Florian most certainly has it in him to be as cold as the wind off of the Nord Sea, but right now, he is all heat and warmth and fire, bloodhot and earnestly wanton. He has been told he needn't be nearly as careful here, and more importantly shown it and that is certainly a part of it. But the greater part is the heart-deep knowledge that has been churning inside of him that Johann is his, was the gift given to him, was his goddess's own creation from his suffering, no longer a question.
He has accepted it in his heart but he's a Nordenman. The physical, the visceral, the real- he wants that too.
Johann is hungry, and he is hungry in return. Small hands and clever fingers are going to start working on his clothes, the same that carefully straightened them to attempt to make him look like a gentleman now opening them with desperate speed. And when Johann lays him down, something in his chest goes heavy and cracks and he grabs at him, says without words.
He takes both Florian's small hands with one of his, kissing the tips of his fingers to still them. He pulls a familiar looking bone knife from his pockets as well as a few throwing knives, leftover from his time being one of the Admiral's favorites.
Those are deposited neatly on a side table before the long coat is dropped onto the ground.
Then it's back to kissing him, back to undoing the hard work he put in to making him presentable that morning. He says nothing, just presses a quick kiss under his jaw before placing an aggressive mark along his pale skin.
He would never dream of admitting to Johann the way something coils in his stomach when Johann takes his hands with one if his, nor that it only tightens as he pulls half a dozen knives from all manner of places on his person. But all the same, he is much better pleased when Johann returns to kissing him until that mark pulls a hiss from between his well-reddened lips.
"Does it frustrate you, Johann? That no one will ever see any mark you leave on me?"
"No," he grins, sitting up to meet his eyes. "Because I know when you turn a certain way or you move half an inch that it pulls and it hurts and you feel where I've bruised you and no one else fucking knows but me."
He traces his fingers along his jaw, catching his chin in his iron grip.
"When have you ever known me to be satisfied in half measures?" he asks as he shimmies up and a little closer, shoves at Johann to hurry along. He's going to start pushing at his clothes again.
"Though now you have me curious what could make me the distraction..."
Those clothes come off, piece by infuriating piece. "I could miss someone coming for you. I could miss a cue that says you're going to get your fucking throat slit."
He foists off his own shirt, unmarked skin keeping the secret of a hundred cuts and bruises and burns across his torso.
He shoves the shirt the rest of the way off of Johann and takes the opportunity to lean up and start kissing across his chest, along his clavicle and up to the shoulder as his clever little fingers shift down to Johann's trousers. Here and there, he scrapes his teeth along the skin and when he comes to a nipple, nips curiously.
A deep breath in and he stretches at the attention, arms raised until those teeth find skin and he laughs, drawing himself back down, watching his skilled fingers in fascination as his trousers fall around his hips.
"How does it feel to not be able to mark me with your blunt little teeth?" he teases lightly, hands sliding down his back, cupping his ass, pulling him closer.
"You say that as if your entire being isn't my mark," he says with sniff and a small giggle, shifting in Johann's hands as he tilts his head up and begins at Johann's neck and shoulder.
He is dead and his work is done and now he's in an impossible place. Perhaps muzzled like a dog, but acknowledged for his danger. Perhaps prisoner but no longer in a glass jar. And not alone.
He isn't sure he could bear this alone, not that those words would ever cross his lips. Not that he would ever acknowledge it even to himself. Johann would be absolutely insufferable and he hasn't been given a knife yet to even try and stab him.
"You don't own me," he mutters, lowering them both down again. The lie comes easily from his mouth, but it aches in his chest like a muscle wrapped too tightly. He wants Florian to refute it, to fight it, so that he can fit nicely into the folds of his life again.
He leaves small marks along Florian's neck and down his chest, unconcerned with what they might look like. He was telling the truth when he said he liked to see the results of his actions. He likes to fill them both with secret after secret after secret that no one can tear from them.
Florian's physical strength on its own isn't enough to actually manipulate him, but he snaps his head back at the tug anyway, baring his throat, acknowledging dominance.
"And yet you're the one begging for me," he laughs, breathless with the thrill of playing with fire. He keeps his hands on Florian's hips, fingers digging into his bone.
It earns him hot pink spots on his cheeks and a sputtering- "you!" before those fingers tug him again and he knows Johann will go. He knows he will. He needs to claim his mouth when it's being used for foolishness instead of sensation.
But two can play at this game.
"I don't beg, Johann." The glass of those eyes lights and Johann should know it for the warning it is. "But I could ask someone else. If you don't want to give it to me..."
Blood runs from the corner of his lip, his flesh too delicate not to tear at the bite. Some of it flows between his teeth as he focuses on Johann.
"And I am not?"
You want something else, Johann? You want someone else? You want your freedom from him? From his goal? You want to be like they want you to be, like this place was trying to make you?
He instantly submits, not pushing the game any farther than it needs to go. Florian's angry, just how he likes it, and he is not jeopardizing getting what he wants.
The gentleness soothes him a little, makes the trembling anger in him start to slow, but his body is still stiffer and much hotter than it has any right being until he leans into a few of those kisses.
His voice is lulling now.
"Do you dream, Johann? Did you dream of this when you were here?"
Without him? Did you dream of him, Johann? Did you miss him?
He moves down his chest again, pressing a kiss just above his hip that bears the bruises of his fingers.
"I dream of the sea," he tells him, breath a ghost against his skin. "Of the black depths and rot." Another kiss, whisper soft. "I dream of us there together."
Some of that alarms him, though not as some might think. His fingers clutch tight on Johann, though he'd never leave a mark given his strength even if he could.
"You would like that, wouldn't you? Both of us rotting, our pieces falling off and mingling with the sea and each other."
