[ maybe it's not a good topic to discuss considering the way he's beginning to feel—guilt only part of it. larus is quiet as he takes all of it in and realizes now how dangerous a thing that particular knowledge is, especially if other vampires or creatures requiring blood learn of it. he frowns, trailing his fingers down to the back of dorian's neck. ]
I'll be more careful next time. [ a silent promise, and he presses into his skin, changing the subject again. ] Although, I can't say I'm not interested in learning some of your other limits.
[Dorian's fine with them skating over the blood and gore part of the conversation. Yesterday evening had been intense enough that he's had his fill of the sight, smell, and feeling of blood all over his skin for some time.
He smiles.
And amazingly, any potential lewdness in that second comment sails right over Dorian's head thanks to the tone.]
Well, for one, I can't keep a bruise. They fade away like disappearing ink. [He offers Larus his hand.] Everything starts purple, and then cycles quickly through red, green, and yellow, like a kaleidoscope. [On the canvas of his white skin, he thinks it's fetching.]
[ as fascinating as it is, it's not something he can bring himself to do just to see it happen. he's witnessed it on other vampires, on himself, and while it's interesting because dorian is not undead as far as he's aware, larus is more intrigued by other things. he takes his hand, but rather than apply pressure or bruise him in a way he knows he easily could, he brings it to his mouth for a kiss. he presses his lips to the palm, the wrist.
his heartbeat is strong, and larus listens to it as he looks at him. ]
I said I wouldn't hurt you, and I especially won't do it intentionally. I'll take your word for it and leave it at that. [ there's something beautiful in the fragility of people, a reminder he doesn't always have to feel so monstrous. ] You should take more care than you do.
[ never mind he's done and will do equally foolish things, like return to the down at some point. ]
[His eyes follow the progress of the kisses Larus presses down his palm, and then his wrist. The sweetness of the gesture contrasts against the cold of Larus' fingers, the reality of his being. It's a reoccurring realization that he finds moving each time it crosses his mind.]
I was, [he says, not missing a beat.] Didn't I put myself in your hands?
[ there could be something more in those words, but larus isn't certain how to process it or how to begin understanding it. he hasn't had much time to think about dorian alone specifically when it's always been a situation or their current circumstances. such a thing implies a sort of trust he wants to hold onto though, leaning to rest his forehead against the hand he holds. everything else is muted to him but this and the hypnotic thrum of dorian's pulse. ]
Are you trying to tempt me? [ since that's what it feels like too. ]
More often than not, Larus treats him with gentle care. The kind that someone with super strength must, he imagines, have to consciously moderate their own movements and grip to manage. Someone who can't hurt him even minimally, even if encouraged to and when the hurt won't stick, is at the very least a friend, if not something more tender.]
Why do you do that? [he asks, changing the subject. It's obvious why, but he wants to hear it in Larus' own words.] You like touching my wrists, and that first time on the couch between us the same feeling was in the way you kissed my neck, [he explains. Is it the warmth? The desire to feel halfway close to being alive by being close?]
[ he'd already known the answer to his own question, but he's not exactly prepared for the one dorian asks in return, abruptly aware of the placement of his hands even as he tilts his head back to look at him. why is it so easy to nearly lose himself when he's with someone else? or, more specifically, when he's with him? other people don't interest him nearly as much. ]
It reminds me that you're alive, [ he settles on after a few moments, smoothing his thumb over dorian's wrist before freeing his hand. rather than skirt away from the topic, he feels the need to elaborate. ] Not that you aren't. I can hear your heart beating without even thinking about it. It's more – I don't know. A conscious effort to keep my teeth where they should be and not take what isn't mine.
[ which is a different sort of reminder, always aware of that primal instinct to bite and claim but desperate to prove that he has control over something he never wanted in the first place. ]
[This kind of restraining of oneself is something Dorian understands, but mostly in an abstract and secondhand sense.
Most of his familiarity with this kind of abstinence comes from Toby. But Toby didn't want to resist for the sake of other people, where Larus makes it sound as though some of his reasoning is motivated by a kindness and awareness of others.]
By giving into some of the temptation but not all of it?
[What is a heartbeat to a vampire but a calling that burrows from one body deep into the core and most primal instincts of another?]
[ how else is he supposed to explain it? there's also something nice about the rhythm of it, the warmth that comes from the skin, and maybe a lot of it does come from the fact he misses having a pulse. he takes a moment to think about it, watching dorian before slowing shifting his shoulders in some vague shrug. if he'd thought about it extensively, maybe he would have been able to give a proper answer. ]
Like I said, it's a reminder. And I guess I just like doing it.
