🐺Kocctis Korner🦊

~

The new group has a surprising amount of tension.

It’s not between who Occtis would have expected, either. Thimble is a little caustic but able to work with both Bolaire and Julien; discovery of Thjazi’s soul being saved from Tachonis clutches has given the pixie a good deal of hope that lightens her mood towards the people who would generally aggravate her most. Occtis himself has come to at least a sort of halting understanding with Vaelus, though it still stings that she didn’t consider him before breaking the Stone of Nightsong. Everyone else has varying degrees of comfort with one another, but for the most part, they’ve been fine.

But for some reason, the longer they travel together, the more Julien and Kattigan seem to be at odds with one another.

It’s not anything overt, not really. Julien is a smartass as he usually is, and Kattigan is not above getting a dig in here and there. But mostly it’s that they just seem to constantly be trying to one-up each other. It’s like there’s some sort of unspoken competition happening, and Occtis has no idea of when it started or why. The two barely know each other, and they have a shared goal in killing his fa— in killing Primus Tachonis. Why they suddenly seem so irritated by one another’s presence is beyond him.

They’ll be in the middle of a fight, and suddenly the two will be sniping over whose tactics are more effective. One or the other will smugly gloat over how many enemies they managed to take down. Maybe that part is somewhat normal, Occtis guesses; they’re both sort of used to being capable, proud of their abilities. He’s a little surprised since he didn’t think Kattigan was the bragging type, but he supposes he doesn’t know the man well.

There are other, stranger moments, though. Kattigan will return from a hunt with some rare herb or unusual bit of stone or plant life that Occtis can use as a spell component, and Julien is suddenly glaring daggers at him across the campfire. Julien offers to give the arcanist proper instruction in handling a blade, and Kattigan looks like he’s about to rip the knight’s throat out as he adjusts Occtis’ grip on his summoned sword. Wulferic spends most nights posted up at Occtis’ side while he trances, watching over him as he rests. Julien continues to put himself in harm’s way when it comes to battle to keep Occtis out of danger.

It’s all baffling.

At least, until Occtis overhears a conversation between Thimble and Bolaire - not that he’s spying on them, not intentionally anyway, but he’s slipped his senses into Pin and they just happen to stop nearby without noticing the little fox currently slinking through the underbrush beyond their campsite.

“… he still hasn’t caught on? They aren’t exactly being subtle.” The former museum curator sounds archly amused. Thimble snorts a laugh; in her human-sized form, it carries more than she probably intends.

“He’s smart about a lot of things, but not this. I still don’t think either of them is going to get it through their thick skulls that if they want his attention, they actually have to say something.”

Bolaire chuckles drily. “I still have thirty silver riding on him figuring it out first. Unless you want to back out of the bet?”

“You wish! I know Occtis way better than you; no way he realizes they’re into him.” She snorts again. “But if he ever does, I’m still betting on Kattigan.”

“I suppose we shall see.”

Abruptly, Occtis pulls his senses back into his body before he can hear any more.

All this tension and posturing and competition is— because of him?

He gives himself a few moments to let the absolute confusion and anxiety of that realization run wild, sinking into a quiet panic as the information settles into his mind. Then he carefully takes those unruly emotions back in hand, and begins breaking down the situation logically.

Fact number one: apparently, both Julien and Kattigan have some sort of interest in him. The fact that he finds that insane is besides the point. He’s already gotten hints from each of them in their prior interactions, but he had assumed he was reading things wrong when no one ever followed up on anything. As Thimble mentioned, he’s never been good at assessing people’s behavior, at least not in this vein. Flirtation tends to go over his head unless it’s directly stated to be such. So he’s missed that these little gestures were not simply those of alliance or possibly friendship.

Fact number two: they’re both aware of each other’s interest, and it’s the source for the tension between them. Now that he thinks back, Occtis is more than a little embarrassed that he didn’t recognize what is, in hindsight, fairly blatant. But, okay - now he knows. Which means he can decide what to do about it.

But what does he want to do? Because, fact number three: Bolaire and Thimble are betting on the outcome of this little drama.

