. Sorey doesn't ask him to, but Dezel eases off that spot and drags his nails down his thigh instead. His other hand worries into fluffy brown hair and tugs lightly.]

Sorry...

[He nuzzles into Sorey's neck and leaves a few burning kisses there, tongue alternating with the occasional tang of teeth. Dezel's wind curls around them, drowning out the sound of wagons bumping along the road outside, a merchant yelling. Sorey is his whole world right now.]

I just want you.

[There's so much to feel that Sorey is shaking with it, clutching at Dezel's back and tilting his chin back as sharp teeth nibble at his throat.

I just want you.

He really does want him, doesn't he? Dezel isn't doing him a favor, isn't- isn't indulging in a curiosity, isn't just exploring something with a friend. He really, really does love him, wants him, wants to drive him wild and wants Sorey to do the same to him. It's intoxicating in a way Sorey's never experienced before and he wants more of it, much more.]

You've got as much of me as you want, [Sorey murmurs, still a little dazed but so eager to see if Dezel has the same reaction to what he'd just done. He slips his hand between his legs, gives his cock another stroke before wiggling a couple fingers in further and pressing experimentally.] Here?

[No, he's none of those things. Dezel has never been one to pity, since he's never wanted pity. He could never be anything but genuine with his affection-- that is, when he finally allows himself to feel it. That had taken a while, expedited certainly by Sorey's sacrifice and Rose's guidance. But a hole remained-- a hole that, he realizes, is only just beginning to heal.

He whispers Sorey's name against his skin like a promise, draws out more kisses along the pulse of his throat and the bump of his prominence. And then Sorey touches him again. He sucks in a breath in anticipation and tightens his grip in Sorey's hair, but then those fingers work lower and deeper, and--

-- he groans throatily and shoves his hips into the younger man's hand. His lashes flutter beneath his bangs.] Y-yeah, damn, that's...

[Figures that Sorey barely has to touch him to make him rock solid.]

[Oh wow, that twitch- that was Dezel, wow, wow. Sorey watches Dezel's face, rapt with attention and wonder, nearly worship, as he strokes his fingers against Dezel, pressing a bit harder and softer, alternating and watching his face. Learning about him, shedding his insecurities in the wake of Dezel's unrelenting devotion.

What would it sound like if Dezel gasped into his mouth? Would it taste like the mountain air? Sorey dips his head down to kiss him and presses his fingers a bit harder to test it.]

[Dezel doesn't need to breathe but that doesn't mean he's incapable of complaining. He huffs and murmurs nothings under his breath, trying to push Sorey onward, make him feel like it's okay to keep going. The seraph is so very ready for this. He squeezes his leg around Sorey's hip as a low noise escapes him. His eyes slip open, unfocused.

He can feel Sorey, though, and that's wonderful-- his hot breath against Dezel's cheeks, the weight of his eyes. It's all lovely. And that's why he doesn't resist when Sorey drags him into a deeper kiss while pressing his buttons. Dezel gasps messily into the sanctuary of Sorey's mouth and it's a little like dew when the sun hits it, that kind of cool moist air that only exists for a brief morning moment. His nails scrape down Sorey's back, certainly enough to leave marks for a while; he sucks at the brunet's lower lip as he keens without shame.]

S-Sorey, [he stammers as a shiver skitters up his own spine. He presses desperately against Sorey's pleasing hand and dives back into the kiss. His love is all over like his wind: biting at one moment, gentle at the next. He isn't afraid to lick and nip at whatever part of Sorey's mouth is available to him.]

Oh, I love your voice like that, [Sorey whispers, his lips red and raw from Dezel's teeth. He pulls back to catch his breath, presses his fingers against Dezel before pushing up onto his elbow and scoot further down.

A palm to Dezel's hip urges him to roll onto his back and Sorey- well, he's read about it a few times, though he's never thought he'd be trying it out himself. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Dezel he wanted to do it and now, with him like this, with Dezel already unraveling just with this...

Sorey glances up at him before flipping his robe open and wetting his lips. He glances up at his face again, past the long, strong planes of his stomach and chest, and runs the flat of his tongue up along the underside of Dezel's cock.]

[Dezel groans again, low and deep. He wants more of Sorey's fingertips all over him, inside him, gods, he's not picky. He just wants. Sorey seems to understand that, though, as he guides the seraph back against the bedroll. He hears and feels the brunet shifting, going lower, and Dezel's inner heat twists in anticipation.

Sorey must look adorable like that, with his hair mussed up and his green eyes curious and dark, but most of that is lost on Dezel. He tangles his fingers in Sorey's hair instead. At the very least-- the very least-- he can remind Sorey that he is wanted. All thoughts of sappy things fly away from him, however, as he feels the warm tongue against his length.]

Ah—

[Oh, goodness. His other hand worries its way into the blankets, though Dezel's head hits the pillow regardless. He only has one wish:]

— more.

[Dezel is so addicting like this, squirming and rough and breathless. Sorey's eyes flick up to where Dezel's hand twists in the blankets, opening his mouth wider to try and take Dezel inside. He has no idea what he's doing, there's spit everywhere, but he's confident that Dezel will give him direction if he needs it. They're doing this to enjoy themselves, aren't they? Because they want each other.