[ there. one thing he admits to liking, which probably doesn't say much at all. ]
[The preference expressed in those words makes Dorian flash back, momentarily, to mornings waking up with a cold cheek pressed against his chest, another body taking solace in the beating and regularity of his heart.]
I had another vampire friend once-- not that long ago, actually, who said heartbeats filled in the silence where there was nothing else to do so. You're not from our world, of course, but there are a great many pieces of literature where I'm from where the beating of a heart means everything from the echoing of someone's guilt back at them, to the awakening of new passions. It's life.
But with my friend, I think the lack bothered him because what was left to fill the quiet were his own thoughts, mostly about himself, and they weren't... kind.
[Although Larus seems to have an acute awareness of his own vampirism, he doesn't seem anywhere near to hating himself in that same way.
But will he one day? After enough years have ticked by?]
[ he's not surprised that dorian had known other vampires, but there's something almost bittersweet about the way he speaks of his friend, wanting to ask but deciding not to pry. he likes when information is given freely, and he's certain, with time, dorian will tell him more if he wants to. ]
It doesn't bother me. Other things do, but not that. [ maybe that makes him strange. he doesn't know; it's not like he converses much with other vampires. ] Each heartbeat is different, [ he continues, touching his fingertips to dorian's chin. ] and you can tell so much just from listening to it. Someone's fears, their desires. If they're young, old, sick – so, yes, maybe it does fill the silence sometimes.
[ his hand trails down the line of dorian's throat. ]
I could pick yours out of a crowd. [ and softly: ] It sounds like your friend had more to figure out.
[Dorian turns his head. Not a full shake, but a rebuttable nonetheless.]
In his mind there was too little left to figure out, and too much time to spend doing it.
[He takes in the feeling of Larus' hand on his neck, letting it happen, and then reaches out in turn, running a pensive touch over the side of one of the other man's arms, more thoughtful and less purposeful than the usual falling of his hands upon the other man.
The physical sturdiness, unavoidable inclination to bloodthirstiness, and remarkably human fragility of vampirism is a kind of immortality he'll never fully understand. It's strange sometimes, to be positioned as someone also immortal and witness to it, but shielded from many of the same worst aspects of it. He'll only ever be an onlooker to what it means to be immortal, but also coping with death while still animated, feeling, and sometimes connected to the world and other people.
There is one thing he's recognized, though: no vampire he's ever met has taken the little ways of feeling alive for granted in the same ways he often and unthinkingly does. He craves that ready appreciation for signs of life that seem so little and forgettable to him.]
[ something so small feels incredibly complicated to him. mostly because he doesn't actually know dorian's friend or the circumstances around his creation, what drove him to such dislike. perhaps it could be that larus is still young for a vampire, but he's met a plethora of others in varying shades of hatred—towards themselves, towards humanity. it's a lonely, envious sort of long life, more a curse than anything else, and sometimes, he wishes to let go of it all. but those moments are exceedingly rare and brought upon by great duress.
his fingers trace along the shape of dorian's collarbone, pushing fabric aside to expose more skin. ]
Everything is always what you make it. [ which sounds incredibly pragmatic of him. ] Finding purpose isn't easy, but it's the same with humans too. Sometimes, you fail to escape the thought there's nothing else.
[ but there's always something. always. of course, a lot of larus' motives back home where fueled by survival and spite, a different sort of hatred directed at someone else rather than himself. he could hate what he is for eternity, but he couldn't hate himself. not without something else behind it. ]
[That kind of pragmatic stoicism isn't familiar to him when his thoughts will always be tied to the sins marked on the portrait hidden away in the room beside the kitchen. But maybe it's what it takes to weather the storm of eternal death with grace. When Larus describes it this way, he finds himself believing that for him, it might work.]
You aren't a melancholic, I'll give you that. [He lets the tension keeping the robe about him loosen at the touch, fabric sliding away from his chest and over a shoulder. Fingers on his skin are welcome, and he smiles slightly, drawing Larus in with the touch resting on his arm.]
Making peace with death isn't easy, but you make it sound like you're on your way.
[It's not a platitude. It's impressive. Artless too, but an artistic or dramatic approach to death has consequences he isn't eager to see repeated in someone he's coming to care for.]
