dandylionsden

Even as those tears fell, though, it was astounding that Jacob was concerned for the man that caused them. Gavin wanted to say he didn’t deserve it—the rough treatment Jacob received meant that Erik lying unconscious was a blessing. There was much worse Gavin could have done, if worse had happened, and he would have done it with a smile.

(You’re beautiful, and no-one should hurt you.)

But the boy was good, through and through. And what sort of person would he be if he allowed that goodness to be hurt by his own need for revenge?

So Gavin offered a comforting smile. “The community centre isn’t too far.” It was a few feet away, even; he supposed if anything good was to come of this, it would be that Erik had his fit close enough to somewhere relatively trustworthy. “I can pick him up and we’ll take him to security.

“We’ll say he got lightheaded and passed out.”

It technically wasn’t a lie.

gavin smiles and jacob's entire world unwinds, just like that. they don't know each other, not really, but the familiar is still a welcome anchor to tether himself to. each time he looks at or even thinks of erik, his mind is flooded with the leeching, crawling indelicacies of his touch, the rough and abrasive orange of his voice. a bite taken from a peach, its soft fuzz replaced with cutting sand paper.

gavin can be his sanctuary from this.

there's an obedient nod as gavin begins to give instructions. yes, that does make sense. yes, he'll be taken care of there, at the community center. jacob should issue a notice of some sort to erik's dedicated therapist but… for now, to be rid of him, as awful as he feels for it, yes, jacob would be willing to mislead someone.

"okay." a pact. jacob wouldn't have expected that gavin would be willing to lay hands on a man and lie for him. gratitude sinks low in his belly and he blinks, reaching out to hold onto gavin's arm. just the sleeve of it, the fine fabric. a gesture that begs him to not move too quickly, don't rush when jacob's fragile mind can't keep up.

"do i have to…" the voice of therapy is a gentle presence in his mind, trying to coax him out of the shame he feels for how helpless he is right now. "do i have to say very much?"

With a tender hand, he reached to take hers in his own.

"I worry about you, you know."

it's endearing, how FRAGILE nealie seems to be in jonny's eyes. she smiles as he kisses her cheek, shaking her head as she turns to follow him, shutting and locking the door.

"if you're worried about me, you should see the other guy!!" her grin turns wolfish and reaching out, she playfully pats on jonny's shoulders as they walk. simple, restless intimacy that's only afforded to him because of how close they've become.

"if it's on the books, they give you all these annoying little rules..." which, judging by her tone, is nearly the end of the world. "it's just not as real, y'know?" a shrug, and then she's plopping down onto the couch and waiting with doe eyes for jonny to join her.

"i'm okay. i promise. i don't have a death wish or anything."

Erik, of course, had something to say about that. Gavin's grip tightened, pressing down and making the twist of his arm that much worse, and the pathetic whimper that slipped from his lips as his legs scrabbled made it all the more worth it.

"Don't make me knock you out," he growled, head bent to say it.

"You don't have the fucking--"

Even before that sentence could be finished, Gavin's arm wrapped around Erik's throat and squeezed. He held, and held, and released only when he'd gone to sleep, at which point Gavin shook his head and got to his feet.

"He'll be fine." Gavin spoke to Jacob now, stepping easily over Erik's sleeping form to approach him. "I know that's probably what you're most worried about-- and you shouldn't be, you know.

"I saw him shove you. And the way he held your jaw..."

Standing in front of Jacob now, Gavin resisted the urge to touch him.

like a pitiful moth drawn to a flame, jacob visibly relaxes as gavin draws closer to him. his breathing comes easier, but it's hard for jacob to tear his stare away from erik, laying limp on the ground. passersby raise an eyebrow, some reach for their phones, and the collar of jacob's shirt begins to feel tight and claustrophobic.

it does hurt. he likely won't even bruise, maybe left with some aches, but his mind is alight with the grating, rich orange of erik's touch. there's no effort made to avoid crying, and when he blinks, the tears fall.

"um— yeah, it's—" reset, jacob. there are a few deep breaths taken and the shock leaves his features as he cleanses the canvas of his mind. scrubbing the texture of erik out of his memory, bleaching the colors from the fabric— best he can, anyway.

"...he hurt me." his voice is quiet and matter of fact. his nod is subtle. "we should call someone, right?" crisis response is what he's trained for, but in this moment, he's looking up at his client, his friend and waiting for guidance.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He did his best not to sound angry. That never accomplished anything. But the rage in Eric's face didn't falter, and in the end Gavin was ducking to dodge a punch before shoving him to the ground.

"That's enough," he said, dropping to one knee and reaching out to keep the other man trapped beneath him. For all that Eric squirmed, Gavin remained steadfast; he turned Eric over, twisted his arm behind his back, and used his free hand to shove his face into cement.

"Calm. Down."

define hurt. there's a wince as eric hurls swears at gavin and slurs at jacob. he hugs himself, creasing his powder blue button up, crumpling his untouched and boyish image. what's left is some strange mix of grief, disgust, and paralysis. tears well up into big brown eyes and his mouth opens to say words that don't come.

