Closed More Than Strangers

[Noven]

Cool, gentle fingers complied, finding their way in and between Nov's wayward locks. He couldn't do much more than close his eyes and sink into the pleasure of the Initiate's touch. Breathing in slow and deep before loosing a drawn out, shuddering breath, the Scar let his face and muscles go limp, surrendering to the soothing sensations. He had no better way to describe it, other than maybe comparing it to drinking warm broth on a cold, empty stomach, or sinking into a soft bed after a long and exhausting day. It was a feeling his body whole-heartedly welcomed. Needed, even, and left his mind with little choice in the matter.

When those velvet lips met his once more, feather light upon contact, Noven opened his eyes. His lids felt languid, heavy, as he took in the pale features before they drew away again, and his limbs like boneless pudding. The Initiate's scent still lingered, even with its source returned to its lofty origins. Nov breathed in the minute traces. It was a clean smell, cool and crisp in some ways and dewy and damp in others. It reminded him of Spring rains in the wake of Winter's retreat. Mild and refreshing, but with a hint of cold ever-present in the air.

In those precious, few ticks of wordless companionship and peace, Nov ceased to to think about anything beyond the confines of their borrowed room. His thoughts alternated between assembling his next question and the divinity of the Initiate's touch. Beneath such sublime ministrations, nothing else seemed important anymore. There was just him, Keene, and the impossible pleasure of steady fingers running through his hair.

His own question, however, jarred the peace a little. Mostly due to his own embarrassment, and partly because of the insatiable curiosity that now plagued his mind. At first, the other man's answer brought only confusion. He doesn't like me? Had I been wrong to assume...

But then Keene's words took another turn, throwing his companion abruptly onto a different path. Noven watched the contemplation flicker through his face. It seemed as if this was the first time anyone had asked Keene why he was attracted to another human being. And, quite honestly, Nov would be entirely unsurprised if it was. Still, the mage put in an earnest effort and managed to explain at last that he found the other man appealing. Very appealing.

Noven felt his face grow ever warmer and the desire to squirm beneath the baldfaced compliments ever stronger. But he had asked for this, and Keene was not done yet. His hand had traveled down to press tenderly against the mercenary's jaw, holding him there with a power that had nothing to do with magic or strength. He described Noven as strong...dangerous...and confessed he knew that the Sunberthian would not be able to stay. That everything they presently shared was as fleeting as one day was before the next. And yet, somehow, he found the man now resting in his lap more compelling than logic or consequence.

He wasn't alone in his floudnering. Every word that Keene spoke had Nov's heart twisting and bending in ways he thought he'd long since forgotten. And his fingers...his fingers rendered the Scar absolutely helpless. They molded his being unwittingly, shaping it into something that belonged more and more to the Initiate, inside and out. Noven let those soothing fingers continuing tracing every line of his face, marveling at the warmth and wonder and utter humanness swimming beneath all of that icy control. The Initiate's ignorance of emotion, of how to act around the focus of his attraction and cope with the onslaught of inexplicable desires, was tragic, but also something of an invitation. A chance, as Nov saw it, for one to offer another that basic understanding.

Keene ended his answer by admitting he found comfort in Nov's company. And, in that moment, the Scar could see more clearly than ever his companion's undeniable humanity. His sole proof the simple desire, as all mortals shared, to feel less alone.

The chilly human himself didn't seem very satisfied with his own answer, but he merely sighed and leaned back, as it was now his turn to ask the truth of his companion. A tick's worth of hesitance later, Nov was sitting up again. He faced Keene with a sort of mischievous blaze in his eyes.

"Easy," he answered with flawless confidence. "I like the way you look."

The slightest of pauses.

"Naked."

Nov was able to hold a straight face for all of two ticks before it cracked into a toothy grin. "I don't think I've ever said that about another man before. You're a first...for a lot of things." He drank from the bottle again, wondering when exactly he'd lost count of how many times he'd reached for it by now. Then realizing he no longer cared. "I guess..." the merc continued, mirth giving way to something more reflective, "...in that sense, we aren't so different, you and I."

Looking down at his gloveless hands, Noven was vaguely aware of how casual they had become. How their knees now rested against one another's, their bodies relaxed, the sharp edges of their circumstances softened by wine and proximity.

"I've never met anyone like you, Keene," he managed to answer more seriously, gaze returning to meet that of the Initiate's. "You're dangerous, too. More so than I'll ever be, I think. And yet somehow you...you make me feel...still. When you talk, when you move, when you... " Nov's voice wavered, his words bringing back heated memories. "...when you touch me. You're like cold water on a hot day. You make me stop, just for a few ticks. And not because I'm afraid or in pain, but...but because I feel so good I just want to stand still and enjoy it. For however long it will last."

The wine danced in his veins and fogged his mind, but he was determined to finish saying what he wanted to say. Nov leaned in closer. "You make me feel...Awake."

He shook his head, expelling a sigh that mirrored Keene's after his own attempt. "Krysus, I don't know what I'm trying to say anymore. If I've made any sense at all. But whether I have or haven't, I just want you to know three things."

He lifted a finger into the air, body tilting slightly to one side as he did so. The mat suddenly felt far less solid than it had a handful of chimes ago. "The first being that we're not different. Not at all. We are feeling the same things, you have my word on this, even if we aren't exactly...showing them in the same way."

One finger became two as his hand swayed slightly before his face. "The second, that you needn't worry about the...the not knowing. We go on not knowing all kinds of shyke in life, and there's enough to worry about as it is. But what you're feeling...what we're both feeling...it doesn't come often. And if it makes you as happy as it makes me, then petch it. It's ours for the taking, to do what we please with, and anyone who says otherwise can go...bugger themselves."

Noven knew he was one stage before drunk. How? Because the only time he ever felt philosophical was when he knew that black void of oblivion was just around the corner. And if between here and there he was unlucky enough to, say, accidentally start a tavern wide brawl, he might as well do a bit of reflecting on life before he went out with a bang.

Or, at least, that was how he usually tried to justify a hangover.

"And the third thing, Keene," he finalized with a flash of grave sobriety, scooting closer so he could place both hands on the Initiate's shoulders and draw him closer. "The most important thing of all that you need to know..."

Their faces were mere inches away now, the heat of his breath mingling with the coolness of Keene's.

"Is that I was dead serious about what I said at the very beginning."

His crooked grin returned. "About you. Being naked."

Nov had meant the last one as a wicked joke, at first. But the thought carried with it that unavoidable, rising excitement, and they were sitting so very close to one another. His grip on the other man's shoulders tightened as he pulled him even nearer. The proximity was maddening. There was a moment of hesitance, his mouth hovering over Keene's.

And then Noven gave in, catching the Initiate's lips in his as he hungrily sought after what he'd been denied for so long. Granted, that denial had technically lasted less than forty eight bells, but that was forty eight consecutive bells of sheer torture for the young Scar.

He wasn't nearly as gentle as Keene had been. Where the mage had kissed with tender grace, the mercenary could only pour forth his ardor and desire in a reckless flood. Everything, all at once, from every direction. The talking had taken away most of his inhibitions, and the wine whatever was left. When he broke their kiss, it was only to ask his companion in labored, dazed breaths, "What do you want, Keene? For us...me...whichever, to do, that is?"

Noven pulled back just enough so he could show that he was being serious. His mind may have felt like cotton right then, but his heart knew true.

That, and he genuinely had no idea how to proceed. The want was strong in his veins, but he'd never been at the mercy of another man's wishes before. Women, he knew like an old, favorite recipe, but this...this was a completely different kind of untried dish altogether. And it didn't help that he was still reluctant to touch the Initiate's bare skin with anything other than his lips, guilt bearing down on his soul at the very thought.

"Name it," he murmured, a steady fire in his eyes, "and I will give it. I will drink a hundred mystery ales and...and punch a thousand overbearing Nuits, if that's what you ask of me."

[Keene Ward]

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At his question, Noven shifted out of his lap. The loss of the warmth felt strange, and as Keene's face tiled back to view the now almost even level of Noven's face, he felt a small pang of longing in the pit of his stomach, as if Noven's heat had been forcefully taken away rather than simply shifted. The reply was as much of as surprise as most everything that Noven seemed to do or say, and Keene blinked uncomprehendingly back at him. He hadn't expected it to be quite so straight forward, nor had he anticipated the simplicity. If Noven was only attracted to his body, Keene found it a rather weak connection on Noven's end. His was not Noven's. There was muscle, but it was resigned, choosing instead to fill the role of function rather than to take the dualistic form of Noven's wide shoulders and broad back. He was also pale where Noven was dark. His frame was slight where Noven's was strong and sturdy. It wasn't that Keene was self-conscious of himself. He believed his body served the function that was required of it, and he was also aware he was not unattractive. Still, it seemed a odd thing for Noven, a man who had had "lady lovers" in the past to find his point of attraction to be on looks alone.

At the addendum of "naked", Keene instinctively dropped his gaze to his crotch, a slight frown on his features. He didn't understand Noven at all. Then, when his eyes met with Noven's once more, the smile gave Keene a clue that Noven wasn't being entirely serious. He didn't really see the humor in it, but he could appreciate the information Noven offered. It seemed Noven had never been with another man before, which Keene wasn't sure whether that was surprising or understandable. He'd never been much for preferences - Noven being the first thing he'd pursued that wasn't something previously proscribed for him - thus matters such as whether one preferred women or men had never been very important to him. The parallel that Noven drew between the two of them was, decidedly, curious. Keene supposed he had a point. Each of them, in their own way, was dealing with the novelty of the situation. While Keene had thought them polar opposites, Noven's relatively benign words cast things in a slightly less polarizing light. Perhaps he was right.

