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Vaelus leads them three kilometers off course before mentioning the abbey. She didn’t intend to go off course, mind you. Occtis can read it in the way her ears droop ever so slightly, and how she worries at the chain of her thurible with her thumb. He would be well within rights to mistrust her but they spend an inordinate amount of time together and she’s proven to be astoundingly normal, if even a bit boring. She has a fondness for small animals and kind street vendors, always tears her bread into small bites, savoring them long past meal times. Even her grief is understandable; the shape of it, if not the depth. Sylandri’s death is still fresh for her, she stands stunned and chafing against the shape the world has woven itself into in her Goddess’ absence. Sometimes he wonders how she can stand it, but what else is there to do. When passing by a place she clearly remembers, it makes sense that she turned her feet to home. He can see it makes sense to Thaisha as well, who crosses over from skepticism to a soft-eyed sympathy he recognizes from the many (many) late night conversations they’ve shared when Vaelus explains the history of the abbey.
It was a place for dangerous things she says, but beautiful ones too. Sylandri had tucked it away from the minds of the people so that her devotees might be able to work life from other realms into this one safely. Sometimes plants and animals would sneak through the doors of Faerie, or crawl up onto our shores from the upper levels of Hell. She knew change was coming, a merging of worlds, and that ignoring it or choosing complete destruction of what she had not made was not the way. The Goddess would kill when needed as that is part of life too, but she truly felt an effort must be made to see if we could live in harmony before obliterating it or sending it swiftly home.
“I think we might be able to use it for our own purposes now. I am trying to keep you all alive, please believe me, and this pocket of the world isn’t completely impenetrable but few remember it exists. She looks meaningfully at Lady Aranessa, “It offers a few days of rest. Your loss will catch up with you, I do not want us to be scraped to nothing when it does.”
“The Tachonis may catch us first if we don’t continue as we are right now.” Julien objects, turning his nose up, though Occtis can see he is affected by Vaelus’ speech.
“Is there anyone still there?” Aranessa’s voice is rusty with silence when she speaks, “at the abbey I mean.”
“No. I have met Sisters of the order in the years since and they live a life much like mine. If it has been left standing, it will be well furnished, with things we can use to trade or sell.”
“If it’s been left standing,” Aranessa frowns, “what would have happened?”
“Elder Tima was not a moderate woman, and would have seen the building burnt to the ground if it it would keep the secrets of Sylandri’s heart from falling into the wrong hands. That, or she may have employed rather unsavory methods of letting the building protect itself.”
“What does that mean?” Thaisha asks, apprehensively.
“Either a lot of booby traps or ligustrum.”
Thaisha and Aranessa give twin looks of surprise and disgust. “Really?” Aranessa asks.
Vaelus shrugs. “It was likely there already, and they used whatever was on hand. Walls talk.”
Occtis does not like the sound of that.
“So we’re marching towards a husk of a building, or one we can’t touch,” Julien says dourly.
“That is a decent point Julien.” Vaelus pauses. “Occtis could you send Pin ahead, tell him to look for vines with purple flowers on the outside of the building. We may be able to camp safely inside the veil, building or no building, but only if I’m wrong about the ligustrum.”
Occtis does not want to be here a second longer than he has to, but makes sure he gets a nod of approval from at least two of the women before sinking into Pin’s senses. It’s a relief to slide along the animal bits of Pin he stitched together so lovingly. His fox does the mental equivalent of sniffing him and chuffing in acceptance and they bound off together into the underbrush.
Some days sharing control of this second body is easier than others, Pin careens back and forth between his own whims (sniffing, rolling, exploring) and Occtis’ need to get to the abbey. Any yipping they let out when seeing a stone tower is not him, and no one can prove any different.
The benefit of button eyes is full color vision even as a quadruped, so purple flowers are easy to spot, splaying over the arched entryway to the grounds. Occtis moves his husk-body’s mouth, relaying the message to the people standing around him, and vaguely notes some discussion as Pin starts to explore the entrance to a rabbit warren in the front garden.
He’s jolted back to himself with Thaisha’s gentle hand on his arm.
“Hey,” she says, “where’d you go?”
“Ah, Pin got interested in some sort of animal warren,” he admits sheepishly. “The flowers are in the front, and the first floor seems to have intact windows, maybe it could be accessible from the back? Or the cellar because the door is on the side, but it seems creepy.”
“Creepy, or dangerous?” Thaisha asks.
“The entire place is dangerous for a hundred paces.” Vaelus says. “Occtis, you don’t need to breathe, correct?”
He hates the reminder but Vaelus never brings it up without reason. “Yes.”
She bites the corner of her mouth thinking, looking at the sun’s angle and the distance yet to cover. “You come with me. We can dispose of the vines safely and you all can catch up in thirty minutes.”
No one looks particularly happy with this solution but their purses are light and the nights are getting bitter.
“Do you think she left the flatware?” Occtis suggests, before turning to Vaelus in deference “I mean, if you think—”
“She better have, she stole a serving spoon from me when I was 200 and I still haven’t forgiven her for it.” Vaelus sucks her teeth and Occtis snickers as they set out down the path Pin took, taking a bit more time to push their clumsy humanoid bodies through the underbrush.
“I feel a bit behind the curve, what is ligustrum?” he asks once they’re out of earshot of the rest of the party.
“Just a plant,” Vaelus says lightly.
“Vaelus,” Occtis says, giving her a look.
“Fine,” she sighs. He knows she loves an opportunity to tell a good story and settles in like he does at night, ready to ask a million questions. “Ligustrum compositis was a gift to Sylandri by the Summer Court many, many years before I was born,” Vaelus says. She’s choked up on the chain of her thurible so she can spin it casually, like a keyring on a finger, and while it might be a bit of an extreme measure, it is damn effective at whacking branches away from the both of them and he falls in behind her.
“I always heard the legend that at first the elves saw it as a sort of cruel joke regarding her divinity. Life and reproduction isn’t always pretty; several animals just die right after reproduction or coitus as part of their natural cycle and we must honor that as part of Her creation. The Queen of Summer saw a plant constructed which made animals deny those original life paths, choking them out in their prime, and she set it free to grow wild in Aramán. It was like its creator, beautiful and deadly.”
Occtis grimaces, reading between the lines. “It killed people with sex?”
“Sometimes,” she says, “it increases physical arousal in the entire body. Respiration, heart rate, blood pressure included, with compounding effects until death.”
“And Sylandri was okay with that?” he squeaks.
Vaelus flaps a hand behind her to shush her one man audience.
“Sylandri was honor bound not to destroy a gift given in good faith, and despite the obvious danger it presented it appeared that it was truly made and given in order to benefit her and her people. She sequestered herself for a full week attempting to subvert the effects of the plant, and succeeded only in making sure it grew slower and spread seldom, brewing a complete neutralizing serum from the deep roots of the plant as well as a mixture that would stall the effects but not completely cut them entirely. She might well have kept us all away from it herself, continuing to work on making it safer for living beings to interact with, except that during her absence someone figured out that the pollen of the flower can be used in moderate doses as a fantastic party drug if administered properly. And so it was that the gift was remade into something kinder.”
“Hm. Like a regular stimulant?”
Vaelus half shrugs, “Roughly. It kind of loosens you up a little, makes you more touchy. If taken in concentrated doses the aphrodisiac effects are far more potent, but also more pleasant.”
“Vaelus,” Occtis gasps with fake shock. “Don’t tell me you’ve indulged.”
She gives him a look he’s come to associate with her being genuinely amused, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I’ve been alive eight hundred years,” she says, “I can’t possibly be expected to remember everything.”
“I think I’d remember that.” Occtis snorts, stopping short behind the elf and taking a deep breath in, holding the air in his lungs for when he might need to speak but can’t breathe.
“But really, it’s most often used as a kind of relaxant, everything is just a little… more, but you care about it less.”
They walk the rest of the way in silence and his thoughts are spiraling, centered entirely on the potential for this flower to give him a greater appearance of life. The stimulant effects are quick acting, quick to fade and seem to work most pleasurably on those non-aging mortals that lived alongside it before the fall of the Gods. It’s a vasoconstrictor, which means heightened sense perception, focus, pleasure. The memory of a shiver runs down his spine and he wishes even for that. Even if it doesn’t do the job of making him look more alive with more color in his cheeks, natural blush, and so on, he would certainly act like it.
(If it works. And if he can figure out how to get the dosing right and not die of a nonexistent-heart attack.)
“Do you think it would work on me?” Occtis says tightly, preserving the breath in his lungs.
Vaelus gazes at the vines from the crest of a small hill in front of the abbey, seemingly attempting to figure out the best way to tear them down without intoxication. “I would suggest not trying it, but you are already dead, brought back by things I don’t yet understand. I’d caution you against it, but if you must.”
“I have a plan, I’ll tell you later,” he says, squeezing her hand.
“Tap the pollen into one of your jars. Once they are stripped of pollen the flowers are not dangerous. Seal the jar tightly and do not open it until I tell you it’s safe.”
Occtis frowns at her.
“I’ll explain further, we need to get to work. The light is fading.” She secures a piece of thick waxed fabric around her nose and mouth like a mask and marches towards the abbey.