It shouldn’t surprise him, though it does irk him a little. Fae folk are capricious, and Bolaire isn’t exactly the most moral person in the world. If this were important, one of them probably would have told him eventually - probably Thimble. But they just see it as a bit of entertainment to pass the time. Well, Occtis doesn’t particularly want to win either of them any money, but now that he knows what’s happening, he also knows he doesn’t want to leave it alone. He’s not good at playing dumb.

So what does he want?

Julien and Kattigan are both objectively very attractive men. That part never escaped Occtis’ notice. He’s absolutely found himself staring on occasion whenever Kattigan’s bathing in the nearest creek or river, or when Julien is moving like an elegant whirlwind through a battlefield. He has done his level best to keep those moments of… appreciation very well hidden, though, not wanting to make things uncomfortable or weird for his compatriots.

More than that, though…

Julien can be an absolute pain, and he is the most stubborn man in Aramán. But Occtis trusts him in a strange way, trusts Julien to guard his back, to make sure he’s safe. There is a tentative bond that has formed between them as they’ve traveled together, and though Julien continually insists that he doesn’t care about anything or anyone but his vengeance, his actions have repeatedly proven otherwise. There is a good man beneath the arrogance and bluster, and Occtis has seen it. He’s not drawn to Julien in spite of his prickly exterior; he’s drawn to him because he understands it, and what it hides.

Kattigan, on the other hand, is blunt, honest, probably couldn’t deceive someone if his life depended on it. Occtis appreciates his directness, appreciates that he doesn’t see Occtis as a tool of his family, or a representative of a Sundered House, or a strange magical monstrosity. He just treats him like a person, like an equal, and it’s refreshing considering almost no one else around Occtis does. There’s little regard for his nobility, his bloodline, or the fact that he’s technically dead. Kattigan sees Occtis as something separate from all that.

So yes, Occtis is attracted to both of them.

But does he actually want anything more?

A flicker of warmth in the pit of his stomach suggests that yes, now that he knows it’s a possibility, he very much might.

Now he just has to consider what he wants to do about that.

~

It’s not easy to manufacture a reason to get the rest of the party out and away from their current campsite, but they’re close enough to a town in northern Timmony that he convinces Bolaire, Thimble, and Vaelus to make a supply run. It leaves Occtis alone in the camp with Julien and Kattigan still shooting dirty looks at each other, and he waits until he’s sure the others are out of earshot before he speaks, voice pitched low, but clear enough for both of them to hear.

“That’s enough.” Julien frowns at him, while Kat cocks his head in a fashion not unlike Wulferic, looking confused. It’s a little unnerving being the subject of both of their attention, but Occtis presses on. “Look, I— you two are both acting like idiots.” It’s a bit harsher than what he intended to say, but it’s true, so he goes with it. “This juvenile competitive thing is going to stop. If you were trying to get my attention…” He swallows air he doesn’t need, faltering just a little. “Well. You have it.”

Kattigan catches on to what he means first, brows rising as he shoots a look from Occtis to Julien. “You might have to be a little more clear, pretty boy.” The knight glares at him for a moment, but apparently agrees with the sentiment.

Occtis lets out a slow breath. “Am I correct in assuming that both of you are… attracted to me in some capacity?”

It sounds so awkward and clinical, and he watches the other two men exchange a startled glance, as if they’re either surprised he’s addressing it, or surprised at how horribly weird he’s just managed to make it sound.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Julien drawls, a hint of his usual swagger asserting itself over surprise or annoyance, and Kattigan lets out a muffled chuckle, then nods agreement.

Okay. Maybe this won’t be as complicated as he feared, then.

“Right. So… maybe instead of acting like petty assholes, you could have just… said something?” If he needed to breathe, Occtis might be holding his breath in the silence that follows. There’s still a very strong possibility that this is a mistake, that it’s going to end up with even more awkwardness.

Kattigan finally speaks, taking a single step closer to the wizard. “And who exactly were you hoping would say something, then?”

