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[murderbaby]

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[murderbaby]

Mhavos' room is kept, at all times, neat. This is meant to make it obvious if there's ever been an intruder while he wasn't present, but as it fits his outward personality as a priggish little pedant, he hardly has to make an excuse for it. The added benefit, that he's never embarrassed in the rare occasions someone has to see his room.

These thoughts are entirely lost to him, of course, because the second Vanadi and he as past the threshold, he immediately pulls the other man into a kiss. It's silly, really. Sex, presumably, is the ultimate goal, and that is very much agreeable, but all Mhavos can think of is the glorious feeling of being close to someone who seems to welcome his presence.

[highborn]

Always, as a rule, amenable to kissing and what it leads to, it strikes Vanadi as an even better time for it today. Today it banishes lingering dark thoughts and fears, memories of chains and blades, and allies and enemies alike slick with blood. It's the perfect distraction, it always has been. And what a stroke of luck that someone he's already rather endeared to is currently wrapped in his arms.

Vanadi's back hits the door behind him, and he breaks the kiss with a grin. Both of his hands have tangled into Mhavos's hair at some point, and they turn into a caress as he catches a little breathing room. (This will be a catch and release, mind, there's no need to keep it for long.)

"I suppose I didn't need to worry so much about getting you off of your feet, and back into bed," he says, only just slightly breathless. The grin rounds into a quick laugh. "Come to think of it, I should have gone much heavier on the innuendo for it."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos allows himself to luxuriate under Vanadi's touch, eyes closed, relaxing. He's always going to have a metric ton of tension in his shoulders and spine, but some small amount of it loosens when he's safe under another's touch.

He looks up at Vanadi, only bothering to open one eye to glare. "No one likes a sore winner." And then, resting his head into Vanadi's chest simply because he's sure it's allowed. "But, yes, I can be quite dense. This... isn't a regular occurrence for me."

May as well set low expectations early.

[highborn]

A breath of a laugh goes through his chest, and he shakes his head.

"No, no, it was perfectly romantic. I enjoyed it." With the poetry and all, really, it was like something out of a sappy novel — and Vanadi ate it up, enjoyed is only a polite word. That will be a scene fondly remembered for some time to come. His hands drop, encircling Mhavos's middle. Then further still, and Vanadi's smile goes a little sharp as his hands find Mhavos's ass for a playful squeeze through the seat of his pants.

"But let's not act that this is any kind of past tense," he says, and stoops slightly to scoop the man up entirely and walk the two of them bed-wards. It's a bit of a test, and he searches carefully for any sign of pain or discomfort.

[murderbaby]

What Vanadi will find is a man who doesn't like surprises, but adapts quickly. Anything, really, to forget the confused squeak at a hand on his nonexistent arse.

He is, of course, a bit careful not to press on his midsection, or bend his abdomen too much. There's a limit to what magic can do. However, there's a happy compromise in pressing his temple to Vanadi's, once more luxuriating in this safe closeness.

"Your forgiving nature has once again been noted," he murmurs.

[highborn]

Vanadi notes that careful stiffness through the midsection (after savoring the squeak, thank you), and it gives him a better idea of how to go into this. He eases Mhavos down to the edge of the bed and sinks to a crouch before him, one hand rested on the man's thigh and the other on his chest, where it considers the topmost button of his shirt.

"How irregular an occurrence is it, would you say?" he asks, maybe a bit unnecessarily. The answer will be apparent enough as they go, experience — or the lack of it — always is. But he has to admit he's curious to hear it in words.

[murderbaby]

Right, the embarrassing part (as though there will only be one). He swallows a lump in his throat, formed entirely by the arrangement of Vanadi before him, and decides to power through rather than stalling: "Going on two years, and never... ah, never in a bed before, actually."

[highborn]

"Oh."

