[ Once Ellie is no longer screaming like she's being murdered, she becomes, more or less, a non-issue. The problem is solved — though she probably should stop by the hospital before she goes home — and aside from the fact that someone is probably going to barge into the bathroom pretty soon, that takes care of any immediate concerns. The boy should be able to rest easy now, which is, of course, all Tera wants for him.
That, in turn, means that Tera's focus can return entirely to him; it doesn't matter if Ellie is staring or blushing. She could be openly drooling and he still wouldn't look twice. He looks only at the boy. And even as he continues gripping her, bracing her against the wall in case she does decide to pass out, all Tera thinks about is the boy's hands seeking him — finding him.
All he hears are his words — the concern that she might be dead. That he might've killed her. He thinks about letting Ellie fall, or slide, to the ground just so he can take the boy's hands in his own.
I'm sorry you had to see that, he said once; and now those same words form on his tongue.
But there's little time to think about that, let alone say anything, because while he's busy watching the boy, he misses her expression shift and her body tense. He doesn't realize that he's in a line of fire — not until the boy has already knocked him to the ground (a landing that pulls an oof out of him). And by then, what does the rest matter? They're back to normal like this — Tera with an aching tailbone and the boy safe, watching out for his mask as he always does.
Finally, Tera takes his hand in his own, before the boy can pull it fully away. He brushes the pad of his thumb against his palm. Only the boy could knock him on his ass in a dirty "club" bathroom and have Tera feel glad for it — nostalgic, in a way, for their first couple of meetings. ]
Yeah. I do.
[ Not that he should — word of a Black Death hanging out at some underground party, dancing instead of menacing, is bound to reach Luc and the others, and they're already annoyed with him. Not that it's stopped him yet — he's still here, after all. ]
But the police will be here any minute.
[ If they aren't already. ]
We need to make a run for it.
[ The both of them together because: ]
If you stay, you'll get busted, too. This isn't a club.
[ And the legality of the party aside, Tera has a hunch that the boy's uncle will not be pleased to see him in a place like this — Black Death or no Black Death. ]
[ of all the things tera could have mentioned to pull the boy out of — not quite a delusion, but perhaps wishful thinking nonetheless, the idea that the two of them could slip away into the promises of an infinite night and the bass beat of some random edm mix — it's the mention of that, the police. rather vividly, the boy thinks of his uncle, and suddenly all thoughts of getting lost in the sauce (as the kids say) go fleeting from his mind. ]
Aw fuck.
[ inelegant, clumsy. mirroring the way he hastily scrambles to his feet, made all the more chaotic by the fact he doesn't quite dare pull his hand away from tera's. there's a brief, comical moment wherein it looks like he might actually use that tether to help the much larger man to his feet — but fortunately tera remains the wiser of the two of them, and helps himself up all on his own.
the boy still doesn't release that hand. instead he tugs on it to pull tera's attention towards him (had it even gone anywhere else?) so he could be hit with the full force of the boy's rising panic. ]
What do we do?
[ the main entrance suddenly seems so very, very far away.
from her private stall in the bathroom, ellie's gurgling voice helpfully supplies: ]
Window.
[ clearly, this is not ellie's first illegal rodeo.
the boy whirls around to find said window — some bitty 2x2 thing that blessedly doesn't have any bars... but in what dreamworld could tera ever hope to fit in through that space? the boy glares at the full breadth of tera's shoulders and chest, suddenly now the bane of his existence. ]
[ Although Tera rises in a somewhat smoother fashion, he's careful not to force a separation of their hands, nor tug the boy back down toward him — which means that he isn't exactly elegant, either. But unlike the boy, he isn't all that worried; getting him out of here quickly and safely is his only real priority. Tera can handle the rest. Escaping the police is basically a hobby for him at this point, and he's confident he'll manage to get away — though only having one exit that he'll actually fit through will be a new one for him.
That's a later problem.
Since they haven't been found yet, they still have time on their side. With a light squeeze of the boy's hand, Tera releases him and walks over to the window. They need to focus now — and hurry. ]
Don't worry. I'll go out the other way.
[ The window is a top-hung style, which is lucky, even if the size could be bigger. The boy won't have to squeeze too hard, since the pane will lift up all the way, clearing almost the entire perimeter. Tera's shimmied through a few of these before. Just not in bathrooms designed to save on space.
Unlatching it is easy. What isn't simple is getting it to budge, because this one clearly hasn't been opened in a long time. Tera's initial push on the glass accomplishes nothing. After a second, much more forceful attempt, it finally squeals its way open, the hinges in need of some serious lubrication. Better that than having to break the glass, at least.
[ perhaps unsurprisingly, the boy hesitates. oh, he's gotten out of wilder scraps before (many of them with tera front and center to witness), and has certainly squeezed past more narrow obstacles... but it doesn't sit quite right with him that the one most likely to draw the bad kind of attention between them would be the very same one to waltz back into the fray.
but, logically, logistically, it all makes sense. and tera is definitely the more experienced of the two when it comes to matters like these, so his hesitation lasts for all of a minute before he begrudgingly sighs and turns back towards tera. arms up, for uppies.
—just kidding, he's putting those hands squarely on those wide shoulders so he can at least assist in lifting himself up... not that tera needs any help at all.
he gets halfway through, and caught between the narrow space and that awkward angle, it takes a lot of finagling to try and work his way through...
all this to say — there's some significant ass wiggling right up in tera's face before the boy finally manages to get some good leverage and pull himself through the tiny window. by now, what looks like half the glitter in his hair has made new homes on those broad shoulders of tera's, and there's a particularly stubborn lock of hair that keeps falling over the boy's left eye when he turns around to deliver what he would insist is his sternest look. ]
Don't take too long to find me.
[ he shifts briefly, as if to back out entirely, before he seems to think better of it and pops his head back in once more. ]
Or I'll be real mad.
[ top ten most unconvincing threats of all time. ]
[ It could be uppies, for all Tera knows, because it wouldn't be the first time the boy sought to be picked up in a hurry. Tera very nearly moves to scoop him and — not throw him, exactly, but urge him through the window. But for all the boy attracts trouble, he's always been scrappy, determined, and unafraid to (try to) push through obstacles. That's partially why Tera was drawn to him in the first place — and that's why he allows the boy to hoist himself up now, while he simultaneously lifts and assists in positioning him.
Time is ticking, so after watching the boy's ass wiggle for a bit, Tera nearly moves to give him a nice shove toward freedom — but he makes it through.
Tera's hand is already moving to close the window when the boy turns back around. Despite the growing urgency of the situation, he huffs out a laugh and reaches instead to touch that stray lock of hair. He doesn't manage to tuck it away — really, all that happens is he brushes it back and it stubbornly returns to its unruly position — but it suits him, anyway.
He's cute when he's being severe — and when he's making threats. Always has been. ]
I know what happens when you're mad.
[ Spoken teasingly, though warmth bleeds into his tone anyway. He has a list of possibilities: getting hit by a car, stabbed by an umbrella, hit with a frying pan, tased... ]
Guess I better hurry.
[ Then, in a firmer, much more serious tone: ]
Go.
[ As soon as the boy is just clear of the opening, Tera jerks the sash down and slams the window shut, latching it for two reasons: (1) so no cop thinks someone escaped that way, and (2) so the boy doesn't decide to turn back again.
Ellie stumbles out of the bathroom. She still has a queasy look about her. Tera nods toward the sink. She eyes him as she walks up to it — probably wondering why he hasn't made a run for it yet — but then busies herself with cleaning off her face.
Tera watches the window and waits.
When she straightens, she looks at him again. Some color dusts her cheeks, but under his mask's glare, her nervousness begins to win out again. "Uhh —"
Tera unholsters his pistol. Her eyes widen. He grabs her, pulls her close, and holds the gun to her head.
"I — I thought —" she stammers. Then: "I helped you!"
"And I helped you. We're even. Now move." He pushes her toward the door.
"Why are you doing this?" Her voice quavers; her step falters. She's clearly had enough stress for one night.
"Black Death, remember?" He gestures to himself with a wiggle of his pistol.
Glitter falls to the floor.
"B-But —"
There's no way he'll make it through a basement crawling with police in a mask and full gear — unless he has a hostage. A shield. Someone the police are not too keen on shooting, or having Tera shoot. It's his best shot.
More importantly: if he attracts positive attention while representing the Brotherhood, Luc and the others will lose it. He can't have witnesses going around talking about how a member of the Black Death was kind, or soft, or not-at-all scary. If word gets back to them, they're going to start digging.
They're going to find the boy.
So it has to look and feel real, even as Tera remembers how pale the boy was when he asked: Is... Is she...?