And as Noven continued to speak, the little train of thought that had been sparked by the potential for their similarities became a very solid fact. It wasn't so much what Noven said. Keene had a difficult time figuring out what exactly he was talking about, as the symbolism wasn't entirely lost on him, merely something he had to wade through to get to the point of things. It was the way in which it was said. Each word, whether meaning was known or not, was felt in the beat of his heart, the subtle flutter of his breath. Noven felt the same way, whatever way that was, and that similarity alone was more than enough to convince him that they were not as different as he had thought. Noven, not privy to Keene's internal workings, continued on, unaware that Keene considered his question fully answered.

He drew nearer to the other man who slightly swayed as he gave his three, necessary bits of information. Keene's brow raised, a sparkle of curiosity playing in the reflections of the flickering flames. The wine had given him a pleasant warmth throughout his body, and it fully inhibited both attempt and desire to keep his eyes unemotional. His face, for the most part, was still in control, though that was less conscious effort and more habit. The first, Keene nodded to. He agreed that he'd been wrong, and while he wasn't quite sure they were feeling exactly the same things, the similarities were more than enough to support the claim. The second, Keene didn't particularly agree with, but it only served to help solidify the first. Whether it was important to understand or not, he had, like Noven advised, decided it was simply something to remain unknown for lack of the tools needed to decipher it. While he didn't nod, Keene gave no indication that he disagreed.

The third thing, however, took his breath away. It wasn't even that Noven had come full circle back to the manner in which he view Keene's body. It was the smile. For all of his life, Keene had given a smile as much trust as a blind man saw. They had always been expressions of deceit and duplicity. A smile was never just a smile, there was always something behind it. Noven's was no exception, only... What was behind it was something that Keene couldn't resist. It was a desire, a need, a hunger. The humor was little more than a side-effect, and it was brushed off as lightly as a breeze as Keene stared back into the dark, heady gaze that held him only a breath away.

In the tick that followed as Noven drew him nearer, the soft tingling in his shoulders reacting to the heat of Noven's hands that pressed through the light fabric with a familiar, desired intensity, Keene couldn't tell where he ended and Noven began. Their breath felt incredibly, impossibly hot. It skimmed over their skin, lips almost brushing, and eyes locked onto the other's. In that single pause, Keene felt whatever barriers he had left melt. He wanted to be with Noven, and Noven wanted to be with him. There was no reason to hold him out any longer, to restrain himself from what he wanted. Noven had said that he made him "happy". The concept of happiness had never been something Keene had spent much time on. Just like any other emotion, he had not seen the merit in it. Even then, in Noven's arms just a sliver away from the lips he so desperately wanted, Keene still didn't grasp the concept of happiness.

He wasn't sure if it was the rush of warmth that spread through his body as Noven's lips pressed against his; his tongue a searching force that both pulled him towards him and pushed him away. He wasn't sure if it was the pain that seared through him, jolting his body with an involuntary shiver that he ignored, the pleasure of the sudden connection far outweighing the pain. He wasn't sure if it was the way that his heart felt as if it were going to explode as his hands searched their way through Noven's hair once more, one rising the other falling. There were so many sensations both painful and blissful, the mix too interwoven to properly tell them apart. He wanted the shout out, scream away his conflicted confusion to leave him empty with nothing but Noven to occupy him. Instead, he pressed back, his own hunger far more delicate in nature like a creeping vine to Noven's raging flood of passion. When Noven broke away, the point of contact released to give Keene a moment of relief from the pain and the pleasure, Keene refused. He followed the retreat, lips sliding along the side of Noven's neck, drawing in the scents and flavors of the man who filled his mind and heart so completely.

Still, Noven escaped him, a question passed between them that Keene was forced to consider. His frown of displeasure of evident as he regarded him. He understood the question. It was a simple question, and the offer one so binding a foolish, Keene couldn't help but let a flash of surprise pass through his gaze. Anything. He could have anything.

Slowly, Keene's hands moved forward. His fingers slid over Noven's waist, fiddling with the man's shirt until he was able to finally wriggle it up and over the other man's head. For a moment, he just stared at him, eyes drifting over the gentle swells of muscle, the slightly lighter lines of scar that marred the otherwise smooth complexion. He had memorized that chest, that stomach, those shoulders and arms. Yet the memory paled into nothingness when faced with the reality. Still without words, Keene grimaced, running a finger to trace the contours of Noven's figure, trailing it over the heated surface with a deliberate steadiness. "What do I want?" His voice was a whisper, a gentle sigh that was almost lost to the sound of his skin against Noven's, the single point of contact always moving. The hand fell to Noven's belt, fingers carefully placed to brush against more than just the buckle as they undid the latch. "Noven..." He slid the belt from its hold, carefully setting it to the side before placing a cool palm on Noven's chest, gently guiding him to his back. The button on Noven's pants was undone, a slight release of pressure, then Keene slide his own shirt up and over his head, depositing it to join the belt before he eased himself forward.

The feeling of his skin against Noven's sent sparks of pain through his vision. Those sparks might as well have been nothing for all the inhibition they gave him. His chest pressed against Noven's, hips shifting unconsciously as his face lowered to press his nose and lips into Noven's neck. "I have never been asked what I want." His fingers found their way into Noven's loosened pants, searching like their kiss had done, though the urgency was slower, more calculated. "I want you." Lips closed over lips. His heart raced against his chest. Heat, pain, desire, and the tingling passion that sent shivers through his frame all culminated in the single kiss. His fingers gripped slightly tighter as he pulled back, a shivering sigh escaping his lips. "I want all of you."

It was difficult to speak, kiss, and deal with the rising flames of the searing pain all at once. Keene drew back, motions still slow and steady, fingers trailing up from Noven's waist to his own to remove his belt. Shoes. God's be damned shoes. When those were removed, several candles were extinguished from his efforts, and when he had finally wriggled out of his pants, he was panting. Both naked then, Keene stopped. He sat in an awkward position, his legs partially splayed to his side and hands supporting him as he stared wholly unabashed at Noven. He was beautiful, and he was his. Keene moved forward then, lips pressing against Noven, skin against skin. Tastes pleasant and strange mingled with the shivering sensations. It was a search, and exploration, and Keene surrendered to it. The pain in his body was nothing to the way in which he found himself feeling as Noven returned his efforts. Sweat filled what little gaps they left between them, their body's slick with passion as each searched for a new way or returned to an old that they might pleasure the other.

He felt as if he were dying. Every part of him was in pain, but it was mixed so perfectly with the desire and pleasure that Keene couldn't tell if his heart seemed to stop from the agony or the ecstasy. He guided Noven, hands pushing, pulling, drawing him all over and around him in an unspoken understanding of what they both wanted. It was, by no means, an elegant affair. Candles continued to be extinguished, one of them tumbling over to coat Keene's foot in a skin of burning wax that went unnoticed. The blanket certainly served its purpose, as neither man seemed content to stay in a single place for very long. It was strenuous, and it was glorious. Keene felt as if his body might simply fall apart, too weak to contain the whirl of emotions that flooded through him. He pressed into Noven, and Noven did the same. Their bodies became the other's and to each the limits were pushed.

With a final, panting shiver, Keene collapsed, face burrowed in the space between Noven's jaw and neck, breath rushing in and out of his mouth, the scent of Noven's sweat heavy in his nostrils. They were a mess. The room was a mess. The pain that mixed with the strange, numbing sensation that filled him was a mess. But, as he drew his head up with weak, shivering movement, Keene stared down with an unabashed warmth. The face that greeted him was the face that he loved, whether he knew the word for it or not. With a slow, wobbling lower of his face to Noven's, he kissed him again for the thousandth time, reveling in the warmth of their embrace and tearing sting that rose to meet him. In a hoarse whisper as he slid back to rest his forehead on Noven's shoulder, Keene gently ran his fingers over Noven's chest, lingering around the more sensitive rise of his pec. "Again?"

.

[Noven]

His mind felt cloudy and the moment dreamlike as his question was answered by the stripping of his shirt. Keene's hands were steady, though there was still a moment of struggle as the sleeves caught around Nov's elbows. A good tug and some basic coordination however remedied that quickly enough.

Noven sat there, breath shallow and hair slightly mussed, as the Initiate ran a pale finger down the expanse of his torso. Soft words accompanied an equally soft touch, that venturous hand stopping only when it reached Nov's belt. The Scar felt his head swim as Keene undid the buckle with ease. Funny, how the part he'd always found most difficult had practically solved itself beneath the mage's deft motions. As he worked the buckle, Keene breathed Noven's name, fingers splayed just enough to stroke against something other than the latch. Blood rushed immediately in response and a groan caught in his throat. The whole thing felt so surreal, intensifying tenfold in the wake of Keene's subtle yet profoundly arousing ministrations. And once that belt slide free from the waist of Noven's trousers, his grip on whatever meager shreds of propriety remained went right along with it.

Keene pushed him gently onto his back with nothing more than an insistent palm. His subject obeyed, heat-filled eyes widening as the other man undid the buttons on Nov's trousers before sliding free of his own shirt as well. The single, fluid motion was like liquid grace, and Noven found himself hopelessly enthralled.