"um— n - no, he—" it occurs to him he's answered without thinking. he blinks himself back into the present and says a little more confidently, "no." a shake of his head and he glances to erik's face, evidently worried about him being hurt; a concern quickly shoved aside when he spits at jacob. fear flashes in his eyes and he stumbles back slightly, lips parted.

"i'm sorry. i'm fine, i'll just—" for a young man as composed and helpful as he usually is, right now there's nothing but big teary brown eyes. "i'm sorry, i'm —" a hesitant step is taken backwards, torn between the draw to his evident protector and the raw instinct to run.

upon her return, she offers it to nealie with a gentle instruction to, "drink it, please. if you finish it, i'll get you another cup."

"ms. casey," she's whining, sure, but there's a degree of seriousness to her voice that she doesn't often afford. "we can't wait just a minute? aren't you telling me that i need to slow down or i'll make mistakes?" nealie knows what she's doing by pulling this card, considers it manipulative just as anyone should, and still carries on with wide green eyes looking up to her counterpart.

"let's take a moment to see, maybe the water will help. surely, there's something in here..." rummaging through the wellness kit with one hand, the cup of water nearly sloshes in her other hand.

"you can't be too excited to get rid of me, right?" a flash of a devilish grin.

"You don't like the way anyone looks at me, though, Nealie," Gemma responded with a fond smile. She reached over and rested her hand on the younger's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, I think they may be staring at you. You look absolutely stunning right now."

"you don't need to say anything." nealie can make it perfectly clear where any intruder stands. they may be new to this, still going out for dates one town over, but this instinct comes strong to her. a toned arm winds around gemma's waist, gently swaying her into nealie's side.

"you just worry about enjoying yourself and let me take care of the rest, hm?" the corner of her mouth quirks up as she leans in, pressing a kiss to gemma's jawline.

"Nealie."

Though the tone of his voice was a touch more serious, Mark didn't pull away. One hand curved over Nealie's cheek, and his thumb stroked up the bone before he allowed his touch to drop onto the side of her neck instead.

"You're talking like you're never gonna see me again." And silly though that might sound-- Mark couldn't think of any reason to disappear from her life, not on his own will-- speaking the words aloud made Mark's stomach twist in uncertainty.

Usually they could talk about whatever it was they worried about. Mark didn't realise how uncomfortable he was with the idea Nealie was suddenly keeping things from him.

He kissed Nealie's cheek, then the tip of her nose. Staying close, Mark sought her eyes, hand still on her neck whilst the other moved to her back to keep her against him.

mark's touch is so light on her skin that it sends a shudder down her spine, lifting a giggle from her even as she leans into him with a sullen slump to her shoulders. so familiar with laughing these things away, she can't help herself.

"well, no..."

it's been occurring to her that he may never leave her. the thought rests as a stone in her stomach, both grounding and weighty.

"but i just know i can be a lot and there's still things i need to do, things that might change me or us and this is-- sorry. i'm not making sense," she laughs again, almost hoping he'll forget about it all entirely. disappointed in herself, her silhouette shrinks.

"i just wish it was all for forever." and that cuts to the core of it, doesn't? she rolls her eyes at herself.

This was Mark's favourite part of the refining process. He'd gotten it down to a science, really-- complete just enough of a percentage nobody'd question him for dallying, then use the time it took to finish the last five to meet Ms. Whitford (well, Nealie) in her office. It wasn't like he couldn't spend time with her on other days, and God knows he did, but to spend the four morning hours before his lunch break away from the computer? Petey could only be believably lax if he knew Mark was almost done with his file, anyway.

But it was worth it, in Mark's opinion. Seeing Nealie a few minutes a day and having four straight hours every few weeks was more than he ever thought he'd have. Some of her was better than none, and the rare opportunity to have all of her was worth all the waiting in between.

(And the opportunity to be the father of her children... that meant more than anything Mark could've ever done with Macrodata, too.)

So here he was: sat in Nealie's fancy office chair, holding her on his lap, and sighing happily into her mouth. Each time Nealie kissed him it felt like that was what he was made for, and with the weight of her belly resting warm against Mark's own, he could almost delude himself into believing there was some happy ending for him here.

The soft noise of satisfaction as Nealie squirmed against him had him drawing her closer. Even when they broke for air he stayed near, smiling as he nipped at her lip. Mark's hand trailed up her waist, cupping her breast through her blouse as his thumb stroked the tip, and--

"Huh."

There was something damp there. Mark kissed Nealie's cheek and lowered his head to look at it.

His thumb pressed in, pushing the jut of Nealie's nipple inward. Her blouse became even damper.

