Broken Boulder i can't tell if the want justifies the need

set for the 27th, tagging @Outlander for visibility!

It would take some time for the infection to abate, but already he felt more clear-headed; enough to be anxious as he bid Outlander farewell and slipped across the borders. He'd been selfish to leave— reckless, too, and he knew Zamael and Eris would be pissed. Especially once they scented the infection on him. He kind of hoped @Delight was somehow unaware of his absence, but he had enough presence of mind to know it was unlikely.
Alarian made a beeline for his den, already making plans for the night. It was all mapped out in his head— he'd hide in his den for awhile, eat a few too many poppy seeds, and eventually creep out for food when everyone was asleep. The sun was about ready to set, now; it wouldn't be too long. If he could just get there without incident, it'd all be fine.

alarian is missing, of all things. of all things! delight's paws are full enough with the children (who, blessedly, seem to be bouncing back from his and queenie's mistakes), let alone keeping track of his -- of the governor's healing and apparent death wish. and it's not like he can just go after him either -- in his absence the chancellor is the leader, and while the sanctuary mostly keeps itself together, he's not so irresponsible as to drop everything and chase after the boy he.. to chase after a boy.

at first he is anxious and concerned, but as time ticks by, that worry turns to frustration and finally to a slow seething anger at alarian's selfishness. how dare he -- when he has a pack, responsibilities, when he and delight ... ?

he's made his way to the other boy's den with half a mind to wait there until he shows back up. it turns out he does not have to wait long, sitting like a statue amongst the collected herbs, watching the sun slowly sink on the horzion when alarian returns.

"alarian," delight says, his voice a low hiss, dripping promise of emotion neverbefore seen -- his body does not know anger, hardly wears it well, and yet it has settled on him now underneath shedding skin.

and night comes to bracken sanctuary.

Relief washed over him as he neared his den, not a single soul in sight, and weariness replaced the fading tension. Given just a few beats to relax, he was surprised enough by Delight's presence in his den to almost be happy to see him for about a quarter of a second. It all came back to him fairly quickly, though, plus some— oh, he looked mad. Shit.
His heart dropped, and he could only stand there guiltily for several moments, ears flattening at the way Delight said his name. Um... Finally something slipped from him, unbidden, but he quickly realized he had no idea where to go from there. He swallowed hard. He knew he'd fucked up— Delight had every right to be mad. That didn't mean he knew how to deal with it, though. A moment later, he choked out a Hi. — and immediately regretted it.

tick, tick, tick, the moment beats by, delight allowing the silence between them to become suffocating before he opens his mouth again. he may as well be breathing fire for the tenor to his voice, cut like dragon's teeth. "is that all," a sharp exhale, "you have to say for yourself? are you --"

his voice breaks but he does not let himself cry, teeth snapping shut with an audible click. when he trusts himself to speak again he shoves on, ignoring if alarian's begun to speak or not. "you almost died, you ass," the androgyne snarls, unforgiving, "you almost died on top of me, and you have the -- the audacity to just leave like you aren't still hurt? like you have nothing here to live for?"

oh he hasn't forgotten the night shade, that pesky detail lost in the aftermath, zamael's panic and alarian's apology swallowed by blood. there's nightshade behind his eyes when he sleeps, imagining if he'd been a moment later, what alarian must have been doing, what he would have done to him! no -- he just can't allow it. he won't. even if he has to scream sense back into the governor, gnash his teeth and pull his ears and grasp him and make him see what's right in front of him.

He struggled not to flee under the weight of the silence that had settled between them, struggled not to flinch from Delight's tone when he finally spoke— he'd earned this, and he'd take it quietly, he thought. Or, try. He swallowed hard again, and did exactly that; he listened silently and let the anger cut into him.

It didn't hurt as much as he might have imagined— the anger, at least. What hurt more was the knowledge that he'd caused this; honestly, he'd only really seen Delight angry once before, and that— had also been his fault. Fuck. He blinked and averted his gaze as the last sentence hit him, focusing on some indistinct point on the ground slightly to the left. It was easier to stare at that than into Delight's anger, because he knew it was anger born of hurt, and he couldn't—

I'm sorry, The words came quietly, his voice trembling slightly, and he paused to force his gaze back to Delight. I was— I meant to come back sooner. I just needed— time away. To— think. It was more thinking than I realized it'd be, he wanted to add, but the words caught in his throat and he fell silent again.

it'd  be easier if alarian fought back -- it'd be easier to hold onto this anger because he wants to hold onto it, wants it to lick every word, wants to ruin whatever it is that is-or-isn't happening between them. but alarian folds under him and takes the heat with him, sucking the passion out of delight's expression, leaving it brittle and cold like a winter storm. like the king elk's corpse in the forest long gone. 