Pale, lean muscles shifted as Keene maneuvered himself over his companion. Nov could feel the flat planes of their chests meet in an exquisite contrast of supple and taut, as well as the maddening friction of the other man's hips shifting against his. Their skin to skin contact, he noted somehow through the thick haze of lust, undoubtedly caused the Initiate pain, but it also did nothing in keeping him from lavishing Noven with impossibly stimulating attention.

Keene's lips were moving against his exposed neck, saying something about never having been asked what he wanted before. Nov might've tried to reflect on that more, find it in his heart to feel compassion and pity for the man's deprivations, but he was given no such opportunity. Because those fingers that had so tenderly led him here, onto his back and covered in attentive Initiate, were now searching below the waist of his trousers. He gasped in surprise and pleasure once they found what they were looking for, right at the moment Keene gave his answer at last and covered Nov's lips with another feverish kiss. Head lifting slightly off of the mat, Nov moaned into the other man's mouth and probing tongue, feeling himself swell to aching proportions beneath that firm grip. His neck was burning with effort by the time Keene pulled back, but he heard those final words, felt the hand partially hidden beneath his pants tighten around him, and Noven could not tear his gaze away.

When the Initiate drew back, however, he finally let his head hit the mat again to relieve the strain. From his angle, he could Keene slowly removing the rest of their clothes. Nov helped where he could, shucking off his weathered boots and lifting his hips to pull down his already loosened trousers, though his fingers and movements were far clumsier than that of his companion's.

Eventually, they were both naked. And everything after that was a blur. Noven could remember the way Keene stared boldly at him, the glint of possessive appreciation clear in his grey green gaze, and his own bemused, self conscious reaction to this lull within the furious pace of their hunger. Other than that, he only recalled bits and pieces. There was more kissing, more feeling, more of a lot of things, but they all melted into one another to form a single, amorphous stretch of passion. It was uncannily similar to that night they'd shared in the hills. Except this time, they were joined not under the influence of desperation and mystery ale, but of acknowledged attraction, and a genuine desire to understand one another.

Oh, that and a bottle of wine. But it was good wine, and merely aided the freeing of something neither could have controlled for very much longer.

The wildness of their coupling quickly extended beyond the mat, spilling out onto the blanketed floor, knocking over candles, and generally wreaking havoc on the tiny room they'd borrowed for the night. By the time Keene collapsed onto Noven's chest and nuzzled contentedly into the crook of his neck, they were both sweating and winded almost beyond recognition.

Alas, their endurance was not to be underestimated. The Initiate was the first to rise, though only to bring his lips sweetly to that of the Scar's once more before nestling his head back into a bare, olive toned shoulder. And asking if they could go again.

"Again?" Noven echoed in mock disbelief, enjoying the light brush of Keene's fingers over his skin. He looked down at the tawny head resting below his chin.

"Anything you ask of," the Scar murmured, "a promise is a promise."

Something was weighing on his mind, however, and he drew himself up just enough so that he could speak to the mage face to face. His arm was still cradling the other man's head and the rest of his body pressed alongside that of Keene's, partially cocooning him in protective warmth. "On one condition, though...we go slower the second time. We went too fast the first and I...I want to...remember this, as much of it as I can."

The merc had had every intention of discussing the matter further, but he was distracted by the nakedness of his companion, words of reason and frankness lost in an instant. Nov brought a hand to run a cautious but curious path down from Keene's chest to the flatness of his abdomen, then all the way past a narrow hip before arriving at the smooth, soft skin of an inner thigh. He'd never explored the planes of another man's body this intimately before. Never even really thought to consider it. But now that he was, he found it intriguing in its differences between those he'd bedded before, and in its similarities between the two men themselves.

A few, gentle caresses later, his fingers wandered their way upward. They wrapped around of their own volition, Noven no longer in control of his investigative desires. It felt strange at first, holding Keene this way. But, familiar at the same time as well. And he couldn't deny the urge to sate his own curiosity.

With his terms set and hands sufficiently wayward, a devious gleam returned to his rust colored gaze. "And where the hell did you learn to do all of that, anyway? I thought you said you've never been courted before." He gave a tentative, experimental squeeze, trying to mimic Keene's earlier actions, and brought his face close enough for his lips to brush against the other man's cheek.

"Maybe you can teach me," Nov suggested, his voice a low rumble as his hand rose and fell, the motion an educated guess at what might feel pleasurable to the Initiate, "and then we can properly prepare each other for round two."

[Keene Ward]

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At Noven's condition, Keene languidly drew his head up to stare back at Noven's earnest request. His finger pressed against Noven's mouth as he finished, tracing the curve of his lower lip as his quiet voice replied in its naturally neutral, soft manner. "If I ask for anything, how can there be a condition?" His gently moving hand shifted to cup around the back of Noven's head as his lips carefully kissed the warm rise and fall of Noven's chest. He supposed it didn't matter. The request was valid, and while Keene certainly remembered every last tick that had passed between them, he wanted Noven to remember just as much as the other man seemed to. He let out a soft, shivering gasp as Noven's touch began to slide down the length of his body. It was like a ragged knife trailing its way across him carving a path of fire, yet that fire elicited such quivering sensations of longing that the burn and ache were difficult to differentiate from the other. He let his eyes shut, head pressed against Noven's chest and hands shaking, as the man continued his exploration. Keene's entire body twitched, an involuntary response, as the fingers wrapped themselves around him.

Nothing and no one had ever touched him as Noven did. It was not the first time his body had been handled by the hands of another, but it was the first time it had been searched in so attentive a way. The touch itself was maddening and strange, as the pleasure there outweighed the pain by a sizable amount. His voice shivered into a soft groan, hands temporarily releasing Noven so that the only contact between them was at that single point. Noven's question helped to ground him some, and Keene tentatively turned his head to face him. His eyes swam with all manner of emotion, the most prominent the pleasure felt that vied with the pain and desire. A shiver of a sigh escaped his lips as Noven's lightly passed over him, tearing a new, unseen slice of pain and pleasure that sent his eyelids slipping over his vision to bask in the heady mix of sensation. As the words continued, the hand began to move, and Keene pulled himself closer, the motion more done so that he might keep himself from squirming beneath Noven's curious ministrations. "S-slower... Noven..."

When he had caught his breath some, Keene's own hand snaked down to find a much more formidable target than what Noven currently held. He took it up, fingers teasing and gentle as they ran the course. While Noven's hand was a like a warm, tender glove, Keene's fingers danced around like silken whispers, a steady undulating movement like the rise and fall of their breath. He shivered, unsure what to make of the pain any longer. It was still there, only it was more distant. He knew he should pull away, free himself from the agony, but the pleasure was too addictive. He wanted to stay, to continue to bask in everything that was Noven. Rising up, Keene gently removed Noven's hand, his body twitching in dismay and longing. He sat with shoulders set and back straight, though his body was so exposed the now dim light of the candles he looked similar to what a painted portrait might appear as had the subject been nude instead. There was little weariness to his features then, the pert nature of his body's response to the stimulation Noven had offered ensuring he was more than ready for a second round, but he had been asked a question and thinking and talking were far too difficult under the rich and heady tones of Noven's affection.

"I haven't been courted before." His reiteration of the fact was void of irritation as he stared down at the body that made his heart ache with a desire that found him foolish for separating himself from him. Noven's body glimmered from the sweat that held a flickering sheen cast by the candles light. Everything about him from the longing gaze to the minute details of his body culminated in what Keene found to be the closest depiction of perfection he had been met with. It was absolutely absurd and wonderful at the same time. To think that a state of being so far out of reach from the majority of almost every mortal being was nearly embodied in the single man before him sent a shiver of eager anticipation down his spine. That near perfection, whatever its flaws, was his now. Never had he thought he'd find himself in the situation was he was currently in, yet there he was, reveling in the moment.

He continued his response, the small pause taken to admire Noven slowly filled with the quiet sound of his voice. "I learned from..." He frowned then, his thoughts directed inward for a moment before he shook his head. "I can't remember their names." It was rare for Keene to not be able to remember something relatively menial, but he didn't linger on it for long. "It was... educational." If Noven wanted more information, Keene had no problem further explaining, but it wasn't information he found entirely relevant. Having been away from Noven long enough, Keene shifted forward. "I can teach you, but I don't know if you will find things to be as pleasurable as he did." In a way, he wanted Noven to have different tastes, different pleasures. The night he'd experienced what he had then thought to be intimacy was clouded with the revulsion of the manner in which it was committed. With Noven, while there was certainly an animal carnality to their actions at times, there was always tenderness, a soft adoration that was mutely understood between the two of them. It wasn't the first time Keene had engaged in intercourse, but it was the first time he truly enjoyed it.

He sank down over him, hands pressing first into Noven's thighs then letting them snake their way to his hips as Keene's lips pressed against Noven's heat, tongue trailing its way over the sensitive surface. It was not the first time they'd done so, but Keene took Noven's request to heart. He moved with a steady, languid pace, teasing more so by the apparent lack of urgency than any single manner in which he moved in his steady rhythm. His hands moved over the rise and fall of Noven's abdomen, tongue and lips smooth and soft. His mouth paused then, hovering just a breath away, as he turned his eyes toward's Noven's before sinking back down into his work. There was the taste of sweat and passion that mixed with what Keene had come to associate with Noven's alluring flavor, and he melted into it. It felt as though his mouth were full of jagged glass that, at each point it sliced through his searching tongue or gentle press of his lips there was an explosion of desire that overrode the pain. It was a glorious paradox, and Keene had no reason to deny himself the exploration of it.

