e g o t i s t

Every part of him felt as if it were on fire, despite the chill night air, and the cool touch of the elf. Each thrust seemed to set him ablaze, as if he were nothing more than a witch on a pyre. And perhaps the Senate, or the shadow of it, would seek such a thing. Perhaps this truly would be a goodbye between lovers. Levent had been accepted back into his little court, but Bastien had been left out in the cold, so to speak. Without a coven, his magic would be dulled. Already his visions had relented, no threads for him to grasp onto from the hands of the fates. But his own lifted, moved back so that he could find placement along the back of the elf's neck, fingers pressed in ever so roughly. Marks of the elf would litter his body, but what would Bastien leave as a reminder of him? A laugh of his own may have greeted Levent's words, had his pace not quickened. Had he not aimed for that sweet spot within the witch that had any noise quickly turned into a moan, that had him giving Levent precisely what he wanted. The pace had become vicious, and as that spot was repeatedly hit within him, the witch could not hope to hang on. Fingers bit into the elf's neck as his untouched cock released against the wall before him, a cry ripped from his bruised throat. A litany of curses, all directed at Levent, slipped through his thoughts as the shock of absolute pleasure rippled through every nerve of his being.

The noises that left Bastien were enough to make Levent shiver. He felt the way the other's body jerked with each thrust, the way they were in sync until Bas couldn't hold on any longer. Levent followed quickly after, hips stuttering in pace as he buried himself inside of Bas, marking him on the inside as much as he had on the outside. The elf patted the oracle on the stomach where his seed was sinking in, desperate to find placement. If only the other was an elf. Levent pulled his tender cock out of the other finally, murmuring a bit of a song to clean himself up. The Oracle, though? He liked the way he looked: debauched and leaking, the way that the Lunar elf would wish to remember him. His fingers reached out to brush against the other's cheek, but that was all he would allow himself. Stepping back now, Levent lifted his gaze, "You know how to find me if you need me."

You did this to me. There would be a selfish satisfaction upon those words, one the burrowed itself so deep within the seemingly dead heart of the witch. One that would be considered at a much later time. The tightening of fingers against his neck were sure to leave their mark, bruises that would be easy enough to remove, should he want to. Remembrance would be what Levent wanted of him, as he pushed his hips forward, as he buried himself so sharply within him. A groan pulled so harshly from his throat, even as the elf kept his tight hold. There had been little preparation, and the tight muscles had offered some resistance. But Bastien would be lying if he said he would not enjoy every moment of this. Curled fingers pressed crudely against the wall he had been pushed upon, that he was repeatedly pushed against as Levent made it known how he wished for the witch to remember this moment. To remember him. Oh, but how would Bastien ever forget? They were destined, written within the threads of fate. Levent could speak his goodbyes in any form, and the oracle would still know that their paths would meet once again. A breathy laugh slipped between parted lips, before it turned into a strained groan. The elf was cruel with his slow movements, with his sharp thrusts that would leave Bastien begging for more. His gaze slipped over his shoulder, to watch as Levent watched himself slide into the oracle. Had he ever seen anything so divine? Fingers pressed to his neck were soon replaced with the other's lips, with his teeth as yet another mark was crafted against his skin. "You couldn't deny the fates," words were breathy, strained, as they slipped through parted lips. Ones that curled at the edges, that same old knowing smirk. Levent had created the pace, languid thrusts that the witch moved his hips to meet each time. "You wanted this, you still want this," though perhaps that was a partial confession from the witch himself, who, despite what he knew of destiny, understood that their paths had veered once more.

Levent held on to each groan, each huff of air that was punched out of Bastien's body by each of his thrusts. This time was all he'd allow himself, some fucked up way of saying goodbye even though there had to be a life past this. They had eternity, and even if Levent didn't leave the Lunar Court for a century, Bas would still be fucking about and alive. There was no escape, and there was certainly no happy ending. Slick and wet, Levent pulled out once more so he could sink slowly back inside. His hand curled back around Bastien's waist, palm spreading below the oracle's shirt to rest against the other's bare stomach. It was then that he started a more brutal pace. Levent laughed breathily against the other's ear, words punctuated by each thrust into that tight heat. "No one said I didn't," he hissed back, grinning as he chased release into the pliant hips that he held onto. He would force Bastien to cum just from his cock, slamming into a spot he knew would make the other cry out. Lev could've cursed him right now, ensured that he'd never get off again without the elf, or perhaps be aimlessly ill until they were together. All horrible thoughts, but ones he wouldn't entertain for now. His thoughts were on the other and the way Bas clenched around his cock, chasing his orgasm where he'd fill the other to the brim.