Occtis thinks the sun looks high enough but follows her anyhow. They end up cutting the vines down and dragging them a few hundred yards away, burying them in a shallow ditch.
“It shouldn’t be a problem in a day,” she says, clapping her hands together. They’re covered in a thin layer of greenish golden pollen, collected off the stems and the flowers alike. She freezes, eyes widening before moving several feet backwards at top speed.
“Occtis, what humectant do you have in your kit?” she asks in a voice too measured for it to be normal.
“Um, I think it’s propylene glycol?” He does not mention that the glycol happens to come in the form of dry-eye medication, but it’s not like it matters now.
“Go get it, and gather whatever pollen you must. But make sure to bring back a full handful of flowers, I have to teach you something.”
He had dropped his pack and jacket back when Vaelus had put her hand out earlier, and could see the pile of belongings from where they stood. He goes as fast as he can without risking tumbling face first down the hill, taking a shallow breath as he moves so that no pollen might fly up his nose from his clothing. He feels no ill effects, and returns with the glycol and a few extra jars for the sake of sample collection. The flowers are easy enough to gather, and he takes pains to tap all the pollen he can off the stamen, corking that container tightly.
Vaelus is bouncing her leg, sat on a low stone wall closer to the abbey. “You have it?”
Occtis nods.
“Good,” she says, “how much can you give up without trouble?”
“All of it, probably.” Liquefaction is not his prime concern when seeking subjects in the wild, so he doesn’t carry much. He has many regrets about what he did and didn't carry with him on the night of his murder, this shortage of supplies is one of the petty ones.
“Give me a quarter of it in an empty bottle.” She watches as he pours a good amount in and puts a hand out. “Flowers?”
Upon being handed them, she takes a few and strips the petals neatly, stacking them on her knee. Once all the flowers are stripped of petals, she tosses the bare stamen behind her and pinches the petals in half so that they can make it through the thin neck of the bottle.
“It doesn’t take much,” she says, and it really doesn’t. By the time she’s done inserting all the petals, the solution has already started to dissolve them, and after a bit of shaking, the water is left a beautiful light lavender shade.
“Good,” Vaelus says and swallows a mouthful. Occtis’ eyes get wide.
“There is a stronger solution, the one with the roots and ethanol, but the roots are so difficult to get to, and that would take time we don’t have,” she sighs, struggling to her feet and assessing her body. “I’m affected, but only minorly. It’s different for elves we have a heightened…” she trails off, looking for a word.
“Metabolism.”
“Yes! Metabolism,” Vaelus says, smiling from behind her mask again. “It’s honestly quite nice, I feel very relaxed. Not in a sexual way. ”
“Oh, thank the stars,” Occtis says, wheezing.
“Don’t worry. You are very much not my type,” she says not unkindly, as she pours a conservative amount of the neutralizing serum into her hands and rubs it carefully into every crevice of skin. “And far too young for me. But Thaisha…”
“Please don’t talk about how badly you want to have sex with my– with Thaisha.” Please also don’t have sex with her loud enough for me to hear, he implores her silently.
“She’s a beautiful woman, Occtis,” Vaelus sighs, rubbing her face with more serum and handing it to him. “It’s safe for your gloves.”
“Thanks,” he says, just resolving to ignore whatever insensate things Vaelus will say for the next few hours. Thankfully she is relatively normal, if slightly cuddly and prone to stumbling down tangents with connections he can’t quite untangle. They have to wait for the pollen to disappear from their clothes, during which Vaelus tries out several braiding techniques she recalls from her youth, leaving Occtis with half a head of braids he has no time to undo before the rest of the party catches up with them. They explore the abbey, which proves still too dangerous to serve as a temporary home base. Occtis finds several more knots of ligustrum vine, thankfully before anyone else is able to walk in but is able to grab the paperwork Vaelus was looking for, as well as some of the more interesting books and valuable looking cutlery to pawn a few towns over. He spends the rest of the daylight hours picking apart the intricate braid she seems to have knotted directly into his scalp as they march towards a nearby town.
They make it there in record time, Vaelus’ sudden sleepiness pushes the rest of the party to get her somewhere she can rest in peace. They have money for two rooms and are split by gender once again and Vaelus is immediately put to bed, which she seems to greatly appreciate, out like a light the moment her head hits the pillow.
“I’ve never seen her actually sleep before,” Thaisha says once they’re back in the hall. “Is it really safe to leave her alone?”
“Ah, I can explain. Perhaps away from the ears of others.” Aranessa says, looking down the hall.
“I’m not a child.” Occtis complains, sounding very childish to his own ears.
“I know you’re not,” she says kindly “I was talking more about others,” She nods her head towards a gaggle of teenage halflings and their exhausted looking chaperones.
“I think outside would be fine,” Thaisha agrees.
“I’ll stay in for now,” Occtis demurs.
“Okay,” she says, passing him the key. “Don’t get high on magical elf flowers while I’m gone.”
“Haha, yeah,” Occtis says, as a flash of anxiety like cold sweat flashes across his body. This really better work out the way he wants it to.
He waits twenty minutes before he can’t hold himself back any longer, and starts setting up his components for an experiment. Julien had fucked off somewhere, thank the stars, and Occtis could finally start experimenting.
He sets everything up meticulously, pen and paper, a meagre portion of what little glycol he still has on hand (not much, even with the earlier rationing, dessication is not typically the first concern when collecting subjects in the wild so he carried little on his person before he was forced to flee), a more moderate portion of a neutral cooking oil for dilution, and a few empty containers. He closes his eyes, feeling like there needs to be at least a little pageantry as he ceases to breathe entirely. He remains unused to the stillness of his body, but there are times when it’s wonderfully advantageous to not need to breathe. Plus, if this works how he thinks it might, well. Best not to tempt fate.
The flowers have half wilted in their container, petals drooping like wet fabric. With most of the pollen removed from each of the pistils at time of collection, they can safely be tipped onto a table, petals stripped and crushed between his fingers, before dropping them into the jar of humectant. This is the second part of the experiment, but one he needs to make first; a solution to cut the compounding effect of the stimulant so he doesn’t die (again) and simply experiences a minor systemic arousal. Ideally the magic keeping him animated will begin moving faster under his skin, giving him more sensation, extra energy. It’ll probably feel like a bit of anxiety, and he’s used to that.
Vaelus shook the glass, so he swirls his a little, hearing the petals dissolve with a quiet hiss. He taps his feet taking note to tell Vaelus later. He’s sure the elves at some point knew this, but whether Vaelus did or not, that’s what matters to him. Given that the humectant he’s using is used as a dry eye medication, the hissing and dissolving is… ominous, but it could be normal. Fuck it, he’s dead, what’s the worst that could happen?
(There’s a lot worse that could happen, the anxious part of him reminds, you still have all your limbs.)
That nagging anxiety keeps him stuck staring at the well sealed bottle of pollen, turning it over in his hand. He can abide perversions of nature if he understands them, if they have basis in known science. Pin makes perfect sense if you have a basic understanding of how resurrection magic exchanges energy for inertia, and vice versa, focused on the balance between stalling decomposition and animating the limbs using the will of the wizard. But life touched by the fair folk doesn’t play by mortal rules. They’re concerned with propriety and treaties, rules woven like webbing until you’re bound to get stuck in it so they can eat you alive. He hasn’t had time to study it, but he might not ever get the time to do so if he can’t fake being alive convincingly enough right now. This can help with that, theoretically.
All he has to do is uncork the bottle and diffuse it with oil. That’s all he has to do.
(What if it works? What if it works wrong?)
Someone knocks on the door loud enough to make him jump, fumbling for a solid grip on the bottle and placing it safely on the table out of reach.
“I’m fine, Thaisha,” he calls out.
“Open up.” It’s Julien. Occtis’ stomach sinks to his feet. He thought the man had gone with his Lady to scowl menacingly at any men within 100 feet of her, or whatever the hell he’s supposed to do. “What are you doing in there?”
“I’m—it’s a private project,” he winces, bad wording, “and I can hear you, there’s no need to keep knocking.”
“Open the door, boy, or I will enter by force.” Julien sounds angrier than normal, maybe he’d done something to get kicked out by his entertainment for the night? Was everyone okay? He really wished that deep breathing worked on his body anymore, or that he even could breathe deeply given the contents of the bottle in his hand. Oh stars, what if Julien misinterprets what he’s trying to do here, what if he—
Occtis realizes a moment too late that he didn't bar the door, he’d just locked it, and Julien is very good at picking locks. The door swings open with far too much force and Julien storms inside. Occtis remains at the desk, hoping he doesn’t appear as terrified as he is. It’s not like he has anything to be ashamed of, fear is just a hard habit to knock when there’s a very angry man in your general vicinity.
“What are you hiding in here, hm?” he says, as if Occtis has been threatening to kill him for the past weeks, instead of the inverse.
“I told you,” Occtis says peevishly, “it’s a personal experiment. I might have told you what it was if you weren’t so… bratty about it.”
“I am not bratty,” Julien scoffs and reaches down to disturb the jars, as per usual, and Occtis slaps his hand away with surprising force.
“These are delicate spell components, some of which are quite dangerous. Don’t touch what you don’t understand.”