[ there's still so much he's angry about when it comes to his death, but it's been years. several hard years. yet, there's no point really dwelling on it while he's here in this place; if it's true, he won't even remember it when he returns home, a slightly sour thought when it comes to all the connections he will have made by the time that happens. mostly, he's thinking about dorian and the draw that's between them, leaning closer so his nose brushes against his jaw, his cheek.
he should kiss him again. there are hours before he can leave this building, and there's not much else that interests him. ]
But there isn't much point worrying about it here. Everything I've done back home is on pause. I need to make the most of what I have right now.
[ never mind he'd been ready to throw his life to the side to visit the down again. he might consider it before the time dorian laid out is up, but for now, he pushes it far from his thoughts and focuses on the warmth of the body against his. ]
[This is a big adjustment he's hearing from their very first conversation. It's satisfying, and feels like a good place to start.
Dorian reaches a hand to curl it around the back of Larus' head, and leans in to kiss his forehead. It's a punctuating gesture in the middle of their conversation, rather than strictly sweet.]
Good. Because I think there's an opportunity to enjoy some parts of this, at least.
[The city isn't hurting for interesting people, for one.]
[ there's a comfortable sort of easiness to all of this with dorian, and as wary as he still is, it's going to be more and more difficult to deny it when they're together. his words, that kiss. this entire conversation. larus tips his head and catches his mouth, pressing their lips together almost heatedly before drawing back. ]
Do you mean the city or you and me?
[ the city is the city. it doesn't mean anything to him, but at least he's coming to like certain other things. ]
[He follows after Larus and that kiss, drawing him in with the hand wrapped around his neck and capturing the other man's lips again for another, more insistent kiss.]
Both. [But his cultivated air of mystique is suffering for Larus going straight to the heart of the matter as usual]
I did say that I cared whether you lived or died-- [He smiles, and presses a hand against Larus' chest to ease him back against the arm of the couch. Less playfully, and with an edge of dryness:] apparently more than you do, too.
[ there's little resistance against the push, larus' expression carefully neutral as his hands slip into dorian's robe to feel skin. he's warm, as always, and it's almost nice to have this sort of freedom to touch and be touched in return. the heaviness that had weighed on him with casimir doesn't exist here. ]
I never said I wanted to die. [ it's a gentle correcting, tilting his head back to look at him. ] And though I have other reasons to keep me from feeling that way, you're interesting to me.
[ not to say it's enough, but larus' own curiosity gets him into trouble more often than anything else, which is what drives him. ]
[The combination of those words (his own admission of caring being met with curiosity -an analytical and unromantic impulse- and nothing else) and that emotionless expression is catnip. Inspired, Dorian leans in to lay himself into Larus' touch and against the length of the other man's body, pressing velvet kisses steadily up the length of the vampire's throat. When he gets there, he'll nip lightly at the hard line of his jaw.]
I can get even more interesting, [he decides, smile tugging wider.] And lucky us, you still have hours before you can go anywhere.
[Arms are in the way of him doing anything to Larus' shirt, but he can still shift his hips to slot them between the vampire's legs, pressing their lips together in a deeper kiss than any of those previously shared.]
[ larus feels himself still for a moment, the fan of dorian's breath against his throat stirring something difficult in his chest, but it passes just as quickly, one of his hands sliding free to come up and push through dorian's hair. with the deepness of that kiss, he can taste coffee and something sweeter on the other man's tongue, and for several long seconds, larus savors it for what it is. a connection, another reminder that he's with someone who's beginning to understand him. a little.
he gently grips at the curl of dark hair, nudging their noses together. ]
You don't have to try so hard.
[ a hint, soft as it is before he arches up just enough to press into him. whatever dorian might want, larus will give, and it's not as if his mind isn't elsewhere already anyway. ]
[Dorian hesitates, something in him tripping and catching at those words. Rather than latch onto the annoyed impulse that follows right away, he places a last kiss on Larus' jaw, and then tilts his head to meet his gaze, frowning.]
How am I trying hard? [As if he wouldalthough he kind of did.]
[ was that the mood being ruined? rather than disregard it, larus pursues it, sifting his fingers even deeper into dorian's hair. there's a brief glance over his shoulder towards the blocked windows and then back to look at him steadily. ]
You already have me. [ as if it's that easy. and there's a slight quirk to his lips. ] What were you going to show me that's interesting?
I don't... [Why is this throwing him off? Unexpectedly, it's hard to know how to act. Larus isn't much more than a child, if even that compared to himself, so he isn't sure how a small comment and then attempt to rebound has disarmed him like this.