That is the question he’s spent a good deal of time considering. The answer isn’t exactly a simple one, but Occtis is nothing if not capable of finding solutions for complex problems. “Um. Both of you?”

Another painfully prolonged, silent moment. Then Julien starts laughing, glancing at Kattigan, who flashes him a toothy grin. “You are nothing but trouble, boy.” The words are teasing, though, and Occtis feels that faint flicker of warmth coiling through his gut again, creeping up his spine. The awkward tension he’s been holding in every muscle eases away into something different, something new and unfamiliar.

It’s distracting enough that he’s not quite paying attention to the fact that both of the other men are closing distance; they’ve spent enough time trying to outdo each other that they know one another’s tells, making it easy to communicate without a word. Julien steps up in front of Occtis, tipping his chin up with one fingertip, and Kattigan slides against his back, one arm looping around the arcanist’s waist. “Both, huh?” The ranger’s voice is a husky murmur close to his ear, making Occtis shiver. “Yeah. I think I can work with that.” Julien chuckles again, nodding agreement.

~

When the rest of the party returns, it’s to a campsite littered with scattered clothing, a fire burned down to ash, and a number of very interesting sounds emerging from the vicinity of Occtis’ tent.

~

“Is this… really necessary?” Occtis’ voice is breathy and thin the way it only gets when he’s thoroughly distracted, and halfway forgets both that he doesn’t actually need air to function, but that he does need it to speak.

Kattigan chuckles, shifting the boy on his lap, fingertips tracing a slow line up one lean thigh. “Wouldn’t be if you could learn to take a compliment,” he murmurs into his ear, “But since you can’t, I guess you’ve got to see for yourself.”

Occtis shivers, and Kat hides a grin against the curve of his shoulder. He’s been itching to do this for a while now, but they haven’t stopped anywhere quite suitable in their travels until tonight. This inn’s a bit fancier than where they usually stay, and the broad mirror mounted on the wall of the room they’re occupying is exactly what he was looking for. It was easy enough to drag a chair in front of it, even easier to haul Occtis into his lap and kiss him senseless, strip him of the unnecessary number of layers he always wears, work him up and work him open. Now the arcanist is naked, long legs sprawled to either side of Kattigan’s thighs, back pressed to the ranger’s chest. One arm circles Occtis’ narrow waist, mostly to keep him balanced, while the other hand wanders leisurely over his skin.

He makes a pretty picture like this - though he’s damn pretty all the time, as Kattigan keeps telling him. Occtis has yet to believe it, though, so clearly he just needs a better view.

His eyes are fixed on the mirror, though Kattigan knows he’d be blushing if he were still capable of it. The ranger doesn’t intend to let him look away for even a moment, and he knows Occtis’ instinctively observant nature won’t let him do so, either. Even if he’s embarrassed by the sight, there’s clearly a fascination there, too. He’s never seen himself like this, Kattigan’s sure.

He trails fingertips down the other’s chest, teasingly circling a nipple, skirting the edge of the metallic seam that bisects his torso. He’s sensitive there, they’ve found, where the skin meets the line of metal. “Look at you,” Kattigan murmurs against the curve of his neck as Occtis shudders under his touch. The sound the boy makes in answer is soft and wordless, and he presses himself back against Kattigan, hips shifting in a silent plea.

Another chuckle escapes the ranger, and he lets his hand drop lower, slipping between the arcanist’s splayed thighs. His thumb brushes along the other’s cock in passing, and Occtis moans outright. “Beautiful,” Kat praises, and he traces fingertips lower still to circle the other’s rim. He’s already stretched and slick from where Kattigan had toyed with him earlier; he presses two fingers inside him at an easy, unhurried pace. They’ve got all night, and despite Occtis’ increasingly needy noises, he can stand to wait a little longer.

