the greatest work

He let out a rough chuckle, "That so?" he murmured, voice low, gentle. Wanting. It was a nice dream, a good fantasy, but not one that Dane would ever sleep well on. His hand slid up, fingers threading into Alfynn’s hair, tugging just enough to tilt his head back, just enough to force him to meet his gaze.

"You’d do all that, huh? Tie yourself to me, fatten up my dragon, make sure I never lift a damn finger again." He hummed, his thumb brushing along Alfynn’s cheek, tracing the edge of something unsaid. "I'd have to pick up a hobby. Minding all our children would do my head in- because I would want many."

The jest was there, but it was a weak defense against the truth of it, against the weight of what Alfynn had given him - of what he had always given him. Dane exhaled, long and slow, then let his forehead press against Alfynn’s once more, letting himself sink into the warmth of him, into the steady beat of his heart.

"It's a shame," he muttered, voice softer now, more honest. "I'd have let you." But that was then, this was the after - Dane was a dragon rider, he'd put his duty before anything else, his own happiness included. "I have a cabin, out in the woods. It's nice. Quiet. I could show it to you, if you wanted."

dane's body was so soft around him, against him, underneath him. even as dane's guts supped on the last of his first dregs, alfynn wished he could stay housed inside the home that was the rider's soft, pliant hole for the rest of the gathering. alfynn wished he could put the concerns of nobility to bed by bedding his half-brother, the man who knew him best. alfynn wished, and wished, and wished.

"many children? or the many times it would take to make them?" as if alfynn had any complaints either way. he knew he'd be a terrible father. already was one, really. "you'd be good with them." meant as a comfort, despite how much it might sting.

but the wounding of one another was constant, consistent. evenly done. alfynn's pain shared in the squeeze around dane's bulk. a nestling of his face into that firm chest, his hips driving once more into the squish of dane's cummy insides, until alfynn was too soft not to get squeezed out.

"please?" his voice low and soft. "I'll hide a garden there. something... just for us."

"I have to ask- and no judgment but..." one of his hands moved like it was going to flick at the tip of alfynn's nose before pointing lower, at where people tended to keep their coin. "just how much lighter are you? because I think between the two of us, we've made all these merchants much, much richer."

eyes crossed, alfynn watched that finger start near his face, even losing a bit of his balance as it pointed lower. alfynn looked down himself, then back up again.

"lighter? if anything, I've grown heavier, as I don't have the adequate facilities to continue to train, and I can't stop enjoying the food, and..." luckily enough, context would catch him before he could veer too far off the path. "--right. coin." as if forgetting his pouch even existed, alfynn had to pat himself down a bit to find it, gently testing its heft at his hip. "a bit more 'light' than I'd arrived, but nearly. I'd brought some specimens and samples of my own, assuming that due to the recency of the revelation, that they wouldn't have adequate exposure to all that casther had to offer." he swung a sweet-smelling flowers as he went on. "let lone, from someone able to give direct and honest descriptions of effects and transformations." from there, his grin only broadened.

"--just imagine all the discoveries to be made when we get home! you know. to a proper alchemical workshop."

“muscle,” ravindra replied, looking through the wares. “i am a soldier before i am a prince. my body aches at every waking moment.” a little bit of an overstatement, but he did train beyond his limits. “also got a few bruises,” a hand tapped a lilac spot on his left bicep, “from training.”

princes. always so... focused on themselves.

despite his warnings of the potential costs to himself, or even moreso because of them, prince ravindra toyne carried on regardless of alfynn's woes.

"a muscle ache." said with a surprising flatness. at least the prince had the good sense to to continue on, before alfynn could become too suspicious. "and I would like to claim to be an alchemist more than a lord, but. I didn't know I was to be called 'lord' anything until a while ago." such lessons were for the second son, apparently. alfynn's job was to learn and craft and mix the house into wealth and power.

"bruises are natural," he called down. "a sign of damage, and healing. it is your body saying 'please don't do that again', or 'please wait a few days, at least'." lecturing a prince? it's more likely than you think. "for the aches, you will either need a salve that someone would need to rub your 'whole body' with, if it truly aches everywhere, or a blend of tinctures to aid your recovery in sleep, and dull your pain while awake."