"think about what," he asks harshly. he doesn't want to know the answer he realises as he asks it, but does not take it back -- he deserves a little hurt too. his mouth splits open, something else on the tip of his tongue -- but at the last moment it closes, the sound swallowed back into his throat, hiding in his soft palate. for the moment, for now. he wants to hear what alarian has to offer.

He watched the flames fade from Delight's expression and hated the chill that followed, shrinking further into himself. The question made him freeze, too, but in a different way— this was ice creeping too quickly up his chest, a spreading cold he could only describe as fear. This wasn't how he'd wanted to tell him— hell, he hadn't wanted to tell him at all, but he knew any moment it would come bubbling out and he'd—
Um, He swallowed, breath coming a little faster now. I— you. The word dropped like a stone through still waters and struck him hard in the chest. There were a million things wrong with this scene. It shouldn't have come out like that, during this— it shouldn't have come out at all. It was several moments before he could force more words out, voice shaking and raw.
I-I'm sorry, I should— The word go stuck to his tongue, but he took a step back anyway, preparing to retreat and— somehow devise a way to avoid Delight forever.

you.

delight's thoughts are a five car pile up, crashing behind his eyes. the collision is almost enough to let alarian slip away -- but he moves on instinct, flinging himself across the den to block the governor's exit. "no," he says, the sound coming out in a gasp, "you don't get to -- you don't get to do that, alarian, you don't get to say that and just -- just run off!"

it's patently ridiclous -- delight is a mere slip of a boy, wildly fluffed streaks of umber painted as a blockade against the pinked-out sky. his thoughts still whirr too quickly for him to really process what's happening, but there's no going back now. he'll take the plunge. 

"because," oh how does he, "because i was thinking about you, too."

delight's eyes cut twin moons, sharp and anxious: get it?

He found Delight in his path before he could take another step, and his heart leapt up into his throat, beating so fast and loud he struggled to focus on what was being said. At first, he didn't understand. Then— then, 'I was thinking about you, too. Then he couldn't breathe, and for some reason the words felt sharp and unforgiving— it wasn't supposed to happen like this. And, fuck— Zamael was fucking right, the asshole.
You shouldn't, His voice cracked a little, raw and full of relief and apprehension in equal, warring amounts. Before he could stop himself, he took a step towards Delight, unable to look away from him. Even now he was beautiful— the word caught on the frayed edges of his emotions, whirled around his head as if to taunt him; he'd never dared allow himself to think of his friend that way. His friend. They weren't friends any more, were they? It's a bad idea. I— I fuck everything up, and I'll fuck this up, too.
Another step closer. His heart didn't slow, not for a second, matching the pace of his thoughts and his breath and this stupid, irrational, ill-advised urge rising within him like floodwater. He was close enough to touch now; the den wasn't large, and suddenly he was hyper-aware of how alone they were. I don't want to hurt you, He murmured, moving even closer, taking in Delight's scent and realizing he wanted this too much. More than he'd wanted anything in a long time. But he didn't want to hurt him.
He lingered for a beat, two, so close he could just barely feel the heat from Delight's body, but not quite touching. But, I— Alarian swallowed the words fighting to escape and leaned to press his nose into the soft chocolate fur of his cheek, muzzle trailing through the fur there and coming to rest at the base of his ear if the touch was allowed; he pressed himself gently to Delight, certain the other could feel the shallowness of his breath and the pounding of his heart. He let the touch say what he could not vocalize— but I'm going to anyway, because I don't know how to do anything else, and I think I need you.

the lingering frost of his gaze shatters. he is still angry -- will be for some time, he suspects, given his natural ability to carry a grudge -- but it is the kind of angry that can be worked on. besides, there is no room for that sort of weaponized intensity here, not when they are both plunging headfirst into vulnerability. delight doesn't want to be the one to draw first blood.

"stop trying to die on me then," the joke coming out as a plea: i can only take so much, alarian. "and i'm not -- i'm not good like you think i am either, i'm bad luck, but --" he, too, lets the words die between them, his breath catching as alarian is suddenly close. he'd been this close to him before -- when the governor was bleeding out on the earth. his eyes trail over those still healing injuries, remembering the feel of his blood in his fur, what a strangely intimate thing. (he finds he much prefers this, no blood at all, and suspects he will enjoy it even more when alarian is no longer covered in wounds). 

when he moves it feels as if he is emerging from a trance, turning into the other's touch, his own heart in his throat. carefully he brings his nose against alarian's cheek, down toward the point where jaw meets throat, the vulnerable pressure point. a small whine escapes him as he finally finishes his thought: "i want."