[ slowly, he lets his hand slip away to rest against the back of dorian's neck, his expression curtailing slightly before smoothing out again. a brief moment of confusion, and it's tucked away for another time to think on. the way he huffs is almost... cute. ]
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I'll be more careful next time. [ a silent promise, and he presses into his skin, changing the subject again. ] Although, I can't say I'm not interested in learning some of your other limits.
[ he very much means it how it sounds. ]
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He smiles.
And amazingly, any potential lewdness in that second comment sails right over Dorian's head thanks to the tone.]
Well, for one, I can't keep a bruise. They fade away like disappearing ink. [He offers Larus his hand.] Everything starts purple, and then cycles quickly through red, green, and yellow, like a kaleidoscope. [On the canvas of his white skin, he thinks it's fetching.]
Help yourself, if you're curious.
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his heartbeat is strong, and larus listens to it as he looks at him. ]
I said I wouldn't hurt you, and I especially won't do it intentionally. I'll take your word for it and leave it at that. [ there's something beautiful in the fragility of people, a reminder he doesn't always have to feel so monstrous. ] You should take more care than you do.
[ never mind he's done and will do equally foolish things, like return to the down at some point. ]
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I was, [he says, not missing a beat.] Didn't I put myself in your hands?
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Are you trying to tempt me? [ since that's what it feels like too. ]
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More often than not, Larus treats him with gentle care. The kind that someone with super strength must, he imagines, have to consciously moderate their own movements and grip to manage. Someone who can't hurt him even minimally, even if encouraged to and when the hurt won't stick, is at the very least a friend, if not something more tender.]
Why do you do that? [he asks, changing the subject. It's obvious why, but he wants to hear it in Larus' own words.] You like touching my wrists, and that first time on the couch between us the same feeling was in the way you kissed my neck, [he explains. Is it the warmth? The desire to feel halfway close to being alive by being close?]
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It reminds me that you're alive, [ he settles on after a few moments, smoothing his thumb over dorian's wrist before freeing his hand. rather than skirt away from the topic, he feels the need to elaborate. ] Not that you aren't. I can hear your heart beating without even thinking about it. It's more – I don't know. A conscious effort to keep my teeth where they should be and not take what isn't mine.
[ which is a different sort of reminder, always aware of that primal instinct to bite and claim but desperate to prove that he has control over something he never wanted in the first place. ]
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Most of his familiarity with this kind of abstinence comes from Toby. But Toby didn't want to resist for the sake of other people, where Larus makes it sound as though some of his reasoning is motivated by a kindness and awareness of others.]
By giving into some of the temptation but not all of it?
[What is a heartbeat to a vampire but a calling that burrows from one body deep into the core and most primal instincts of another?]
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[ how else is he supposed to explain it? there's also something nice about the rhythm of it, the warmth that comes from the skin, and maybe a lot of it does come from the fact he misses having a pulse. he takes a moment to think about it, watching dorian before slowing shifting his shoulders in some vague shrug. if he'd thought about it extensively, maybe he would have been able to give a proper answer. ]
Like I said, it's a reminder. And I guess I just like doing it.
[ there. one thing he admits to liking, which probably doesn't say much at all. ]
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I had another vampire friend once-- not that long ago, actually, who said heartbeats filled in the silence where there was nothing else to do so. You're not from our world, of course, but there are a great many pieces of literature where I'm from where the beating of a heart means everything from the echoing of someone's guilt back at them, to the awakening of new passions. It's life.
But with my friend, I think the lack bothered him because what was left to fill the quiet were his own thoughts, mostly about himself, and they weren't... kind.
[Although Larus seems to have an acute awareness of his own vampirism, he doesn't seem anywhere near to hating himself in that same way.
But will he one day? After enough years have ticked by?]
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It doesn't bother me. Other things do, but not that. [ maybe that makes him strange. he doesn't know; it's not like he converses much with other vampires. ] Each heartbeat is different, [ he continues, touching his fingertips to dorian's chin. ] and you can tell so much just from listening to it. Someone's fears, their desires. If they're young, old, sick – so, yes, maybe it does fill the silence sometimes.
[ his hand trails down the line of dorian's throat. ]
I could pick yours out of a crowd. [ and softly: ] It sounds like your friend had more to figure out.
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In his mind there was too little left to figure out, and too much time to spend doing it.