Even as he accepts that he will be the source of her nightmares after all.
So when she tries to turn, to look at him, to protest or make a plea, Tera pushes the barrel of his pistol against her head hard enough to shut her up.
"Do exactly what I say," he instructs her, "and you won't get hurt."
The next time Ellie throws up, it's on a cop.
***
By the time Tera arrives at the boy's window, a solid hour has passed. The escape worked, as Tera knew it would. Aside from a hiccup at the end, during which he took a baton to the mask, his plan went relatively smoothly.
He had to take a detour — to wipe the blood dripping from his nose, to press the plastic forehead of his mask against a shitty alley wall, to splay his fist against unforgiving brick.
But that's done now.
The boy's window is ajar, despite the night's chill. Tera slides through the gap, then closes it behind him. ]
Aren't you cold?
[ Then, after only a brief pause, like the simple question was an exhale of tension, he says: ]
[ an hour isn't so long, when you really stop to think about it. less so, when you factor in the fact it took the boy about 18 minutes to make his way back home. add in the additional 11 minutes he took to linger by the illegitimate club's perimeters, hoping to catch a sight or sound about tera before the sirens from approaching cars eventually spooked him away, the boy really only had about a half hour to properly stew in his worries and fret.
still.
the boy keeps his phone firmly attached to his hand the entire time, but he ignores all of his friends' texts in favor of keeping an eye out for any word from tera. the irony here is all those ignored texts were blowing up about "the incident at the house rave," but the blessing here is the boy is spared further stress remaining quite oblivious to the hostage situation that had gone down from within those walls. thank god he and ellie never exchanged numbers, or he would have certainly gotten an earful (eyeful?) by now.
he's chewing on the end of his pencil when the persistent breeze from his open window grows more prominent, the fluttering of his curtains giving way to a shadowy figure like a scene right out of b*tman. the boy is on his stomach, his kicking feet pausing when his brain adjusts from that initial apprehension to a far more welcome relief, and he scrambles up onto his knees so he can get a better look at tera from where he's perched on his bed.
his eyes stall on the damage done to the mask, and even longer on the dirt clinging to the knuckles of one gloves fist. but a full sweep declares the man otherwise unharmed, and the boy has to consciously force himself to relax. it could always be worse.
at the very least, but most important of all — he's here. ]
Hey.
[ he shifts to sit cross-legged on his bed. the sketchbook he'd had opened brushes against a knee, and for a brief second tera might catch a glimpse of a messy sketch of a woman's contorted face with a high bun and a prominent nose ring: the boy's best rendition of what he remembers of torrence. ]
There's hot chocolate there, if you want.
[ a single mug, still steaming, a result of the boy's obsessive reheating every 10 minutes to ensure maximum coziness for when tera finally shows up. all that remains of the mini marshmallows are two, one notably larger than the other, linked by a single point of contact and floating merrily along in their own little hot chocolate world.
off tangent but slightly related — lately, the boy has started to find his thoughts drifting towards the concept of fate. ]
[ The boy's room is familiar — more than it was in the beginning — and warm despite the lingering chill from the now-closed window. Standing in it used to be a trespass; now, Tera is welcome, and there's comfort in that. He feels steady, like by climbing through the boy's window, he entered a private world where only the two of them exist. Tera might even call it a safe haven, if it weren't for the boy's nightmares — if he didn't know that the boy doesn't truly feel safe here. Not at night. Not in the dark.
Tera's hands have been all over the furniture, which is what he thinks about as the boy (whole, unharmed, drawing like usual) points out the hot chocolate: his fingers once slid into those drawers, his grip encircled that bow. He's even laid his head upon that bed — and, technically, the floor.
The boy's hands have been in his own. Tera has rested beside him and looked at the stars.
There's a subtle buzz in his pocket: text messages from Kain, and probably Luc, too, asking, What the fuck? It's a persistent reminder of his life outside of this room. Turning it off would be like shutting everything out and sinking into this warmth like he belongs here. Turning it off would mean ignoring everything he did tonight, and all the nights before.
Tera leaves it on.
Walking to the desk is still too easy, especially since the hand that reaches for the mug is dirty, smeared, still fresh from holding a gun. Tera's grasp engulfs it, his fingers sliding through the handle, and warmth reaches him through his glove. ]
Thank you.
[ He watches the two marshmallows quiver in response to his movement. He raises the mug a little too quickly, and the smaller one ends up submerged — only to be tugged right back up by the bigger one.
He doesn't sip it yet, though he turns around, his attention once again oriented toward the boy. He leans his head to the side, his hair — messier than usual, after that escape — falls along the edge of his mask.
He hadn't wanted to send the boy home alone.
The plan is always for Tera to take him home, if he can. It was cold, dark, and late. Anyone could have been roaming around. Tera knows these streets. He knows the police aren't the only threat. ]
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you moved on from getting kidnapped —
[ And, hopefully, from keeping Joris' company like Joris is going to stop entangling him in messes. ]
— but what were you doing at a place like that? How the hell did you end up there in the first place?
[ Somehow this feels worse than a near-kidnapping. At least Joris is stupid and couldn't pull off a real kidnapping if the boy handed himself to him (which he has a few times now). But this could've gone so much worse than it did. The rave could've attracted the wrong crowd. Hell, it could've been thrown by the wrong crowd. Luc's had parties like that before — better-hidden, but not by a whole lot. The Black Death aren't afraid of attracting some heat. Or luring a naive someone into their hands as a form of blackmail — or, as could have been in this case, as a means of telling the police to back the fuck off.
Tera isn't afraid of anything. But at the root of these questions is something nagging — something that has only grown. ]
[ the boy watches tera as he sinks himself further into his space. his room isn't particularly small, but anything would feel that way when you put someone as imposing in tera inside it. and yet the boy neither feels stifled nor smothered; indeed, he finds himself feeling antsy, the further tera walks into the room but doesn't wind up near him, like some animal stalking the perimeter of a trap, eyeing the bait tucked temptingly within the bars of a waiting cage.
but the boy doesn't really think in terms like that. ask him, and he would sooner consider himself an omen than a temptation, but apparently they are both wrong in the most compatible of ways, because here they persist, orbiting each other. simply unable to help themselves.
not that the boy is really trying all that hard to resist. not that he even can. ]
...I wanted an excuse to dress up.
[ his voice, though honest, is small. his expression fleeting, gaze skittering towards the golden lamplight in the corner of the room that wards away the rest of the shadows. there's guilt there, on his face. the story starts the way it always does with him: a harmless intent and a simple query into his friend circle that found its way outside of it, an address and a reason, and the lack of forethought to find anything about it at all suspicious. but at least this time nobody seems to have required an emergency room.
(well. maybe ellie, still.)
he's dressed down now, of course. there is little evidence left on him of that rave, just a few speckles of glitter in his hair and those two sequinned stars on his cheek. he's wiped the gloss off his lips, and changed into an oversized shirt that swallows up a more fitted pair of shorts. even the socks he has on — pulled up high to the knees — are inoffensively plain.
shamefully bundled up in the bottom of his laundry hamper is the outfit he had been so eager to don, the one he'd been planning for and saving up for a special occasion that never came, the very same one that barely even got its chance to be seen on the night he found an excuse for it. there's a metaphor there somewhere, he's sure, but right now he's a little too fixated on the fact tera still hasn't taken a sip of his cocoa yet. the boy will have to hear it up again, if he doesn't start drinking soon.
his bed is full-size. when he shifts to the side like he does now, there is just barely enough room for tera to squeeze in. he draws his knees up to his chest, and looks at the masked man with that wordless request. ]
[ Tera exhales slowly, the sound inaudible — not quite a sigh, but not a simple breath either. Something in between, bolstered by that nagging feeling, but effectively subdued by the boy's tone. He only wants the boy to be safe; he doesn't want to make him huddle in on himself, or feel ashamed. And what can Tera offer, anyway? It's not like he can tell the boy he'll take him out somewhere nice instead of dangerous. Tera's existence itself is shady — and his mask would need to stay on. There would be no peace, no nice dinner, no simple shopping trip. Only more trouble, this time with Tera as the source.
As time goes on, he becomes more aware of his limitations. He can scare nightmares away. He can look at the boy's drawings or watch him mess around on his computer. He can bump into him outside, give him rides home. But that's the extent of their normal. The boy probably didn't tell him about the "club" before going because it's not like Tera could have tagged along.
It's not like Tera would have stayed away.
But these are thoughts for later — after the boy's breath has evened out and Tera looks out into a city that has quieted for the night. Right now, Tera is all-but beckoned to his side, and he responds accordingly, walking over to the bed and taking a seat next to the boy. He positions himself so they're touching, his arm against the boy's, creating more contact there than necessary. In his right hand is the mug. He places his left atop it, like he's holding in the warmth. ]
You looked good.