His body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure that ran through him like wildfire. Every roll of Alfynn’s hips sent another shudder coursing up his spine, every pulse inside him left him more ruined, more claimed, more his. His fingers curled tighter against Alfynn’s back, nails pressing into sweat-slicked skin as if he could hold onto this moment, as if he could brand it into his own bones just as surely as Alfynn had carved himself into him.

It wasn’t just the pleasure - release was easy and certain - Alfynn held him, he filled him, the way his body knew him. The way words lingered between them, unspoken but heavy. Dane's breath was unsteady as he pressed his forehead to Alfynn’s, as his gold eyes searched Alfynn’s face, his fingers dragging down his spine in slow, lazy strokes. He should say something, should break the silence, but all he could do was hold him closer, burying his brother deeper into the heat of him, in the scent of sweat and sex and something he wouldn't speak a name into. Legs locked, arms firm, no space between them, skin the only barrier dividing their hearts.

A long moment, then Dane's voice came, quiet but rough at the edges. “…Tell me.”

A plea, not a demand. A bridge, not a wall.

tell him? what would dane want to hear?

how he felt like the very heavens were nestled inside him? how his steadying presence saw alfynn through some of his worst days? how alfynn still remembered and thought about the first time dane took him? how the low rumble of his voice was as core to him as the moon to the tides?

"if I could," alfynn started, nuzzling in against dane's broad chest. "I'd marry you. I'd put every baby I could into you. I'd never let you work another day in your life. I'd cook the best dinners and lunches and breakfasts for you, all the time, every day." he huffed, and sighed, as if a child-no-longer was chiding himself for speaking aloud a foolish dream.

"your dragon would live in our backyard and would eat so many sheep and cows and goats that she'd be too fat to ever be asked to fly for war again. only for fun. and errands."

his arms wove around dane, hands sliding under him, between that wide back and the soft, soft sheets. even as he slowly started to soften, but was still nestled enough in dane's soft insides that he didn't quite flop out just yet, despite any glazing trickle.

he should've been searching for more information about any ties between the events of the dove concord and argonia. he could've been training and preparing for the spectacular show he was going to put on in the colosseum once the events started. instead? he was looking at what fine herbs, reagents, concoctions, decoctions, extractions, and the like these fine lands had to offer. surely there were things here that couldn't be found elsewhere!

he'd been halfway through haggling for the last bundle of some dried something-or-other when he looked up and locked eyes with a comrade... or in the context of this place, a competitor? would the alchemist be open to sharing what interesting finds he'd found? no matter how they'd proceed, halaster smiled wide and waggled his fingers in a wave from the other side of the series of stalls.

fascinating.

argonia was utterly fascinating. despite the relatively close proximity, the differences in climate and soil quality and all sorts of other variables led to a veritable variety of unknown vegetation. alfynn was utterly beside himself, bursting at the seams with excitement, when some poor, familiar soul put themselves directly in his line of fire.

alfynn glanced once, then away. then again, then away. a third time, his bubbling need to gush overriding his hesitation, leading him to almost basically appear next to the mage, bundles of different herbs in hand. if the mage didn't stop him, alfynn would be halfway through three different tangential explanations and theories on practical applications and mixtures before he could get a word in.

he was a little more shameless too, especially in areas where nudity may be of concern. in his bare-chested state, the prince felt utterly comfortable. he wore his battle scars like badges of honor.

“no meeting should be important than a prince’s ask,” ravindra said, smirking. “if there is any information that you should be told, i will personally see to making you aware of it.” he strapped his weapon to his belt, then carded his sweaty mop of hair back, looking at alfynn. “whenever you are ready.”

"--if I must answer to my father's wrath for missing the meeting he requested me to attend, then..." those shoulders slumped, somewhat. "I will...attempt to defend myself, with the clearance of a prince's request."

not as much an active attempt at guilt, as much as resignation and acceptance of what was to come.

still, offering one of the princes of casther some of his work rather directly was a reward in some regard. leading ravindra toyne out to his cart, a thing covered in vines and fragrant flowers, alfynn hopped easily up onto the bed to start rifling through containers. "did you say where the ache was? what kind of pain? the depth; skin or muscle?"

