etc etc.

[murderbaby]

Comments

[murderbaby]

Mhavos considers this for a second, two, and then nods. "Alright," he says, and begins slowly to sit up, careful not to wince. "I'll tell you when I'm entirely healed. It should be in... several months."

[highborn]

Oh, no. That's so much longer than he'd anticipated. Vanadi's face falls for a second before he takes the care to compose it, and he nods solemnly.

"Right. Several months." He's never said uglier words before. "I'll, ah, need your help holding me to that."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos shrugs it off. "You'll be fine. Plenty of things to keep you amused, plenty of people to keep you company."

He says it carefully, cautiously, as though he doesn't care-- "Can we still see each other?"

[highborn]

He's still mentally cringing at the thought of such a long recovery, and how very often he's going to be tempted, and he nearly misses the technically correct but very dismaying reassurances. The question, though, is impossible to miss.

"Mhavos." That' a scolding tone, on the playful side but not without a genuine tone to it. He reaches to trace a few fingers along Mhavos's jaw. "You have really got to stop assuming I'm not here for you."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos scoffs, a little thing that started its brief life as a laugh but turned dark. He moves away from Vanadi's hands, shaking his head. "Of course you're not here for the sex; I am at best excessively middling."

He has difficulty believing that, though. It isn't as though he provides anything else. This whole time, he's just been taking to see how long and how much he could get, and here, now, he's found the extent of it.

(And it would be incredibly stupid to be saddened, as he's gotten more than he figured he ever would.)

[highborn]

Vanadi blinks after him, feeling as if he's dropped a ball he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His hand falls a little limply back to the bed.

"I — sex is one part practiced skill and two parts enthusiasm, I should say you certainly have the latter and the former will come with time," he says, sounding a little brusque. That isn't the real heart of whatever this issue is. He shifts to sit himself up a little straighter.

"I have a list of demands. I am going to need—" He numbers them on his fingers. "Your favorite dishes, at least three more of your favorite poetry collections, constant reminders that I've banned myself from trying to get into your pants for a while, and as much of your attention as I can otherwise get my hands on."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos shifts back a bit, covering most of himself with a sheet. Intellectually, he's aware that on some level, Vanadi is doing this to save Mhavos from pain. Emotionally, on a level Mhavos refuses to consciously acknowledge, he doesn't want Vanadi looking at that disgusting scar.

And he studies Vanadi for a long moment, trying to discern something. He seems genuine. What other goal would he be aiming for? (Could this be a bad sign? Is he drawing too much attention to himself?)

"I like anything cheap and easily made," he says cautiously, "I'll like anything you cook. The rest, I can't promise you."

[highborn]

The shift back and the cover of the blanket — very simple moves, but neither sits well with Vanadi. He's messing this up, isn't he? He's new to scrambling after someone, typically this is where he would give up and find easier company. But now ... He glances away, taking a moment to quell the little grasping fingers of panic at the thought, because that's really just ridiculous. Has he become so needy that this is all it takes to spike actual fear in him?

"I've misstepped," he says quietly, and drags his guilty gaze back to Mhavos. "Will you tell me how?"

[murderbaby]

Mhavos frowns, brows lowering. "You haven't," he says. "You... it was a joke. I am bad at picking favorites, or refusing you anything. That is all."

[highborn]

He lets out a breath, but the relief is slight. The feeling lingers that he should be better at this, should read Mhavos more skillfully, should know what approach to take.

He doesn't, and he's not sure what to say. So instead he leans forward to kiss him, head tipped and touch gentle, both seeking and attempting to offer reassurance.

[murderbaby]

Mhavos, as a point of pride, dislikes when words are taken away from him, and his pride does prickle, somewhat, at the sense such a thing is happening. He moves slightly back, refusing the kiss. "Nhh- What's wrong? Something is wrong."

Or maybe just different. They've never been in conflict before. Mhavos decides rather quickly he'd rather know, if he's to lose the man's interest anyway. (It might not happen; Vanadi says it will not happen; it will happen.)

[highborn]

There's hurt on his face to have a kiss refused, but Vanadi leans back and does not try again.

"You drew back," he says, and it comes with a weak smile. He doesn't mean physically, although it's now true in both senses. "I panicked."