“Dangerous, well. That seems like it deserves an explanation then?” Julien stands there expectantly, like a dickhead. Because he is one.
Occtis wishes for the ability to teleport Julien into a vat of sludge. “I’m attempting to create a dilute serum to give myself a more “lifelike” appearance, a moderate stimulant for me but something that might cause cardiac arrest in regular humans so I’d ask you again not to touch it.”
“You have no circulatory system, how on earth would drugs work on you?” Julien asks, using his brain in a way that makes Occtis furious that he doesn’t care to do so most of the time.
“You’re correct, most human stimulants wouldn’t work. But something crafted by Faerie, that might work on things that arent… of this realm. I think Ms. Mag’nesson would call it ‘vibes based’ system.” He makes air quotes with his fingers and Julien’s nose twitches, his mouth tightening so he doesn’t laugh.
“You don’t have to lecture me on Faerie, boy, I know.”
Occtis frowns thoughtfully. “I didn’t know the Davinos were also involved with Faerie?”
“We serve the Royce, how could it not?” his voice sounds strained, and somehow it always comes back to this. The great elephant in the room that will never be moved, not even when every member of his family is dead. “We used to go to the Golden Orchard together often back when my father was a knight protector.”
“I went there once,” Occtis blurts, cringing back from his own words once they’re out of his mouth.
“The Golden Orchard?” Julien is genuinely surprised.
Occtis nods. “When I was eight, I think? I got hopelessly lost on a trip uptown with my siblings and found one of those doors. You know the ones you aren’t supposed to find. It was beautiful, I’d never seen a sky so blue, it almost hurt my teeth.” He looks up at Julien who nods almost imperceptibly. “It felt like it could have been hours or days. I was lost and hungry and my feet hurt, but I was smart enough not to eat the windfall. Eventually I turned a corner and this impossibly tall man was there, with a pixie on his shoulder. I was so elated to see another living person that I ran to him and clung to his leg like a child,” Occtis chuckles awkwardly, picking at the fraying sleeve of his shoddily repaired dress shirt. “He took me home, no one had even noticed I was gone. I had thought for a while afterwards that the door found me because I truly did have my family’s gift,” he shrugs. “I suppose it’s better this way.”
“It must have been your siblings then,” Julien says after a moment, looking a bit nauseous.
“What?”
“Those doors are not accessible without powerful magic, either inherent or in some sort of amulet or charm. Someone must have directed you towards it.”
Occtis wants to laugh and deny the accusation, but it was one of his siblings who tore the heart out of his chest. He feels suddenly unmoored, “I—no. I was lost.”
Julien looks at him with disgust. “Your family already successfully killed you and you can’t handle being told that you may have been subject to a murder plot that failed?”
“What I take issue with is being told what is and isn’t real as it pertains to my own memory, Julien,” Occtis snaps. “You weren’t there, I was. As monstrous as they are, is it that impossible to believe my family might have loved me at some point?” Julien is silent, hopefully cowed. Occtis breathes deeply, a habit leftover from when it would calm him. There’s a little loss in everything he does now and if he were to linger on it it would consume him whole.
“Maybe it was Thjazi then,” Julien mutters, “I could see him getting someone lost to become their savior.”
Occtis’ shoulders tighten with rage. “Hearing you drone on about your petty beef with a dead man is usually tedious—but taking it upon yourself to step on the first memory I ever had of someone being nice to me, for nothing at all? You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Well, pardon me if I’ve seen the absolute opposite side of the man.”
“Oh, I’m sure, and that’s got nothing to do with your charge. Where is she by the way, off with Thaisha? I’m sure she’s doing a great job keeping her perfectly safe.” He puts all the courtly venom he has behind the question but Julien doesn’t flinch.
“Don’t talk about her.” Julien's voice is cold. Occtis simply blinks up at him innocently and returns to his work, knowing the lack of reaction will infuriate him more.
“You really think that ligustrum flowers are going to work as a regular stimulant?”
It takes all his experience to not flinch at the realization that Julien knew exactly what dangerous spell component he was talking so obliquely about.
“They are from Faerie,” he says as lightly as he can manage. “Vaelus cleared me to handle them, and really at worst I will be slightly annoyed for a few hours.”
Julien sighs dramatically, leaning a hip against the table just to piss him off. “Really Occtis, if you’re trying to figure out a way to make your dick work then just say so.”
Occtis slams the pittance of glycol on the table with a heavy thump, unable to cloak his frustration any longer. “If you're going to make bullheaded assumptions about what I’m doing regardless of what I tell you, then why are you even asking!?” he snaps.
This they know how to do to each other. Julien leans forward, sneering. “Because you told me you would tell the truth. And not only are you locked in this room alone, you have a known aphrodisiac with you, and won’t tell me what you’re doing with it—”
“I wasn’t lying—” Occtis cuts in, only to be interrupted.
“I don’t want to hear it!” Julien yells, knowing he hates the noise. He’s seen him flinch and won’t hesitate to use it to win an argument. Occtis squares his shoulders and faces it head on.
“Then don’t ask next time.” Occtis does not break eye contact, no matter how frightening Julien might be, how much he reminds him of other men.
“If you think that I’m going to let you work with something so easily turned against others alone—”
They’re so focused on each other that Julien doesn’t notice how he’s jostling the table until the component bottles are already in motion, rolling across the table. Occtis scrambles to secure them, clutching the ones within reach to his chest with both arms, but he can’t catch the pollen in time. It falls to the floor with a terrible crash, releasing a small cloud of fine golden dust.
For a moment both men just look at each other in horror.
“Fuck,” Occtis says. “Close the door, bar it.”
Julien does as asked without question. Surprising, but useful.
“Okay, okay this isn’t the worst. It’s—I have something to stop the effect from—it doesn’t cut it entirely, but it stops the compounding effect, hold on.” Occtis flutters uselessly for a moment before grabbing the phial of purple liquid and pouring a conservative amount on top of the pile of pollen, dragging the toe of his boot over it until everything visible is saturated. He looks up at Julien whose cheeks are already darkening and shoves it towards him. “Drink.”
The knight steps backwards, looking at him suspiciously. “I’ve seen the effects of this plant before, and that is not the color of the liquid that cancels it out.”
Occtis wants to scream; of course he has. “We don’t have time for this,” he mutters, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “There are two methods of creating a neutralizer: the more common one you’ve probably seen before involves ethanol and root powder to negate the effects entirely, both of which I don’t have. This one,” he holds up the purple liquid, “uses propylene glycol and flower petals in place of the other ingredients, that’s why it looks different.”
Julien’s resolve seems to falter, his brows knitting slightly, but still he says nothing, stepping backwards until he’s fully pressed against the door. Fuck, Occtis thinks. Your heart rate is going to continue to increase if you don’t take this, I am not going to be responsible for explaining your death to your Lady.
“You first, then,” Julien says, tipping his chin at the glass container in Occtis’ hand.
“Fine, fine, look.” Occtis takes a swig of the liquid in the jar, wincing at the oddly thick texture. “I’m perfectly normal.”
He hiccups, and the surprise on his face absolutely obliterates any sort of credibility he might have built up in the past half minute. Involuntary processes returning to his body must mean he’s right about the pollen working, but it’s a shallow victory knowing what extended exposure to the pollen does.
“‘I’m perfectly normal’.” Julien says in an awful mimicry of Occtis’ voice.
He’s already started to breathe heavily, leaning heavily against the door. Occtis does not have a lot of time before his heartrate gets too high to survive. That’s why he walks to Julien, takes another mouthful of the neutralizer and kisses it into his mouth. Totally just professional ethics, and not the insistent longing under his skin for touch. Julien grabs him and pins him against the door, kissing him for all he’s worth. If he was in any way in his right mind he’d have Occtis halfway across the room. He grabs Occtis’ ass and Occtis squeaks, kissing Julien again to muffle his embarassment at such a noise.
The parts of Occtis that are very suddenly remembering what life felt like, push him to twine around the other man, mewling. Teeth sink into the soft curve between his neck and shoulder and he moans, the feeling going right to his cock. He has to focus, he’s the only one here that isn’t fully… addled. He still has a hand on Julien’s neck, finger on his carotid and is deeply relieved when he is able to track his heartbeat, racing but holding steady. Julien presses himself flush against Occtis and the very obvious erection against him pushes any coherent thoughts about safety or inexperience out of his mind. Julien is a fantastic kisser, seeming not to care how bad his partner is. Occtis nearly blacks out when the knight worms a thigh between his legs and grinds forward.
“Fuck, oh Gods, Julien. Hold on, wait wait wait,” he wriggles out of Julien’s hold, huffing, “we have to talk about this.”
Julien looks as confused as he is aroused, which is a combination that would be hilarious in any other situation. Face bright red, blush streaking down and across the chest visible through his half laced shirt. “About how your ‘neutralizing agent’ is not working?”
“It is working, I told you, it just halts the increase of arousal, it doesn't completely get rid of it.” Julien fixes him with a look and Occtis throws his hands up. “I don’t exactly have a full lab set up here, okay! If you’d like to go gather some roots and ethanol for me with a raging hard on, be my guest.”