His fingers dug into Alfynn’s back, anchoring himself to the heat of him, to the way he filled him so perfectly it made Dane feel owned in the best, most ruinous way. Dribble fell from Dane's lips rather than anything genuinely coherent. Pleas. Promises. Curses - whatever would keep them like this. If Alfynn expected sensical responses, he was looking in the wrong place. He flushed, throat croaking, and smiled something sheepish.

His breath hitched as Alfynn thrust again, deeper, and something desperate cracked open inside him. His head tipped forward, forehead pressing to Alfynn’s, gold eyes blown dark - his legs pulled around the other's thighs, pulling him closer, burying him deeper. His?

Dane kissed him, fierce and wanting, teeth catching on Alfynn’s lower lip like he could bite the words into him, like he could carve them into the space between their ribs and make them stay. His hips rolled up, meeting each slow, devastating thrust, gasping against Alfynn’s lips as he pressed himself closer, legs locking tighter him. "Seed me so deep there's nothing left but you."

marks of dane's teeth remained beneath the skin; the memory of them, each panted gasp and breathless sigh, each cry and call and plead for yes and fuck and more, would litter across alfynn's bones like initials carved into a tree. the bark of him, etched. scratched. in places nobody would see, but both of them would know, and feel.

alfynn didn't fight his nature, with dane, because he didn't need to. looking into those golden eyes, there was no bubbling roil of ill intent. just want, and wanting. and...

love?

hips driving, burrowing, buried, alfynn felt dane's soft walls engulfing him, coaxing him, as he drove his tip to drag against them; to make dane feel him, to remind him, to carve his own name along dane's insides, and brand it with searing streaks of load. alfynn gasped into that kiss, the stroking of dane's guts along him too much to bear for much longer.

his hips never stopped, but they did stutter, as alfynn shuddered. each pass of him left more of himself in his wake, until he drove deep. a hard pulse, the first shot of the cannon, piercing as deep into dane as he could push his cum to go, before he'd pump again. driving home for each hard throb, as if priming the cannon for each shot, wanting to breed dane to the point that he'd make a son for the second time.

only dane, and one other, knew about the first.

His lips dragged against Alfynn’s jaw, teasing, the ghost of a touch before his teeth followed, nipping at the delicate skin beneath his ear. “Don’t hold back,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing, smooth as silk as he reached behind himself and took a firm grip on the spit-licked heft of Alfynn's cock, aligning it, bridging it, and maneuvering it against his hole. “I can take it.” A hand slid up Alfynn’s chest, nails just barely scraping over his skin, that weighty crown breaching only just as the familiar burn sent a ripple of something through Iskander's body - cock twitching, leaking, back arching. “All of it.”

He kissed Alfynn again, but this time he let it deepen, let it devour, rolling his hips as he did, encouraging the inevitable as he broke in an inch, then a second - a sigh following.

alfynn's hesitation, the tentativeness to his touch, was only in part for iskander-- largely, it was for himself. the prince's seeming desire to be hurt, to be bruised and choked and tear-streaked, seemed to call to that hidden thing deep in the back of alfynn's mind. that hereditary beast, that nature raised under swift-strike hand and quick-lash tongue, the son meticulously designed to emulate the father. alfynn was, in all things, meticulous. just as much so in his efforts to not be the man his father tried to twist and mold him to be.

so, despite iskander's wants, and his visions, and his dreams, alfynn's touch remained cautious. his care pressed through insistent fingers, caring as much as caretaking, rebuking his birthright with each expression of concern.

"you can take it," alfynn sighed, staring somewhere next to iskander's eyes. "but...you shouldn't have to." he wasn't just talking about his cock, anymore -- at least, not until the bergian prince was engulfing him with familiar ease. alfynn was kissed as his tip was swallowed, his head, the first few inches of his haft, sinking into warm velvet. plush, and soft, and forbidden, and only all the sweeter for it. if iskander's neck was a glove, then his guts were the finest kind of caress, all warm and gripping almost too-much around him. alfynn strained into the kiss, a bit, fighting the want of his hips to fuck upwards, to chase that feeling to his base, no; he'd let iskander take him. ride him. use him, for his pleasure, knowing that alfynn's would come regardless. his mouth, taken. his cock, taken. for iskander's pleasure, if not for granted.