His heart lurched painfully at Delight's— request, if it could be called that. Sometimes he still thought about it— about dying, about how much easier it would be. But he could feel the rawness in the other's words, and suddenly it just wasn't an option; he'd never been under the impression no one would care, but it hadn't felt real, it hadn't felt like actually hurting anyone until now.
But it was easier to focus on what he said next. He almost wanted to laugh, but he at least had the sense to know it would not be well-received. Delight, he wanted to say, would have said if his throat didn't feel so constricted, you're the best luck I've ever had. And in a way it was sad, because it was true, at least from where he was standing— despite everything, Delight was right here, telling him he wanted him. It was all he'd ever wanted from those he'd dared to love, but it'd been too much to ask. He wouldn't have asked it of Delight, not when the fragile dark boy already had burdens of his own— but here he stood, caught in the storm, already bruised and bloodied from it and still asking for more.
A shiver raced down his spine at Delight's trailing touch, rational thought fleeing from him at the speed of light. All he could think was that—
You— are beautiful, He murmured into his fur, breath hitching slightly. His exploration resumed, taking the form of soft, hesitant preening, working slowly from the base of his ear down his neck. For once, lust did not fuel his own actions; he just wanted to— touch, explore, memorize, convince himself this was real. He pressed more tightly against Delight, realizing at once that he wanted to be this close much more often, and that this was not close enough at all.

there is too much tenderness here; it is suffocating. he has never dared to hope that he could have this -- with alarian, with any beautiful boy that caught his gaze. but here is alarian, wanting him, wanting him wanting him, so easy, so perfect. he should turn away and close the door but it is already too late. (maybe it's been too late for a long time.) delight can't stop himself -- here is alarian's neck, here is alarian's throat, here is alarian's cheek and his shoulder, mapping fragmented soft spots.

"shh," embarrassed comes the whisper, unable to handle too much praise before he will completely come undone and fall apart, a pile of loose thread for alarian to pick through. and then, because of course he has never not known when to shut up and feel, "i mean, thank you, it's just, it's a lot right now, but you're beautiful too, you know, or umhandsome if you prefer, a-alarian," and the name comes in a hitched breath as they press closer, heat rising throughout his body -- he has not been this close to another man in some time but oh his body remembers and knows better than he ever could for himself. "alarian," he sighs again, craning to nibble at his ear, "what do..." you want, he doesn't finish, distracted by trying to commit to memory the exact way his ear feels under his mouth, of all things.

This time, it was an effort to stifle the laugh that bubbled up in his throat inappropriately. He swallowed it back, letting the moment pass in silence until Delight said his name again. He hadn't thought it possible for his heart to beat any faster— he was proven wrong as his mind finished the question distantly, the words taking a backseat to the feeling of Delight's mouth on his ear. He swallowed hard, pulling back slightly.
U-um, whatever— you want? He tried weakly, realizing several things in that moment. One— he was way too insecure to outright assume Delight meant sex even if it seemed sort of obvious, even if they were literally all over each other about half a second ago. Two— sex was a much more daunting topic when there were feelings involved, holy shit. Three— Delight was definitely the Designated Decision Maker in this relationship; whether he liked it or even knew about it didn't matter too much, really. Sorry Del.

alarian does not laugh at him or get annoyed, and oh, maybe this is love. especially when -- whatever you want, jesus, how can he hand so much of himself over to delight like that? does he really trust him that much? "everyone i care about dies," he says, realising a split second later oh i didnt mean to say that out loud and oh god wait how the fuck do i recover that "that is, uh, not everyone but -- dies or goes away, i guess, i'm sort of -- this is really not sexy i am so sorry."

which, inadvertently, reveals what he actually wants. horrified at himself the androgyne pulls back, expression only a little frantic. "it's just -- you're just -- i don't know why you, you trust me like that. i don't... know if i deserve it."

Well, that wasn't what he expected. He could only blink for a moment, until Delight pulled away from him and his next words spilled out, strangely corrosive in their rawness. He paused. Delight— He swallowed, pausing again to search for the words. You deserve it. You deserve better— something that won't fall apart, and I don't know if I can manage that— A brief, weak snort punctuated the word. — but I want to try, because I—
He swallowed hard. Because I mean, yeah, you're reallycuteandsmartandfunnyandIthinkIcouldtalktoyouforever and that's amazing but— butmoreimportantly you haven't abandoned me like— like everyone does. And I don't know if I deserve that. But I— Alarian closed the new distance between them, pressing his nose to Delight's cheek again and lowering his voice to a murmur.
I care about you, and I want to give you something that won't— die or go away. I want— this. You. Us, even, unless— He laughed nervously. Unless that's— too fast.