“So a full neutralizing agent does exist,” Julien says, and Occtis barely resists the urge to throttle him.
“Yes it does! I already said that! You appear to be unable to listen because you’re so busy thinking with your dick—” That is the wrong thing to say at this particular time, as all Julien has to do is rock forward, accidentally pressing his thigh back to the crotch of Occtis’ pants to cut him off cold, his words curling into a breathy moan.
“I’m doing what?” he says smugly.
“I’m going to fucking kill you when this is over,” Occtis pants. It feels like cold fire is running under his skin wherever Julien isn’t touching and he needs more, now.
“I would expect nothing less,” Julien says, pulling him in again by the back of his neck.
When given what it wants, the pollen seems to have an almost intoxicating effect, making it easier to do stupid things.‘This must be what Vaelus felt, he thinks absently before he kisses across Julien’s jaw, sucking a mark in the soft skin behind his ear.
Julien tightens his hold on Occtis, pressing towards the touch. “Do you want this?” he asks, voice so low Occtis can feel it in his teeth.
“Yes,” he gasps, "it would at the very least be the most efficient way of getting it out of our systems.” He’s sure that his face is bright red, all the remaining blood or magic or whatever gives him the blush of life all focused on his cheeks. And his dick, but he is not complaining about that part.
Julien is clearly struggling to stay focused as well, working his hands under the stuffy shirt the wizard insists on wearing and feeling the cool planes of his back. “How long would we be affected if we did nothing?”
Occtis shrugs, a phantom heart racing under his skin, and kisses Julien again, unable to keep himself from touching the man any longer. Julien groans like he’s wrapped a hand around his cock, grabbing Occtis’ hips and grinding against him in a move that sends a shock wave of arousal through his body.
“Staying here longer than necessary would be disadvantageous, give our enemies more time to catch up," Julien says. "This would be more... efficient." He’s panting now, eyes dark with lust.
“Uh huh.” Occtis has lost his train of thought, drowning in sensation. He wonders if he could come just from this alone? Julien’s hands roam everywhere on his body, unbuckling his belt, pawing at his chest over his shirt.
He gasps, “Ah—Julien, please.”
“Please, what?” Julien pants into his mouth, barely far enough for Occtis’ eyes to focus on him. “What do you need, boy?”
“I don’t know, anything,” he begs, pressing back into Julien’s leg artlessly. “Please, I’m so hard I think I’m going to die.”
Julien snorts, “Virgins,” and before Occtis can squawk out a response, Julien has him hoisted up into his arms, walking them back towards the bed.
“Yes, I was listening when Thaisha mentioned that,” he mutters, tossing Occtis back on the mattress and climbing on top of him. “Poor little rich boy, what did you think, you were too good for the masses?”
Occtis is not going to admit that he wanted his first time to mean something, anything to the person he was with. To have someone look at him and want him, not just be a forgotten fuck to pass the time. He scowls up at the other man and says, “All my classmates are years older than me, half of them think of me as more of a dorm pet than a man. Do you really think I ever got propositioned?”
Julien raises an eyebrow, unbuttoning his shirt. “And you’ve never thought to perhaps, go to a tavern?”
“Like that would have been any better, I mean look at me,” Occtis says sourly, pulling at Julien’s belt. “Besides, some of us have better things to think about than sex.”
“Of course,” Julien purrs, “you wouldn’t be thinking about that kind of perverse stuff now, would you?” He palms Occtis carefully through his pants and Occtis freezes, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You’ve never laid there in your bed and touched yourself imagining it was someone else, some faceless man taking you apart? Working you open with his fingers before fucking you, deep and hard?” He leans in, lips brushing against Occtis’ ear. “I promise you, the reality of it is so much better.”
Occtis chokes on his own saliva, fingernails digging into Julien's side. Julien pulls his hand away and Occtis whines, getting a hard pinch on his leg in response. “Either beg for it, or shut up,” Julien says, stripping himself of the rest of his clothing efficiently.
It takes less than twenty seconds for him to break. “Fuck, please.” Occtis has no shame anymore, he just wants.
“Please, what?” Julien teases, dropping his clothing haphazardly on the ground before climbing back on the bed, hanging over Occtis like a predator, starving for it.
“What you said, I want it.” Occtis’ voice comes out half a whine but it’s enough. Julien’s eyes darken further, somehow, and he leans down to bite at Occtis’ bottom lip, kneading at him through his pants again.
“You want me to fuck you?” he asks.
Occtis moans, “Uh huh.” He can barely keep his eyes open, it feels so good.
“Come for me first,” Julien murmurs, and Occtis finishes right on cue, biting his own lip hard to muffle a strangled cry.
Julien laughs in accomplishment, and once the pleasure fades Occtis covers his face with his hands, humiliated.
“What are you ashamed of?" Julien says offhandedly. He unbuttons Occtis’ pants and the younger man shakily props himself up, lifting his hips so Julien can pull them off, surprised by the lack of any evidence smeared across the inside of his pants.
“That,” Occtis sighs, looking everywhere but his bed partner.
“Good for you,” he says. “Less mess to clean. I certainly wasn’t going to wash those pants.”
“Good for me?” Every time they speak Julien finds a way to say something more cruelly inept, which is big coming from Occtis of all people.
Julien looks at him, raises an eyebrow. “You came, didn’t you?”
Occtis nods hesitantly.
“Then you’re fine.” He pats his thigh.
Before Occtis can respond to that assertion, Julien has pressed them flush against each other and his mind goes blank. Nudity hadn’t been a problem when it was theoretical, but for a moment the reality of it catches up to him and he feels a bit queasy. Not out of a lack of desire, he wants it bad, but it’s so much, all of this sensation in places he’s never been touched before. Not even sexual ones, the long sweeps of Julien’s hand over his bare side, his back, behind his knees, make his stomach swoop. Julien holds him, grinding almost unconsciously against his stomach and Occtis’ still hard cock.
It feels wrong, no one is supposed to want him like this, but at the same time it’s shockingly good. He hooks a leg around Julien’s lower back, pressing him down. Julien groans and thrusts faster, finishing silently. Occtis can feel the other man's dick pulse as he comes pressed between their stomachs. It’s so incredibly hot he feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t get closer to him. A sentiment he regrets the moment Julien decides to crush him with his body weight.
“I think this isn’t going to stop until we work it out of our systems,” Occtis wheezes.
“No shit,” Julien slurs from Occtis’ shoulder. The wizard promptly uses the leg wrapped around Julien to kick him in the literal asscheek.
Julien scrabbles for the offending limb, eventually getting a good grip on his thigh and pressing it back, exposing Occtis entirely to him. There really must be something wrong with Occtis because the fear and embarrassment that comes with being so on display is mixed with an almost narcotic arousal. He imagines it as the heat that rises above a fire in the summer, making the air shimmer with hidden energy. Julien can see it when he looks at him, Occtis is sure of it. He can see all of the horrible things Occtis wants, and all he does in response is kiss him open mouthed and messy. There is no way he’s somehow more affected by this than Julien is, no matter how good an actor the man might be.
“I’m not the one who needs this, you know.” Occtis says, trying to pull his leg free. “I have no real circulatory system, you should really be the one begging me.”
Julien chuckles, kissing him so deep that it makes him dizzy. He releases his leg to pull him upright, half into his lap. “You told me yourself, it’s fae-touched, made for what isn't human. What about ‘close to the fair folk’ makes you think I’m entirely human?”
Occtis makes an incredulous noise into Julien’s mouth. “You’re putting me on.”
“Of course I am,” Julien says, “But it’s true that the protection over us makes us a little more...” he frowns, clearly searching for the word. “A little closer to what isn’t of this realm.”
“So you’re partially immune?” Occtis asks, fuzzy on the details.
Julien shakes his head. “The inverse. We’re both equally fucked. You just want this so bad you can’t stop yourself.” Occtis quickly realizes that Julien has pulled him up into this position so he has even less leverage to move. Using the almost blind confidence the pollen gives him, Occtis takes Julien in hand and relishes the hiss it wrings out of the older man.
“I can stop, I just don’t want to,” Occtis says, and it sounds as empty of a bluff as it is.
“Sure,” Julien says, patting his cheek. He is so good at pissing Occtis off, he almost doesn’t notice his shirt being rucked up.
“Don’t—” Occtis says, but the other man has already flattened his palm against the scar bisecting his abdomen.
Julien swallows, shaking his head. “It’s fine.”
Occtis wants to protest but simply allows Julien to pull his shirt back down over his stomach. He is grateful that it is nearly impossible for him to cry these days, pollen or no.
"Are you alright?" Julien asks quite seriously and Occtis nods, neck prickling with embarrassment. "Good," Julien says brusquely, before pulling him up by the hair to meet his mouth. He kisses him like a fight, all biting and bruising fingertips gripping tight around his narrow waist. Occtis, unsure of whether it’s acceptable to push him away for that, meets him with equal violence.
Even before his death, Occtis was not a man particularly interested in living inside of his body. It was a disappointment before he even knew what that word meant, and serving its base needs at times felt like a chore designed to show him how weak he was. Now he relishes any scrap of sensation he gets as proof that he is still tethered to this plane. The sharp sting of nails down his back seats him entirely within his twice rewired skin, and the way his nerves run twisted now he wants more of it. He wants Julien to rip him to shreds as he fucks him, imprint it deep in his memory so he can never forget what it is to feel, but settles for the imprecise grind of their bodies as the pollen pushes them both to come as fast as possible.
