#knightingale

It isn't as if Julien wanted this to happen. This--this obsession that he has, it's dangerous. Caring gets you killed. Teor's body, still warm, can speak to that. And yet: the Tachonis boy.

What had he been thinking? Jumping out a window without a second thought, trusting Occtis' word more than gravity. And then, of course, the rest of it; the terrible fear in Occtis voice, the anger, those poison green eyes. His gaze had seemed to pin Julien to the spot. Why do you care? And Julien couldn't answer. Because Occtis was dangerous, surely. Because he was the key to defeating the Tachonis. Because he was the only link to a life Julien knows is dead forever.

But he didn't use any of those (perfectly reasonable, rehearsed) excuses. Instead he choked on his words for about an eternity before blathering something about what Occtis' family might still want with him. It wasn't a lie--I don't want them to get their hands on you--but it wasn't the truth, either. Because the truth, Julien knows, is not that he's afraid of, by losing Occtis, gaining another enemy, but losing another friend. The truth is that Julien has seen the violent bruising around Occtis' neck, the jagged line down his sternum, and aches at the thought of what else such a family could do.

Thankfully, Occtis didn't catch on. Quite the opposite, actually, if the flash of hurt in his eyes was to be believed. But as Occtis spat dismissals in barely-cloaked terror, Julien wondered if this was really any better. He could barely admit his...affection, obsession, whatever--to himself; voicing it to Occtis was out of the question. But Julien could tell that when Occtis said the only two people who care about me, he believed it. And once again, against all logic, Julien ached.

So he followed. Of course he followed. And thank the dead gods he did--if not for Julien, Occtis might still be frozen in place, staring at the man that--Julien is beginning to realize--has hurt him far more than his current scars belie. It's such a far cry from the sharp-witted, terrifying necromancer Julien's been traveling with that a new kind of hatred for Primus Tachonis enters his heart. When he kills that man, he will do it for his father, his home, his honor--yes. But he will also do it for the life of Occtis Tachonis, who trembled under Julien's arm the whole way back to the Fang house.

And now--here they are. Occtis still convinced that Julien sees him as a tool at best, Julien still despairing every time catching those poison eyes sends a thrill down his spine. Orbiting each other like twin stars. Julien tries to kill this caring, he really does. There is every possibility that Occtis will be dead tomorrow, one of his many enemies catching up to him, and Julien cannot afford to fall apart again if that happens. It seems, though, that Julien's affection takes after the boy himself: it simply will not die. Occtis Tachonis is dangerous, heartless, terrified and terrifying. He hates Julien's guts and believes Julien feels the same. And, shapers damn him, Julien Davinos doesn't care. He wants to follow this beautiful, wretched creature into realms beyond, if it means keeping him safe. He wants to never see that petrified look on Occtis' face again. He wants--damn it all--to hold him, just that, without the threat of imminent death.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role: Aramán (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Julien Davinos/Occtis Tachonis Characters: Julien Davinos, Occtis Tachonis Additional Tags: spoilers for 4x31 - trick of the light, Mention of suicidal behavior, mention of miscarriage, julien refusing to examine his own feelings Summary:

Julien and Occtis take the opportunity to talk during their last night in Dol-Makjar, knowing that the next day they will head northward towards Timmony, and eventually the Golden Orchard.

“Hey, this is for you. Though you probably don’t need it.”

A bottle of wine was pressed into his hands and Occtis sat down in front of him, almost prim even when he was seated on the ground.

“It’s from Hal’s cellar, so it’s gotten a little warm, I hope that’s fine,” Occtis said. “I can’t drink it, so…”

“I don’t mind warm wine,” Julien said, popping off the cork and taking a swig. Not Davinos wine, but tolerable. “And tonight is a good night not to think.”

“We won’t have Thaisha with us to get rid of your hangover in the morning,” Occtis warned.

“She wouldn’t have done it anyway, so the situation has not changed,” Julien said. He studied Occtis a moment. He still looked a little banged up, but better than before. “Someone finally got around to tending your injuries?”

“Uh, yeah. Kattigan,” Occtis said.

- cup

It's not like Occtis doesn't know what Julien is doing when he comes crawling in on his hands and knees like this. He's done it before himself, in less obvious ways. He could say something, could call him out.

But he doesn't.

Because there's something about watching that skin turn from pink to red. Watching welts appear, distorting the smooth curves of his ass.

Occtis's body no longer changes. But Julien's does.

It produces sweat as he pulls and yells, twisting enough that there will be bruises around his wrists tomorrow.

It produces tears when frustrated sobs turn to pleading, when Occtis refuses to alter the skin further, to take those bright reds to shades of green or purple.

It produces other things when Occtis flips him over and sits on his thighs, pinning him down just as surely as any restraints as he claims that very alive cock as his own, when he strokes it, or slides one of the bars from his kit into it, watching it sink down inside, watching for a dozen lovely reactions to that. And of course when he puts his mouth on it....