[ Briefly, his attention is on the mug.
But as always, he raises his eyes to look at the boy — always the boy. ]
I liked your outfit.
[ There hadn't been a lot of time for talking about clothes in that small bathroom, but Tera had noticed. He always notices when it comes to the boy: the glitter in his hair, the sequins on his cheek, the outfit that he could tell was new. And now: the way he hugs his legs, as though making himself smaller. ]
And the glitter. It's gonna stick to me for days.
[ He lifts his hand off the mug to point at a single piece on his pants. It catches the light. ]
It'll be like I'm carrying you with me.
[ He'll leave all that clings to him, even if it means getting hassled by Kain or questioned by Luc.
In a more playful tone, as he leans against the boy — an awkward drop of his head, a nudge of his mask, and a sliver of his cheek against his shoulder. ]
[ it's a quiet barb, if one can even call it that. it'a spoken too soft to hold any weight, too gently to hold any sharp edges. the shoulder tera awkwardly comes to rest on droops, briefly, as if to punctuate the boy's point, but he holds fast a second later, as if determined to prove he can handle it. (as if tera himself isn't shouldering most of the awkward weight distribution to begin with.)
in any case, the boy tries not to sound too glum. sure, there are darker, sadder routes his mind could take. ignoring them doesn't mean they aren't there, like the shadows he's so terrified of always cling to the edges of every halo of light he can conjure.
after all, the boy knows a thing or two about dreams. he knows about nightmares, too, but it's the dreams that keep him afloat. it's the dreams that make waking up an active choice, and one he chooses day in and day out. these tiny, precious moments between them — they're fleeting, and maybe on the more delusional side of ignorant, but they're theirs. and the boy has learned not grow out of the selfishness of wanting more. ]
You owe me a dance.
[ not glum, but petulant. there's safety in this, knowing tera has given him the space to make demands, even when it was initially born out of a spontaneous request. at the very least, it gives him something to think about other than how quickly ash might replace glitter. ]
[ There's a sense of comfort in the way that the boy accepts the careful weight of Tera's head — that even after the dip of his shoulder, he takes care not to nudge him away. Tender touch is still somewhat of a novelty for Tera — alien to the physical world of the Brotherhood, where roughhousing and antics are the norm. He can't remember the last time he held a hand — before the boy. He can't remember the last time he rested against someone — before the boy. Maybe that's why he finds himself seeking it more. Maybe part of him has always craved to be treated gently.
He's hesitant to disrupt this moment. But he is aware of his weight — of the burden his head presents. He knows the cocoa is cooling, and that time only stretches on toward sleep and nightmares.
He raises his head. Then he lifts his mask just enough to reveal his mouth and brings the mug to his lips. The marshmallows, still united, are only tiny blobs now — but still they endure. ]
How hard can it be?
[ He asks this with his lips still poised to sip, though he lowers the mug so the boy can see his smile — a little amused by his implication (though he isn't wrong to ask), and even more so by his tone. ]
It's just rhythm and movement. That's every day for me.
[ the boy is sad to be without tera's weight, his closeness. the sight of that sharp jawline is a welcome balm, though, the boy's greedy eyes skittering to trace what he can of what's revealed, etching it all into his memory. he has only seen tera'a mouth a small handful of times, but he feels he can sketch out the exact slope of that cupid's bow without even trying. ]
Yeah... I guess you do move really well.
[ jumping, running, dodging. parkour. you can't constantly escape danger and harm like tera does without a solid grasp on how to use your body. but the boy has never seen tera use that body outside of that danger — and he is self-aware enough to recognize that's just as much his fault as it is tera's — but that doesn't stop him aching for the possibility of seeing something new. ]
Show me?
[ he has shifted now, turning towards the older man enough that one of his knee falls open, leaning against the strong line of tera's thigh, brushing against an arm. he doesn't hide the way his eyes yearn to burn through the rest of that mask, or how they can't help but dip occasionally towards the little bit of cocoa clinging to the corner of those lips. ]
[ With his mask lifted, Tera has to look at the boy from under its shadow. This is something he's done several times before, but always ends with him feeling cheated. He enjoys watching the boy, but there's a big difference between watching through two open holes and settling for incomplete glances. Viewing him like this, he only gets to see so much of the boy. He's half-obscured, and that isn't enough.
But he still notices the line of the boy's attention — and where his eyes come to rest. Tera's smile softens, settling somewhere between amused and fond, though he doesn't say anything about it. He takes it in, just as he does with the touch of the boy's knee — tilting his head a little as he considers the request. ]
Hmmm. It depends...
[ His tone is teasing, but as he speaks, he shifts the cocoa into his other hand so he can reach for the same lock of hair that he tried to tuck away earlier. This time, all he does is touch it, like it's delicate — like it could shatter if he held it too hard. ]
If you change first.
[ Into that outfit from before, which he didn't get to enjoy after the night turned into such a mess. This may not be a club, but they can salvage the night together.
[ there's that half-second before tera states his condition that the boy comes to two simultaneous conclusions: one, that tera will make some kind of outrageous or embarrassing demand — not out of any sort of maliciousness on his part, but because the boy knows tera simply can't help himself in teasing — and two, that the boy will agree to anything at this point, if only to keep that soft smile on his lips for even just a half-second longer.
fortunately, tera's prerequisite is neither outrageous nor embarrassing, and yet the boy feels his face heat up regardless. hopefully the bright smile that floods his face distracts from any coloring that might dust his cheeks, because the prospect of even just getting to talk about that outfit has him feeling like the entire night has been salvaged. the fact he gets to wear it all over again is just the icing on that cake. ]
Wait here, [ he says, like tera has anywhere else to go. like tera has anywhere else he'd like to be.
the boy hops out of his bed in a second, whizzing over to that hamper to dump its entire contents out. the be-glittered outfit is plucked up in seconds, the comfier clothing he's wearing just as quickly whisked off his body.
later, when he has a chance to sit still with his feelings again, when his room is quiet once more and the shadows creep larger in the corners, the boy will finally have a second to realize just how close he'd come to being naked in front of tera... and the muffled scream to be buried into his pillow will haunt him for days to come. ]
Ready! [ he announces blissfully, ignorantly, doing another little spin with his arms out much like he had back in that tiny bathroom. only this time it's just him and tera, whose eyes may or may not have traced over every soft angle of his near-naked body just moments prior. he rushes forward, grabs one of tera's large, gloved hands. tugs. ]
[ The color in the boy's cheeks makes Tera want to tease him again, just a little more, but he doesn't want to shatter the boy's excitement — nor his own enjoyment of it. There was a time when Tera wouldn't have been able to fathom how good someone else's happiness could make him feel, but since meeting the boy, that's what he cares about more than anything — his smile, and keeping his nightmares from chasing it away. All he does is lower his mask once again, so he can see the boy's joy fully.
It's a good thing that Tera says nothing, because when the boy begins to strip, Tera's stomach flutters so unexpectedly, he feels a flash of heat himself. He doesn't get embarrassed, especially not about naked bodies, sex, or anything in between — and it isn't like he's witnessing anything except a quick change of clothes — but the fact that it's the boy, and so unexpected, makes him hyper-aware of himself.
Normally, he'd make a comment. Normally, he'd tease. But Tera has to half-turn away and busy himself with looking in another direction — because he already spends enough of his time wanting the boy's touch, seeking contact and craving it in turn.
Thankfully, the boy is so excited, he doesn't seem to notice how awkward the situation has become. That should help Tera get better control over himself —and maybe it would have, but then his attention is pulled to the outfit. Tera has never lost to anyone except the boy — and here he is, slated to lose again, The world could be ending, but all he sees is the boy.
The boy tugs and Tera passively rises at his command.
When making this spur-of-the-moment plan, Tera figured he'd pull out his phone, set the tone with some melodic techno, and turn this into a playful dance demonstration — or lesson. But that isn't what he wants. He doesn't look at his phone. Instead, he takes a step closer, places a careful hand on the boy's hip, and asks softly: ]
Is this okay?
[ At the beginning, Tera wouldn't ask — he would just act. But that was before the stars painted above them — before Tera started learning to be gentler, a source of comfort instead of fear.
He'd protect the boy from everyone: Joris, the Black Death, other gangs.