When he had gone for long enough, Keene drew back, fingers pulling back from Noven's stomach to tease what he left behind, eyes trailing up the path that led to the face he couldn't and wouldn't forget. He crept up Noven's body, lips marking his path as more and more of his skin met with his partner's. He draped himself over Noven, a careful, delicate gyration as he gently nibbled on Noven's lower lip. With a soft, breathy whisper that shook from the effort it took to keep his movements slow and formulating his thoughts into words he spoke, having already passed the point of worrying about the pain and pleasure. "Should I go slower?" He kissed him, keeping him from replying for the moment. He reveled in their touch, in the press of their bodies, the synchronous beat of their hearts, the gentle slick of the sweat that seemed ever present between them. Hands slid up to entangle in Noven's hair, tenderly tugging and wrapping. His lips brushed against Noven's ear, teeth gently biting before he whispered again. "What would you have me teach you?"

.

[Noven]

His hand froze for a tick at the sound of Keene's stuttered advice, fearful of having caused more pain than pleasure. Reverently, Noven obeyed, slowing down and loosening his grip to a more gentle motion. It seemed to work; the other man's breath grew steadier, his muscles more relaxed.

But then a pale hand snuck its way past the Scar's waist, and it was suddenly his turn to struggle for breath. Those cool fingers caressed his swollen, heated flesh with maddening lightness, as if they held every intention of teasing him. A near breathless moan escaped from Nov's lips. He found his hips shifting of their own volition against Keene's touch, desperate for more contact, as his own ministrations grew more fervored. It was impossibly arousing, what they had tangled themselves in. The two of them, each held within the grasp of the other, giving and receiving in a seemingly endless cycle of action and reaction. They fed off of each other's pleasure--or frustrations, in Noven's case--and he felt like he was losing his sanity from the overload of sensuous thrill.

At some point, the Initiate rose from the mat and gently pushed away his companion's hand. Nov allowed it without hesitance, thinking once again he'd done something wrong, but as Keene sat upright with that impeccable posture of his, it became apparent that another earnest response was forthcoming.

Meanwhile, Noven was beginning to realize that his question might not have been very...tactful. He'd had never stopped to ask, even consider, whether his partner was experienced or not. His mind just assumed that Keene both was and wasn't, however that managed to make any sense at all. But now that he had requested an explanation, and Keene sincerely attempting to fulfill said request, Nov remembered just how little of the world around them was painted in black and white. Just because the Initiate had never been courted, it didn't mean he had no experience. And there was no telling the nature of those experiences, either. Which, judging from round one, he possessed a fair amount of irregardless. Knowing Keene, they'd probably been acquired more for practical reasons than any indulgent ones, too, though that was a bit unsettling to think about.

Soft, honest words brought Nov back from his internal roving. When he focused his gaze once more on the man before him, he saw a familiar frown pulling at the sides of the the Initiate's plush lips. Nov made a mental note to himself to attempt reversing that frown in the future. Preferably the near future.

So, the Initiate had learned from multiple educators, though he remembered none of their names. His forgetfulness sounded a bit ominous at first, yet fitting as well. Keene spoke of lessons as if they had meant nothing more than the function they served. But he did reveal that one of his teachers had been male, and that Noven might not find that particular individual's preferences as pleasurable.

A cold suspicion began to form in the pit of the Sunberthian's stomach.

But before he could interrogate the Initiate further, Keene was sinking down over him again, capable hands running up long his thighs before they settled on his hips. And his mouth--

Oh, gods.

Nov momentarily forgot how to breathe as he felt Keene's velvet lips press against him. Pale hands roamed over the contracted muscles of his stomach as well, creating a constant shift of overlapping friction. It was soft and comforting and inflaming all at once. He could almost swear that the fingers gliding over his scars--one in particular, about a hand's width wide, more painful in memory than the rest--were soothing their ragged edges.

Pleasurable as it all was, however, the simulation Keene caused was outstripping Noven's own patience and pride within ticks. It was driving him crazy, this slow, leisurely pace. The Scar must've blurted out a plea at some point, because his companion paused for a moment, grey green eyes rising to meet clouded ones of russet amber. It was nothing more than a sticking of gazes, but the way Keene looked now, hands splayed in wanton exploration, full lips hovering a mere breath away...Krysus, it was enough to bring on a whole new surge of blood and heat.

Then the other man sank back down to resume his achingly languorous attentions. Noven made a completely unintelligible sound as he felt himself enveloped, the slightly rougher sensation of an occasional, slithering tongue bringing his chin to tip back and lips part in helpless pleasure. His muscles strained from neck to pelvis, his voice no longer good for anything other than panted groans. If this kept up any longer, he was going to--

Without warning, the sensations ceased. He almost swore out loud in dissent, but then Keene's features slid back into view, and his qualms were instantly forgotten. Those sorcerous fingers were still teasing him as the Initiate drew himself up to eye level again. All along the way, Keene left little trails of adoration. A nibble here, a whisper there, and that ever taunting, ever maddening slow orbit of his hips. Nov could barely put two thoughts together by the time his companion asked if he should go slower. The Scar's mind resounded with a thunderous "no," but he was prevented from speaking by the other man's long, deep kiss.

"N..no..." he uttered dazedly once their lips parted, as if lost to the grip of a violent fever. "No sl...slower..."

Nov closed his eyes for a moment as Keene ran cool fingers through his hair. He'd had his fair share of tender attentions before, but this...this had no name, no precedence. It felt like every last shred of will and focus was being surrendered to one man and one man alone.

At the Initiate's following question, however, some of Noven's senses began to return. As well as a deeply ingrained impulse to meet a worthy challenge.

Keene's gentle bite brought on another flare of lust. Except this time, it was not the passive sort, mind-bendingly pleasurable as that had been. "I want you to teach me..." Nov rasped, pushing himself up off the mat and Keene along with him, "...what feels good to you. How to...how to do things properly, the way you'd like them for them to be."

He felt like he was just babbling now, but he had spoken earnestly. He'd also gotten them back into a sitting position, with the Initiate in his lap and held in place by dark, calloused hands. Nov could smell the faint, musky scent of Keene's skin, a mix of sweat and chill and what might have been traces of soap. Without thinking, he brought his mouth to the smooth expanse of pale, exposed skin of the other man's neck, devouring it with neither gentleness nor remorse. Where Keene had been teasing, subtle, and agile, Noven knew only two levels of passion: intense, and more intense.

His mouth inched closer toward the Initiate's jaw, leaving hot, slick flesh behind that would no doubt bruise and sting come morning. All the while, his palms roamed where ever they could, no longer worried as much about the pain of his touch. They moved up Keene's back, across the taut muscle right below it, then down the length of his toned thighs, stopping only when they returned to grip his narrow hips.

Nov breathed into his companion's ear, "Tell me what you like..."

One by one, he moved Keene's arms so that they draped around his neck and shoulders. And then, with a devious half-grin, he rose from the mat and turned them both around so that Keene was the one lying on his back now, and Nov hovering hungrily over him. They were still pressed against one another at the hips, every movement creating more deliciously torturous friction. The darker of the two shifted his hands down to the other man's thighs and rolled his own hips forward in a gentle, experimental thrust. Just to see how the Initiate would react.

"What about this?" he asked. Then he released his grip to sink lower, placing a warm, unapologetic kiss against Keene's inner thigh. "And this?"

Nov's new tactic was founded in several reasons. One of them being that he felt it only fair he gave as good as he got, after all of the Initiate's excruciating teasing. The other, that he found he enjoyed hearing Keene's verbal reactions. Immensely. Only problem left was figuring out how to get him to say more than two words at a time. The louder the better.

Fortunately, he had a lot of methods to try at his disposal.

Noven's kisses moved ever lower, until they were mere inches away from their true target. There was a moment of hesitance. He'd done this plenty of times, to be sure, but only on those of the fairer sex. Then again, the merc mused, he'd received this kind of treatment as well, most recently from Keene himself, and it really shouldn't be all too difficult to recreate. Right?

Right. Without further ado, Nov started as Keene had. A soft kiss, then two, and a few more to follow, restricting himself from going any faster than a snail's pace. At some point his tongue joined in on the efforts as well, its hot, textured surface meeting the straining sensitivity of Keene's. His hands, used to cupping the other person in order to bring them closer, were instead wrapped around the Initiate's thighs, running up and down to occasionally brush against taut curves. After what he deemed to be enough pre-torture for the time being, Nov moved as if he was about to envelope Keene in earnest.

And then he stopped a fourth of the way, pulling back to raise his head in a questioning stare and poorly feigned innocence. Perhaps it was the wicked smirk he so shamelessly wore that gave him away. Or maybe it was the mischievous question that accompanied it.

"Or this?" His grin widened.

The words that followed, however, were filled with far less levity. He said them with an almost animalistic drive, eyes regarding Keene's wolfishly. "Tell me," Nov murmured, voice gone husky with the thickness and urgency of his desires. "Tell me if it feels good."

He drew himself close enough to that his body eclipsed Keene's entirely, lips grazing the very edges of the other man's cheek. His voice devolved into something of a growl. His eyes glittered darkly.

"And then I want to hear you beg." Noven's grin grew more wicked. "Beg for me to continue."