Occtis knows what it is to seek out punishment for failures only visible to your own eyes.

He knows if he does not, then Julien will find a different way to do so.

And Occtis is too greedy to let those enthralling changes be thrown away. If they are to be produced anyway, why should he not take joy in them, hoard them for his own pleasure.

There's always something about how Occtis carries himself that makes Julien's blood boil. He wants to knock the boy down a peg. He needs to. The way Occtis uses his rank as lord in the place of a hovering blade inches from Julien's neck, ready to pierce into his skin at the slightest misstep, makes Julien's need to get some kind of revenge on the boy grow all the stronger. It's a constant lingering of blood on the back of his tongue when he looks at the young Occtis Tachonis, a reminder of who Occtis' family are and who Julien's own family were.

And so what if Julien's hand finds its way around Occtis' neck? So what if it begins to tighten? One cannot wield a threat nor a blade without the bodily control that comes from the intake of breath. It really is too bad that Julien forgets so easily how the dead do not need their breath. No matter how many times he suppresses the building anger, no matter how long he holds the boy by his neck, no matter the immeasurable rage and hate put into the act, Occtis Tachonis will not die—not like this.

But so what if Julien does this to Occtis? It is not as if he fights back. Though maybe that is for other reasons, ones that Julien can't yet understand. Let us not forget that there are other sorts of things that can happen to a body when its airflow is restricted. Who's to say that Occtis Tachonis isn't getting something from this ordeal too?

Maybe Julien's anger and Occtis' craving for human touch—for a more, shall we say, purposefully charged one—could yet come together if the time was right. After all, sex is something they have both thought about in the context of each other's company on lonely nights such as these. And who's to say that hate and passion don't make an excellent pair?

- cup

What a fun little concept and evocative writing, cup.

It does make one wonder, Occtis has some blood left in him, doesn't he? Although it doesn't move?

and. well. it's a convenient thing that julien has never been one to shy away from putting on a... personal show for anyone that asks

- cup

Yes, cup, and you want to know the funny / kinda fucked up thing?

It's not just the exhibition that's getting Julien off here.

It's something in the way Occtis studies his body, like it's not really even Julien he's looking at, just the body. Julien is just a butterfly pinned for a bit, an experiment being researched.

He gets so hard when Occtis makes him wait, or moves him so he can see a line of muscles better, or changes something not to make it better for Julien, but purely so he can see what happens.

Between that and the distracted tone of voice, just a minute Julien, move your leg a bit.... Now hold on we're going to try.... Oh don't be like that it's not that much bigger..... It's just cold Julien your body will ... See it's fine....

He should, cup. (hey this is an older ask, if you've got another name by now let me know and I'll combine)

Julien lives for the adrenaline, and there's something almost more thrilling because he knows exactly how it will end. It doesn't matter where the Chase starts out, it could be through the streets of city, through brambles and orchards, through the trees of the forest, it will end with him trapped and cornered.

Occtis has a style, he's learned. He likes to draw it out, he likes to play with him a bit. Make just enough sound that Julien can duck away. Let himself be glimpsed through the brush. Brush fingers so lightly against his hair in a crowed street hat he's not even sure if he was imagining it or not. Occtis is never there when he whips around.

Julien suspects wizardry.

Occtis has never caught him before he was out of breath. He likes to make his quarry run, make him pant and sweat and be so acutely aware that he's being too loud, that anything could hear him try to breath, anything could be there in the darkness watching and waiting. That being caught is his own weakness.

It when he's jumping at every sound, when his breath is coming hard, when he can feel the sweat weighing down his hair, when his muscles are starting to protest.. he knows the end is near.

The end of an ally, the corner of a room, the edge of a cliff. His heart beats so loud when he looks around and there's no where to run. No way to get away.

He's on his knees, neck bared as Occtis approaches, his chest tight and his mouth dry and not bothering to hide the dark need in his eyes.

Never let it be said that Julien Davinos concedes without a fight.

Never let it be said that he will fail to concede when a worthy opponent has earned it.

The first feeling of teeth in his neck is the part that Julien will come back to later, feeling the mark and touching himself shamelessly. Occtis is far stronger than he looks, and he doesn't need or particularly cares to wait for Julien's leave to drag him, to put him down on his belly, to mount him as roughly as he pleases.

Another way he will be sore in the morning.

He doesn't always, but Julien likes it best when he can feel the sickly magic overtake him, drawing him into unconsciousness. His last thoughts imagining waking up bound over a hunters workbench, prepared to be harvested, or perhaps hanging, waiting to be drained.

It's always a clean bed and soft hands he wakes up to, and he does not complain. It's a pleasant enough end, and he does hope their little game always does truly end here.