His fingers curled into the nape of Alfynn’s neck, holding tight as his breath fellragged, his heart slamming against his ribs, his body trembling under the weight of what he wanted - not just the pleasure, not just the heat pooling in his gut, but Alfynn. Always Alfynn. The words swelled in his throat, thickening with every shuddering breath, but he swallowed them down, letting his body speak instead. His thighs shifted wider, his back arching to take more, as if he could pull Alfynn into him completely, fuse them together until there was no space left.

Another shudder ran through him as Alfynn sank deeper, and a choked sound - half moan, half plea - escaped his lips. "Alf-" Dane's head tipped back against the pillows, baring his throat, offering himself up like a tribute.

"Alfynn - " his voice was wrecked, barely more than a breath, but he pressed forward, brushing his lips against Alfynn’s, desperate for more than just the roll of his hips, desperate to be taken - an eager roll of his hips, gold eyes locked onto the softness of the earth. A cure, a poison, the only difference was the dosage. Too little would never be enough, too much and Dane could drown. "You feel like you were made for me."

the only venom in his veins from dane's soft touch was the kind slowest to act; the feeling, the knowing, that no matter how much he cared for dane and dane cared for him, they would never share more than a bed. never a name, never a house; just these moments. these soft, and slow, and sweet moments.

"--yes, dane?"

teasing, schooling his voice from his usual anxious flutter, as if he wasn't flying apart at the seams from how plush and pliant the rider was around him. "what is it?"

and then he finally says it, and alfynn falls into him all but fully, his eyes nearly rolling upwards. to be known. to be held, to be held inside. to be cared for, and carried, and appreciated. to be loved, in some regard. each part dane offered up of himself, alfynn claimed, consumed, marked, used. he laved over dane's neck, he crushed himself against dane's firm cheeks, he pushed through dane's soft rim, he dove as far into dane's insides as he could go. feeling him. being held by him, in that way. he couldn't stop his hips from drawing back, if not just so he could feel the glory of sliding home, again. only further slicked by his own excitement, and well-warmed from the dragonseed blooming inside him.

"I am--" he breathed. softly. "yours. made yours. your hands. your-- ah!" his breath caught as a shift in angle pleased him just so. "gods, your body, it's. magic. you're magic. you're magical, to me." the one thing denied to them by birth, if only felt through the touch of one special enough to grant it.

"make me yours?" the words, shuffled; a pleased word; a confused plea. as, again, his hips rolled forth, driving him into and out of dane once more.

 still, the prince decided to entertain this a little longer.

“indeed,” he replied, all before he peeled off the sweaty tunic clinging on his body to reveal muscles and battle scars, each one worn proudly. “i can show you around, if you’d like. but in return, i demand a jar of your finest salve for muscle aches.” his lip curled with the slightest hint of a smirk.

"I'm not-- or, not yet, I mean, or." lord nyghshade. the lord nyghtshade. lord alfynn. which was he? it's all so confusing. nothing like alchemy or cooking at all. "you flatter me," as he attempted to recover, with a little half bow.

then the prince is stripping and... right. "you can go to the meeting hall like...that?" alfynn wasn't ever one for shame, equally as proud of his body, but still navigating what was 'acceptable' among nobility and what wasn't. "you hardly need to extort them from me. I would just need to return to my cart-- I'm certain to have something specifically catered for whatever aches you're feeling most. in fact, we could head there now, if there is actually no meeting occurring...?"

alfynn had no other means of asking the prince to stop teasing or confusing him.

Relaxation? Bliss? Arousal?

After the third vial, Ram heeds Alfynn's advice quite literally, sinking down into the water, his strong back slumping against the wall. This wasn't an attempt to catch him weak and helpless, was it? He didn't think the alchemist had that sort of behavior in him. At least, he hoped not...

