It's a little cut content from Falling Fearless that I decided not to keep in, but this was a good excuse to finish writing it :>

Restricting himself to the meditation chamber at least kept him from pushing his way into Emmrich’s needed space. He’d used enough power that his constant shower of sparks occasionally had colour, and he had to keep flicking it away, but he was wound too tightly to sleep. Once he’d stripped out of his armor he sat in front of the windowed wall and coaxed his eager magic into shapes, illusions that mimicked the fish swirling behind the glass or the twisting fingers of coral. They were flimsy, translucent, never solid enough to fool anyone but Rook had always liked the exercise. 

It was a gentler use of his needy magic. It wanted to be felt, to be used, that’s why it flowed through his body in perpetual waves. That didn’t mean it didn’t need a break from time to time, and Rook thought sculpting the artful curve of a fin had to count for something. Besides, Manfred and the wisps seemed to get a kick out of it, with cute little titters and excited clapping. Rook was grateful Manfred hadn’t followed along with them this time. Even if he wouldn’t have been in danger, Rook didn’t know enough about any of it to be sure, he couldn’t imagine how the tormented spirits would have affected him. 

Emmrich would have been so worried. 

The illusion in his palm flickered and twisted, the shape softening into something familiar. Five delicate petals on a dainty stem. If he were any good at colour, they would be purple. A variegated weeping widower. Rook huffed, letting the breath take the illusion with it, like snuffing a candle. His head made a heavy thunk against the wall, harder than he meant and almost soothing for it. Pushing Emmrich from his mind was a heavier task than he’d imagined, and his antsy energy hadn’t abated. The simple thought of him brought a flood, a warm wash, hands on his body and lips over his, and - damn.

It was familiar enough, the sudden frisson of desire accompanied by the obvious thought. This space didn’t feel like his, it barely felt private, but he was technically alone. Besides the fish, but they were at his back. Then there was the guilt. Jerking off while the world was collapsing seemed just the kind of selfish thing he would do. Especially when the need was only so wild because Emmrich’s mouth had turned kindling want into an inferno. Rook’s breath was already coming faster and his heart thrummed against his ribs. It couldn’t hurt to take the edge off.

Rook glanced around the room as though he had to check. No one was there, of course. He hadn’t locked the door. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it had a lock. It wasn’t as if anyone had ever wandered in. Nerves aside, heat had already settled low in his belly and his knees fell open expectantly, his oversized shirt pooling between his thighs.

“Okay,” Rook breathed to himself, a required acknowledgement. This was happening, and he could feel guilty about it later. 

Thinking about Emmrich wasn’t initially the intent, it was just hard to avoid. His hand started at his neck, pushing the messy fall of his hair out of the way and he remembered Emmrich doing the same. How gentle he’d been when healing, warmth bent over him, breath against his temple and the echo of his words - take care of yourself, Rook - suddenly felt like direction. 

The memory guided him as he flicked through the buttons on his shirt, but he was more lascivious. Caution and care were intentionally thrust aside so that the pads of his fingers brushed over his skin. Patience had never suited him, though the idea fluttered through his mind that Emmrich would be patient. Emmrich would touch him assiduously, and it had been so long since anyone had touched him. Rook whimpered, a ghost of sound in an empty room, and he bit his lip to quell it. 

Good, because his impatience was showing and he muffled a gasp as the heel of his hand pressed over the growing heat between his thighs. His hips rocked up, so eager for anything at all that it would have been easy to take the pleasure and run. Rook slowed only because it was Emmrich’s voice in his ear. A whisper of patience and he shuddered, forcing himself to put in the effort. 

It did feel good to be bare. The air was just cool enough to prickle his skin and raise bumps on the sensitive flesh of his thighs. There was only so much fervor Rook could contain and he was indulgent, drawing his hot palm from his throat down his chest, lingering to rub over his pebbled nipples until the nails of his other hand were biting into his leg. His body was already swelling with sensation, ripe, and - 

The sudden crash of a fist against his door, urgent pounding set a fire of adrenaline through Rook’s veins. 

“Rook.” It was Taash, explaining the weight of the knocks. “Demon’s at it again!” 

Which meant Lucanis. 

“I’ll be right there!” Rook scrambled to put himself back into order, hissing at how it tortured his skin to drag fabric back over it. He blew out a flustered breath before dragging in another. “Patience,” he reminded himself out loud, and at least he could make himself laugh.

**I'm so rude to cut him off like that but so be it!