[ later, when all is said and done, the boy will suffer a flood of embarrassment so vivid, so visceral, it will put all other moments of shame to — well, shame. there is truly something divine in the way he somehow manages to plow right past all that right now, as he settles himself into a position not-quite-in-tera's-space-but-close-enough. room enough for said divine being to still stand comfortably between them — but it's not as if the music has started yet. it's not as if the boy himself has even decided just how far he'd like to take this.
such decisions, he realizes belatedly he will soon have to battle with when he feels the sudden press (gentle, of course, because tera has always only ever seen him as breakable) of that hand against his hip and it only occurs to him then that perhaps trying pioneer the return of low-rise jeans had been a mistake after all.
is this okay? tera asks, and the boy can conjure up about a dozen different reasons why it shouldn't be. yet here he is, shyly bobbing his head in confirmation because he doesn't trust his words not to betray him.
forethought, as one can probably guess, is not exactly the boy's biggest strength. it doesn't even rank, frankly, and there is no greater evidence of that now than this very moment, where he stands half-frozen in time at the sudden realization — neither of them really specified what kind of dancing, did they? the boy processes through the (admittedly, short) list of kinds he knows in lightning speed, and yet all he can ever seem to fall back on is the warm weight of that hand on his bare hip, and the hazy memory of that basement party, of bodies grinding to the pulse-beat of a song's bass. ]
Yeah. [ a rasp, a gulp. he forces out a smile that he hopes is far more confident than how he feels. ] Why wouldn't it be?
[ they've been closer before. hell, the boy wishes they were closer still. but maybe that in itself is where the danger lies...
carefully, he slips his hands up along the length of tera's arms, eventually settling over those broad shoulders. save for a few deflated balloons and streamers, they'd look right at home in a school gymnasium prom, wouldn't they? ]
[ Moments between them are not always quiet. They can be loud, boisterous, teasing — even violent, in the beginning, when the boy was prone to smacking Tera around. But it's in the quiet moments that Tera comes to reconceptualize his life — to think of where his hands have been, and where they'll go. In the soft beats that pass between them, he envisions them being still. This is enough, really. Tera could just stay here.
But there's a world outside of the boy's window, and Tera belongs to it, and must protect the boy from it. In reality, his hand belongs nowhere but a glove, holding a pistol, because what happens if he sets it down? How does that come back on him — and then the boy? Tera is the real danger stalking from the shadows; he's the one who should be chased away.
Why wouldn't it be? asks the boy, and Tera has so, so many reasons. He says none of them. In fact, he says nothing at all — just closes his eyes behind his mask, briefly, as the boy's hands travel up his arms and circle around his neck. Tera is kinetic; he is imposing. But in the boy's hold, he's still. And when he dips his head to look at the boy through his mask — seeking his eyes, looking for something he needs to see — he's tender in ways he never thought he'd be.
He starts with a slight, guiding sway — the beginning of movement. He leads, but he is entirely in tune with the boy — at his mercy, whether he knows it or not. ]
Sure.
[ He says it lightly, an easy answer to an easy question, but Tera wants to hear him, in the same way he wants to touch him. This is theirs for however long time will allow. ]
[ Instead of a direct yes, Tera sends him a map pin. Unlike last time, they'll be meeting at his place — which is a two-bedroom apartment in a relatively modest area, considering he makes a lot of money from criminal activities.
[ In this presumably panfandomy setting, Zahid has taken to the clothes of the modern day. This means some skinny jeans and an oversized shirt hanging off his lanky form. When he reaches Tera's apartment, he lets himself in casually, a bag slung over his shoulder. He finds the man of the hour soon enough. ]
Hey. [ That's a nice fit he has on. Should he say something? He's just going to say something. also does he have the mask on ]
Whoa, those jeans look pretty hot on you. [ But he otherwise won't disrupt the sacred art of video games. Honestly, the people of the future know how to have fun. ]
i meant to include his mask but like zahid i got distracted by his clothes. yes it's on!
[ Tera does not look up from his game as Zahid enters, absolutely unconcerned about anything he may or may not do despite now having full access to his personal space. Tera himself isn't sitting, but he is leaning against his couch as he presses buttons, seemingly fully absorbed.
Without looking up, he says: ]
Knew you'd say that.
[ He didn't put them on for him — but Tera was a little amused when he thought about Zahid seeing them. He hasn't known this guy but for, what, a day or so? But it's easy to guess at what drives him. ]
Put your stuff on the table [ Still without looking up, Tera inclines his head in the table's direction. ] and come here.
[ Though new acquaintances, they really have a funny dynamic going on. Zahid feels like he can be even more candid than he normally is, saying whatever stray thing that's on his mind, and it bounces off this man like a rubber ball. Completely unfazed. ]
Okay ... [ An agreeable person, he sets his things down and trots over, taking a seat beside Tera. When he sits, he makes himself at home, slumping back lazily. ] Mask stays on, huh?
[ What a mystery ....... did the mask come off at all during their one night stand ]
[ Only once Zahid is settled — very comfortably, Tera notes — does Tera finally spare him a glance, noting his choice of clothing and his overall demeanor. The glance is quick, and then his focus is back on his game. ]
Yeah. Unless you've got a death wish.
[ Black Death Brotherhood code says he has to kill anyone who sees his face. Which means that mask was on the last time and will stay on this time — though he has no qualms with hiking it up when his mouth is needed, as long as Zahid doesn't try anything he shouldn't.
Despite the words themselves, Tera says this completely casually, after which he presses the power button on his Switch and sets it on his coffee table. In fact, he's so casual about it that he immediately transitions to prompting Zahid with: ]
So?
[ This time, he turns his full attention on him. ]
Scary... [ There's a slightly nervous laugh, and Zahid notes not to pry any further about that mask. As much as he would like to see the face beneath it, anyone who would go to the dedication of wearing a mask in the bedroom has to have a good reason. He won't be trying to peel that mask off, beyond the occasionally nudge to have access to his lips.
So ...
Honestly, Zahid is an easy going person, happy to go with the flow. The promise of a casual tryst was more than inviting, but he's no rush to go into it, happy to lounge around, talk about nothing or start the patchwork he had promised. Tera has finished his game and is giving him his full attention, so he takes this as his cue to sidle up close, poking the other man playfully on his plush chest. ]
Depends on you, don't it? I could patch up your clothes, or take 'em off. Your pick.
[ The mask that Tera wears is blank — both in terms of color and expression. It hides the way his eyebrows raise in amusement as Zahid makes himself even more comfortable. The only indication that Tera is paying attention to what he's doing in the first place is the way his head dips to follow Zahid's finger as it pokes his chest. ]
I figured you'd be too distracted if we didn't fuck first.
[ He just seems like a distractable guy — with a mind for one thing, most of the time.
Tera grabs Zahid's hand before it pulls away from his chest — quickly, almost predatory in how he moves, though the hold he maintains is only firm enough to keep him caught. All in all, for a big and violent guy like him, it borders on gentle. ]
You gonna be able to work like this?
[ "Like this" being Tera shifting so that his thigh pins Zahid's leg — just a little. Just enough to keep him in place while he takes Zahid's hand and flattens it against his chest before moving it slowly downward to rest against his abs. All the while, he watches Zahid's face. ]
[ True, he might have been distracted, but Zahid is an enjoyer of all pleasures. Having sex was enjoyable, but so was using one of the few skills he can be proud of to fix up those battered clothing. He did have enough self control to wait. Of course, all that goes out the window when the shift in mood becomes apparent. The hand grabbing his wrist is as much commandeering as it was gentle, and Zahid found himself enjoying that juxtaposition. This bed partner he's found was powerful, but not cruel in the way he used it - so far, anyway. He also had a no-nonsense, frankness to his banter that was kind of fun to bounce off of. He likes him a good amount. ]
Nope. [ Not with the way his hand was being guided down to run across that defined musculature, each tantalizing ripple. Unable to resist himself, he breaks out of that hold over his leg, rising briefly for a quick maneuver from where he is on the couch, to plopping right down onto the other man's lap. If Tera is watching him, he'll find that the expression on his face carries no secrets, gaze hooded and lustful, tongue flicking past his lips in interest. ]
So this is my second audition, huh? I gotta impress you.
[ Just here to have fun, he doesn't really feel the pressure. Tera seemed to like some attention to his chest. Zahid snakes his hands beneath that fitted shirt, groping the swell of the other man's pecs, one thumb playfully flicking past a nipple. He would kiss him if he could. For now he'll settle for leaning in close, bodies pressed together as he runs his tongue along the shell of Tera's ear. ]
[ Tera's Tinder profile is as nondescript as his mask: a selfie with his face cut off, a vague blurb that says nothing at all, and an age connected to a fake birthday. It doesn't make a statement about what he's looking for, nor does it convey anything about who he is — and that's never been a problem. If anything, the mystery has added to his allure, his mask every bit as much as a novelty as it is, according to some, kinky.