[Keene Ward]

.
Noven's gasp of a reply sent shivers down Keene's back as his lips pressed against the man's neck. It was a tantalizing pleasure, one that was not of the flesh but of the heart. The manner in which Noven was out of breath, lost for words, and stuck between consciouses and the dream all culminated in an impossible desire to keep him there. His hips worked, a steady rhythm of heat against heat, as Noven drew breath to reply. The rise of his chest pushed Keene a bit higher as the raspy, throaty words filled the room with the rough whisper that he was so drawn towards. Their position changed as Noven rose up, the strength of his muscles shifting beneath his taut skin that pressed against every part of Keene's body that he could manage to blanket the other man with. It was a heady pleasure to feel the rush of blood and the activation of energy, the efficiency of the movement expressed in the flex and release of the masses beneath him.

From his new vantage point, if he looked down, Keene could see the shadowed recesses of the minute spaces between them, the points of contact at their chests and hips and more. It was a strange sight, one that, for a tick, Keene contemplated whether it was as alluring as it felt. The thought didn't last long as Noven continued to speak. The need was evident in his tone, but there was more than that. There was a rambling sort of embarrassment, as if what he was asking was strange and uncertain; and Noven was right. Keene didn't know what he liked, what he wanted, beyond Noven. The man was the sole point of his focus, the everything that consumed him in the gentle chill of the stony cell. What he asked of him was too much. His body quivered beneath the flames of Noven's touch, the agony and ecstasy of it having long since sunken into his very bones.

He tried to say something, to respond to the question however poorly phrased it was even in the haze of Noven's wild and intoxicating scent of sweat and desire. Instead, he was only able to hiss softly as Noven's lips closed over the side of his neck. It felt like he was tearing him apart. The pain exploded across him, his body too tired to respond with anything other than a weak limpness that pressed into the attack. His breath came in heavy pants as Noven worked his way up, each instant a new burst of excruciating pain that melted into pleasure in so profound a way, Keene couldn't keep his hips from the slow, desperate grind of his body against the other's. Before, Noven had always been as gentle as he could be in spite of his more raffish proclivities. In that moment, however, he hurt him, caused him actual physical pain, and it was delicious.

The hands that trailed down his back and over his thighs found their place at his hips, guiding their motion, pulling him closer than he ever could have gotten by himself. At that point, there was neither pain nor pleasure, only sensation that burned away thought and reason. His breath was like a searing flame passing over the ice that thawed so easily before it. Keene desperately searched for lips, but settled for neck, tongue searching blindly in the useless state of his eyes. "This..." His arms moved of their own accord, or perhaps of Noven's, Keene couldn't quite tell. They wrapped around him, drawing him nearer, closer... Then he was on his back, the hedonistic gaze of hunger hovering over him like a dark, ominous cloud that held within it a rain to end a drought that the one below wanted cured so terribly, staring up with a desire to match that of the storm. He trust against him, and Keene's body moved involuntarily to join in. It was a rough movement, one of strength and control, and Keene reveled in it. His eyes closed as he let out a shaking sigh, and Noven asked another question. "Y-yes..." The word itself was nearly non-existent, almost lost in the shallow quickness of his breath and thunderous beat of his heart.

Then, Keene's arms that had been so loosely wrapped about the back of Noven's neck found themselves on his shoulders, and lips ran a searing trail over the inner skin of his thigh. His body twitched beneath the touch, a shivering moan drifting from his lips as his fingers tightened around the firm muscle that shifted with each movement that Noven's arms made. His mind knew where the lips were headed, the obvious trajectory so simplistic it required little thought; and little thought was all Keene had available to him. His hips worked unconsciously, body rocking beneath the administrations of Noven's meticulous research. The desire to be touched spread through him, controlled him, and his hands slid from the shoulders to the back of Noven's head, weakly pulling at his hair to draw him towards where he needed him to be. By no influence of Keene's, Noven arrived after a trail of excruciatingly tantalizing softness left behind to mark the sluggish path he'd taken. Then, he hesitated.

It felt like a lifetime. Keene's head shifted so that his bleary eyes could regard the dark, tousled hair before him. He wanted to feel him against him, to move the torturous lips across him, to tear his nerves into shreds and leave him numb. Images flashed through his mind. Noven's smile, his broad shoulders, the way in which his cheeks would darken in an instant, the modest way he covered himself, the sweat dripping down the side of his face, the hungry growl of his kiss, the callouses of his hands, even the rise and fall of the bottle of wine all ran through Keene's vision in that moment. Noven was everything, no other thoughts existed. Then he began and Keene ended.

Pain could not begin to describe the sensation, for it was not pain he felt. He could feel each rise and fall of the relatively smooth plane of Noven's lips. The gentle wetness of his mouth leaving behind a warm reminder of where he'd been and a hint as to where he would go next. His mind swirled in the hazy mist of Noven's kisses, the impossibly bright points of contact felt so completely, Keene couldn't decide whether it was his eyes that saw or his skin. He shuddered beneath every kiss, and when he felt the warm, searching press of muscle against him, his breath failed him. He did not remember things as they were now. Before, it had been a terrifying experience, one that he had done his best not to feel, not to care. His body had responded, but his mind had been as blank as a crumbling wall of stone. With Noven, however, that wall became a valley of needles and his mind a blanket of sensation that threw itself upon it, relishing in the way it tore itself apart. His fingers tightened their grip in Noven's hair, but his arms were too weak to pull him closer like he wanted. He was powerless beneath him, a mess of flesh and bones, will stolen by the experimentations of another.

The lips, the impossibly wonderful, searching lips, rose. They pressed themselves over him, their warmth a foggy embrace that wrapped around him from all sides. Then it was gone, and Keene struggled against the lack of touch, the lack of fire. "W-what-" Somehow, his arms had situated themselves so that they propped him up, head slightly lolling as he regarded Noven with a wild desperation. He could say no more. Noven's gaze held him like some strange spell, his words drifting over him more tantalizing than his lips or tongue or fingers. He shivered as Noven drew himself up over him, eyes dancing with light in the dimness as he sank back onto the mat, hands running themselves up over Noven's stomach to press against his chest as his fingers gently dug themselves into the flesh that beat beneath them. The command was met with a kiss, a searching grapple of lips and tongue as Keene wrapped his legs around the other man's waist. His hands snaked their way from Noven's chest to entrap his head, keep it near, as he let himself melt into the embrace and the agony.

His hips pressed himself into Noven, the slick left behind from Noven's abrupt dismissal burning hot between them. He kept the kiss far longer than any before, the burning need for air in his lungs only adding to the experience. The muscles in his arms held tight and strong to keep Noven where he was, to do what he would with him, before finally he released him, gasping for air as Noven drew back to do the same. Clear grey eyes displayed their green in a crystalline clarity that was shaded by the fog of desire which played about the corners. His head rose up, teeth catching at Noven's lower lip to draw him back as his hands found their way to the muscled curves that tightened as his fingers slid over them. They dug into the muscle, commanding it to press against him more completely, matching him ardor for ardor. "No." He stole another kiss, strength returning in the form of adrenaline and he pushed Noven out of the way, rolling over to land on top of him, chest against chest, hip to hip.

Still, the gyration continued. It was steady, like the beat of a heart but only half that which pounded against their chests. He felt a line of sweat trickle down the side of his face, and he brushed it away as he drew back. His legs were on either side of Noven's hips then, body fully displayed as he straightened his posture, eyes staring down at the man who had captured his body, his mind, and his heart. Cool fingers wrapped themselves around warm skin, pulling it so that it pressed against him from behind, his own hips teasing both himself and Noven, each finding a different plane to revel in. Moving forward, Keene shifted his body so that each rise and fall of his hips only further teased, satin and silk. The slick of sweat and shiver of longing made the movements all the more unbearable. His lips then brushed against Noven's, his voice almost lost in the exchange of panting breath. "I'll show you what I want, what you can do for me." He refused the kiss, breath like lips against Noven's mouth as fingers toyed with the sensitive rise of his chest. "I want you, Noven. All of you." And, with a raise of his brow just before he finally allowed himself the kiss, his voice carried with it a soft severity. "And I will not beg for what is already mine."

What happened next, Keene had little control over. He slid himself over Noven and the resulting pain that shot through his body forced him to break the kiss prematurely with a sharp shout and gasp for air. There was more than he remembered, and the urgency only grew as the rate in which he moved slowed. There were no smilies or metaphors to cover what he felt. It shook him to the very core of his djed, and he vaguely felt his fingers dig into the muscled flesh beneath him. His soul was on fire, every tick that passed as more and more of Noven joined him was a century of anguish and a millennium of euphoria. His breathing stopped, the workings of his lungs lost to him in the moment as he shivered, quivering from exertion and desire. Tears dripped down his face, but they were little more than an unconscious, biological response that paired with the uncontrollable shake of his hands.

He fell back onto Noven, a temporary pause in his ministrations, lips seeking flesh of any kind and comfort, basking in the man's voice, his scent, his body. He found lips, and lips found him. Keene threw himself into the kiss as the movement of his hips began once more. Each shift, each minute change, sent a symphony of dissonance through him. Heat burned beneath his skin, face flushed and eyes hazy as he drew back only to plunge back into passion, into pain, into desire and self-destruction. All of it culminated between them, and Keene's movements became more and more fluid, flowing with the tears he had yet to notice that dripped onto the tanned scar that so gracefully cradled Noven's face.

He wanted more.

He wanted everything.