“Do you have any oil in your pack?” Julien brushes his fingers against Occtis’ length feather-light, and Occtis tries to remember the cantrip that produces lubricant. It takes twice the time it would have otherwise, but he does get it eventually, pressing some into Julien’s hand.
“‘S just as good,” he wheezes.
“Do you think you could teach me that?” Julien looks genuinely a bit impressed.
This man.
“Later,” Occtis says, rolling his eyes. His touch feels so much better when it's wet enough for both of them to slide smoothly against each other. All he can feel is heat, muscular thighs pressing against his own, long curly hair falling around them like a curtain. Julien’s face which is so often curled up into an awful smug grin is softened now, eyes dark and liquid staring down at him, tracking his expressions carefully as he works them both together in his hand. It doesn’t take long to reach the edge, Occtis gasping into his mouth, one hand twined in long curly hair. Julien follows almost immediately after with a quiet grunt, coming all over Occtis’ shirt. It’s an impossible relief, a band of tension released from the back of the skull. Occtis folds forward, forehead pressed into the crook of Julien’s neck.
The knight’s chest heaves as he tries to modulate his breathing, and Occtis feels a pang of guilt. At least he doesn’t have to breathe. “How are you feeling?” he asks after a moment.
“Still hard,” Julien mumbles.
“Ah, well. We'll just have to try harder,” Occtis lifts his head and nips at his neck just because he can. Julien melts into it a bit, tilting his chin up to offer better access. Good to know.
“You want me to make you come again?” Julien asks, voice breathy. He can feel the vibrations of his words through the skin, a buzz that sharpens to a tight whine when he digs his teeth in.
Occtis twitches. “Yeah,” he says, a little too fast.
“Eager, aren’t you?”
“I’m a twenty-year-old virgin poisoned with a metric fuckton of an aphrodisiac, of course I’m eager,” he says, digging his nails into Julien’s back. Julien presses back into the touch, his eyes drooping for a moment in what looks like relief.
“And I’m getting the weird feeling that you’re a masochist.” He means it without judgment, but Julien takes it like a slap.
“Excuse me?” He rears back to try and meet Occtis’ eyes.
“You like it when I bite you, and when I scratch you. Masochist.” He is absolutely digging himself a bigger hole explaining his thought process. “It’s hot, if that helps.”
Julien’s eye twitches. “What other interesting theories have you developed as your ‘experiment’ melts my brain?”
Occtis scoffs, “My experiment?”
“We wouldn’t be in this situation if you didn’t bring those flowers into the inn in the first place.” Julien gestures at the broken phial on the floor.
Occtis grits his teeth. “Well you were the one who came into my room and knocked my components around like you didn’t know I was doing anything—” he cuts himself off, giving Julien a long look. “You’re trying to wind me up on purpose.”
Julien just gives him his best shit eating grin, running his hands up and down Occtis’ sides. “Now why would I ever do that?”
After extended study, Occtis has several hypotheses he’s ready to put to the test regarding Julien’s sexual preferences. The first one: he straightens up, grabbing Julien’s chin with one hand. “Fine, you want me wound up, you’ve got it. I want you to shut up and fuck me like you keep teasing at, because I’m starting to think you aren’t half as good as people say you are.” In a moment of what is surely pollen induced madness he runs a thumb over Julien’s lower lip. “You want to prove me wrong?”
Sometimes the stillness of death does have its benefits. Occtis can feel the way Julien’s pulse spikes, the slight tremors that run through his body before he presses forward to take Occtis apart. Visiting brothels doesn’t mean someone’s good at sex, it just means they have a lot of money (and probably no game), but Julien apparently learned things from his excessive whoring and puts it to use. Julien toys with him until he’s fully inarticulate with pleasure. If this is how everyone else is feeling during sex, he understands all the poetry people write about it.
Julien rubs the pad of a finger over his hole, just teasing and Occtis sighs breathily, pushing past the fear and leaning back into it. Fuck, this is real. He’s terrified and excited in equal measure. They're so close he feels like he could sneak under Julien’s skin without his noticing.
“Relax,” Julien orders, kissing him.
“‘M good it’s just, I haven’t—” Occtis mumbles.
“I know,” Julien soothes him, thumb brushing over his hipbone. “If you really don’t want it, you can fuck my thighs—”
“No I do,” Occtis cuts him off, afraid he’ll get the wrong idea, although the idea of fucking Julien makes him shudder with excitement. “I'm just. I don’t know, it feels all exposed, which is stupid thing to say about sex, of course you're exposed—” he shakes his head. “It’s just new. It’s new and it could be good, which terrifies me.” That last bit he says very genuinely, which seems to make Julien’s skin crawl. Although half of what Occtis does makes Julien’s skin crawl. He’ll get over it.
Julien cuts off any more morbid discoveries by pushing himself off the side of the bed and pulling Occtis towards him bodily as he slides to his knees.
“Is this alright with you?” he says, hovering above Occtis’ hard cock.
Duh, Occtis thinks, but just nods aggressively. “Please.”
Julien takes him into his mouth and Occtis has to bite his hand to keep from squealing. His mouth is so warm, the thought of fucking him at some point makes Occtis feel dizzy. Fuck, what he’d feel like, what he’d sound like; little noises punched out of him the way Occtis has heard from his particularly annoying neighbors in the Penteveral dorms. He wants it so bad he can’t make himself breathe, the desire sitting like a hot coal in his chest as he fights not to buck up into Julien’s mouth. Julien’s teasing finger fully presses inside and Occtis gasps instinctively tightening his legs around Julien’s head.
“Ah, sorry, sorry.” Occtis forces his thighs to relax, legs falling back down to the bed.
Julien runs a soothing thumb along Occtis’ iliac crest. He pulls off for a moment to say, “I’d stop you if I didn’t like it.”
Occtis is skeptical but keeps it to himself and makes sure his body stays lax; something that gets more difficult the longer Julien insists on teasing him.
“You can go harder, I’m not going to break,” Occtis says. The other man pulls back specifically to roll his eyes, before taking Occtis deep into his throat and pressing hard against his prostate at the same time.
“Oh! Oh, okay, yes. You can–yes. Do whatever you want to me,” Occtis squeaks, his thighs coming back to hug Julien’s head.
Julien hums as if to say, “Of course I can”, but does tease another finger at his rim, doing something truly spectacular with his tongue that makes Occtis whimper, hand clamping back over his mouth. Fingering himself has never felt like this. Some of it is the newness, feeling someone else inside of him for the first time has its own inherent eroticism but Julien is also clearly experienced, pressing against him in ways that makes stars pop behind Occtis’ eyes.
“Ffffuck,” he grits out against his palm.
Julien hums again, deeper in his throat, scissoring his fingers. Occtis can’t resist the urge to reach down and grab a handful of his hair, pushing him down. Julien goes willingly, nose brushing against his stomach as he sinks nearly to the base and swallows around him. Fuck that’s so good. He whines, head pressed back hard into the pillow as Julien lets him use his mouth. It’s been difficult for Occtis to truly lose himself in anything since he died, every moment agonizingly clear and categorized like a logbook. This is the closest he’s come to the blurriness of human life. All he can focus on is the strain in his muscles, his balls tightening as he approaches orgasm. He unsticks his fingers from the fist in Julien’s hair and pats him on the head, with a frantic, “ ‘m close.”
Julien pulls off, panting, “Come then.” He says it so casually, fingers curling hard; Occtis has no choice. He’s had prostate orgasms before, albeit precious few, and this is among the best, the sensation dragging out like a singing bowl. The lack of need for breath makes it so that every moment is felt with complete clarity. For a moment he feels satisfied, blinking down at Julien in awed breathless silence before that burning ache inside of him rises again, even worse than before. He sobs, throwing an arm over his face.
Julien sighs, letting Occtis’ cock flop wetly back against his stomach. He can hear the older man getting back on the bed, flumphing down next to him. They lay in silence for a few moments, Julien catching his breath and Occtis pretending.
“Did you mean what you said about letting me fuck you?” the knight asks him.
Occtis lifts his arm, looking blearily over at Julien. “Uh, yeah.”
“Good.” Julien puts a hand out for more lubricant (that Occtis dutifully provides) and uses it to slick himself up. Occtis watches as he touches himself for a few moments, head fallen back in bliss. He supposes they’re past the point where he can deny finding Julien physically attractive, and this is the first time he’s had enough presence of mind to just look at him. He’s muscular in the way that real fighters are, people who scrap for fun, a red flush running down into the dark hair at his chest. Something about him reminds Occtis of Hal, not anything in his personality but the way his body moves. He’s not afraid of himself, like he lives fully in his skin all the time, and this Occtis finds himself madly jealous of. To be assured that you’re beautiful and to let that carry you through life, God how easy things could be.