The arm around the other’s waist tightens slightly as he squirms, shifting to give Kattigan better access, and in the process creating an even more compelling view in the mirror. The ranger growls low in his throat as he watches his fingers plunge in and out of Occtis’ tight hole, watches the way the boy’s thighs tense and his back arches as he rocks into the motion. The look on his face is one of mingled pleasure and hunger, and Kattigan commits the expression to memory as one he intends to see as often as possible. “So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, grinning as, in the mirror, he watches Occtis eyes dart up to take in the entirety of his reflection. He’d definitely be blushing if he could. “You’re adorable when you’re acting all prim and proper, a right fucking sight when you’re throwing magic around, but this? Yeah. This is my favorite.” He’s blunt, as he usually is, and Occtis draws in a ragged breath as he digests the words.

“Second favorite,” he manages to get out, and Kattigan lifts his head, raising a brow. Occtis meets his eye in the mirror, a flicker of the sharp, clever edge that makes him so interesting visible in his gaze. He might be typically withdrawn and easily flustered, but there’s a shade of something more direct and aggressive under the surface. It just takes some doing to pull it out. “I’d think it would make a better view if I were riding your cock.”

Kattigan laughs, half-muffling the sound against Occtis’ neck. “You might have me there,” he admits, pressing his fingers deep once more before withdrawing them entirely. “Why don’t you prove it, pretty boy?”

Occtis curses low under his breath in a language Kat doesn’t know, and reaches back to fumble with the ranger’s trousers. He’d been so focused on Occtis he hadn’t bothered to get rid of his own clothes, so having the fabric peeled back is a bit of a relief. The other’s hand moves in a slightly haphazard gesture that Kattigan recognizes as a spell of some kind, and then an oil-slicked palm is wrapping around his cock, dragging a guttural groan from his throat.

The arcanist is impatient, only stroking him a few times before his hand wraps around the base to steady him, and he shifts on Kattigan’s lap, lining himself up. Their punched-out moans echo each other as Occtis begins to sink down, and the ranger grips his hips to steady both of them as that tight heat surrounds him.

It is a beautiful view, as the boy suggested. Kattigan’s eyes remain locked on the mirror, and he mouths at Occtis’ jaw, nudging him to make sure that he doesn’t look away, either.

“That’s it,” he murmurs as the other begins to move, eyes glassy with want and lips parted around those soft, needy sounds he keeps making. “Gorgeous. You see how fucking pretty you are like this?” Kattigan doesn’t know if Occtis’ answering groan and nod are a real agreement, or just a sign of how caught up in the moment he is, but he’ll take it.

~

Julien seems like he’s been deliberately trying to get on Occtis’ last nerve all day.

He’s frequently a pain in the ass. He’s catty, argumentative, and stubborn in the extreme. Occtis is used to that. What he’s not used to is having orders snapped at him on the battlefield, as if he’s some kind of idiot who can’t fend for himself. He doesn’t mind when Julien gets bossy sometimes, but the middle of a fight is not the appropriate moment.

The last straw is when the knight once again takes it upon himself to bodily pick Occtis up and haul him out of danger.

There’s nothing he can do about it in the moment, save for focusing his anger into obliterating their enemies with a few particularly vicious spells. He doesn’t comment as they patch up their various party members and make for an abandoned farmstead to rest for the night. But the moment the two of them are alone, he whirls on Julien, fury blazing in his eyes.

“What have I said about pulling shit like that?” They absolutely have had more than one heated discussion on the topic, though Julien has never actually agreed that he wouldn’t just toss Occtis over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes if he saw the need. “I was fine. I didn’t need you to undermine me—“

“Undermine?” The knight’s retort is sharp, lips curled in a sneer. “I was getting you to safety, since you were too slow to do so yourself.”

“I was fine,” Occtis snarls, annoyed to have to repeat himself. “I didn’t need—“

“You weren’t even aware of half the battle, you—“

“Enough.” Occtis’ voice lashes like a whip, and he flings out a hand, shaping a sharp somatic in the air. He’s done arguing with Julien; he’s tired, still achy and drained from their earlier fight, but he has enough magic left to deal with this. The spell coalesces as an invisible net, threads wrapping around Julien and drawing taut. For a moment, he struggles against them, but Occtis sees the moment he gives in and the spell takes hold, keeping him immobile, and more importantly, silent.