The blank surprise in Vanadi's face speaks to how very unprepared he was for the answer. Honestly, to hear Mhavos was a virgin would probably be less surprising. Even at his lowest point, Vanadi never went as long as two years without sex, he can hardly even imagine it. He probably would have just withered and died.

"Well," he says, rejoining the moment, "Then the bar is quite low, hmm? I've got my work cut out for me."

When he leans in to kiss him again, he doesn't aim for the lips. This time it's the soft skin just under his jaw, along with a brief nibble of earlobe, and both hands have busied themselves with the task of unbuttoning Mhavos's shirt.

[murderbaby]

It brushes up against Mhavos' pride, and he starts to protest, before all language swiftly leaves him. Vanadi is unerringly gentle, making everything he does a quick remedy to Mhavos' strict sense of self.

"I would argue," Mhavos says, voice thick with whatever tangle of emotion he's currently wading through, "but I can hardly protest- this-"

Right, words. Why is he still talking? Mhavos' hands find Vanadi's shirt, and begin to unbutton with quick efficiency.

[murderbaby]

The annoying thing about Vanadi is how Mhavos has to briefly strain, tip-toed, to kiss him. It doesn't feel fantastic, with his still-healing gut wound, but he's fairly excellent at keeping his pain to himself. And he wants to kiss Vanadi.

He moves around whatever tray of food Vanadi's brought in with an understated sort of grace.

[highborn]

Pain successfully hidden from Vanadi's admittedly concerned eye, all he can feel is pleased with the kiss as Mhavos slides in. Without a doubt, it's the best way to be greeted. He's smiling as they part, and sweeps the tray around Mhavos to set it at the little table: two bowls of tomato bisque crowned with thinly sliced mushrooms, one fresh loaf of sourdough, split evenly, and two glasses of wine. White, of course.

"I've noticed you're not much for drinking, but — well, it's good to have the option."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos looks at the dinner with pleasure. Yes, it looks wonderful, but that's not the point. The fact that Vanadi credits him worthy of the effort is... simply amazing.

"I don't like to drink in public," Mhavos says quietly, "or settings where no one would be sober. But this is..." His face is flushed, his voice filled with emotion-- if very soberly so. "Thank you, Vanadi."

[highborn]

The correction is well noted — and Vanadi has to admit, it's also probably pretty good policy for an elf. Then Mhavos flushes, and Vanadi finds himself grinning, brought swiftly to charmed.

"You're welcome," he says, and means it. This used to be a small gesture, made for anyone he was on passingly good terms with — but he supposes the importance of it has grown since then. It's good to see it appreciated. But then a thought cuts through his pleased smile, one he's been fiddling with in his head for a while now.

"Oh, and, before we get to it — " Still standing, he shuffles a little, faintly uncomfortable. He hasn't practiced this part near enough to be good at it. "I wanted to apologize."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos realizes something-- he hates seeing Vanadi uncomfortable. The man is so practiced, so at ease, this feels like some essential undoing of his more elegant being. Mhavos reaches out, a hand on Vanadi's jaw, comforting.

"You don't need to," he says. "We came to an understanding."

[highborn]

He waves the protest off, and the hand settles at Mhavos's raised forearm. The bit of contact is reassuring.

"No, I — do, I think. Because I didn't realize just how important the work would be to you, and I — to my ear, it was a playful game." His gaze cuts away, looking embarrassed, but his hand gives a squeeze where it sits. "It's no excuse, but I find it much more difficult to read anyone over the crystals. I'm sorry for overstepping."

[murderbaby]

"From what you've said of your... world," Mhavos begins cautiously, "you were only acting in accordance with centuries of familiarity. I'm only glad we could come to accordance with one simple conversation. For that, I think you deserve far more credit than you're giving yourself."

Mhavos leans a little closer, hungry for more closeness, and knowing now isn't the time. "But I may be very, very biased in your favor."

He grins.

[highborn]

The awkwardness fades from him as familiar ground returns, and a matching grin twitches into place.