"S'nice..." Ram moans, arms outstretched on the rim of the pool. "You are... quite masterful at your craft, alchemist—"

"aren't they?" such relaxation gave way to idle pride; not carried in malice, but in simple proof and fact. alfynn made it, so it works. even his experiment was facing results -- one didn't bring a dud to the gathering of kingdoms. "oh, I'll be right over, I just need--"

alfynn grabbed his last vial, a deep but soft-looking blue, and strode through the water over to the king. having his worries blasted away by the shimmering cocktail left him as agreeable as ever, and he sat right beside ram, half-hard and bobbing in the water, as he watched the man, curiously.

"do you want the last one?" as he held up the final sample. "while we're fully receptive, this one is a side project. for circulation. has numerous purposes; reinvigorating those who feel tired, speeding the healing of the injured..." he might be slightly more aware of the last unintended effect, but.

everyone knew where blood flowed fastest, right?

"I could simply live in this one, though. I feel so... open." so much so that when he relaxed, he didn't realize he'd all but let that last vial tip into the water on a loose wrist.

oops.

His hands clenched tighter, fingers flexing, grasping at nothing. A moan, unbidden, punched past his lips when Alfynn’s fingers shifted just right, sending a spark of pleasure up his spine. His thighs spread wider, his body arching toward that touch, as if trying to draw Alfynn in deeper, keep him there, make him stay. He tried to keep up with what Alfynn was saying, but his focus couldn't split and the cross section of thought and physicality caused the rider to short circuit entirely.

“Alfynn - ” Dane hissed, head tipping forward, eyes heavy-lidded and burning as he looked down at Alfynn. Felt the weight of him between his legs, the heat of him - too far away, not close enough. His own cock twitched where it lay against his stomach, seed dribbled against his chest with every pulse in time with the slow drag of Alfynn’s fingers. His breath came heavier now, uneven, like he was struggling to keep himself grounded when all he wanted to do was fall into this, into his brother.

"Alfynn - " He repeated, his voice was wrecked, barely more than a breath, but there was no mistaking the need in it. His fingers twitched against the sheets, aching to grab hold - of Alfynn’s wrist, his shoulder, the back of his neck - anywhere, anything to drag him closer. "More-" He swallowed, a sheepish sigh, a lazy smile, Dane's body rocked reflexively into Alfynn's hand before Dane reached for his chest, his shoulder at last. Calloused fingers squeezed as if to ground himself in the moment. He nodded. "Yeah- more."

with dane sighing against his lips, with dane softly blooming open around him, with dane thick and slick in his hand, alfynn had to wonder.

was this, love?

earlier experience demonstrated a rather curious, if not worrisome, side of the concept; of rough grip and lost air, but this. with dane, who needed more, and wanted more, and only managed to ask for it when his body's craving could supersede his natural desire to remain unnoticed. with his brother, who knew even his worst secrets. with the dragonrider of the kingdom he's sworn to, a soldier forever severed from his surname and all it would entail.

those were questions for after, when he didn't have such strong hands pulling on him, begging him with more than just voice and single words. and that smile. alfynn's grew in response, impossible to resist, with dane looking up at him so softly, kindly, warm and sweetly.

"more, it is."

loathe as he was to slide fingers free from dane, alfynn did need to coat himself -- gasping a bit as he did so, the sound settling into a warm little chuckle. pleasantly surprised by his own concoctions. he didn't let go of dane, though; even as he kneed his way onto the bed and lifted dane's hefty balls with his thumb, that he might see where he'd been push-pulling the larger man open. and, gods-- what a sight it was. if alfynn's eyes weren't blown wide by then, they certainly were at the vision of his fingers slowly pulling free, only to be replaced by something much, much thicker. alfynn only managed to glance up to dane's face once or twice, as he couldn't look away from watching himself start to disappear into dane's body, in that easy way he always did.

like coming home.

Iskander swallowed thickly, feeling the raw stretch of his throat as he did before he licked his lips, tasting the remnants of his own ruin on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, body still trembling in the aftershocks of pleasure, before tilting his head in something almost like amusement. His voice was hoarse, predictably, but there was laughter beneath the rasp - breathy, indulgent. "Like I want to do that again."