But if Tera were to take the time to really think through his type, the truth would lead him to list a simple set of criteria: someone confident, curious, and a little courageous. He doesn't like pushovers — they remind him too much of his best friend's younger brother — and he doesn't want to mess with anyone who's afraid of him. That kind of thing turns him off real quick. He's only interested in people who can — and want to — handle him.
And if he were really honest, he'd also have to admit that he has a soft spot for certain endearing qualities — like the desire to decorate a scary guy's clothes with little paw prints.
So when Zahid not only doesn't shy away from the imposing force that Tera is, but also removes himself from being loosely pinned to climb into his lap, Tera is already a little impressed. Add in Zahid's open expression, and what was going to be a fuck to pass some time (again) begins to feel less an idle repeat of their one-night stand and more something Tera wants to take the time to enjoy. Calling their first time mediocre wasn't exactly fair, but Tera's still decided that he's already having more fun this time around.
Unfortunately, he's also pretty stoic overall, and the mask doesn't help communicate how he's feeling, so even though he does like his nipples being toyed with, and even though he enjoys the attention that Zahid gives his ear — enough to let out a just barely audible breath — the only real indication that he's enjoying himself comes in the form of a hand that settles along Zahid's hip — and a grip that pulls him a little closer.
His hand then roams along Zahid's back, fingers trailing up his spine. He stops when he reaches his neck, splaying his fingers to lightly grasp the nape — not quite a cradle, but not a tight grip, either. Like Tera himself, his touch is somewhere in between predatory and gentle — dominant and considerate. There's a reason he wears the mask of the wolf and not one of the other three animals used by the Black Death: Tera is equal parts dangerous and protective. ]
That all you got?
[ — and teasing, too.
He speaks the words in a low, playful rumble. After he says it, he tilts his head just a little — just enough to break his otherwise stoic demeanor, silently conveying that he's enjoying the contact. ]
[ There aren't too many things Zahid can claim to be good at, but having a read on people happens to be one of them. This man was an especially interesting challenge, with how they covered their face and still managed to keep the tells in their body so subtle. Like a mystery to be pieced together. An intriguing breakaway from the usual. He wanted to see how far he could push his buttons until those tells are too clear in tensing muscles and flushed skin. From the small tells, he had a feeling what he was doing was getting the results he wanted.
His lips curve when he feels the hand travelling up his spine, resting at the back of his neck, light press of the fingers powerful and grounding but somehow remaining gentle. It makes his back arch, a ripple following the touch. He wants to feel those fingers on the other parts of the skin, but he holds off on asking for now, if only because it was his job to impress. Pressed close like this, with the hand around him, it was a bit like being embraced, and he finds himself enjoying the warmth of their shared proximity.
He lets out a soft laugh at the teasing, somewhat enjoying being pressed. ]
You're like one of those rich gals I've been with. High standards. [ Never lasted. Simply just the sort of untethered person that he was. The nerve of him to be talking about seeing other people while in a situation like this, but perhaps he's trying to push some buttons to get a response.
Leaning in close again, he speaks into the other man's ear, keeping his hands pressed over the curves of his chest. ]
But I think you like this more than you wanna admit. [ His touch is just as lascivious as the rest of him. He punctuates his sentence with a hard pinch of the nipple, stroking and rubbing it. He had a sense that that contact was enjoyed. His other hand travels down the span of Tera's abdomen and finds the prize between his legs, shameless in the way he tries to invoke a response, palming and kneading him hungrily. His lips give that earlobe a playful bite, before travelling down the span of Tera's neck, lathering the flushed skin with some lewd, open-mouthed kisses. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
at the "club" with the boy
[ Once Ellie is no longer screaming like she's being murdered, she becomes, more or less, a non-issue. The problem is solved — though she probably should stop by the hospital before she goes home — and aside from the fact that someone is probably going to barge into the bathroom pretty soon, that takes care of any immediate concerns. The boy should be able to rest easy now, which is, of course, all Tera wants for him.
That, in turn, means that Tera's focus can return entirely to him; it doesn't matter if Ellie is staring or blushing. She could be openly drooling and he still wouldn't look twice. He looks only at the boy. And even as he continues gripping her, bracing her against the wall in case she does decide to pass out, all Tera thinks about is the boy's hands seeking him — finding him.
All he hears are his words — the concern that she might be dead. That he might've killed her. He thinks about letting Ellie fall, or slide, to the ground just so he can take the boy's hands in his own.
I'm sorry you had to see that, he said once; and now those same words form on his tongue.
But there's little time to think about that, let alone say anything, because while he's busy watching the boy, he misses her expression shift and her body tense. He doesn't realize that he's in a line of fire — not until the boy has already knocked him to the ground (a landing that pulls an oof out of him). And by then, what does the rest matter? They're back to normal like this — Tera with an aching tailbone and the boy safe, watching out for his mask as he always does.
Finally, Tera takes his hand in his own, before the boy can pull it fully away. He brushes the pad of his thumb against his palm. Only the boy could knock him on his ass in a dirty "club" bathroom and have Tera feel glad for it — nostalgic, in a way, for their first couple of meetings. ]
Yeah. I do.
[ Not that he should — word of a Black Death hanging out at some underground party, dancing instead of menacing, is bound to reach Luc and the others, and they're already annoyed with him. Not that it's stopped him yet — he's still here, after all. ]
But the police will be here any minute.
[ If they aren't already. ]
We need to make a run for it.
[ The both of them together because: ]
If you stay, you'll get busted, too. This isn't a club.
[ And the legality of the party aside, Tera has a hunch that the boy's uncle will not be pleased to see him in a place like this — Black Death or no Black Death. ]
no subject
Aw fuck.
[ inelegant, clumsy. mirroring the way he hastily scrambles to his feet, made all the more chaotic by the fact he doesn't quite dare pull his hand away from tera's. there's a brief, comical moment wherein it looks like he might actually use that tether to help the much larger man to his feet — but fortunately tera remains the wiser of the two of them, and helps himself up all on his own.
the boy still doesn't release that hand. instead he tugs on it to pull tera's attention towards him (had it even gone anywhere else?) so he could be hit with the full force of the boy's rising panic. ]
What do we do?
[ the main entrance suddenly seems so very, very far away.
from her private stall in the bathroom, ellie's gurgling voice helpfully supplies: ]
Window.
[ clearly, this is not ellie's first illegal rodeo.
the boy whirls around to find said window — some bitty 2x2 thing that blessedly doesn't have any bars... but in what dreamworld could tera ever hope to fit in through that space? the boy glares at the full breadth of tera's shoulders and chest, suddenly now the bane of his existence. ]
no subject
That's a later problem.
Since they haven't been found yet, they still have time on their side. With a light squeeze of the boy's hand, Tera releases him and walks over to the window. They need to focus now — and hurry. ]
Don't worry. I'll go out the other way.
[ The window is a top-hung style, which is lucky, even if the size could be bigger. The boy won't have to squeeze too hard, since the pane will lift up all the way, clearing almost the entire perimeter. Tera's shimmied through a few of these before. Just not in bathrooms designed to save on space.
Unlatching it is easy. What isn't simple is getting it to budge, because this one clearly hasn't been opened in a long time. Tera's initial push on the glass accomplishes nothing. After a second, much more forceful attempt, it finally squeals its way open, the hinges in need of some serious lubrication. Better that than having to break the glass, at least.
It's quiet outside. Tera inclines his head: ]
C'mon — I'll boost you.
[ Not unlike he did that time at the park. ]
no subject
but, logically, logistically, it all makes sense. and tera is definitely the more experienced of the two when it comes to matters like these, so his hesitation lasts for all of a minute before he begrudgingly sighs and turns back towards tera. arms up, for uppies.
—just kidding, he's putting those hands squarely on those wide shoulders so he can at least assist in lifting himself up... not that tera needs any help at all.
he gets halfway through, and caught between the narrow space and that awkward angle, it takes a lot of finagling to try and work his way through...
all this to say — there's some significant ass wiggling right up in tera's face before the boy finally manages to get some good leverage and pull himself through the tiny window. by now, what looks like half the glitter in his hair has made new homes on those broad shoulders of tera's, and there's a particularly stubborn lock of hair that keeps falling over the boy's left eye when he turns around to deliver what he would insist is his sternest look. ]
Don't take too long to find me.
[ he shifts briefly, as if to back out entirely, before he seems to think better of it and pops his head back in once more. ]
Or I'll be real mad.
[ top ten most unconvincing threats of all time. ]
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Time is ticking, so after watching the boy's ass wiggle for a bit, Tera nearly moves to give him a nice shove toward freedom — but he makes it through.
