#corvoxdaud

Corvo stared at him patiently, setting his book aside to show Daud that he had his full attention.

Daud came to a halt before him; his cheeks were faintly flushed, and he was breathing rather hard. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d looked like that in Corvo’s room before, but usually he was in some state of undress as well.

When Daud only stared back, Corvo pulled out his notebook and a tiny stub of a pencil. He bit back a sigh, remembering all over again that he needed to get a new one. It could wait for a time when Daud wasn’t acting so erratically, though. He flipped to the first clean page and started to write: what—

“Sign it to me,” Daud said abruptly, before he could finish writing. He had the annoying habit of reading Corvo’s words upside down when he had the opportunity, and responding before Corvo could finish if he was impatient enough.

Corvo looked back up at him blankly. Daud didn’t know how to sign.

“Sign it to me,” Daud repeated slowly, his hands moving clumsily through the corresponding symbols as he spoke.

Suddenly, Corvo knew all too well what had gotten Daud so worked up. He felt heat rush to his own face; he hadn’t known Daud was learning sign, if he had he— Well, he wouldn’t have stopped, but a bit of warning would have been nice all the same.

Who taught you? Corvo signed, then did so again at a slower speed when Daud’s brows pinched together in incomprehension.

Daud scowled when he deciphered the gestures. “Emily and Cleon.” Corvo recognized the second name as one of Daud’s Whalers— one of the few who knew how to sign as well. That made sense, though Emily’s involvement surprised him. “That’s not what you were going to ask me, though.” Daud’s gaze flicked to the notebook lying abandoned on Corvo’s lap, then back up to his face.

I think I know what is wrong now.

Daud’s scowl deepened at that. “It’s not— wrong.” He ground out the last word like it physically pained him, which certainly suggested that he had just lied. Corvo just leveled an unimpressed look at him. Daud crossed his arms over his chest. “I just don’t know how to deal with this new knowledge.”

Knowing bothers you?

“Yes. No!” Daud amended quickly. “It’s unexpected and I. Should have waited. Before coming back here.”

It might’ve been entertaining to witness Daud’s agitation under other circumstances; he was usually so self-contained, otherwise. As it was, Corvo only felt sick to his stomach.

“I’m fucking this up, as usual,” Daud muttered, stepping back. He paced a few steps toward the fire, then back again.

If the idea is so upsetting to you, Corvo began, and then didn’t know where to go from there.

“It’s not!” Daud crossed the space between them in swift strides, dropping to his knees. He seemed in earnest. “I— I don’t understand,” he said, his hands closing around Corvo’s. “How you can— After all I’ve done—” His grip tightened when Corvo tried to pull away.

Corvo freed his hands, fixing Daud with an annoyed look now. He didn’t acknowledge Daud’s guilty, muttered apology when he realized he’d been preventing Corvo from replying. I know what you’ve done. I meant what I said. When Daud opened his mouth to reply, Corvo just held up his right hand. With deliberate slowness, staring Daud down all the while, he lowered his middle and ring fingers: I love you.

Daud ducked his head, but Corvo had already gotten a glimpse of his startled, open expression. Even now, Corvo could see the flushed skin at the back of his neck. Daud groaned in obvious embarrassment and resisted when Corvo tugged pointedly at his hair.

“I feel the same,” he said, looking back up. “Shit. It doesn’t come out the same if I don’t actually say the words.” He licked his lips. “I do love you. Even if it sounds like I’m only saying it because—”

Shut up. Corvo covered his mouth before Daud could ruin the moment any further, then pulled him into a kiss. Daud resisted at first, but when he had finally gone pliant and breathless beneath him, Corvo leaned back.

Do not ever do that again. E-V-E-R, he added, spelling the word out for emphasis.

Daud grinned up at him. “What, tell you I love you?”

Corvo narrowed his eyes. You know what I mean. Beloved, he added impulsively.

“What does that sign mean?” Daud mimicked the gesture.

Corvo lay on the bed, his absurdly long hair splayed across the thin excuse for a pillow. He looked younger in repose, the harsh lines of anger and disdain softened in sleep. Daud stifled the urge to reach out, which was fortunate; Corvo stirred not a moment later, jerking into full alertness in a span of seconds.

The silence dragged out as Daud stared at Corvo. The blankets pooled in his lap, but even so there was a lot of bare, tantalizing skin on display. Did he sleep entirely nude? Daud hated mysteries, and he intended to find out.

“What are you doing here?” Corvo’s question broke the silence, but he didn’t sound angry, merely confused. Promising.