His lips are bitten red, and his hair a riot with all the grabbing at it Occtis has been doing. It floats around his head in a frizzy halo, which, when combined with his sharp chin, makes him look like some fresco on a noble’s ceiling. It’s odd to truly want someone. He’s pushed down any sort of real desire for ages, it was too messy, too raw and far too likely to get him in trouble if he entertained it outside of some sort of arranged courting situation. It’s easier when he can’t help but want, the sight of Julien stretched out next to him in bed, strong hairy thighs, his cock leaking all over his hand as he touches himself engendering a deep agonizing desire to press against him, to be the one touching him. It’s like his body is full of some other animal, moving without his permission to wrap their bodies together. Occtis feels half mad with wanting and the knowledge that he could just… do anything.
He puts his mouth on Julien’s chest, kissing at first and then very shyly licking at a nipple. Julien jerks under him, biting the inside of his cheek to keep composure. Occtis runs his hands over Julien the way he was touched earlier, carefully mapping each knot of scar tissue. He ghosts over the surface of a bruise with his fingers, green and mottled from his waist down to his hip on the left side. “Does this hurt when you wear your rapier?”
Julien looks down at him as if coming out of a trance. “Ah, a bit, yes, but it’s healing on its own. Don’t fuss over me.”
“Gods forbid someone take care of you,” he mutters, fighting the temptation to dig his fingers into it, make it hurt worse.
“Stop mothering me,” he tugs on Occtis’ hair playfully. “I thought we were going to fuck, not play ‘what’s wrong with your body.’”
Occtis snorts, “I'd win.”
Julien bites his lip to keep from laughing, sighing openly when Occtis finally gets the courage to wrap a hand around him again, stroking experimentally. “Like this,” he says, guiding Occtis’ hand for a moment. This is different too. He’s more conscious of his awkward movements, the way Julien feels so different than himself, thicker and leaking in his hand. He pets over the slit the way he likes and Julien hisses.
“Sorry,” he whispers, kissing his chest absently.
Julien doesn’t seem to notice, panting and huffing little noisy breaths that seem like the precursor to moans. It seems impossible that he’s going to get that inside of himself, which is ridiculous. Occtis knows how the human body works, and Julien is not even particularly large. Hre is just an anxious person and therefore has to worry about it. Although, he thinks as he he considers the stretch of Julien’s fingers, this doesn't feel like too much. To take more, feel that slow winding pleasure boil up and over in him, crack him open, oh that might be really good. He moans thinking about it, hand tightening briefly around Julien. He’s breathing sporadically and heavily, each breath catching like he’s holding it.
Julien cards a hand through his hair, making him look up. “You want to ride me?”
“Yeah,” he says. He would say yes to nearly anything at this point. Occtis rises to his knees, straddling Julien’s waist.
Some of that breathless all-encompassing fear from life returns for a moment, burning through his stomach. Occtis feels the prickle of his skin like the ghost of sweat. Then Julien is kissing him again, rubbing the blunt head of his cock against his hole, and he refuses to let himself back away. He swallows a mouthful of thick spit, sets his jaw. The air hisses from his lungs as he sinks down.
It’s uncomfortable but it doesn’t hurt, which is about what he expected. Ultimately it is his decision how fast to go, and maybe that’s why Julien let him be on top, at least for this first bit. Julien makes a quiet noise of relief, the kind of thing a human wouldn’t be able to hear over his own heartbeat. Now that Occtis doesn’t have that problem he savors it. A secret even from its creator.
He lets the air in his lungs out in a rush when he bottoms out, shifting his hips experimentally, getting used to the sensation. It’s full. That descriptor has always felt weak when he’s read it in romance novels, the kind he really ought’ve checked out properly from the Penteveral library but there is no way he was getting caught with that on his record. There is no real other word for it though. It’s an unnatural fullness that feels satisfying in a way he supposes could be described as primal, although the word makes him feel kind of weird. A little too animalistic. He puts a hand over his lower stomach almost unconsciously and rocks forward a little. Julien’s fingernails dig hard into the bony ridge of his hips.
“ “s that good?” he asks, looking down at the man below him who has turned a startling shade of red. “Are you okay?”
“I think if you move I’m going to come,” Julien says so calmly that Occtis can’t help but laugh in surprise.
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry. It’s okay, it’s probably the pollen,” he giggles, Julien’s anger is just cute when he’s clearly clawing his way back from the edge.
“It is definitely the pollen, and the fact that I haven’t had sex for months, or had any time to myself in nearly as long.” Julien punctuates each point with a little thrust upwards and Occtis’ breath catches in his throat. At some point he started breathing almost normally again. Not like he needed it but like he just didn’t really have to think about it. The realization feels like someone struck his head with a metal pole, but he shakes it off. He can take notes on the physiological effects later. Sex now.
“If you have to come, it's okay,” he says, brushing the sweaty hair out of Julien’s face. “I’m not going to stop.”
It’s Julien’s turn to whine, his mouth dropping open. “Fuck. Don’t say things like that.”
“Like what? You asked me to ride you.”
Julien’s grip tightens almost painfully around Occtis’s hips. “Do it, then,” he commands.
Occtis may have miscalculated here. “You’re probably going to have to give me a little help though," he admits a bit sheepishly. "Is it just—” he shifts forward awkwardly, barely lifting himself off Julien’s lap.
“More,” Julien grabs his hips and guides him, pressing the direction he needs to move next. “Lift yourself up on your knees, and back down again.” One hand slides up his back, his nails biting hard into the thick skin there to feel Occtis arch and squeeze tight around him. “Find where it feels good, tilt your hips, like that.” His voice is low and rough with arousal, and it makes Occtis want to lean down and lick the taste of it out of his mouth. And then he finds it, the angle Julien was talking about and nothing matters but getting more. Fuck, he thinks he’s going to come in less than a minute. His body moves almost reflexively, seeking more sensation. It feels awesome, even though it’s really just him awkwardly half hopping on his dick until Julien surprises him by coming without warning, groaning deep in his chest, his hand tight on Occtis’ hips.
The burst of warmth inside him makes him gasp, unsure whether to push towards or away from it. An objectively uncomfortable as it is the pollen drunk piece of him wants more, as much as he can get. That’s another several theories proven. “Fuck, I was getting close,” he cries, leaning forward on one arm, pressing his forehead into Julien’s chest.
“This is fucking pathetic,” Julien says into his hands.
“Hey!” Occtis says. Julien might be mean but not like this. Julien’s hand immediately comes to soothe him, rubbing along his flank like a skittish horse.
“I didn't mean you.” He says, still hidden behind one hand. What Occtis can see of his cheeks are flushed deep red. Seeing him truly embarrassed is perhaps most unsettling part of this entire encounter.
“I think it’s perfectly fine,” Occtis says, sniffing and struggling back to his hands and knees from where he was half slumped on the other man. Julien’s cock slips out of him and they both wince. “It would be better if I could come though. Please?” Julien seems to like when he’s polite.
Julien grumbles but uses his free hand to press Occtis to one side until he tips over, half on his back.
“Like this?” Occtis asks.
Julien pushes his leg back again but just to shuffle between his legs. Occtis’ eyes fall shut trying to memorize the first press of Julien inside of him, like he could save the sensation for later. It’s better like this, maybe now that his body is used to the intrusion? More experimentation is needed.
He’s so close, so fucking close but he just can’t get over that edge. Maybe the pollen is starting to wear off, he thinks half-panicked, before Julien hits the right spot again and Occtis drops his head back to the bed, keening. It’s so much better like this, Julien isn’t quite as deep but he’s fast and responds to Occtis’s body almost as soon as he tries to communicate something. The drag inside him is delicious, and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to cover his face or stifle any noises, drunk on the newness of everything, how right it feels.
“There you go,” Julien purrs, “sweet thing, you just need someone to fuck you and you’re finally agreeable.”
Occtis kicks him in the side again with his free leg. He really ought to learn.
“You little—” Julien bites him again, and Occtis doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he loves the pain, burying a hand in his hair and pulling so Julien fucks him harder. He presses Occtis’ leg back and he has to muffle his scream into a free hand because it feels just as good as he hoped it might.
“Yeah?” Julien asks, and Occtis pulls his hair, a yes that Julien hears clearly. He snarls as he hooks the wizard’s other leg over his arm, pressing him further into the mattress. It’s like this with them most of the time, bouncing wildly between pulling pigtails and threatening actual murder. Physical in ways Occtis has never entertained before, never felt safe to entertain. Of course it would be like this in bed too. He is so hard it aches but has stopped pushing any further to come, just surrendering to the onslaught of sensation. Memorizing it for those times he can’t convince himself his hands are his own, numb and stiff like the actual dead. He loses track of anything else, almost surprised when his orgasm sneaks up on him.
“Julien,” he chokes against his mouth. He knows he must lock up around the other man who buries his face in his neck, clearly fighting the urge to come as long as he can. Julien is typically quite controlled, but Occtis is occasionally reminded that he has the strength of a well trained knight. Julien's hands on his body tighten with bruising strength, pulling him back hard to milk his orgasm for all it’s worth. That’s what pushes him over the edge he’s been teetering on for ages. Occtis comes with a sharp cry, clenching around Julien who has mostly gone still in the wake of his own orgasm. He uses Julien in return, pressing back on him with all the leverage he has, stretching it out spun sugar. He can feel the grip of the pollen loosening, but its embers still burn, wanting more despite his own exhaustion.