"oh," he says, because what else can he say to that? alarian is objectively wrong, probably, but he is not going to voice that and risk ruining whatever fragile thing is blooming between them. he blushes at the contact, as if they hadn't been all over each other a moment ago, and manages to say "us is -- us is good, i think. i guess we can not deserve each other together." a wry smile turns his mouth as he turns his mouth against alarian, giving him a tiny lick. thank you, it says, for not running screaming into the night from my reckless thoughts. 

but: "i'm still mad at you," the chancellor says, sounding rather not mad at all. in fact, he sounds pleased, even if he pouts at alarian a beat, making sure he can see his expression before surrendering and pressing his nose against alarian's cheek, fairly certain he's totally ruined the mood.

He released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding when Delight agreed— because, of course, there was always the chance he was being too much again. He managed a smile at the comment that followed, eyes fixed on the other's features as if his life depended on studying each subtle shift. Really, he didn't deserve Delight at all— didn't deserve the chance to hurt him like he hurt everyone he tried to love.
I'm still mad at you. The smile turned slightly playful, tone shifting with his next words. Well, I'll just have to— make it up to you, then, It came out half-questioning, a note of anxiety lurking in his voice; he hadn't forgotten where things had been headed just a moment ago. He traced his previous path through Delight's fur hesitantly, this time diverging to press several feather-light kisses along his jawline as he waited for his response, pulse increasing all over again. Distantly, he wondered if he could actually give himself a heart attack this way— wouldn't that be fun.

yes that is exactly what he is angling for dear sweet alarian. dear sweet alarian with that gentle mouth -- so kind, so soft, so different than delight had imagined (in the darkest moments of night when he'd let himself imagine). was he like this with his other lovers, the epicene's treacherous mind asks slyly, or is this softness special for you? 

"it's been a while," he warns instead, leaving the juxtaposition between them unspoken. never outwardly would he own jealousy -- it'd be unfair. even now he can't imagine alarian is his, even if that's what he wants. "um, that is, if you were thinking..." again he trails off! saying it out loud: what he wants, what they can do -- it crosses a line he's hesitating at. the moment where us becomes us, at least as far as delight is concerned. does the governor even feel the same? (and look, how he creates distance -- "the governor", not alarian. may he be struck down if he ever removes alarian from his thoughts with silly pseudonyms -- he does not even want that much separation between them.)

Selfishly, hypocritically, he found himself relieved when Delight admitted it had been a while— the thought of another touching him made his stomach turn, an uncomfortable feeling he found himself entirely unused to. He didn't have to focus on it for long. It felt like it was happening too fast— there was no time to think about it, but he'd pushed the matter, so maybe he didn't need to think, maybe he was just—
I— yeah, He confirmed without thought, breath hitching. Oh no. What if he disappointed him? His only real experience was— I, um, I— I'm not used to— feelings— with this. The confession was almost painful to choke out. He sucked in a breath. Don't hate me.
They were both great at killing the mood, weren't they? He decided he didn't care if Delight didn't, scattering more gentle kisses over his face, hesitant as if asking a question— do you still want this? And, honestly, part of him expected a no.

cute, he thinks, even as the implications in that statement start to unravel in his mind. for a moment he is silent, leaning into alarian's affections until a soft sigh gives way. "i'm used to too many feelings," delight murmurs, and licks the corner of his mouth, more teasing than he means. his nerves are all over the place -- bouncing from fury to confession has frayed him. moving from alarian now feels like a death sentence despite the sloshing in his belly. as he moves to return each kiss a tiny whine escapes him, fleeing into the milimetres between them. 

he could say, we have plenty of time, or lets take it slow. instead he says, "you don't need to be so gentle," blushing fiercely under dark fur, "not that i don't appreciate it." he does not know he is alarian's appointed decision maker, but here's a decision for you anyway: let soft give way to sharp, and make him yours.

