"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.
He knows and doesn't know in the way that he knows most things about Florian. It's something he hopes, something Florian confirms with his every action and movement, but it's always left unsaid.
He raises up, blankets falling down around his shoulders as he looks down at the little mage. His little mage.
Johann, too tall and too gangly and too many angles, cups his delicate master's face and kisses him again. Desperate and pleading.
Weak-limbed and drowsy, he answers the kisses with kisses of his own, one hand reaching up and pawing at his arm until he can loop his fingers around the back of Johann's neck. There, he pets the unbroken skin, the hair at the back of his head that is as soft as his hair might be, attempts to soothe when he was never taught how.
He settles down beside him, long arms wrapping around him. Possessive. Protective. Much like his dream, he embraces him against the onslaught of the world, like he was made to do.
Florian's arms and legs both are weak, but they can slide and shift and end up wrapped in all of Johann, given there is so very much of him. And one that is done, they can sink below the dark covers and imagine them waves.
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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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He raises up, blankets falling down around his shoulders as he looks down at the little mage. His little mage.
Johann, too tall and too gangly and too many angles, cups his delicate master's face and kisses him again. Desperate and pleading.
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Meant to do.
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