It's no accusation. Instead, his voice is dreamy and contemplative. To be one of a pair, two moons, indistinguishable from one another in the darkness...
He nods once, enjoying the quick flash of pain at Florian's fingers.
"Isn't that what we were meant for?" he wonders, imagining it in all the lovely places of his soul. Belonging to him in every way that matters. Wrapped up with him for eternity.
"Back from where I came. Back to where you belong."
He finally does duck under the blankets, mouth finally occupied with something other than tales of a lovely fate under the black water with the rest of the monsters.
Johann is lost without him, and never has it seemed so obvious than these moments since he arrived. Johann has a purpose again, the only purpose that ever mattered.
He reaches up, taking one of Florian's hands in his own, enveloping it in a fist.
Not devoured or controlled or caged, but enveloped, held, wrapped like a precious thing. He wonders, in the parts of his mind not taken over by pleasure, whether Johann knows-
He's too addled to remember what Johann might know. But there is something important and heart-cracking and he hopes Johann knows it, even if he knows it the stupid-simple way Johann knows most things.
The tips of his fingers scrape around the inside of Johann's as he feels the knot of tense pleasure release and all of his fragile bones loosen.
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He has accepted it in his heart but he's a Nordenman. The physical, the visceral, the real- he wants that too.
Johann is hungry, and he is hungry in return. Small hands and clever fingers are going to start working on his clothes, the same that carefully straightened them to attempt to make him look like a gentleman now opening them with desperate speed. And when Johann lays him down, something in his chest goes heavy and cracks and he grabs at him, says without words.
Mine.
Mine mine mine.
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Those are deposited neatly on a side table before the long coat is dropped onto the ground.
Then it's back to kissing him, back to undoing the hard work he put in to making him presentable that morning. He says nothing, just presses a quick kiss under his jaw before placing an aggressive mark along his pale skin.
Mine.
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"Does it frustrate you, Johann? That no one will ever see any mark you leave on me?"
Given his chosen style of dress.
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He traces his fingers along his jaw, catching his chin in his iron grip.
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"And how will you feel when I decline any seat offered to me, oh so politely?"
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"You are already a lovely distraction," he purrs, breath light against his skin. "Why do you insist on being more?"
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"Though now you have me curious what could make me the distraction..."
Instead of the focus.
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He foists off his own shirt, unmarked skin keeping the secret of a hundred cuts and bruises and burns across his torso.
"Kiss me," he begs.
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He shoves the shirt the rest of the way off of Johann and takes the opportunity to lean up and start kissing across his chest, along his clavicle and up to the shoulder as his clever little fingers shift down to Johann's trousers. Here and there, he scrapes his teeth along the skin and when he comes to a nipple, nips curiously.
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"How does it feel to not be able to mark me with your blunt little teeth?" he teases lightly, hands sliding down his back, cupping his ass, pulling him closer.
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He is dead and his work is done and now he's in an impossible place. Perhaps muzzled like a dog, but acknowledged for his danger. Perhaps prisoner but no longer in a glass jar. And not alone.
He isn't sure he could bear this alone, not that those words would ever cross his lips. Not that he would ever acknowledge it even to himself. Johann would be absolutely insufferable and he hasn't been given a knife yet to even try and stab him.
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He leaves small marks along Florian's neck and down his chest, unconcerned with what they might look like. He was telling the truth when he said he liked to see the results of his actions. He likes to fill them both with secret after secret after secret that no one can tear from them.
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"Don't say stupid things," is hissed out in between small, feathery breaths. As his tiny nails bite into Johann's scalp-
"You're mine. Every inch, every drop, every aggravating, thrice-broken bone in your stupid, too-tall body."
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"And yet you're the one begging for me," he laughs, breathless with the thrill of playing with fire. He keeps his hands on Florian's hips, fingers digging into his bone.
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But two can play at this game.
"I don't beg, Johann." The glass of those eyes lights and Johann should know it for the warning it is. "But I could ask someone else. If you don't want to give it to me..."
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But he pulls away, yanking his head back.
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"And I am not?"
You want something else, Johann? You want someone else? You want your freedom from him? From his goal? You want to be like they want you to be, like this place was trying to make you?
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He presses a kiss to his jaw, gentle this time.
"Of course, Herr Leickenbloom."
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His voice is lulling now.
"Do you dream, Johann? Did you dream of this when you were here?"
Without him? Did you dream of him, Johann? Did you miss him?
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"I dream of the sea," he tells him, breath a ghost against his skin. "Of the black depths and rot." Another kiss, whisper soft. "I dream of us there together."
Continuing ventures towards NSFW
"You would like that, wouldn't you? Both of us rotting, our pieces falling off and mingling with the sea and each other."
It's no accusation. Instead, his voice is dreamy and contemplative. To be one of a pair, two moons, indistinguishable from one another in the darkness...
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"Isn't that what we were meant for?" he wonders, imagining it in all the lovely places of his soul. Belonging to him in every way that matters. Wrapped up with him for eternity.
"Back from where I came. Back to where you belong."
He finally does duck under the blankets, mouth finally occupied with something other than tales of a lovely fate under the black water with the rest of the monsters.
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"You belong... with me."
Above the waves or below them. In the dark or the light. When he is destroyed it should be with Johann.
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Johann is lost without him, and never has it seemed so obvious than these moments since he arrived. Johann has a purpose again, the only purpose that ever mattered.
He reaches up, taking one of Florian's hands in his own, enveloping it in a fist.
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He's too addled to remember what Johann might know. But there is something important and heart-cracking and he hopes Johann knows it, even if he knows it the stupid-simple way Johann knows most things.
The tips of his fingers scrape around the inside of Johann's as he feels the knot of tense pleasure release and all of his fragile bones loosen.
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