His eyes bore into Noven's, nothing but a bright glimmer dancing in his gaze. There was no pain, but neither was there pleasure. There was only need, a bright, blazing craving that sought only one thing, and that thing was there before him, heat on heat, skin on skin, breath to breath. "Noven." It was a whispered promise, a single name that carried with it a world's worth of words.

.

[Noven]

Soft lips pressed themselves urgently against his, and for a moment Nov's resolution wavered. He let his mouth be parted and searched, unable to resist responding with an exploration of his own, the searing need in his belly flaring fire bright as he felt the other man wrap lean, muscled thighs around his waist.

His breath grew ragged and stuck to his throat as Keene pressed their hips together. Without thinking, Noven shifted slightly back and forth against him, craving the slow, torturous friction as much as he dreaded it. The kiss seemed to span eons. He feared for a tick he might lose consciousness before Keene was satisfied, but he could not move, the Initiate's unsurprisingly strong grip trapping him in place. Had it been anyone else, Nov could have easily forced or Vexed his way to freedom. But with Keene...the thought never even crossed his mind. He'd sooner be suffocated by the longest, most ardent kiss ever to be shared on this gloomy island than tear himself free.

The instant before he thought he'd reached his limits, the Initiate released him. They both drew back, gasping for air, as spots of lights danced momentarily across the mercenary's vision.

As usual, Keene gave him little to no time for full recovery. He rose instead to bite Nov's lower lip, toying with it, while insistent hands traveled behind to grasp firm, muscled flesh and pull them closer. Noven rumbled in approval of the increased contact and picked up the pace, rolling his hips against the other's in hungry, desperate compliance.

Then the Initiate spoke a single word in answer, and it stopped Nov mid thrust.

No? What--

His indignation was half drowned by the stealing of another kiss, then usurped altogether as Keene shoved him away, the force of his push so strong that Noven tensed for a tick, body instinctively expecting a fight. But a few more deftly assertive maneuvers later, he found himself on his back and pinned to the mat again. Atop his muscled perch sat Keene, looking oddly, sensually victorious, and he was grinding his lower half into that of the Scar's. The movement was steady and slow. Deliciously slow. And it left Nov unable to decide whether he wanted it to stop or continue.

"Whu...What..." he panted, trying to focus on the Initiate's outright refusal and not the excruciating pleasure of his gyrating hips. "What do you mean...n...no--oh, gods."

The last words came out more of a wheeze than proper sounds. A shiver shot up his spine as cool fingers wrapped themselves around him, right about the same time wild sparks of desire rushed down through turgid flesh. Noven watched his companion in helpless anticipation. He could feel Keene teasing him, teasing them both, rubbing heat against silk, the slickness of both their bodies sending their minds reeling with infuriating rapture.

Keene was face to face with him again. Except this time, when Nov's head rose to meet his for another ravenous kiss, the Initiate denied him. Petching hell. He didn't know much more refusal he could take. It was as frustrating as it was arousing, and it was also provoking that raw, carnal beast still lurking in the darkness of his desire, chained in place by nothing more than sheer will alone.

Noven listened to the mage speak through a fog of lust and irritation, his curiosity his single, saving grace. Keene was going to show him what he wanted...what he wanted Noven to do for him. Despite the aching deprivation being inflicted on him in that moment, the merc was all ears.

A flicker of confusion flashed through Nov's face. He had, to his knowledge, been giving all of himself to the other this entire time. They both had, and were still. Weren't they?

His thoughts became hazy again as Keene finally allowed another kiss. Noven was lost in the clash between sudden, sweet relief and even more inflamed need, and nearly didn't catch what the Initiate said next. But when he did, the Scar felt his heart flip through several impressions all at once. Shock, challenge, resistance, and even respect. Until at last it settled on an emotion so powerful, so all-encompassing that it blossomed through his chest in fiery tendrils, wrapping him in warmth and burning him from the inside out at the same time. It was wondrous enough to hurt. The good kind of hurt. The kind that happened when you looked at something almost too beautiful, too perfect to exist.

Then Keene pushed down on him, and the rest of existence itself fell away.

They gasped at the same time, one in pain, the other in ecstasy. Noven's hands gripped the other man's waist as if it were the only anchor left to his sanity. He couldn't breath for an indeterminate amount of time, air choked in his throat, head thrown back and mouth open as a low moan escaped into the dim confines of their borrowed room. His neck and shoulders strained, veins popping like so many vines beneath tanned skin, as the unbelievable pressure slid over him and the ensuing pleasure wiped his mind completely blank.

"Keene..." he rasped, unseeing, unknowingly, as the Initiate paused to run his lips everywhere he could. When they found Noven's again, they were met with blistering, naked, unfettered greed. The Scar drew back one hand so he could push himself up with his elbow, while the other still held onto Keene's narrow waist. And then he ground against him, softly at first, growing only in pace to match his inversely, rise for fall and fall for rise. The sensations that accompanied were pleasurable beyond all imagination, and if it hadn't been their second round Nov was sure he would have lost himself to mind-numbing release long ago.

The amorous, desperate kisses stopped at some point, replaced by the soul-piercing gaze of the Initiate himself. Keene whispered his name, and it made his heart ache. It was then, wrapped as they were around one another, that Noven finally understood what it was the other man wanted. And realized--belatedly, as always, but better late than never--that their exchange hadn't been as fair as he'd first assumed.

Very, very gently, he pulled the other man up as he drew himself out. There was a shudder and shaky exhale as he felt the loss of pressure, cold air brushing against his skin once more.

"You asked," Nov murmured as he rolled them over yet again, though tenderly this time, "so I'll deliver, as promised."

He lowered himself to finish what he'd started earlier, fingers wrapping around the one part of Keene that still needed to be thoroughly tended to. The devilish glint returned to Noven's caustic eyes. "But we'll see about the begging."

This time, he went straight into the task, not bothering with attempts to tease or pace himself. Unlike Keene's, his mouth was fever hot, and his tongue just a little more experienced with such carnal endeavors. Nov smothered the other man with neither ceremony nor restraint. His goal was not one of torturous, drawn on pleasure. At least not yet.

He knew only the rudimentaries of what he was doing, but that hardly slowed him down. When Noven committed himself to something, he did so wholly, without looking back. And carnal pleasure was the only activity, other than violence, in which he believed he was allowed to lose himself.

Nov went on for as long as he dared, stopping when he felt the other man was ready. Or he was ready. It was impossible to differentiate at that point.

Moving up along the Initiate's pale, lean form, Noven mimicked his partner as best he could. He placed himself hip to hip, as Keene had done, and brought one hand back, seeking a target still slippery from his recent ministrations. The merc tried to remain calm, to not dwell too long on what he was about to do. But it was easier said than done. As with everything else that had passed between Scar and Initiate, this was unprecedented. More so than any other act they'd indulged in, experimental or otherwise.

Before he could think any further, he pressed himself down on Keene, eyes closed and chest heaving in a conflicting mix of dread and excitement. His hands planted themselves on either side of Keene's torso as he sank ever lower. The sensation was completely alien, unsettling at first, but at some point it inexplicably changed.

His eyes flew open in surprised bafflement. Nov looked, in that moment, almost comical in his revelations, but the expression was short lived. He still remembered his goal, and he had yet to hear those sweet, pleading words from his companion's lips. With that in mind, he rose, then fell again, testing the motions and sensations. Then he did it a second time, and a third. The position was strange at first, like a reversal of the sort he was more accustomed to, but he was still on top and that suited him just fine. There was pleasure, pain, and a whole range of feelings both old and new, though he focused on none of them. Instead, he poured all of his concentration into the man before him. On giving him as much pleasure as he could physically provide.

Noven gazed down at his companion, breaths having long since turned to shallow pants and eyes dark with hunger and determination. "How does that feel?" he managed to ask without gasping for air, lower half now working a hair more feverishly. A vague idea struck him as he spoke. Guided mostly by instinct, Nov slowed just enough so he could lean back at a slight angle. It worked well enough when Isme and her companions had tried it, he reasoned, so it ought to work now, too. Then he lowered himself again.

This time, Nov was unable to hold back a gasp. The friction had grown twice as blissful, to the point where he couldn't be bothered to notice the pain anymore. But still, he moved steadily, intentionally, keeping his own pleasure at bay.

When he stopped to look down at his companion once more, Nov did so through an ecstasy-induced delirium. The manifestation of his inflamed state rose rigidly between them, and just the thought of where Keene's lay sent quivers both hot and cold prickling across the muscles of his back. "D-Do you...want me to stop, Keene?" He rose a slow, deliberate fraction, sending another wave of pleasure for both. "Or...or do you want me to keep going?"

Out of sheer curiosity and the heat of the moment, Noven shifted his weight and brought a hand to lightly brush over the sensitive skin right below where he and Keene were joined. He cupped it as well for a tick or two. Gently, experimentally, all the while watching the other man's face. His actions would have seemed guileless, if not for their ulterior motives.

"Say it," Nov coaxed, almost growling. "I want to hear you say it."

[Keene Ward]

.
Strong hands wrapped themselves around his waist, drawing him forward as the pressure slipped from him, eliciting a sigh of both relief and longing. Their breath mingled between them, each man once more incomplete. Keene shuddered, and Noven rolled them over yet again, lips searching blindly as he felt them press against each other once more. Noven's voice was like some hypnotic drug, filling his mind with a numbing, overwhelming lust. Whether it was Noven inside or Keene, he craved the connection, the crippling torture of pain and the paralysis of pleasure. His hands ran the course of Noven's body as it slipped from his fingers. A clouded moan drifted from his lips in response to Noven's ultimatum. He wasn't given a chance to respond before he plunged back into the foggy rhythm of Noven's lips and tongue. Keene twitched under the act, his body unconsciously - or perhaps consciously - responding with its own thrusts and shivers, feeling as though Noven were the scorching sun radiating its heat over, through, and around him.

