#kell maresh

I just wanna see what happens bb Rhy says to bb Kell, holding out spelled rope.

Kell stares at him, eyes wide, not necessarily wanting to do this, but not really, even at a young age all, able to say no when Rhy decided they want to do something.

“Fine,” teen Kell says, “I’ll let you put spelled cuffs on me.” He pauses. “But YOU have to do the spellwork.”

“Kelllll,” Rhy whines, “you know that’s much harder for me than you.” Kell crosses his arms. Resolves to hold his ground. Crumbles around the sixth minute of Rhy pouting and pleading.

“Fine.”

“Rhy,” young adult Kell says, “…I think maybe we are too old for this game.”

Rhy is only wearing a bathrobe, a pair of the spelled cuffs dangling from one hand. His dark hair is tousled and he reeks of alcohol and sex. “I think,” Rhy slurs, “that maybe now we’re just old enough.” Kell blushes. Hard. Hates it.

“C’mon, brother,” Rhy says, drawing out the word, causing Kell’s stomach to flip (and his stupid, treacherous, traitorous cock to take an interest.)

“No,” Kell says, softly, “not… not like this.”

Rhy cocks his head. “Oh?”

“You’re drunk,” Kell says.

“Yes. The question is why aren’t you, actually?”

“No,” Kell says firmly, and for the first time, walks away.

The next morning, Rhy is NOT ashamed, because of course he isn’t. “So…” he says, settling into Kell’s bed beside him. “What if I had been sober?”

Kell blinks groggily, a spell at the tip of his fingers. “Rhy. Really?”