He understands how this stuff kills people.
Julien grunts wordlessly into his shoulder, shuddering at the overstimulation. Occtis cups a hand over the back of the knight’s neck, rubbing a thumb over the side. He shudders every once in a while, aftershocks rolling through his body, and each time Julien’s breath catches.
They don’t speak but the silence between them doesn’t feel oppressive as it usually does, all the tension between them is out in the open now.
“How much longer is this going to take?”
“I don’t really know. If it becomes too much I could whack you with a Mage Hand so hard you pass out?”
Julien huffs, “If I still feel any need after this coming round I may take you up on that offer.”
Being held is nice, even if it is only an interlude between movements. Julien adjusts himself slightly and Occtis has to breathe through it when his cock presses right up against his prostate. It’s the kind of agony he’s quickly learning he loves. But if he told Julien, he’d move, so Occtis takes a meditative view of things. He focuses on Julien’s breath, the loud drumbeat of his singular heartbeat vibrating into his body wherever they touch, and moves ever so slowly, just a little. But when something is right up against that sweet spot even a little pressure differential means everything.
Julien grunts, pressing him down into the bed with more of his weight. “Be still.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He is not sorry. He waits a minute before resuming his mission to torture himself and/or Julien into incoherence.
“For Faerie’s sake, Occtis,” Julien says acidly, and Occtis tenses, fearing punishment that never comes. Instead Julien worms a hand between them and starts jerking him off slow and deliberate.
“Do not move,” he hisses, and Occtis moans, fighting the hold Julien has on him, but this time it’s ironclad. Nothing he can do but take it.
Oh, this might be better.
“It was stupid of you to be messing around with ligustrum in a setting like this.” Julien punctuates his sentence with a twist of his hand over the head of Occtis’ cock that burns through him like overheated metal. Occtis can see the moment when an idea occurs to him, an awful smile blossoming over his face before he leans in and hitches Occtis’ hips up so he can slide deeper. “Were you planning on this? Having just anyone come through here and fuck you?” Julien presses the question into his skin, grinding deep and staying there so Occtis will clench around him in surprise.
It works, Occtis gasps, a dizzying wave of arousal filling him, catching Julien’s eye when he straightens slightly. He looks drunk on it too, ready to tease Occtis to tears.
“No, but I think you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Occtis says, cocking his head slightly.
Julien’s face drops and he slows his hand. “I’m not a whore,” he says sourly.
“I didn’t think you were. I think you’d like to be on the other side of the equation. You like to give people what they want.”
Julien’s hand returns to its previous pace. “What gives you that impression?”
“You’re a knight, it’s what you do already. You take care of people. Maybe not like that, but oh, oh fuck, okay, right there.” Occtis loses his train of thought, sobbing when Julien slows to a stop.
“Finish your sentence.”
“Julien,” Occtis whines. Julien grabs his face, tilts it up so he has to look into his eyes.
“Finish.”
A tremor runs through his body. “That is so hot, I can’t remember what I was saying.”
“You were telling me about myself, and I intend to have you finish that sentence before I prove you wrong.”
Occtis takes a deep breath, his throat clicking when he swallows. “The idea of being able to help someone when they’re so affected, when they’re crying and begging for it like this is what gets you off. Sure they could take care of it themselves but you’re right there, and you’re so good at it.” Occtis shifts against the sheets, propping himself up a bit more on one arm. “You want to be in control of their pleasure.”
Occtis can feel Julien’s pulse skip. He’s terrified, furious at his own transparency, Occtis knows that expression well. He’s seen it on his family before, people he was just trying to befriend. It typically gets swift retribution, physical or social, and he knew that’s what was going to happen here too. Part of him still wants this to hurt, wants Julien to crack him open again, so that maybe this time he could sew the pieces back together straight. But that is not what a knight does, and Julien leans down and kisses him, hot and filthy.
“You’re going to beg for it before I let you come again,” he murmurs darkly against Occtis’ lips.
Occtis really loves being right. He tilts his chin up and tangles his hands back in Julien’s hair.
“Make me.” He smiles sweetly, knowing it will earn him rougher treatment.
“On your stomach.”
He pulls out and Occtis whines at the sudden emptiness, trying to hold Julien closer to absolutely no avail.
“Move,” Julien orders, prying Occtis’ legs off him so he can roll him over.
“You couldn’t have waited five seconds?”
“No. On your knees.”
Occtis wobbles up. A hand on his lower back slowly, slowly presses his upper body flush with the bed, leaving him humiliatingly exposed.
“Look at you,” Julien spits and Occtis feels it land on his hole before pressing back in. The new angle has Occtis crying out openly, clutching at the sheets, his mumbled pleas stretching out into a keen.
“Slut,” the words are mocking but his voice is so sweet, it confuses the last pieces of Occtis’ brain that aren’t entirely tied up in how good he feels. He moans, shoving his face into the pillow as if that would hide anything from Julien. He hears it anyway, pulling Occtis’ head back by the hair.
“Oh, you like it when I call you a slut, hm?” Julien slaps Occtis’ ass. “I asked you a question.”
Occtis moans louder, praying the rest of the party isn’t here, but even if they were he wouldn’t stop. “Y-Yes.”
“You want more?
“Please.” He wants to cry at his weakness, spread out for the both of them to see. The ache is worse when the slap doesn’t come, Julien just kisses wetly at the back of his neck, reaching down to jerk his aching cock at a reasonable pace.
“Good boy,” he says so gently. Occtis gives in, letting Julien have him. He’s setting himself up for pain, if not today then when he least expects it, but he is so tired that he lets himself believe in someone else’s kindness.
“There you go,” Julien whispers, biting his shoulder, his ear again. Julien takes his submission and starts fucking him like he means it, hard and fast and almost painful, head down and breathing heavily into his shoulder. But to Occtis it’s just more sensation, and he drowns in it. A heartbeat thunders into his own body, his chest moving to breathe at the same pace. For a moment he is a mortal man like anyone else, stealing Julien’s life for his own, his warmth, the sweat on his brow that he has pressed against Occtis neck. He sobs, disguising it as another noise wrung out of him through sex.
“Oh, I think I’m—it’s—” Occtis can’t finish his sentences but Julien can no doubt feel the way he’s started to tighten around him.
“Beg,” Julien sounds so gentle when he demands this of him, he almost does it automatically. “Beg me to come and I’ll let you.”
“You promise?” Occtis feels like a child, begging for safety
“I swear.” Occtis knows that no matter what happens, Julien Davinos will be the kind of man who keeps his promises. He wants so badly to be good again, to be right, it’s like nothing at all to let go.
“Please, Julien. I’m so fucking close please say I can come, please please please.”
He feels the man above him shudder, pressing closer down onto him, muscles in his thighs tightening. “Good boy, waiting for me,” he gasps wetly. “Come.”
Occtis stops trying to muffle himself, the whining behind his ears getting higher and higher as he feels his body ratchet up and break. He might not have a heartbeat but the auditory distortion that typically comes with an intense orgasm apparently stays, the world is briefly a bit quieter as his body and mind focus entirely on coming apart at the seams. The sensation of being actually fucked through an orgasm is new, he grinds back on Julien whorishly, trying to wring every bit of pleasure out of himself. Julien is making tiny cut off noises right into his ear, stroking him through it, and it drags the pleasure out past what he would be capable of alone. He feels almost delirious; wrung out and full and warm.
“Occtis, fuck,” Julien grunts, the clap of skin on skin becoming briefly louder before he comes with a deep groan. The remaining animal part of his brain relishes the feeling of someone’s cum inside of him, even as the rest of him winces at the thought of getting it out of himself later. Julien relaxes on top of him for a long moment, hot breath against his neck. Then, with an almighty groan, he pushes back to his knees and pulls out, collapsing on the bed next to Occtis, who simply lets himself fall to his stomach, ignoring that he’s lying directly in the wet spot. Really who gives a fuck anymore, he feels way too good for that.
“Does it always feel like that?” he asks, as soon as he can speak.
“I wouldn’t know,” is the response. “I’m not dead.”
Occtis swats the older man, who is too slow to pull away in time; something about the heaviness of orgasm that doesn’t carry over past death it seems. “You know what I mean.”
“No, not usually,” Julien yawns, jaw cracking, and Occtis doesn’t know which statement he’s responding to. “I believe your experiment has burned itself out. I don't think I can come again.”
“There is always the potential for another spike later. Just so you aren’t surprised.”
“Mmn.” Julien sounds half conscious. “I would leave but I cannot stand right now.”
Occtis snorts. “Feel free to fall asleep, it’s not like I need the bed.”
“No, I'll just be a moment,” he says, falling asleep almost instantly.
Occtis waits to see if Julien will pop up and critique him for letting him sleep in his bed (with what authority, he thinks) before dissolving into the kind of deep stomach-aching laugh that leaves him cramped and aching. At least until he feels Julien’s cum start to roll out of him, and he cringes. Now that the haze of arousal has passed, he remembers that he has prestidigitation, and makes quick work of cleaning himself up. There is a vague tingling sensation left behind, like the memory of peppermint soap, and he reaches back to feel around his hole, which is entirely normal. He feels a little raw but altogether quite normal. He’s fine, nothing intrinsic has changed and he regrets nothing.