“Maybe I need to remind you again that I am the son of a Sundered House, and I am getting tired of your blatant disrespect.” Julien’s eyes flash, but Occtis notices with surprise that it’s not temper he spies in them. There’s a heat, certainly, but it isn’t the heat of anger.

Understanding hits him all at once, and he’s not sure whether he should be even more angry, or let it slide. “… you’re pissing me off on purpose, aren’t you?” Julien can’t move or speak, still stuck within the Hold Person spell, but Occtis already knows he’s right. “You wanted me to get angry. To put you in your place.” There’s a conflicted bubble of annoyance and something like heated curiosity rising in his chest, and Occtis isn’t quite sure what to do about it.

Fuck it. He leans into the heat, the sharpness, the means to vent his frustrations that he had not previously considered. Usually, he lets Julien take the lead, since Occtis is still new to quite a few things. Now, though…

He releases the spell with a flick of his fingers, but raises his voice when Julien opens his mouth to speak. “Not a word.” For once, the knight shuts up, and Occtis considers his options.

He shapes another somatic, and a mage hand presses down on Julien’s shoulder, making the knight startle for a moment before he recognizes the intention. He goes to one knee, and Occtis glares down at him. “You owe me an apology. For your disrespect, and so many other things. But I’m not even sure you’re capable of offering a sincere one.” There is a note of condescension in his voice that Occtis isn’t sure he’s ever heard before, and he notices how Julien tenses, pupils dilating, taking a slow breath as if he needs it to steady himself.

The mage hand fists in Julien’s hair, tugging his head back, forcing his gaze up to meet Occtis’. He folds his own hands primly behind his back, as if touching the other is beneath him. That part is mere playacting, but he finds it surprisingly compelling to withhold that familiar contact from Julien.

“Since you can’t be trusted to speak politely, I don’t see why you should speak at all.” A thrill goes down Occtis’ spine as he realizes he’s actually enjoying this; all the true anger has bled away, focused instead into something different and more appealing. “You can apologize instead by doing one of the only things you’re good at.” Julien’s eyes flick from Occtis’ face to his crotch, and the now rather obvious tent beginning to form in the front of his trousers. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Occtis knows he’s enjoying this too, that this is in many ways exactly what he was hoping would happen.

It’s still frustrating that he’s been such a deliberate pain instead of just asking, but… they’ll talk about that later.

Maybe.

For now, he releases the grip of his mage hand and lets Julien all but dive forward, nuzzling his cheek against Occtis’ cock through the fabric. Deft hands get his trousers undone swiftly, and then Julien is swallowing him down like he’s starving, taking Occtis to the root, the head of his cock lodged deep in the knight’s throat. It takes every bit of self control the arcanist possesses not to bury his hands in Julien’s hair and fuck into that hot mouth, to continue playing at aloof disregard or angry disdain. It’s sort of impossible to be angry at Julien when he’s proving just how damn good he is at this.

Occtis closes his eyes, seeing splintering, kaleidoscopic fragments of color and light as Julien sucks him off. He manages to keep his hands tucked into the small of his back until he’s right on the edge; only then does he grab for the knight, pulling him back with one hand as he wraps the other around his cock. He jerks himself off as Julien pants in quiet desperation in front of him, and he comes with a strangled moan, painting the knight’s face in messy drips and ribbons. Julien groans low in his throat, but doesn’t move, eyes trained on Occtis, still not speaking.

His head is spinning, and it takes a few long moments to come down, to untangle his hand from Julien’s hair. He considers using Prestidigitation to clean the other up, but instead finds himself dragging his thumb through a smear of cum at the corner of Julien’s mouth and letting the knight lick it clean. When he finally can speak, there’s a note of fond exasperation that has replaced all of the real annoyance from earlier. “You are… an absolute menace.”

Julien grins, tongue flicking over the pad of his thumb again. “You like it.”

“Not when we’re in an actual fight situation.” The knight raises a brow, then shrugs one shoulder in silent acquiescence or apology. “Next time, just ask.”