He sat up, fingers wrapping around Noven's locks not in guidance but in desperate need to cling to something. The sensations were powerful, but his mind was more so. He saw him, Noven, so hungrily and avidly seeking to pleasure him in an almost altruistic nature, and his heart burned for it. As sensual as the motions were, Keene wanted to see his face, to carve every line and rise and fall into his memories, to bask in the presence of the man in all his glory. He fell back, body unable to support him as all efforts switched to the twitching mass of nerves that screamed beneath Noven's warmth. He let out a quivering hiss of air, and Noven finally released him. The rush of coolness that filled the absence of care was like a soothing balm, and Keene fell limp before it. His chest rose and fell in heavy pants and sweat had long since covered him from head to toe.

The reprieve, however, was short lived. A rough hand wrapped itself around him, the same impassioned urgency electrifying every tick as he felt himself press against the only part of Noven he had yet to explore. The anticipation of it sent waves of shuddering pleasure throughout him mixed with a strange apprehension. His eyes locked with Noven's, and he saw in them both fear and frenzy. He felt his whole body tighten then, watching Noven with eyes that blazed with a carnal curiosity. He wanted it, more so than anything they'd done so far, and to be able to watch, to remember... His eyes flicked towards where Noven hesitated only for a tick, and he felt his heart slam itself against its cage of bone and flesh.

Noven's eyes closed and Keene's widened. The pressure was unbelievable, far greater than he had anticipated. There was the ever present pain - in fact it was by far the most tearing, searing sort he'd experienced yet - however the pleasure of both the sensation and the viewing of the act itself made that pain almost nonexistent. Noven's breath trickled out from the tight line of his lips, his concentration complete and formidable. Hands shot to either side of Keene, seeking stability which he responded to by gently caressing the backs of Noven's arms, fingers pressing against the tensed muscles. The descent was steady, and with each passing tick, the journey became more and more unbearable. Keene let out a rush of shivering breath at the same moment something in Noven's face changed. Where there had been a sense of almost reluctant duty, it was exchanged for a rush of surprised pleasure, as if a switch had been thrown at some point and his body responded without his knowing.

Then it began, and all Keene could do was cling to the arms that had become pillars beside him. Each rise and fall sent waves of mind numbing sensations through him. Breathing became something that was only done in sporadic gasps as his body pursued Noven's movements, rising and he rose as if he might escape from him. Each pass, Noven gained confidence, fluidity, speed. Keene could scarcely keep up, words long since lost to him by the time Noven asked him his question. Noise was all Keene could make, so instead of a soft spoken word, a stuttering moan rose, perhaps more honest than a word ever could have been.

Noven, however, was not done. He shifted his position, and the resulting change in friction sent stars bursting through Keene's already blurred vision. He couldn't tell which of them moved, nor could he determine where his body began and Noven's ended. There was only pleasure. It extended from their connection throughout the whole of him, filling him with a self-sustaining craving. He forced himself to watch, to rise up on his elbows with breath ragged and catching. Noven rose and fell in a rhythm of blissful agony. His body shone in the muted light of the candles, shadows wrapped around him in a perfect balance of mystery and exposure. From the strong, wide berth of his neck down the ample rise of chest that tapered to a muscled abdomen partially concealed by the rise of Noven's passion all the way to the taut thighs and able calves, Keene memorized all of it, lost in the dream of his reality.

His question sounded from a distance, words that drifted over a thousand miles of carnal desire. Stop? The constricted draw of Noven's movement sent a shiver through him, his body clinging to something, anything, to keep him from losing his mind. Fingers gripped more of him, the playful movements of their ministrations numbing his mind even further. The growl of Noven's voice poured over him like some sticky sweet honey, coating him in a haze of both pleasure and longing. His hands clumsily sought the small of Noven's back, pulling himself up as his legs bent to support the change in position. His lips pressed into Noven's neck as his body shuddered. "D-don't..." He rasped against the sticky warmth of Noven's skin, breath rattling as he drew in the heady scent of the man - his man. Hands rose to settle on the broad back of Noven's shoulders as he pulled him closer, releasing just a small amount of the friction between them to relish the way in which their bodies pressed into on another. "Don't stop." The whisper was delivered right to Noven's ear, desperation, desire, and longing all twisted into the two words that seemed to rise from deep within him.

Then, he kissed him.

It was the last straw. He was not able to hold himself back any longer, and thrust after thrust melted away into a shout of unadulterated pleasure before he fell back, taking Noven with him. The pressure increased to a point where Keene couldn't think anymore, then each man shuddered and heat spread through and between them. His breath came in gasps, face pressed into the other man's neck, tongue working over the steamy, smooth skin in an unconscious search while he felt Noven shift on top of him, slipping from their link with a slick smoothness. Keene's hips still moved, Noven's body sliding over him in a tantalizing cling of heat.

In that moment, everything was perfect. Shivering hands wrapped themselves over Noven's broad back as his lips met the other man's in a tender, searching kiss. He could taste everything: the pleasure, the pain, the distinct mix of flavors both familiar and new. His body shuddered again, an involuntary echo as he weakly rolled Noven over so that they were both on their sides. His fingers trailed down the other man's chest as he kept them in the kiss, sliding over the gloss between them to gingerly tease at the still sizable mass of nerves below. The ripples of pleasure and pain had faded into a true numbness that Keene found soothing, and when he finally broke away, his eyes regarded Noven with an unclouded adoration that was mixed with the telltale hint of a lust fulfilled for the time being.

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse but soft, a gentle whisper as he brought his fingers back to his lips. He wanted to experience every part of Noven, and while memory served what he knew he would find, he wanted to replace it with Noven's. Running the tips of his fingers over his lips, Keene licked the bitter taste from them, a twitch of his lips that could have been amusement joining the act. "I was wrong." He finished cleaning both his lips and fingers, not particularly enjoying it but reveling in the added information all the same. "I did beg."

He then pulled himself even closer, resting his forehead on the able arms of the man he had come to know so impossibly intimately, a contented, shivering sigh escaping him as he entangled his legs with the other. "Thank you, Noven." The words were sincere, carrying with them a warmth that was, perhaps, due to the near delusion Keene found himself in wrapped in the arms of a man he felt so strongly for. Gentle, quiet kisses followed as his lips pressed against what skin they could find with minimal effort. "Thank you."

The room was in shambles. What fish they hadn't finished lay still safe within its greasy paper, though how it had managed to settle in the corner of the room was anyone's guess. Out of the ten candles, only three remained lit, and the wax from the one that had coated Keene's ankle still remained still unnoticed. The blanket and mats had shifted quite a bit, leaving the two of them on a single mat with the cloth only partially covering it. The room was no longer cold, not even in the quiet aftermath of the two men's escapades. They had produced heat enough, and though the chill had begun to timidly return, the two were plenty warm enough to not notice. Even Keene's body was unnaturally warm, though Noven was quite certainly the true source of heat.

He felt weary but content. Noven had taken his heart, and Keene had given it gladly. Whatever the short time they had left, Keene found it well spent. He had never understood love, nor had the concept of intercourse made much sense to him before. There had been no pleasure in it before, no tenderness, no life. Noven had changed that. He had shown him that love was more than a purely abstract distraction: it was a very real, very powerful distraction. He still felt the muscles that shifted beneath his lover's skin, the manner in which Noven's chest rose and fell with the addition and expulsion of breath. He was connected to him in a way he couldn't describe, in a way he didn't even care to. It was, in a sense, one of the greatest revelations of his life; in Noven's arms, however, Keene didn't really care. He was warm. He was safe. He was home.

.

[Noven]

He watched his partner's face with single minded focus. Tried his best to fend off the exhaustion, the aching need for release, and his own, carnal urges to keep going. For some reason, his mind had latched onto that one absurd desire to hear the other man plead and refused to let it go. Even when hands clumsily grasped at his back as Keene pulled himself up and sculpted thighs rose on either side of them, Nov held on, his heart skipping about like a cornered animal and breath growing more ragged by the tick. Meanwhile, he found his will pushed to its very limits. The minute movements of their change in position brought on small, fresh waves of pleasure with each shift, eroding his efforts. Yet still, he clung.

Keene was half whispering, half gasping something into the heat of his skin now. The soft, urgent kisses left along Noven's neck had sent sparks of warmth converging downward, and for a moment they were all he could focus on. But then Keene pulled him closer. It was with both reluctance and unexpected relish that Nov let the angle be righted; the former because of the lessened friction, and the latter because it joined them even deeper, forcing a moan to escape along with his panting breaths.

The other man's lips found their way to Noven's ear. Two words. Two words heavy with reckless need were all it took to bring down the last of his inhibitions.

Another kiss followed and he was lost. Thrown into a whirlwind of maddened lust, pleasure, and thrusts. He could feel that quivering build up of pressure in both of them fast approaching its explosive unraveling. It hit Keene a split tick first. The Initiate shouted at the onset of his release, bringing them both falling back onto the mat, and his helpless gasps and furious attentions sent Noven right over the edge shortly after. Their cries of blinding ecstasy filled the barren room.