Hours later he starts to reconsider his previous stance on regret when the sluggish dregs of pollen drag themselves to the forefront of his brain for one last hurrah. He does not want this, he’s already clean and back in his soft pants from earlier, attempting to stumble through a novel in Old Elvish that he’d nicked from the abbey. But it refuses to be ignored, pressing into every thought, making his skin so sensitive that the drag of his soft shirt against his nipples aches. He thinks of Julien’s mouth on them, so hot, and has to put the book down and knead at his traitorous prick through his pants. This is fucking ridiculous, he chides himself as he reaches under the loose waistband and takes himself in hand, Julien doesn’t need this.
(“It’s because you want it so bad.” He’d said earlier, how embarrassing.)
Does he want Julien, truly? Well, he would love to have fewer accusations of murderous intent or unsolicited tidbits of awful advice dispensed to him at random. But if he’s asking for the impossible, he’d also like to be alive again too. In truth it has not taken long for Occtis to forget what it feels like to be without Julien, whether he wants him or not he’s secure in the knowledge that he will be there. A fixture ever since he returned to the world with no soul, always skulking around, leering over his shoulder and complaining incessantly. It feels like their connection is deeper than that would make it seem, though. Occtis recalls wondering vaguely whether Julien had pledged himself to him when he made that vow to become his second shadow, if that sort of thing meant more of a bond in Faerie. A bond of hatred, sure, but what kind of hatred would make a man volunteer to fuck him until he quite literally cried tears of pleasure.
Whatever he promised, it makes sure that Julien is the one carrying that promise around.
That man has never had a normal relationship once in his life, Occtis thinks vaguely, and frowns. Not while he’s jerking off, he resolves, his free hand coming down to fondle his balls, pressing up in the sweet spot behind them that makes his breath stutter. Well, made. It still feels wonderful, and he drowns himself in that pleasure, trying to come quick, until he feels someone watching him. Julien is still curled up in the blankets, just his eyes visible from above the top hem, dark and glittering as always. Occtis squeaks, pulling his hands out of his pants.
“I’m sorry, it just—you know how I said it could spike again in a few hours?”
Julien sighs, his eyes fluttering shut. He has ridiculously long eyelashes, Occtis thinks absently, they would probably tickle if he was too close to someone’s skin.
“I’ll just—it’s fine,” he says quietly, shifting so he can throw his legs over the side of the bed. He’ll go somewhere else, anywhere and Julien can go back to sleep.
“Earlier, I mentioned you fucking my thighs,” Julien says, voice rough with sleep in a way that makes Occtis ache. He pauses, looking back.
“Yeah?” he doesn’t even care that he sounds way too excited about this.
“Yeah.” Without looking back, Julien sticks a hand out from his blanket. “Lube.”
“Oh, yes.” His hands clumsily form the somatics, and how is he still so bad at this. Julien’s hand disappears back under the blankets.
“Come here.”
Occtis clambers back into bed next to Julien, shucking his pants before plastering himself against the warmth of a living body. He’s sleep-warm and still drowsy, groaning when Occtis parts his slicked thighs just enough to slide in the space between, pressing up against his perineum, and brushing against his sack. There’s something so filthy about that, the messiness, constantly teasing at more, fucking him from the outside in. He bites constellations on Julien’s shoulders and wraps an arm around his stomach when Julien groans, pressing back into him.
It makes him think about the kind of sleepy morning sex he used to dream of during drowsy mornings in the dorms. That feels like a different lifetime, and a wave of melancholy rises and sticks in his throat. But the pollen puppeting his body just bites down harder on Julien’s shoulder, reaching for his cock.
He’s soft, at least mostly, and a bolt of cold fear lances through him.
Julien cuts him off at the pass. “I don’t need any more, but you do. I want…” He trails off, silent for so long that Occtis thinks he may have fallen back asleep. “Let me do this for you.” It’s almost too quiet to hear, a question phrased as a statement, a directive.
Let him take it, the weight of Occtis’s pleasure and the whimpering moans he makes as he slides between his legs, all for nothing. The enormity of it is overwhelming, and Occtis chokes back a sob, speeding up and letting the orgasm hit him like a gunshot. He whites out for a moment, coming back to more wetness than he remembered between Julien’s legs. He thinks that might be from him, but he’s shaking too hard to check.
Julien, in this new phase of benevolence, appears to be more fine with cuddling than Occtis had ever allowed himself to consider, letting himself be held even after Occtis pulls his softening cock out from between his legs.
“Are you alright?” Julien asks, squeezing at the clammy arm wrapped around his stomach, and Occtis—well.
He’s not entirely sure, but responds with an automatic “Yes,” like one does when asked a difficult question. He tries to ignore the terrified chill he gets as Julien detangles their limbs and sits up, cracking his back loudly.
“Do you know where the washroom is?”
Occtis wants to say, “Figure it out, I’m not holding you here,” or, “Are you going back to Aranessa’s room?” or, “Please, please don’t leave,” but whatever burst of confidence the toxin had instilled in him has drained away, so he says, “Sure, turn left in the hall,” and summons Pincushion the moment the door closes.
Hugging Pin helps. It always does. He chirrs reassuringly when Occtis rubs his nose on the tuft of fur between his ears, clutching him too tight to his chest. Everything feels weird, Julien is probably not coming back and he can’t even sleep it off. Fuck his life actually. He starts reciting Vaelus’ instructions on how to Remember, even if he can’t figure it out the monotony of repetition and extremely detailed instructions is comforting as well.
The drug should be out of his system by now, evaporated from the tears and other fluids, but the magic in his body is used to running faster, pushing him closer to life. Slowing again is like a hard comedown. Really, it’s like dying a little all over again. A sob sneaks up on him like a stomach cramp, and then he’s crying into Pin’s fur like an idiot. Nothing bad happened to him, it was really good all things considered, he will be thinking about it for the rest of his cold sexless life. It’s just sometimes he gets this ache deep in his chest that appears after he comes. It makes him feel filthy and used even when he’s alone, and he just has to wait it out. Being with Julien, holding him for that little amount of time he got, he didn’t feel that way anymore. It was just warm.
“Fuck, this is so stupid,” he snivels into Pin’s stitched up shoulder, sniffing back tears. Pin nibbles on his hair.
“Don’t, Pin that’s my hair,” he says, his clogged nose making it sound more comical than serious. Pin licks a trail of snot off his face (gross) before wriggling out of his arms and settling down across the bed from him with a judgemental unblinking gaze.
“How do you manage to judge me with no eyes,” he whispers to the fox, stroking over his mismatched ears and scratching gently behind the red one to entice him to come crawl back into his arms. Pin’s mouth falls open, huffing happily, but he makes no move to come any closer, and it sends him over the edge again. It feels worse this time, like he’s tried the logical options and nothing can paste over whatever this opened up in him. Maybe it’s just a desire for what he can’t have, but it doesn’t matter what words are used to explain it. It aches all the same.
The door creaks open and Occtis hurriedly wipes his tears with the back of his arm, pressing the wetness into his shirt. Great, he thinks, the only thing worse than crying after sex is making the person you had sex with deal with that crying. Total virgin move, Julien is going to realize this was a dumb idea and fuck off to sleep at the foot of Aranessa’s bed or whatever he does when they room together.
He curls up facing away from the door and pretends he’s settling down for sleep. He is not expecting Julien to crawl back into bed, much less grab him by the yoke of his shirt and tug him back into his embrace, half tucking him under an arm like he’s a stuffed animal or particularly amicable cat. Occtis blinks in surprise, shocked out of tears. Julien has a habit of slipping his hands under clothing, and his thumb rubs along the soft skin of his stomach, halfheartedly seeking to comfort him.
“I'm okay,” he says, sniffling a little bit. “It’s worn off, so everything in me is returning to what I was.” He pauses before admitting, “It scares me.”
Julien’s arm tightens almost imperceptibly around him. “You're still warm,” he mumbles into Occtis’ shoulder, voice raspy with sleep.
If they hadn’t fucked each other half to unconsciousness, that would probably be impetus for something. Kissing, or another round, but as it is they’re both tapped. Thank whatever Gods remain for that.
Julien falls asleep again with the ease of the exhausted, and Occtis buries his face into his extra pillow, reciting the instructions he was given. He tries very hard to Remember.
He doesn’t sleep but he forgets to be awake for a while, or drifts off into his own sleep adjacent thoughts, his sharp mind dulled with the dregs of pollen and exertion. When he comes back to himself, the bed is empty again and the sun has fully risen. Pin has decided to return to the fold and has curled up next to Occtis’ knees, head resting demurely on his tail. When he puts his hand to his face it’s still warm with whatever he leached off of Julien’s body.
It wasn’t a dream. Things like him don’t get to dream anymore, and his body knows that, but still he lets himself imagine it was. That it might end well for him. Or maybe just that when it all blows up, it can do so in style, with big explosions so everyone in Dol Makjar can look over and see the glow and think, What the hell is that? He laughs a little at himself. Yeah, that would be nice.