[He takes in the feeling of Larus' hand on his neck, letting it happen, and then reaches out in turn, running a pensive touch over the side of one of the other man's arms, more thoughtful and less purposeful than the usual falling of his hands upon the other man.
The physical sturdiness, unavoidable inclination to bloodthirstiness, and remarkably human fragility of vampirism is a kind of immortality he'll never fully understand. It's strange sometimes, to be positioned as someone also immortal and witness to it, but shielded from many of the same worst aspects of it. He'll only ever be an onlooker to what it means to be immortal, but also coping with death while still animated, feeling, and sometimes connected to the world and other people.
There is one thing he's recognized, though: no vampire he's ever met has taken the little ways of feeling alive for granted in the same ways he often and unthinkingly does. He craves that ready appreciation for signs of life that seem so little and forgettable to him.]
But why do you say that?
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his fingers trace along the shape of dorian's collarbone, pushing fabric aside to expose more skin. ]
Everything is always what you make it. [ which sounds incredibly pragmatic of him. ] Finding purpose isn't easy, but it's the same with humans too. Sometimes, you fail to escape the thought there's nothing else.
[ but there's always something. always. of course, a lot of larus' motives back home where fueled by survival and spite, a different sort of hatred directed at someone else rather than himself. he could hate what he is for eternity, but he couldn't hate himself. not without something else behind it. ]
I don't want to be like that.
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You aren't a melancholic, I'll give you that. [He lets the tension keeping the robe about him loosen at the touch, fabric sliding away from his chest and over a shoulder. Fingers on his skin are welcome, and he smiles slightly, drawing Larus in with the touch resting on his arm.]
Making peace with death isn't easy, but you make it sound like you're on your way.
[It's not a platitude. It's impressive. Artless too, but an artistic or dramatic approach to death has consequences he isn't eager to see repeated in someone he's coming to care for.]
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[ there's still so much he's angry about when it comes to his death, but it's been years. several hard years. yet, there's no point really dwelling on it while he's here in this place; if it's true, he won't even remember it when he returns home, a slightly sour thought when it comes to all the connections he will have made by the time that happens. mostly, he's thinking about dorian and the draw that's between them, leaning closer so his nose brushes against his jaw, his cheek.
he should kiss him again. there are hours before he can leave this building, and there's not much else that interests him. ]
But there isn't much point worrying about it here. Everything I've done back home is on pause. I need to make the most of what I have right now.
[ never mind he'd been ready to throw his life to the side to visit the down again. he might consider it before the time dorian laid out is up, but for now, he pushes it far from his thoughts and focuses on the warmth of the body against his. ]
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Dorian reaches a hand to curl it around the back of Larus' head, and leans in to kiss his forehead. It's a punctuating gesture in the middle of their conversation, rather than strictly sweet.]
Good. Because I think there's an opportunity to enjoy some parts of this, at least.
[The city isn't hurting for interesting people, for one.]
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Do you mean the city or you and me?
[ the city is the city. it doesn't mean anything to him, but at least he's coming to like certain other things. ]
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Both. [But his cultivated air of mystique is suffering for Larus going straight to the heart of the matter as usual]
I did say that I cared whether you lived or died-- [He smiles, and presses a hand against Larus' chest to ease him back against the arm of the couch. Less playfully, and with an edge of dryness:] apparently more than you do, too.
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I never said I wanted to die. [ it's a gentle correcting, tilting his head back to look at him. ] And though I have other reasons to keep me from feeling that way, you're interesting to me.
[ not to say it's enough, but larus' own curiosity gets him into trouble more often than anything else, which is what drives him. ]
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I can get even more interesting, [he decides, smile tugging wider.] And lucky us, you still have hours before you can go anywhere.
[Arms are in the way of him doing anything to Larus' shirt, but he can still shift his hips to slot them between the vampire's legs, pressing their lips together in a deeper kiss than any of those previously shared.]
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he gently grips at the curl of dark hair, nudging their noses together. ]
You don't have to try so hard.
[ a hint, soft as it is before he arches up just enough to press into him. whatever dorian might want, larus will give, and it's not as if his mind isn't elsewhere already anyway. ]
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How am I trying hard? [As if he would
although he kind of did.]no subject
You already have me. [ as if it's that easy. and there's a slight quirk to his lips. ] What were you going to show me that's interesting?
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He huffs, flustered.]
Do you have to do-- I don't know. Do that?
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I'm not doing anything.
[ meaning he would like an explanation, please. ]
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.... forgot about sunlight woops shhh
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