He spasmed and bucked against the other man, drowning beneath surge after surge of pleasure and the impossible sensations Keene's tongue was eliciting. Warmth spread over and all around them while his hands gripped whatever they could find for dear life. There were no words, only gasps, moans, and desperate clinging as the last torrents of bliss finally ran their course.

Half a chime later, Nov still had his face buried between Keene's neck and shoulders. The ecstasy had faded to a dull throb and left him terribly weakened. And sore. And sated. Thoroughly, wondrously sated.

No sooner had his breath been recovered than the Initiate's lips found his again. The kiss was gentle, probing, as if Keene was getting a taste of their impassioned aftermath through Noven himself. The merc didn't mind; he found those cool, velvet lips soothing, though the teasing nature of Keene's devious hand was another matter altogether.

"A--Ahh," Nov practically whimpered, lower half flinching away as he grasped the Initiate's hand in his own. "S...Still tender...don't touch..."

He brought his arm back up, laying his hand on top of Keene's and keeping them both pressed against his chest. When the ache of sensitivity receded a little and he was able to turn his head, Nov saw that the other man was looking back at him with deep, undisguised adoration and temporarily mollified desire.

The Scar returned that gaze with a candid veneration of his own. If there were ever a moment in his life when he could be accused of looking upon another with doting eyes, foolish as that phrase usually seemed, it might very well be now.

That expression changed to a poor compromise between arousal and horror, however, when the Initiate somehow extracted his hand and began to lick the traces of their passions still coating his fingers. Surely, most certainly, Keene wasn't expecting that they have a round three...could he? Noven wondered at his own question, unable to tear his eyes away from the strangely mesmerizing ritual unfolding before him.

But then Keene admitted to having begged after all before moving closer to nestle against him, and Nov sighed in relief and contentment. Unconsciously, he wove an arm around the other man's shoulder, both of them warm for the first time, and let his cheek rest against Keene's tawny head.

Satisfied, complacent, and tangled in each other's limbs, the two of them lay there in perfect peace. The same could not be said, unfortunately, of the space around them. It looked liked an entire hoard of Gibbat dogs had been stored in it for three consecutive days. Nothing was where it had originally been placed, oh so meticulously, at the beginning of supper. The fish were in one corner, the near empty bottle of wine rolled into another, and only a few candles remained lit. It was a minor miracle nothing had been set on fire.

At the Initiate's gentle words of gratitude, Nov turned so they could face one another, a sleepy grin plastered across his sated features. He wanted to say something back. Something fitting for the moment, both gracious and affectionate. But in the end, all he could manage was, "You're a right, proper minx, Keene. You know that?"

And then his words devolved into a snort of laughter as he reached back to drag the second blanket over them. The mirth quickly passed, replaced by genuine tenderness and warmth that simmered indolently in his gaze. Nov pulled the other man closer into his embrace. He made sure the blanket covered Keene entirely, unmindful of his companion's stickiness, and let lloose a slow, deep sigh. As thrilling their simple supper had become, it had also left him utterly drained. Tamed and fed, but bone weary all the same.

"Don't need to thank me..." he murmured, eyes already drooping with languid heaviness. "Makes me happy, being with you..."

Then he was out like a candle.

--------The next morning--------

Sweet, bleeding Krysus.

Noven woke to what he could only equate to the feeling of having been trampled by a hundred, hungry beggars. His limbs were as heavy as lead, his head aching from lack of fluids, and his body sore in places that had never felt sore before.

But then the muscles in his arm twitched, reminding him of the slumbering form still cuddled against him, and his discomfort softened. He moved one finger at a time across pale, lax muscles, testing their movement. They were a bit numb from being slept on for an entire night. Otherwise, none the worse for wear. The merc would have tried to move over parts of himself, had the endeavor proved much too painful the first couple of attempts. Most of him was wrapped up in Initiate, anyway, and he didn't wish to wake the other man with his clumsy motions.

Nov laid there for some time, relishing the rare moment of tranquility. Even the state of their little room seemed peaceful. Like quiet destruction left in the wake of a passing storm. The air around them was thick with musk, the source of which he still had perfect memory of, unlike their night in the hills, and their bodies were sticking to one another in all manner of unhygienic ways.

They were, in short, a mess. And it filled Noven's heart with gluttonous joy.

Keene began to stir in his arms. Shifting so that he could lower his head and draw those pale features closer with his free hand, Nov caught the other man's lips in a slow, lingering, good morning kiss.

"Hey," he greeted his partner in a low murmur.

When they parted, however, some of his arm stuck itself to Keene's chest. He had to peel himself away, their skin clinging to one another like lovers desperately holding on before they were forcibly torn free. The sensation was as bizarrely amusing as it was telling. Noven grinned down at his companion.

"I think you and I are in need of another bath."

[Keene Ward]

.
There was so much warmth around him. It encased him like a gentle sigh, wrapping him in a comfort he'd never experienced before. It held him close, and each steady, sleeping breath he took drew in the scent of safety and belonging, carrying him away in a heady drift of peace. Sleep had never been particularly enjoyable for Keene. His life had always been better spent awake than trapped in the darkness of unconsciousness. His dreams, when he could recall them, tended to be dark, empty. There was no pleasure in slumber, and there was little efficiency in it other than the required bells to keep his body functioning optimally. For the first time, however, he reveled in it.

Consciousness played at the edges of his slumber. The warmth of his world shifted some, a stirring that he felt more than noticed. He was comfortable, secure, and, though the exact thought was far more ambiguous, he felt loved. It was a strange feeling that was somewhere between joy and terror. He played with it as he drifted through the blankness of his mind, content to simply float. There were no thoughts of what should be done, what had to be done, and what couldn't be done. There was no sense of urgency, no necessity to learn or grow or understand. There was just a blissful, wonderful nothing in which he was free to relax, to come undone and blink as his body fell apart with the ease of a drop of rain against a soft pair of lips.

Lips. He felt them press against him, but instead of the gentle breeze that his mind had created for him to represent the processing of sensations, the lips were solid, real. They opened, and there was heat which drew him from his meditative state and back into his body, into the aches and pain and pleasures that slowly began to drift back with his consciousness. He returned the wake up call, his body weakly molding itself closer to Noven's as let his eyes remain closed to focus on the tantalizing taste of the man he'd become so impossibly intertwined with. His legs curled slightly, skin pulling at skin, as his free hand ran the length of Noven's jaw before the broke apart. He responded to the verbal greeting with a lazy, languid blink of his tired eyes before Noven drew back, careful to keep Keene's gradually waking form from jostling too much.

The literal lingering of their contact seemed to amuse the other man, but Keene had yet to fully come to his sense and merely nodded. He remembered, with perfect clarity, everything that had come to pass the night before. Unlike times previous, the feelings were not purely hedonistic. They were intense but tender, wild but soothing. He let his eyes close as Noven began to disentangle himself. The relief from the dull pain of their touch was like a breath of fresh air, and Keene let out a quiet moan as he stretched his arms up above his head before forcing himself to sit up.

The very first thing he noticed as he finally began to blink back into the proper function of higher thought was that there was pain in places he'd never really thought he'd feel again. The blanket had fallen from both of them in the process of their morning shiftings, and Keene turned to stare at the beautiful perfection of Noven's bare skin, fingers reaching out to trail gently over the familiar rise and fall of his muscles. Drawing back, Keene's mouth widened in a yawn as he leaned back on his hands to blink blearily around the room.

The candles still burned, though they were close to spent, which gave the room a pleasantly murkiness that Keene preferred for having just woken up. Their clothes were strewn about the small space, and with the limited light it was too much of an effort to determine which bits of cloth belong to who. Instead, he rubbed his eyes, the faint bitter taste still lingering on his tongue, as he finally drew himself out of his sleep induced stupor. Reconsidering Noven's statement, he looked down at himself. By appearance alone, he was able to confirm that Noven was more correct than simply stating an opinion. Turning to face the other man, his eyes having since returned to their natural neutrality, he nodded. He didn't elaborate what he nodding to, but his voice had yet to join the rest of him and there was no point in wasting words. Not with Noven.

Rising to stand, Keene shuffled about the room, collecting their clothes without really caring who the belonged to, neatly folding them in his arms until he had everything gathered. Once that was done, he quietly and carefully opened the door and set them outside along with their boots, the fish, and the bottle of wine. By the time he returned his motions were far more fluid. He glided over to Noven, kneeling down to sit level with him. He stared into the dark, warm gaze for a few ticks before gently caressing the side of his cheek with the back of his knuckles before gathering up the blanket and setting it outside along with the rest of their things. When he returned, he closed the door, the little click of the latch echoing strangely in the then near empty room.

He had not forgotten their trip to the baths, and it had been something he held in his memory with both ecstasy and apprehension. If he could help it, Keene preferred to keep things just between the two of them for as long as he could. They didn't have much time left, and he wanted to have Noven to himself, to exact every tick he could in recompense for all the time they'd already wasted. In a way, he supposed it was ridiculous. Noven had things to do. He had things to do. In the semi-darkness of the morning, however, Keene didn't care what either of them had to do. He wanted what he wanted, and there were only two days left before he'd never be able to have it again. The thought sent a little shiver down his back that he shook off with a shake of the head. The suggestive nature of the question he asked was lost on him as he asked it in his soft spoken, neutral tone. "Would you be opposed to me cleaning you here?"

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