This is very embarrassing, he realizes, glancing away again. His mind works in all sorts of new ways lately that he's still learning about, and most of the surprises are unpleasant.

[murderbaby]

Mhavos reaches out, for once not with greedy fingers. He brushes some of the hair back from Vanadi's temple, before turning his hand to run it along the side of his cheekbone, his jaw. As affectionate gestures go, he's sure it could use some work, but he's trying. It'd difficult to think of himself as anything like reassuring. He is, at best, a door prize.

"That was very calm panic," he says, "what can I do to quiet it further?"

[highborn]

The touch does help. Vanadi closes his eyes under it, taking a moment to slow his nervous heart. Ridiculous, he tells himself again, which doesn't improve anything.

His eyes open again as he asks, "Do you believe me? That a hold on sex won't drive me away?"

[murderbaby]

Mhavos leans back, opens his mouth, closes it. That ought to answer the question quite handily, and Mhavos has the the presence of mind to realize it. He doesn't have a handle on anything else taking place in this little bed.

"If I'm honest," he says, cautiously picking his words where he wasn't before, "I haven't a clue why any aspect of me would be of interest to you, sex included. You may surprise me yet."

[highborn]

A no, then, but more importantly: a no that's willing to work with him. He can accept that, and the tense line of his shoulders relaxes just slightly.

"Right," he says, to stall while the last few wayward thoughts are gathered and set in order. "Just ... don't decide I've broken off with you and go drifting away from me."

He adds a tired little smile as an attempt to lighten it, as if that's not the crux of his panic and fear summed up.

[murderbaby]

"If I did, would you even notice?" Meant as a joke: Mhavos hardly contributes, compared to the extravagance Vanadi provides, foods and warm comfort on cold nights, company at lunch, visits during work... "You have my key. I'll not ask for it back."

[highborn]

Well, at least he's not so off his game anymore not to be able to recognize a joke, even if it's a poor one. He nods faintly, and wonders if an attempt at a kiss might go better now; he'd really enjoy that.

But instead he flops down onto the bed with a sigh, a hand once again up to cover his face. "Sorry for all this, sorry," he mutters. "I can be quite the mess, I'm afraid."

[murderbaby]

"Vanadi," Mhavos says, "mon petit chou." He plucks Vanadi's hand up from his face so he can kiss his palm.

"I will tell you a secret," he says slowly, "but you musn't share it. I am, at all times, either incandescently angry, or terrified, or somewhere between the two. I just hide it rather well."

[highborn]

That's another startled blink, for a confession he certainly didn't expect to hear. That Mhavos hides it rather well is apparently an understatement. But the kiss to his hand has put him further still at ease, enough to arch his brows disbelievingly.

"At all times? That can't be so. What's the mood now?"

[murderbaby]

Mhavos gives Vanadi a knowing, somewhat sarcastic expression. "You are the first person to ever share my bed-- and I mean that quite literally-- because they wanted to. I hope very much that does not change."

[highborn]

"Terrified is a very strong word for such a scenario," he says, pseudo-thoughtful, and then appears to have another idea. "Or does this qualify for incandescently angry? You really do hide it very well."

[murderbaby]

"I was perhaps exaggerating," he wasn't, "but I am quite... scared of the possibility that you'll forget about me for more interesting options."

He places Vanadi's hand on his chest, just above his heart, with only the thin sheet separating them.

[highborn]

He settles his hand atop Mhavos's, while below it his heart beats still perhaps a little more quickly than it should. The playful air dissipates for something more grounded.

"You have done me the great service of setting me at ease," he says. "Which, I assure you, is frequently needed and greatly appreciated. If you've not picked up on that, then I suppose that's the pair of us that hide our unpleasantries well."

[murderbaby]

"I don't need it," Mhavos clarifies, "but I have discovered I can have it, and now guard it jealously, like some fishwife..." He looks out into the middle distance, frowns, and reaches over to pull Vanadi closer. No strength is put behind the effort, though; Vanadi doesn't want him straining himself, so he won't. He makes the motions, though, silently asking.

"Will you stay the night?" His eyes close after he asks, trying to give more obvious tells. "Sex, I can go easily without, but..." His eyes open, and he looks at nothing.

Don't make him say it.