Tera's hand is already moving to close the window when the boy turns back around. Despite the growing urgency of the situation, he huffs out a laugh and reaches instead to touch that stray lock of hair. He doesn't manage to tuck it away — really, all that happens is he brushes it back and it stubbornly returns to its unruly position — but it suits him, anyway.
He's cute when he's being severe — and when he's making threats. Always has been. ]
I know what happens when you're mad.
[ Spoken teasingly, though warmth bleeds into his tone anyway. He has a list of possibilities: getting hit by a car, stabbed by an umbrella, hit with a frying pan, tased... ]
Guess I better hurry.
[ Then, in a firmer, much more serious tone: ]
Go.
[ As soon as the boy is just clear of the opening, Tera jerks the sash down and slams the window shut, latching it for two reasons: (1) so no cop thinks someone escaped that way, and (2) so the boy doesn't decide to turn back again.
Ellie stumbles out of the bathroom. She still has a queasy look about her. Tera nods toward the sink. She eyes him as she walks up to it — probably wondering why he hasn't made a run for it yet — but then busies herself with cleaning off her face.
Tera watches the window and waits.
When she straightens, she looks at him again. Some color dusts her cheeks, but under his mask's glare, her nervousness begins to win out again. "Uhh —"
Tera unholsters his pistol. Her eyes widen. He grabs her, pulls her close, and holds the gun to her head.
"I — I thought —" she stammers. Then: "I helped you!"
"And I helped you. We're even. Now move." He pushes her toward the door.
"Why are you doing this?" Her voice quavers; her step falters. She's clearly had enough stress for one night.
"Black Death, remember?" He gestures to himself with a wiggle of his pistol.
Glitter falls to the floor.
"B-But —"
There's no way he'll make it through a basement crawling with police in a mask and full gear — unless he has a hostage. A shield. Someone the police are not too keen on shooting, or having Tera shoot. It's his best shot.
More importantly: if he attracts positive attention while representing the Brotherhood, Luc and the others will lose it. He can't have witnesses going around talking about how a member of the Black Death was kind, or soft, or not-at-all scary. If word gets back to them, they're going to start digging.
They're going to find the boy.
So it has to look and feel real, even as Tera remembers how pale the boy was when he asked: Is... Is she...?
Even as he accepts that he will be the source of her nightmares after all.
So when she tries to turn, to look at him, to protest or make a plea, Tera pushes the barrel of his pistol against her head hard enough to shut her up.
"Do exactly what I say," he instructs her, "and you won't get hurt."
The next time Ellie throws up, it's on a cop.
***
By the time Tera arrives at the boy's window, a solid hour has passed. The escape worked, as Tera knew it would. Aside from a hiccup at the end, during which he took a baton to the mask, his plan went relatively smoothly.
He had to take a detour — to wipe the blood dripping from his nose, to press the plastic forehead of his mask against a shitty alley wall, to splay his fist against unforgiving brick.
But that's done now.
The boy's window is ajar, despite the night's chill. Tera slides through the gap, then closes it behind him. ]
Aren't you cold?
[ Then, after only a brief pause, like the simple question was an exhale of tension, he says: ]
Hey.
no subject
still.
the boy keeps his phone firmly attached to his hand the entire time, but he ignores all of his friends' texts in favor of keeping an eye out for any word from tera. the irony here is all those ignored texts were blowing up about "the incident at the house rave," but the blessing here is the boy is spared further stress remaining quite oblivious to the hostage situation that had gone down from within those walls. thank god he and ellie never exchanged numbers, or he would have certainly gotten an earful (eyeful?) by now.
he's chewing on the end of his pencil when the persistent breeze from his open window grows more prominent, the fluttering of his curtains giving way to a shadowy figure like a scene right out of b*tman. the boy is on his stomach, his kicking feet pausing when his brain adjusts from that initial apprehension to a far more welcome relief, and he scrambles up onto his knees so he can get a better look at tera from where he's perched on his bed.
his eyes stall on the damage done to the mask, and even longer on the dirt clinging to the knuckles of one gloves fist. but a full sweep declares the man otherwise unharmed, and the boy has to consciously force himself to relax. it could always be worse.
at the very least, but most important of all — he's here. ]
Hey.
[ he shifts to sit cross-legged on his bed. the sketchbook he'd had opened brushes against a knee, and for a brief second tera might catch a glimpse of a messy sketch of a woman's contorted face with a high bun and a prominent nose ring: the boy's best rendition of what he remembers of torrence. ]
There's hot chocolate there, if you want.
[ a single mug, still steaming, a result of the boy's obsessive reheating every 10 minutes to ensure maximum coziness for when tera finally shows up. all that remains of the mini marshmallows are two, one notably larger than the other, linked by a single point of contact and floating merrily along in their own little hot chocolate world.
off tangent but slightly related — lately, the boy has started to find his thoughts drifting towards the concept of fate. ]
no subject
Tera's hands have been all over the furniture, which is what he thinks about as the boy (whole, unharmed, drawing like usual) points out the hot chocolate: his fingers once slid into those drawers, his grip encircled that bow. He's even laid his head upon that bed — and, technically, the floor.
The boy's hands have been in his own. Tera has rested beside him and looked at the stars.
There's a subtle buzz in his pocket: text messages from Kain, and probably Luc, too, asking, What the fuck? It's a persistent reminder of his life outside of this room. Turning it off would be like shutting everything out and sinking into this warmth like he belongs here. Turning it off would mean ignoring everything he did tonight, and all the nights before.
Tera leaves it on.
Walking to the desk is still too easy, especially since the hand that reaches for the mug is dirty, smeared, still fresh from holding a gun. Tera's grasp engulfs it, his fingers sliding through the handle, and warmth reaches him through his glove. ]
Thank you.
[ He watches the two marshmallows quiver in response to his movement. He raises the mug a little too quickly, and the smaller one ends up submerged — only to be tugged right back up by the bigger one.
He doesn't sip it yet, though he turns around, his attention once again oriented toward the boy. He leans his head to the side, his hair — messier than usual, after that escape — falls along the edge of his mask.
He hadn't wanted to send the boy home alone.
The plan is always for Tera to take him home, if he can. It was cold, dark, and late. Anyone could have been roaming around. Tera knows these streets. He knows the police aren't the only threat. ]
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you moved on from getting kidnapped —
[ And, hopefully, from keeping Joris' company like Joris is going to stop entangling him in messes. ]
— but what were you doing at a place like that? How the hell did you end up there in the first place?
[ Somehow this feels worse than a near-kidnapping. At least Joris is stupid and couldn't pull off a real kidnapping if the boy handed himself to him (which he has a few times now). But this could've gone so much worse than it did. The rave could've attracted the wrong crowd. Hell, it could've been thrown by the wrong crowd. Luc's had parties like that before — better-hidden, but not by a whole lot. The Black Death aren't afraid of attracting some heat. Or luring a naive someone into their hands as a form of blackmail — or, as could have been in this case, as a means of telling the police to back the fuck off.
Tera isn't afraid of anything. But at the root of these questions is something nagging — something that has only grown. ]
no subject
but the boy doesn't really think in terms like that. ask him, and he would sooner consider himself an omen than a temptation, but apparently they are both wrong in the most compatible of ways, because here they persist, orbiting each other. simply unable to help themselves.
not that the boy is really trying all that hard to resist. not that he even can. ]
...I wanted an excuse to dress up.
[ his voice, though honest, is small. his expression fleeting, gaze skittering towards the golden lamplight in the corner of the room that wards away the rest of the shadows. there's guilt there, on his face. the story starts the way it always does with him: a harmless intent and a simple query into his friend circle that found its way outside of it, an address and a reason, and the lack of forethought to find anything about it at all suspicious. but at least this time nobody seems to have required an emergency room.
(well. maybe ellie, still.)
he's dressed down now, of course. there is little evidence left on him of that rave, just a few speckles of glitter in his hair and those two sequinned stars on his cheek. he's wiped the gloss off his lips, and changed into an oversized shirt that swallows up a more fitted pair of shorts. even the socks he has on — pulled up high to the knees — are inoffensively plain.
shamefully bundled up in the bottom of his laundry hamper is the outfit he had been so eager to don, the one he'd been planning for and saving up for a special occasion that never came, the very same one that barely even got its chance to be seen on the night he found an excuse for it. there's a metaphor there somewhere, he's sure, but right now he's a little too fixated on the fact tera still hasn't taken a sip of his cocoa yet. the boy will have to hear it up again, if he doesn't start drinking soon.
his bed is full-size. when he shifts to the side like he does now, there is just barely enough room for tera to squeeze in. he draws his knees up to his chest, and looks at the masked man with that wordless request. ]
no subject
As time goes on, he becomes more aware of his limitations. He can scare nightmares away. He can look at the boy's drawings or watch him mess around on his computer. He can bump into him outside, give him rides home. But that's the extent of their normal. The boy probably didn't tell him about the "club" before going because it's not like Tera could have tagged along.
