The Deathwalker's Ward blunted some of the damage, but the end result is still written across his skin in vivid purples and greens. He shudders when Percy touches them, gasping quietly against his mouth. Vax has carried bruises in one form of another all of his life, but this particular set comes bound up in a sucking, cold darkness, the inside of a gaping maw and the knowledge that somewhere close by his family is struggling onwards with an impossible battle.
They are still in the midst of an impossible battle, and for a moment, when he'd felt the tug of Pike's attention and the slow-rising whispers of his friends' voices, he hadn't understood why he would be called back. He makes a low, pained noise as Percy's fingers map out the marks left behind, and flattens his hand over Percy's before he can pull away. ]
That's good.
[ Not exactly, but the sensation isn't unwelcome. There are moments when Vax thinks he will never care how he's being touched by any of them, so long as they put their hands on him. He feel that way now, aware of a slow-growing desperation for anything Percy will give him. ]
It doesn't hurt, [ he amends, quieter, cocooned beneath the blankets with Percy's body tucked in alongside him. ] You don't have to be overly gentle.
The last thing I need is a lecture, [ he scolds softly, but places open palms against the lengthy marks roping around his skin, presses into the abrasions as if maybe something helpful would birth from his palms instead of a curse. cure wounds as if he were some wondrous spellcaster. lay on hands, even, but what god would have him? so instead he smooths cool fingertips along each ugly line that the deathwalker's ward could not keep off. ] But you'll feel it, I promise. Everything you want and need, Vax'ildan. I owe you this.
[ leaning in, he presses his mouth to vax's, a solid weight to the kiss, one that tells him of just how alive he is, how warm he will be soon enough, how beloved he is for all of the shit he talks, tongue like a knife. one hand on his belly, the other skimming up to slide through his hair, to thumb the feathers vex'ahlia has braided into place, shock of blue in the dark. ] I want to give this to you.
[ a reminder that he's alive, a reminder that — ]
You are ours.
[ soft and against his mouth, kissed lingeringly, then his jaw, his throat. ]
I'll show you.
[ with a hand trailing down past those bruises, over the line of his hips, against the waistline of loose sleep clothes. ]
[ Percy's hands are like licks of fire across his skin. His mouth opens under Percy's, sighing quietly into the kiss. He thinks about biting Percy, thinks about something a lot more strenuous than what they're in the midst of now. Percy's weight bears him down into the mattress, scorches and burns against the chill that's settled into his bones since he woke on the temple floor.
But what Percy says—
Vax groans, breath catching in his throat. Percy uttering that claim, words snagging and hooking into his belly. You are ours. The statement, something Vax has always known, lances through him. He feels tears pricking at his eyes. He'd almost been gone. If he hadn't come back, if She hadn't given him back... ]
You don't owe me, I just...please.
[ His fingers lace through Percy's, clutch on tightly. ]
Keep saying that.
[ Nothing he doesn't know, but something he still wants to hear. He wants Percy to bite that truth into his skin: that he belongs to Vox Machina, that their claim on him is strong enough to anchor him even in the face of his patron. Percy's determined to be gentle, and maybe that's the sensible approach, but all it means is that Vax clings on to him even more tightly. He wants to draw Percy over him, wants to claw his way inside Percy's bones.
At his throat, the sensation of Percy's lips still burn. Every place he touches, the sensation of Percy's hands and mouth linger. Vax should have asked him: is this chill normal? How long had it taken for Percy to shake it off? Had anything besides another set of hands been able to drive it away? ]
[ fingers laced, he pushes vax's hand down, slides it up to where the pillows are going slack and resting them there with only the faintest bit of pressure. it's enough to keep him down in the state he's in, enough to push a bruise where it matters (hidden under a bracer, even if it isn't a secret, a little throbbing reminder.)
vax's skin is cold. it's cold enough that percy feels a surge of desire to warm him, to impress himself like a fire-heated brand to his flesh. ]
I do. But that is for a later date.
[ said with a tenderness and a sharpness meant to set the words in stone. i do owe you. i owe you everything. i should have been better help. i should have done more. his free hand has already started to push down past clothing, fingers curling around him to give a hot stroke of his palm once and then again. when he eyes trail to where vax is, he looks at him over his glasses, close enough here and now that he doesn't fall out of focus, but somehow becomes sharper in how he thrives now, moves. he wants to wring sensation out of him, set him alight, remind him. ]
The only thing that matters in this moment to me is that you are alive.