"You are," he says. "And nor do I need the kid gloves -- but I'll gladly take the graciousness."

He closes the distance between them, moving forward and drawing Mhavos closer with an arm slung about his waist, to lean down for a kiss. It lingers a little longer than their greeting had, fond and pleased, and when he draws back he says, "Let's not let dinner get cold."

[murderbaby]

The kiss is a complete revelation. Yes, Mhavos has been kissed before, yes, by this man, but after four years of horror, any comfort feels like a new spring. Mhavos lets it linger, not caring who or what hears his sounds of appreciation.

He'd been tired before, but now, his body is wired with a new electric energy. He grips Vanadi tight. "I am going to find an unoccupied hovel in his place," he says, "will you be with me?"

[highborn]

His laugh is quiet and low, and it sounds unfamiliar to his own ear. Has it been that long, that he'd forget how to? Or has he only forgotten how it used to sound? Regardless, just has he'd had to kiss Mhavos, he has to nod. There could be no other possible answer.

"Yes — yes, of course." He's willing to release Mhavos, but only in exchange for keeping a tight hold of his hand as they start forward.

[murderbaby]

There is a small cabin at the edge of the swamp, surely once used to store supplies, but now someone's private escape. Whoever they are, they're on a mission now, and Mhavos strides toward the little settlement with purpose. Their hands, together, become a way for Mhavos to pull Vanadi toward it.

The door opens easily, and Mhavos turns to pull Vanadi close, pushing him up against the wall, his mouth at his throat. The sucking kiss has teeth-- Mhavos wants to leave a mark, and has none of the nerves that require constant chitchat.

[highborn]

He'd come prepared for chitchat of some kind, there's always been with them — and finds it completely unnecessary. He makes instead some small sound of surprise to find himself against a wall and Mhavos at his throat, but it melts quickly into a low, pleased gasp.

This is new. Though after four years apart he'd not turn away any kind of attention, least of all this. His hands travel across Mhavos's back, encouraging, and one of them tugs up the ragged hem of his shirt to pull the dull line of nails across his bare skin.

[murderbaby]

It only pushes Mhavos further. Encouraged, hands find their way under Vanadi's shirt, feeling him up with an appreciative slowness. His mouth finds Vanadi's jawline, and he scrapes teeth against the underside.

"What do you want," he hums into Vanadi's skin. "However you want it."

[highborn]

Something like a low laugh finds its way out of his throat, still tilted and exposed for Mhavos's sharp attentions. That's his line, his offer to make, his concern for anyone else's good time. But maybe today it's his obligation to turn it over, to be selflessly selfish. Under Mhavos's traveling hands and biting kiss, he'd do anything.

"I want you to take me," he murmurs, informing the far upper corner of the room over Mhavos's bent head. Those teeth pull another quiet gasp from him, another flare of heat through his body, and he adds, "Ah, gods, now."

[murderbaby]

Because, quite frankly, he can, he gropes at Vanadi before pulling away. His face is flushed completely, but his face shows no sign of embarrassment. His eyes are wide with pleasure, grin curved triumphant.

The little bed in the corner of the shack is a small, shabby thing, but somehow easily fits two. Mhavos doesn't want to be rough, but he's lost patience for the slow, worry-minded hesitance of before. He doesn't push Vanadi into bed, but he does everything bit.

Mhavos pauses, then, takes a moment to stare at Vanadi there in the dim, soft light, fond and elated.

[highborn]

He loves that look on Mhavos's face, which in his memory was always softened by embarrassment, by shy enthusiasm. That's all been stripped away now, and what remains is just — honest. It's strange to hold against his old memories, but gods, he can't get enough of it.

He's made it to the bed, and sits heavily with a near stumble. He can't keep his hands off of Mhavos, and he respects that pause for no more than three seconds. Then, hungry, he leans in to claim a hard and desperate kiss, to pull Mhavos down with him.