It's not like Tera would have stayed away.
But these are thoughts for later — after the boy's breath has evened out and Tera looks out into a city that has quieted for the night. Right now, Tera is all-but beckoned to his side, and he responds accordingly, walking over to the bed and taking a seat next to the boy. He positions himself so they're touching, his arm against the boy's, creating more contact there than necessary. In his right hand is the mug. He places his left atop it, like he's holding in the warmth. ]
You looked good.
[ Briefly, his attention is on the mug.
But as always, he raises his eyes to look at the boy — always the boy. ]
I liked your outfit.
[ There hadn't been a lot of time for talking about clothes in that small bathroom, but Tera had noticed. He always notices when it comes to the boy: the glitter in his hair, the sequins on his cheek, the outfit that he could tell was new. And now: the way he hugs his legs, as though making himself smaller. ]
And the glitter. It's gonna stick to me for days.
[ He lifts his hand off the mug to point at a single piece on his pants. It catches the light. ]
It'll be like I'm carrying you with me.
[ He'll leave all that clings to him, even if it means getting hassled by Kain or questioned by Luc.
In a more playful tone, as he leans against the boy — an awkward drop of his head, a nudge of his mask, and a sliver of his cheek against his shoulder. ]
Just not nearly as heavy.
no subject
[ it's a quiet barb, if one can even call it that. it'a spoken too soft to hold any weight, too gently to hold any sharp edges. the shoulder tera awkwardly comes to rest on droops, briefly, as if to punctuate the boy's point, but he holds fast a second later, as if determined to prove he can handle it. (as if tera himself isn't shouldering most of the awkward weight distribution to begin with.)
in any case, the boy tries not to sound too glum. sure, there are darker, sadder routes his mind could take. ignoring them doesn't mean they aren't there, like the shadows he's so terrified of always cling to the edges of every halo of light he can conjure.
after all, the boy knows a thing or two about dreams. he knows about nightmares, too, but it's the dreams that keep him afloat. it's the dreams that make waking up an active choice, and one he chooses day in and day out. these tiny, precious moments between them — they're fleeting, and maybe on the more delusional side of ignorant, but they're theirs. and the boy has learned not grow out of the selfishness of wanting more. ]
You owe me a dance.
[ not glum, but petulant. there's safety in this, knowing tera has given him the space to make demands, even when it was initially born out of a spontaneous request. at the very least, it gives him something to think about other than how quickly ash might replace glitter. ]
Can you even dance?
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He's hesitant to disrupt this moment. But he is aware of his weight — of the burden his head presents. He knows the cocoa is cooling, and that time only stretches on toward sleep and nightmares.
He raises his head. Then he lifts his mask just enough to reveal his mouth and brings the mug to his lips. The marshmallows, still united, are only tiny blobs now — but still they endure. ]
How hard can it be?
[ He asks this with his lips still poised to sip, though he lowers the mug so the boy can see his smile — a little amused by his implication (though he isn't wrong to ask), and even more so by his tone. ]
It's just rhythm and movement. That's every day for me.
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Yeah... I guess you do move really well.
[ jumping, running, dodging. parkour. you can't constantly escape danger and harm like tera does without a solid grasp on how to use your body. but the boy has never seen tera use that body outside of that danger — and he is self-aware enough to recognize that's just as much his fault as it is tera's — but that doesn't stop him aching for the possibility of seeing something new. ]
Show me?
[ he has shifted now, turning towards the older man enough that one of his knee falls open, leaning against the strong line of tera's thigh, brushing against an arm. he doesn't hide the way his eyes yearn to burn through the rest of that mask, or how they can't help but dip occasionally towards the little bit of cocoa clinging to the corner of those lips. ]
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But he still notices the line of the boy's attention — and where his eyes come to rest. Tera's smile softens, settling somewhere between amused and fond, though he doesn't say anything about it. He takes it in, just as he does with the touch of the boy's knee — tilting his head a little as he considers the request. ]
Hmmm. It depends...
[ His tone is teasing, but as he speaks, he shifts the cocoa into his other hand so he can reach for the same lock of hair that he tried to tuck away earlier. This time, all he does is touch it, like it's delicate — like it could shatter if he held it too hard. ]
If you change first.
[ Into that outfit from before, which he didn't get to enjoy after the night turned into such a mess. This may not be a club, but they can salvage the night together.
And Tera would like to see the outfit again. ]
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fortunately, tera's prerequisite is neither outrageous nor embarrassing, and yet the boy feels his face heat up regardless. hopefully the bright smile that floods his face distracts from any coloring that might dust his cheeks, because the prospect of even just getting to talk about that outfit has him feeling like the entire night has been salvaged. the fact he gets to wear it all over again is just the icing on that cake. ]
Wait here, [ he says, like tera has anywhere else to go. like tera has anywhere else he'd like to be.
the boy hops out of his bed in a second, whizzing over to that hamper to dump its entire contents out. the be-glittered outfit is plucked up in seconds, the comfier clothing he's wearing just as quickly whisked off his body.
later, when he has a chance to sit still with his feelings again, when his room is quiet once more and the shadows creep larger in the corners, the boy will finally have a second to realize just how close he'd come to being naked in front of tera... and the muffled scream to be buried into his pillow will haunt him for days to come. ]
Ready! [ he announces blissfully, ignorantly, doing another little spin with his arms out much like he had back in that tiny bathroom. only this time it's just him and tera, whose eyes may or may not have traced over every soft angle of his near-naked body just moments prior. he rushes forward, grabs one of tera's large, gloved hands. tugs. ]
No chickening out now — c'mon.
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It's a good thing that Tera says nothing, because when the boy begins to strip, Tera's stomach flutters so unexpectedly, he feels a flash of heat himself. He doesn't get embarrassed, especially not about naked bodies, sex, or anything in between — and it isn't like he's witnessing anything except a quick change of clothes — but the fact that it's the boy, and so unexpected, makes him hyper-aware of himself.
Normally, he'd make a comment. Normally, he'd tease. But Tera has to half-turn away and busy himself with looking in another direction — because he already spends enough of his time wanting the boy's touch, seeking contact and craving it in turn.
Thankfully, the boy is so excited, he doesn't seem to notice how awkward the situation has become. That should help Tera get better control over himself —and maybe it would have, but then his attention is pulled to the outfit. Tera has never lost to anyone except the boy — and here he is, slated to lose again, The world could be ending, but all he sees is the boy.
The boy tugs and Tera passively rises at his command.
When making this spur-of-the-moment plan, Tera figured he'd pull out his phone, set the tone with some melodic techno, and turn this into a playful dance demonstration — or lesson. But that isn't what he wants. He doesn't look at his phone. Instead, he takes a step closer, places a careful hand on the boy's hip, and asks softly: ]
Is this okay?
[ At the beginning, Tera wouldn't ask — he would just act. But that was before the stars painted above them — before Tera started learning to be gentler, a source of comfort instead of fear.
He'd protect the boy from everyone: Joris, the Black Death, other gangs.
Even from the hand that lingers on his hip. ]
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such decisions, he realizes belatedly he will soon have to battle with when he feels the sudden press (gentle, of course, because tera has always only ever seen him as breakable) of that hand against his hip and it only occurs to him then that perhaps trying pioneer the return of low-rise jeans had been a mistake after all.
is this okay? tera asks, and the boy can conjure up about a dozen different reasons why it shouldn't be. yet here he is, shyly bobbing his head in confirmation because he doesn't trust his words not to betray him.
forethought, as one can probably guess, is not exactly the boy's biggest strength. it doesn't even rank, frankly, and there is no greater evidence of that now than this very moment, where he stands half-frozen in time at the sudden realization — neither of them really specified what kind of dancing, did they? the boy processes through the (admittedly, short) list of kinds he knows in lightning speed, and yet all he can ever seem to fall back on is the warm weight of that hand on his bare hip, and the hazy memory of that basement party, of bodies grinding to the pulse-beat of a song's bass. ]
Yeah. [ a rasp, a gulp. he forces out a smile that he hopes is far more confident than how he feels. ] Why wouldn't it be?
[ they've been closer before. hell, the boy wishes they were closer still. but maybe that in itself is where the danger lies...
carefully, he slips his hands up along the length of tera's arms, eventually settling over those broad shoulders. save for a few deflated balloons and streamers, they'd look right at home in a school gymnasium prom, wouldn't they? ]
Should I hum?