THIS is the time they have together. there's no way he could know what it means to her. this distinctly was not a part of their plan, but they had always planned to have a life together, so surely this was no betrayal of mark's faith. besides, he could never expect her to stand by and neglect her mark, regardless of what lifetime he's in.

the swell of her belly is the proof of it. some piece of him she could carry with her, always joined, as they ought to be. her mark is real, he exists, and he's hers, and the change inside her remains a permanent reminder. none of this could ever be a mistake because it gave them this.

and he should know it all, her morning sickness, her vitamins, her doctor's appointments, but for now all they can know is each other. safe, loved, and finally feeling the tension in her gut — left by his absence — release, she sways to his whims. her mouth is eager, a tingle passes through her, and there's a soft noise on her exhale as mark's voice rings out.

"hm?"

nealie's hand lovingly strokes his hair from his face and, looking down, her cheeks turn red.

"oh— i'm—" the mortification only lasts for an instant, then comes the giddy smile. there's a restless rock of her hips, leaning into his touch.

"gotta be able to feed our little one somehow, right?"

still warm with want, her hands pull to unbutton her shirt and reveal herself, leaking through her lacy rose bra.

"fuck," a huff, as reality bites her, "i'll have to change shirts..."

her starved stare returns to his mouth, her shirt fully undone, with no intention waste their time. "i'm tender, but you don't have to be shy." his first experience with the maternal. she licks her lips.

The greed from beyond borders (or perhaps even within) had harmed Ansgar; and no matter how superficial the wound happened to be, it reminded Melissa of the brevity of life (again). Hers, isolated and left alone at that pedestal like an untouchable relic, was no worthy existence - it was only in his arms, with mouths clashing and another tongue tasting hers like the most exquisite ambrosia that the world made sense.

They had both experienced loss and grief - were not they entitled to pleasure and fulfilment again, even if nothing about that affair was sanctioned by law or accepted by the court?

It was a small mercy that Ansgar had been without his full armor and weapons displayed by the captain of the queensguard - it would have made their desperate embraces harder, and the intrusion of her chambers much louder. As it stood, it had been sufficiently discreet to bring the guard inside, to allow her defenses to drop before the one soul that would die before allowing Melissa to be harmed and to reward loyalty and devotion with searing kisses that spoke volumes of how desperate she had been for another person to touch her like a woman.

Like a lover.

The way Ansgar's voice shifted when talking to her had the brunette gasping audibly, smaller hands bunching the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer. Little by little, they backtracked to her bed, somehow maneuvering around décor and furniture to make it safely to the a place that had been untouched by another for years. Not even Frederik came to her that often - Melissa's bed had been an altar to the biting, cold isolation.

Until that night.

"I am certain of this," the queen confirmed, words whispered like the sin they represented. Melissa's eyes gazed at her protector with undiluted need and hunger, feeling the edge of the mattress against the back of her legs and knowing that a fall would be safe now. She could let herself take the plunge and Ansgar would catch her - protocol and etiquette be damned. They were only human and the ruler of Solaris wished to erase the kingdom outside her chambers, at least for one night.

there's a surge of jealousy through his core as he realizes he'll take this woman in the same bed where she laid with her husband, his king. what lovely memories of his friendship with fredrick are suddenly tainted, if only during this moment, with the thought that fredrick had ever touched what ansgar now feels so entitled to claim. she's beautiful and she wants him to stay.

his chin tilts up with indignance that she'd ever sacrifice for their sake— he'd offer her the world before she would ever have to make a choice like that. any reservations for what used to be is irrelevant right now, his only thought how terribly underappreciated melissa has been. a chance to worship her won't be lost.

the knight leans down and, with his better arm, lifts her up. a grip beneath her ass and then, lovingly, a tight hold around her back to keep them flush as he lowers her to the bed.

"oh, my love," he sighs, at once sounding more like a poet than the gruff, strict commander his men knew him to be. how she must have languished while waiting for him to arrive to this moment. how lucky, that he should be the one here, easing her thighs apart to lightly rest himself upon her.

"i'm sorry i've kept you waiting." and yet ansgar could make no promise to always be gentle with her, to treat her like a lady, nor to keep her from going hungry for him ever again. if this is the result of her hunger, this eagerness for him and him alone, it's too precious to be known only once. his touch explores down her delicate collarbone to the tie at the front of her gown. a quick glance down so he can undo it, then warm brown eyes return to their hungry stare at her mouth.

does she know what it means to him, to even consider filling her the way he's only ever done with one other? that it ended so tragically he thought he'd never recover, only to find her. he has been living on borrowed time for ages now, time she gifted him, it's only fair that he spend it in full service to her.

what an honor it is to slip the front of her gown and expose her chest. let her feel the weight of his desire, he decides, his trousers growing tight as he swells between them. she's perfect. and in the recesses of his mind, where dust has lain heavy, he thinks she's perfect for what he wants, made so heavenly to fulfill him. if they could only belong to each other in earnest, if he could do this properly and not chase the desperate thought of giving her curves and helping her smell of milk, he may be more of a gentleman.

"if i have my way with you," ansgar smiles, bright-eyed and looking more boyish than she's ever seen him, "we may not leave this bed for some time."