[ fingers tightening on vax's hand, thumb stroking an old scar as he twists his wrist a little bit from where he's stroking along his cock, thumbing the head of him as he readjusts. a thigh between his legs, keeping them spread for him as he keeps a steady rhythm meant to begin something long and torturous. ] We won't let anything take you away from us. [ not before your time. not even then. never. ]
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The Deathwalker's Ward blunted some of the damage, but the end result is still written across his skin in vivid purples and greens. He shudders when Percy touches them, gasping quietly against his mouth. Vax has carried bruises in one form of another all of his life, but this particular set comes bound up in a sucking, cold darkness, the inside of a gaping maw and the knowledge that somewhere close by his family is struggling onwards with an impossible battle.
They are still in the midst of an impossible battle, and for a moment, when he'd felt the tug of Pike's attention and the slow-rising whispers of his friends' voices, he hadn't understood why he would be called back. He makes a low, pained noise as Percy's fingers map out the marks left behind, and flattens his hand over Percy's before he can pull away. ]
That's good.
[ Not exactly, but the sensation isn't unwelcome. There are moments when Vax thinks he will never care how he's being touched by any of them, so long as they put their hands on him. He feel that way now, aware of a slow-growing desperation for anything Percy will give him. ]
It doesn't hurt, [ he amends, quieter, cocooned beneath the blankets with Percy's body tucked in alongside him. ] You don't have to be overly gentle.
no subject
[ leaning in, he presses his mouth to vax's, a solid weight to the kiss, one that tells him of just how alive he is, how warm he will be soon enough, how beloved he is for all of the shit he talks, tongue like a knife. one hand on his belly, the other skimming up to slide through his hair, to thumb the feathers vex'ahlia has braided into place, shock of blue in the dark. ] I want to give this to you.
[ a reminder that he's alive, a reminder that — ]
You are ours.
[ soft and against his mouth, kissed lingeringly, then his jaw, his throat. ]
I'll show you.
[ with a hand trailing down past those bruises, over the line of his hips, against the waistline of loose sleep clothes. ]
no subject
But what Percy says—
Vax groans, breath catching in his throat. Percy uttering that claim, words snagging and hooking into his belly. You are ours. The statement, something Vax has always known, lances through him. He feels tears pricking at his eyes. He'd almost been gone. If he hadn't come back, if She hadn't given him back... ]
You don't owe me, I just...please.
[ His fingers lace through Percy's, clutch on tightly. ]
Keep saying that.
[ Nothing he doesn't know, but something he still wants to hear. He wants Percy to bite that truth into his skin: that he belongs to Vox Machina, that their claim on him is strong enough to anchor him even in the face of his patron. Percy's determined to be gentle, and maybe that's the sensible approach, but all it means is that Vax clings on to him even more tightly. He wants to draw Percy over him, wants to claw his way inside Percy's bones.
At his throat, the sensation of Percy's lips still burn. Every place he touches, the sensation of Percy's hands and mouth linger. Vax should have asked him: is this chill normal? How long had it taken for Percy to shake it off? Had anything besides another set of hands been able to drive it away? ]
no subject
vax's skin is cold. it's cold enough that percy feels a surge of desire to warm him, to impress himself like a fire-heated brand to his flesh. ]
I do. But that is for a later date.
[ said with a tenderness and a sharpness meant to set the words in stone. i do owe you. i owe you everything. i should have been better help. i should have done more. his free hand has already started to push down past clothing, fingers curling around him to give a hot stroke of his palm once and then again. when he eyes trail to where vax is, he looks at him over his glasses, close enough here and now that he doesn't fall out of focus, but somehow becomes sharper in how he thrives now, moves. he wants to wring sensation out of him, set him alight, remind him. ]
The only thing that matters in this moment to me is that you are alive.
[ fingers tightening on vax's hand, thumb stroking an old scar as he twists his wrist a little bit from where he's stroking along his cock, thumbing the head of him as he readjusts. a thigh between his legs, keeping them spread for him as he keeps a steady rhythm meant to begin something long and torturous. ] We won't let anything take you away from us. [ not before your time. not even then. never. ]