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But there's a world outside of the boy's window, and Tera belongs to it, and must protect the boy from it. In reality, his hand belongs nowhere but a glove, holding a pistol, because what happens if he sets it down? How does that come back on him — and then the boy? Tera is the real danger stalking from the shadows; he's the one who should be chased away.
Why wouldn't it be? asks the boy, and Tera has so, so many reasons. He says none of them. In fact, he says nothing at all — just closes his eyes behind his mask, briefly, as the boy's hands travel up his arms and circle around his neck. Tera is kinetic; he is imposing. But in the boy's hold, he's still. And when he dips his head to look at the boy through his mask — seeking his eyes, looking for something he needs to see — he's tender in ways he never thought he'd be.
He starts with a slight, guiding sway — the beginning of movement. He leads, but he is entirely in tune with the boy — at his mercy, whether he knows it or not. ]
Sure.
[ He says it lightly, an easy answer to an easy question, but Tera wants to hear him, in the same way he wants to touch him. This is theirs for however long time will allow. ]
@luckbranch
[ Little does Zahid know that a paw print is one of probably two possible options that could pique Tera's interest. ]
A small one
[ Which is a yes. ]
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you agreed??
[ sir you were a sexy one night stand before but now you are actually becoming endearing ]
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I'm takin it back
[ Maybe no paw prints after all... ]
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[ he's invested now ]
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[ And teasing about it, too, since Zahid makes it easy. ]
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aw c'mon, i can put it somewhere others can't see
it'd be really cute, man
[ hidden pawprints...... peak cute ]
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Do I look like I'm goin for cute
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yeah you're such a cool and mysterious guy, i know
but have you considered that having something cute like that on your shirt would make you even more mysterious
[ he's pulling this logic out of his ass, don't ask him to elaborate on it ]
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Nope
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[ agreeing then changing his mind!! Ughhh
But Zahid understands that no means no ]
fine, i guess it'll just be a patch up. that's so boring
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Are u pouting
[ He's figuring yes. ]
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maybe
i was looking forward to doing it
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K
[ A pause, for maximum deja vu. ]
I'll give u a second chance
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you will?
[ he has no idea what changed Tera's mind but this is fun and he's going to take it ]
sweet! should I head over?
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Then: ]
Door's unlocked
[ So come right in and feast your eyes on Tera in casual wear — a t-shirt and a pair of artfully ripped jeans. He'll be playing on his Switch — very sexy of him. ]
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Hey. [ That's a nice fit he has on. Should he say something? He's just going to say something.
also does he have the mask on]Whoa, those jeans look pretty hot on you. [ But he otherwise won't disrupt the sacred art of video games. Honestly, the people of the future know how to have fun. ]
i meant to include his mask but like zahid i got distracted by his clothes. yes it's on!
Without looking up, he says: ]
Knew you'd say that.
[ He didn't put them on for him — but Tera was a little amused when he thought about Zahid seeing them. He hasn't known this guy but for, what, a day or so? But it's easy to guess at what drives him. ]
Put your stuff on the table [ Still without looking up, Tera inclines his head in the table's direction. ] and come here.
real, the fit is very distracting
Okay ... [ An agreeable person, he sets his things down and trots over, taking a seat beside Tera. When he sits, he makes himself at home, slumping back lazily. ] Mask stays on, huh?
[ What a mystery ....... did the mask come off at all during their one night stand ]
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Yeah. Unless you've got a death wish.
[ Black Death Brotherhood code says he has to kill anyone who sees his face. Which means that mask was on the last time and will stay on this time — though he has no qualms with hiking it up when his mouth is needed, as long as Zahid doesn't try anything he shouldn't.
Despite the words themselves, Tera says this completely casually, after which he presses the power button on his Switch and sets it on his coffee table. In fact, he's so casual about it that he immediately transitions to prompting Zahid with: ]
So?
[ This time, he turns his full attention on him. ]
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So ...
Honestly, Zahid is an easy going person, happy to go with the flow. The promise of a casual tryst was more than inviting, but he's no rush to go into it, happy to lounge around, talk about nothing or start the patchwork he had promised. Tera has finished his game and is giving him his full attention, so he takes this as his cue to sidle up close, poking the other man playfully on his plush chest. ]
Depends on you, don't it? I could patch up your clothes, or take 'em off. Your pick.
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I figured you'd be too distracted if we didn't fuck first.
[ He just seems like a distractable guy — with a mind for one thing, most of the time.
Tera grabs Zahid's hand before it pulls away from his chest — quickly, almost predatory in how he moves, though the hold he maintains is only firm enough to keep him caught. All in all, for a big and violent guy like him, it borders on gentle. ]
You gonna be able to work like this?
[ "Like this" being Tera shifting so that his thigh pins Zahid's leg — just a little. Just enough to keep him in place while he takes Zahid's hand and flattens it against his chest before moving it slowly downward to rest against his abs. All the while, he watches Zahid's face. ]
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Nope. [ Not with the way his hand was being guided down to run across that defined musculature, each tantalizing ripple. Unable to resist himself, he breaks out of that hold over his leg, rising briefly for a quick maneuver from where he is on the couch, to plopping right down onto the other man's lap. If Tera is watching him, he'll find that the expression on his face carries no secrets, gaze hooded and lustful, tongue flicking past his lips in interest. ]
So this is my second audition, huh? I gotta impress you.
[ Just here to have fun, he doesn't really feel the pressure. Tera seemed to like some attention to his chest. Zahid snakes his hands beneath that fitted shirt, groping the swell of the other man's pecs, one thumb playfully flicking past a nipple. He would kiss him if he could. For now he'll settle for leaning in close, bodies pressed together as he runs his tongue along the shell of Tera's ear. ]
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But if Tera were to take the time to really think through his type, the truth would lead him to list a simple set of criteria: someone confident, curious, and a little courageous. He doesn't like pushovers — they remind him too much of his best friend's younger brother — and he doesn't want to mess with anyone who's afraid of him. That kind of thing turns him off real quick. He's only interested in people who can — and want to — handle him.
And if he were really honest, he'd also have to admit that he has a soft spot for certain endearing qualities — like the desire to decorate a scary guy's clothes with little paw prints.
So when Zahid not only doesn't shy away from the imposing force that Tera is, but also removes himself from being loosely pinned to climb into his lap, Tera is already a little impressed. Add in Zahid's open expression, and what was going to be a fuck to pass some time (again) begins to feel less an idle repeat of their one-night stand and more something Tera wants to take the time to enjoy. Calling their first time mediocre wasn't exactly fair, but Tera's still decided that he's already having more fun this time around.
Unfortunately, he's also pretty stoic overall, and the mask doesn't help communicate how he's feeling, so even though he does like his nipples being toyed with, and even though he enjoys the attention that Zahid gives his ear — enough to let out a just barely audible breath — the only real indication that he's enjoying himself comes in the form of a hand that settles along Zahid's hip — and a grip that pulls him a little closer.
His hand then roams along Zahid's back, fingers trailing up his spine. He stops when he reaches his neck, splaying his fingers to lightly grasp the nape — not quite a cradle, but not a tight grip, either. Like Tera himself, his touch is somewhere in between predatory and gentle — dominant and considerate. There's a reason he wears the mask of the wolf and not one of the other three animals used by the Black Death: Tera is equal parts dangerous and protective. ]
That all you got?
[ — and teasing, too.
He speaks the words in a low, playful rumble. After he says it, he tilts his head just a little — just enough to break his otherwise stoic demeanor, silently conveying that he's enjoying the contact. ]
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His lips curve when he feels the hand travelling up his spine, resting at the back of his neck, light press of the fingers powerful and grounding but somehow remaining gentle. It makes his back arch, a ripple following the touch. He wants to feel those fingers on the other parts of the skin, but he holds off on asking for now, if only because it was his job to impress. Pressed close like this, with the hand around him, it was a bit like being embraced, and he finds himself enjoying the warmth of their shared proximity.
He lets out a soft laugh at the teasing, somewhat enjoying being pressed. ]
You're like one of those rich gals I've been with. High standards. [ Never lasted. Simply just the sort of untethered person that he was. The nerve of him to be talking about seeing other people while in a situation like this, but perhaps he's trying to push some buttons to get a response.
Leaning in close again, he speaks into the other man's ear, keeping his hands pressed over the curves of his chest. ]
But I think you like this more than you wanna admit. [ His touch is just as lascivious as the rest of him. He punctuates his sentence with a hard pinch of the nipple, stroking and rubbing it. He had a sense that that contact was enjoyed. His other hand travels down the span of Tera's abdomen and finds the prize between his legs, shameless in the way he tries to invoke a response, palming and kneading him hungrily. His lips give that earlobe a playful bite, before travelling down the span of Tera's neck, lathering the flushed skin with some lewd, open-mouthed kisses. ]