A goodbye, that would be what awaited him at the end of the night. Levent would bury himself inside of the witch, in every possible way. And then the understanding that this was the end would settle in. Bastien would return to what was left of the Asphodel, while Levent returned to the court that he had been accepted back into. The memory that they had ever stood on the same side seemed to fade away, darkened by the betrayal that had set them on opposing courses. Bastien had no want to remove himself from the Asphodel coven, just as Levent wished to fully separate himself from it. And in that moment, none of it seemed to matter to the oracle. Not when Levent knew precisely how to make him forget, how to give him that bittersweet pleasure. Fingers moved expertly inside of him, stretched him only so, for Bastien knew the elf well enough. A knowing smile formed on his lips, before another groan displaced it as those cold fingers wrapped themselves against his neck. Another, as Levent lined himself up, as he eased himself into him. And then he stopped, with the head of his cock just barely inside. A curse settled onto Bastien's tongue, before Levent whispered his command against the shell of his ear. Putain d'elfe. His hips shifted, slowly, as he pushed himself back on Levent's cock. Perhaps he would continue these slow movements, tease and taunt the elf. If it was a goodbye that Levent wanted, then the witch would ensure it was spoken when he was ready for it.

There was always a battle of wills between the two of them. That's how it had been since the beginning. Levent's soul was stained, it would never be the same. But he had immortality to look out for him, safer within courts that had forgiven him and needed to bolster their numbers. To stand with the Pythia was to always be alone, and that was something that he'd learned to hate. And it was all because of Bas. The oracle had done this to him, made him crave a touch that wasn't his own; made him wish to no longer speak to silent rooms. "You did this to me," he hissed in the other's ear, his fingers tightening around the other's neck as he felt the vice like grip of the other finally engulf him. He snapped his hips forward to bury the rest of him inside the witch, letting out a harsh breath at the feeling. He'd make sure Bas could feel him for days, since the necromancer had burned a place into Levent's icey chest. "I wanted nothing but what the Asphodel gave me." He pulled out slowly now, savoring every moment until he slammed back inside the witch. His free hand moved down to grip the other's ass, spreading him open slightly so he could watch every inch of him disappear into the willing witch. It was easy enough, if Bastien truly believed they were meant to be it forever, then somehow, they'd find a way back to each other. Levent released his grip on the other's throat, his lips finding purchase on the oracle's neck as he bit a mark into it, beginning a leisurely pace.

Destined, that is what the pair had been since the first vision that Bastien had received of them. Tangled within the strings of fate, he had bided his time until the prison walls no longer contained him. Until freedom had been his once more, and he had been able to come face to face with Levent. Denials had been bittersweet from the now Lunar elf, until even he could not deny what had been laid out before them. Perhaps that is why Bastien had followed him so easily, despite the betrayal that was seemingly still so fresh within his thoughts. The very one that he could taste upon Levent's lips and tongue. But was it the betrayal of the Asphodel that tainted them, or the betrayal between lovers? The kiss was broken, but the other did not go far. His eyes slipped open, his gaze fixing itself upon features that had haunted his every dream within his imprisonment. A gentle touch met his parted lips, as fingers traced them slowly. Nothing had ever been so tender in his life as that simple touch. And just as it came, those fingers slipped away. His gaze met that of the elf's for a fleeting moment, before he was turned and pressed to the wall. The cool night air brushed against that of which was now exposed, a shiver along his spine, until fingers pressed against him. Pressed into him, and his hands curled against the wall, with another groan deep in the hollow of his throat. The alley was dark, though the witch would have given little care otherwise. Thoughts only of Levent, of the goodbyes that were likely ripe upon the tip of their tongues filled his head.

If Levent wished to draw this out, he could. He'd get on his knees, he'd open up the witch with nothing but his tongue until the oracle couldn't decipher a daydream from a vision – but he didn't have time for that. A long goodbye would be enough, one that he didn't have to attach all the emotions to it. Elves were always emotional creatures; Levent liked to hide it. Bastien had whispered his name before, Arys, one that the elf wasn't sure he deserved anymore. But the oracle wouldn't follow him, and Levent did not ask him too. Scissoring his fingers, he'd know it'd be a stretch, a burn – but he wanted Bastien to feel him. Remember when he couldn't sit for days how it was Lev who'd done this to him, a goodbye to be remembered. WIth his other hand, he moved it up the front of the oracle, curling lightly around his neck as he pushed his head back so Levent could press his mouth against the other's jaw. The wind was cold as he freed himself, but that was what he loved – the winter. His cock pressed against the other's hole, barely entering the oracle before he paused, "Fuck yourself back onto me," he murmured, his hand squeezing lightly as his mouth stayed pressed against Bas' ear.

Levent was no saint, and perhaps he had never really been one to press against what he chose in life. He always stood by it, he pushed and pushed, used blood magic to ensure his survival at all times. It was different for him, a stained soul that would persist as he did. The now Lunar Elf devoured the other’s mouth with his own, a reminder that they were destiny, they were what the oracle had seen — and it would remain shrouded if that were to continue. The Asphodel were not finished, anyone would be stupid enough to think they were, but Levent had seen and remembered how it had all fallen apart. For now, though, he undid the front of Bastien’s pants, allowing for better access as he pulled away from the kiss. He lifted his fingers to the other’s kiss swollen lips, tracing them for a moment. It was as tender as he always got with Bastien, and Lev met the other’s gaze before he turned him around to face the wall. Deft fingers pulled down pants, two fingers pressing into the witch to open him up.