vagues thru the gay

He thought for a moment that he'd done it— he'd ruined it already— but then Delight spoke, and then his ears flushed hot at his tongue over the corner of his mouth. He let himself melt into the places where they touched, skin burning deliciously where each returned kiss fell. Only Delight existed right then, and that was all he needed. His breath hitched again when he heard the whine, and stopped entirely for a couple beats at the suggestion to follow.
He blinked. Wait, don't be gentle? For a few moments he didn't think he could manage that— couldn't imagine being anything but gentle with Delight. Yet, the thinly-veiled request sparked some darker desire within him; something that had already shown itself, but so infrequently he often convinced himself it didn't exist at all. Each time the feeling had reared its ugly head, it'd been easy to shove down— for lack of reciprocation or access, or simply because it had only been on a physical level.
This time was different. This time, wrapping himself wordlessly around Delight like a choking storm and exploring every inch of him he was allowed, trailing his mouth over sensitive places with sharp nips and wet kisses, acquainting himself with the most intimate details of his lover (he shivered to think of him as that now), he knew he couldn't avoid it. Whatever it really was— he'd soon find out, he thought.
Even when the storm had settled and the passion faded to contentment, he was reluctant to break their closeness. He lingered near, anxious, fussing over him with affections turned soft and tentative again as if the intensity from before had never existed at all. His teeth combed gently through his scruff, countless words bubbling up in his throat and dying before they could escape. All he could think was that he really hoped it was— good, even though they hadn't gone all the way just yet, even though he wasn't quite ready for that.

maybe it was a mistake to give alarian release like that -- not like that, that is, but to give him permission to invade his personal space in ways he hasn't in so long. he wanted to, he still wants to, but unlike the throes of passion that wash over his newfound lover, delight mostly feels awkward. it's a little wet and a little unfamiliar, relearning what his body likes. he doesn't dare let any of this show through his face, afraid of pushing (the governor, if we may reclaim a little distance) away at such a critical moment. 

instead he hides his face in alarian's fur, opting for feigned shyness as he melts into the sweet aftercare. it's not that he regrets it -- he doesn't! -- but maybe the whole scene is just too much for him. sigh. he probably should say something before alarian figures out what's eating at him. "good..?" the chancellor asks his .. whatever they are, keeping attention carefully on him until he can slip out of alarian's spotlight and, uh, process. all of that.

It'd been too easy to lose himself to old habits; the convoluted mess of attraction and anxiety had melted away into a single point of focus, a willing body, something he knew far better than he knew how to navigate feelings. The silence allowed him to hold on for a little longer, to pretend he knew what he was doing here. Of course, it wasn't meant to last. Whatever sense of security he'd imagined came crashing down when he heard Delight's voice.
He should never have touched him. Something vague and maybe-imagined in his tone made Alarian's stomach twist uncomfortably. Unlike Delight, he did regret this now, swallowing back the nausea rising up his throat on a wave of disgust and self-loathing. Everything in him raced to slam down steel walls, but he hesitated at the last moment, idiot that he was; the dark-furred boy lingered only half beyond his boundaries, would inevitably be caught under the crushing weight of whatever barrier he put between them.
It— it wasn't— bad, was it? Instead he quietly drew the curtains, hating his vulnerability here and finding himself unable to rip it away entirely after he'd offered it so freely. Delight's question went ignored— he didn't think he could answer it. The gentle preening ceased, but he didn't move away from him. He could only focus on his own breathing, and how the pause between their words had suddenly become a prison.

alarian's expression makes him wince -- what must have shown on his face to inspire such sudden self doubt? guilt surges through him -- he pushed himself too hard too fast and now alarian will bear the brunt of it -- and he pulls back a little bit, searching for his eyes. "no!" he says, a little too quickly in his haste to be reassuring, "no, no, it wasn't bad, just -- just kinda awkward, yeah?" after all if his expression has already been read he might as well pursue honesty here, even if he's still afraid of it hurting them -- he'd rather alarian be hurt by the truth than by something he thinks is worse. 

hesitantly he reaches out, pressing a featherlight kiss to alarian's scarred cheek. "like i said, too many feelings," the chancellor offers, hoping the self-deprecation will ease some of the tension that's taken up in his .. lover's form.

Awkward. He craved the safety of a full retreat more than ever, and still— still, he hesitated. The kiss broke him from his thoughts. It was his turn to hide his face in the other's fur, opting to tuck himself a little closer to Delight when all he wanted to do was flee. The significance of the decision was lost on him now, caught between conflicting emotions. There was something deeply unsettling about their closeness now, but the longer he lingered, the less he thought he could bear to untangle himself.
He didn't say anything. He didn't trust himself to speak, and for now, it was enough to know that the experience hadn't put Delight off entirely. But— well— there'd been a fight, and then there was disappointing sex, and really Alarian didn't think he could get any better at fucking everything up. And whenever one of them finally worked up the nerve to suggest they part ways, he knew whatever obligation he felt to— to not close off entirely would leave with Delight. And then— he'd probably just die or something. Or, spend a lot of time wishing he could.