Admitting it aloud would have been too revealing, so Daud simply leaned down and kissed him instead. As before, Corvo remained still for the space of a breath before reciprocating, the eager way that he pulled Daud onto the bed beside him belying his earlier hesitation. He moaned when Daud nipped at his lower lip but bit him right back, sharing the copper tang of blood between them.

The cot was a tight fit for one person, never mind two grown men; Daud pushed Corvo onto his back and settled over his hips, sitting back to admire the flush of Corvo’s face. And neck. And chest. It only seemed to spread the longer Daud stared at him, and he planted one gloved hand in the centre of Corvo’s chest when the Overseer made to sit up. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at Corvo before.

“Take these off,” Corvo said, tugging at the thick cuff of the glove. “I want you to fuck me.”

Daud groaned at the mental image that conjured - Corvo spread wide beneath him, his own cock leaking over his stomach, begging Daud to fuck him harder. Daud fumbled his gloves off with clumsy, jerking movements, hindered in his task by Corvo trying to divest him of his bandolier and coat.

“Daud,” Corvo said, in strange voice.

He gave up on finesse, undoing the fastening of his trousers with one bare and one gloved hand—

“—Daud!”

Daud flinched awake, his hand going for the blade he kept nearby. He relaxed marginally when the figure at his bedside resolved into one of his whalers. The lack of imminent threat didn’t stop him from glaring and barking out a harsh “What?” however.

“Thomas is back with news about Stride,” the whaler said. “He’s waiting for you downstairs.” He saluted and disappeared without another word.

Daud exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. The embarrassment of being woken in the midst of a sex dream by one of his subordinates was enough to kill his arousal; he only hoped the whaler hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, or that he wasn’t the type to gossip about it if he had. Daud had been too out of sorts to discern his identity by voice and build.

Predictably, Corvo’s eyes narrowed. Unpredictably, he merely remained where he was, blatantly looking over reports Daud had viewed earlier that day. “I can wait.” His tone made it clear he definitely wasn’t pleased to be made to wait, but he didn’t attempt to rectify the issue either. So it was his own damn fault.

Keeping his own frustration hidden, Daud shrugged and returned to the reports. “I appreciate your understanding,” he said, sardonic.

“Asshole,” he heard Corvo mutter, but the former Overseer still didn’t move any closer. After a few minutes, he resumed muttering to himself; at first Daud mistook it for further (absolutely unjustified, of course) maligning of his character, but as he caught more of the words, he realized that Corvo was reciting the Strictures.

It grated at Daud, that Corvo still recited them. His association with the Abbey of the Everyman had ended, and he’d borne the Outsider’s mark for even longer. Even before Daud had come to Dunwall or been marked, he’d had a poor opinion of the Abbey; his opinion only worsened when he saw how it tried to lord over the people of Gristol. Its hold had been much weaker in Serkonos, though not so weak that it had let someone as singular as Corvo Attano escape its grasp.

Daud wondered, in idle hours that he later scolded himself for, what might have been if Corvo hadn’t become an Overseer. If he’d been the Royal Protector to the previous Empress as well. If Daud had met him in Serkonos, or recruited him in Dunwall. All that loyalty turned to a person, not a faith; he was certainly devoted enough to Empress Emily—

But it wasn’t to be. Corvo had been claimed by the Abbey first. Even if he didn’t believe in the institution itself, he seemed to genuinely believe in the Strictures. So Daud said nothing about it. Restricted his lying tongue, as it were. He hated that he even knew that much of the Strictures.

Corvo didn’t even seem to be aware of it most of the time, muttering them under his breath after a particularly trying event. He also recited them at night, before he went to sleep. Daud hated that he knew that much about Corvo too; he still wasn’t certain how to characterize the nature of their relationship, but knowing how Corvo prepared himself for sleep was almost too intimate for him to bear.

“Will you stop reciting those damn strictures?” The words came out more harshly than Daud intended; the reports prepared so diligently by his scouts were crumpled in his hands. He’d stopped paying attention to them entirely around the time Corvo’d started reciting the Third.

At least half of his irritation was at himself for being so— foolish. His position was untenable. The murderer of the previous Empress had no business doing whatever this was with the Royal Protector of the current Empress, never mind that he was a heretic and Corvo was still an Overseer in the ways that mattered.

Corvo just smirked at him, unruffled by his agitation. Triumphant, even. Why—?

“Come over and make me,” Corvo said in a blatant imitation of Daud’s voice, raising his chin in challenge.