His fingers, still splayed over Alfynn’s thigh, flexed slightly, nails dragging against the skin before settling. He let his gaze flick over Alfynn’s face, taking in the cautious scrutiny there, the way his hands still hovered like he expected Iskander to crumble beneath him. It was sweet and unnecessary - but still sweet. Another reminder.

Iskander smirked, pushing up onto his elbows with a languid stretch, as if his own limbs weren’t still trembling slightly. His pulse was high but steady, his lips a little tinged, but not nearly enough to worry over. He was fine. Better than fine. His body was still thrumming with the ghost of it. "You worry too much," he murmured, reaching for Alfynn’s wrist and pressing two fingers against the inside of his own throat, guiding his hand to feel the steady beat beneath his skin.

"See? Alive. Well. Thrilled." He let his gaze half-lid, considerate, then he peeled off his jacket, the silk and stepped out of his trousers. Bare, raw, exposed, he leaned forward and caught Alfynn's lips again with his own - tongue rolling against tongue, breath mingling with breath. The escape was easy, good, earnest - pleasurable. It wasn't the same - could never be the same - but Iskander was enjoying the act of pretending.

"oh."

the vision of iskander so debauched. ruined, in some ways, but not unrecoverable; no, almost more appreciable, in how temporary the state would be. splotched with red, streaked with what he assumed were the start of tears. was iskander in pain? and if so... why did he want to go through that a second time?

was this what iskander loved? was this what he got from the man he loved?

that curling thing low in the rear of alfynn's mind tried to perk up again, but alfynn slammed every door in its face that he could. he was a nyghtshade in name. he did not need to be a nyghtshade in actions or efforts. the feel of iskander's steady, if not slightly elevated pulse, did bring alfynn some sort of comfort. his shoulders beginning to sink down from his ears.

and that lasted all the way until iskander stripped off his clothes and all but climbed atop alfynn, who tried to start to lean away, but that kiss had him trapped rather easily. almost willingly. unsteady hands slowly coming to rest on now-bare hips, pulling just so, to get iskander off his feet. he could sit, if he liked.

even if the nearest seat was alfynn's own lap, looking about ready for a second round.

Enough questions, he figures.

He lets the steam waft to his nose; the scent was not an unwelcome one. And to the alchemist's credit, it did seem as though their intended effects were beginning to manifest within his body.

"oh, I thought I said--" alfynn straightened up. "some physicians believe that taking air through the nose has more benefits than through the mouth. if we can keep those passages open, then we're more efficient with the effort, and we have our mouths free for other things, like-- eating, or." he balked. "drinking." yes. good. that made sense.

back to the experiment.

"you might want to brace yourself," he said, mostly as a recovery for himself. coming back around, he held the third vial up, inspecting it over the veil of steam. "this one should be sharper. piercing, if you will. with the other two leaving us wide open, this one sort of...cuts through. what wasn't relaxed from the last two, should certainly be shocked open." and again, without consideration to how he might sound, alfynn tilted the vial over, the golden shimmer falling towards the water. almost tinging the steam with a slight sparkle. alfynn himself sighed as it started to take effect, even his own overly-tensed shoulders falling slack.

"ooh, that's a nice one."

a lord. he was not certain of which house, as his interests aligned more with the banner-holding ones, but a bit of decorum still found itself to the young prince – enough to sheathe his weapon, at least. 

“i was not informed of any lord meeting,” he answered sharply. “but again, my br – the king lacks proper organization.” or did he? ravindra loved his assortment of lies. “to whom i have the pleasure of speaking? lord …?” the prince let the question trail.

"was there? is there not a...?" his father's memory was beginning to fade, in his climbing age. whether he would name alfynn his true successor in time, or the son with his current husband, only time would tell. even if alfynn wasn't putting too much effort in dragging that process out...

"I'm sitting in. For my father, the Lord of Nyghtshade." He managed a bow, half-way down, but looked back up. "I'm Alfynn. The alchemist." His gaze flitted from the then-sheathed weapon, back to the prince's face, and-- "I'm quite far from the meeting areas, aren't I?"