Sorey's fingers slip lower to tease against Dezel's entrance, though he doesn't try to press in. They'll need something for that but maybe- maybe he can make Dezel come like this, maybe he'll get to hear the noises he makes, see the expression on his face.]

[Sorey is so earnest, so tentative; Dezel fights with everything he has not to shove his hips into that lovely mouth and ruin it all. He doesn't want Sorey to choke, but the effort has him trembling against the sheets. He stammers Sorey's name into the warm dark, runs his fingers through the younger man's hair, begs with everything but words.

His toes curl as he makes a desperate, keening noise that is almost like a whine.]

Nnnnh— [god, the pressing] —yes, th-... there.

[The last time Dezel felt lips around him like this, the world was a different place. There were only birds in the air, and a great library was being built in Ladylake, and he had held that era's Shepherd as a baby. So much has changed. Dezel, too. He can only hope that Sorey thinks it's for the better.]

[Sorey has to pull off to catch his breath, as much as he doesn't want to, but he wants to give Dezel more too. Every time his clothes brush against his own erection he shudders, and he presses up for the closeness, to kiss Dezel, to kiss that strong, smooth jaw and to taste the sharp points of his teeth.] Do we have gels? [Sorey asks breathlessly, because those'll work, right? He can at least get a finger inside of Dezel that way, really get to that spot to make him yell.]

[Dezel accepts the cuddling readily, uncurls his fingers from the sheets. He wraps his arms around his Shepherd as if that might banish the last fateful inch between them, kisses him sweet and sharp. When that doesn't work he rocks his hips up into his partner instead, clumsy and eager and practically purring his name.

The question makes him pause. He lifts his arm and gestures to a nearby cabinet.]

Y-yeah, there's... prep in the drawer. [He rubs his hand down Sorey's lower back, then the slight curve of his rear.] Thought maybe you were working up to it... [Or that Dezel himself would get impatient before Sorey did, but he's just fine with Sorey's pace as it is.]

[Sorey's honestly not entirely sure how far he's going to go with it, just that he knows he wants it here and within reach because Dezel is just-] You're so beautiful, [Sorey whispers, kissing him again, ducks to kiss at his throat, at the way his adam's apple bobs when he swallows. Dezel is so intoxicatingly beautiful, Sorey's never felt so hungry like this before. It would scare him if he wasn't so eager for more.

He practically has to peel himself away from Dezel, ducking back in for more kisses more than once before finally hurrying over to the drawer to grab the pouch of gels, dropping it down beside the futon as he descends upon Dezel again, all warm skin and an eager mouth.] I'm so happy, I'm so glad...I really like touching you, I like hearing you, oh, Dezel...

[Dezel is so horribly weak to those heated whispers. No one has told him he was beautiful in a very, very long time. He's blind, he doesn't care about appearances. But when Sorey says it... Dezel feels like the younger man can see through him entirely. Sorey has seen every inch of him now, all the shame and the pain and the vengeance, and he accepted it all. Sorey sees him for who he is.

And Sorey still calls him beautiful.

Dezel returns those kisses just as hungrily, tries to sneak them in, and when he can't access Sorey's lips he drags his nails up his spine instead. He wants Sorey, too. He's not unfamiliar with this hunger but he doesn't want to push his partner in a wrong direction.]

S-Sorey, [he stammers, arching into the former Shepherd's burning lips and wanting more, more, please, more.] I don't care how we do it, I just... [He winds his hand into Sorey's hair. Silver-green eyes open halfway, sightless in the dark, but full of intent all the same.]

You make me feel alive. The least I can do is... give that back to you.

[Sorey manages a husky laugh, fumbling for one of those gels. He's so desperate to get inside of Dezel that honestly he's not sure anything other than a resounding no could stop him, but hearing Dezel say that- it's so like him.

Sorey pushes his hair back from his face to see the blush on his cheeks, see the way his eyelashes flutter before leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth sweetly.] You're so silly. 'The least you can do,' Dezel, like you haven't saved me too.

[With that he breaks open the gel; the sweet scene of apple fills the air as he presses a couple fingers into Dezel to coat his insides, slicking himself up with the leftovers and, ignoring the anxious pounding of his heart, lines himself up before slowly pressing into him.]

[Dezel can't very well protest when Sorey touches him like that. The chaste kiss is sweet and soft, almost innocent despite what they're doing. Impossibly, he falls in love with the former Shepherd more.

His breath hitches as he's stretched, sometimes turning to a groan. But he greets Sorey with warm open arms, fastening around his waist, and takes all that he's given.]

Nnh-- d-damn, it's been a while since I did this. Give me a minute.

[He breathes in and out slowly. His own fault for tensing up like that, really. He draws his fingernails up and down Sorey's spine, trying to distract himself and ease any awkwardness.]

I-it's... fine now. You can move.

[He lifts his hips into Sorey and gasps. If Sorey doesn't move soon, Dezel will take matters into his own hands.]