[ larus immediately tunes into dorian's movements, desperate to be free of this room, but it's clear by his posture that he's not going to be let out until something happens. whatever that is. but those questions grate on his nerves, jaw tight as he tries to decide what to tell him. the truth? or something that will satisfy him enough to be left alone? ]
Ask someone else if you're that concerned about it.
[ leave dorian to think about what he might have done because he's finished talking for now, which is punctuated by the way he turns away from him again—both an ending to the conversation and a visible way to show he's not afraid of dorian whatsoever. ]
[Dorian watches him turn away, frowning with concentration.]
I intend to. [More like listening to the city's various news channels on the stereo and reading the network to check for posts about violent vampire murder, but it'll be enough. There still enough lingering fallout and chatter related to Hellboy's rampage that the only murder victims likely worth enough attention to be announced will be anyone important.
If there's nothing over the next day or two, he'll take that as a sign that nobody cares.
From the way Larus turns away from him, it's easy to see that this conversation is over. Dorian lingers by the barrier.]
If you change your mind and feel like playing nice, tell me. [Dorian takes a step away, and then turns.] The sooner you're done being this, the sooner you get out of that room.
[He'll wait another moment to see if that gets a reaction, before turning away and heading into the living room to find wherever he threw his phone.]
[ larus doesn't even grace that with an actual response.
done being like what, he almost asks, but it's not important enough to follow up with, deciding to simply bide his time until he can be free of this boxed prison. it's difficult to tell the hours considering, though he follows the movements and noises he occasionally hears in the apartment to get an idea. breakfast, tea, dinner, sleep. the routine doesn't alter much unless dorian decides to leave, and then, it's larus trying to fight his way out of the room with no avail. at least a few days pass like this before he tries to verbally coax his way out.
dorian doesn't believe him, naturally, because he snaps at him, and he's left to his own devices once more.
every time he walks by and sees him, he glares so hard it would have given him a headache if he'd been human.
he gets used to this rhythm until the hunger starts to crawl up into his throat, days later, and at one point, larus considers tearing into his own wrist to smear his blood everywhere in protest. if he bleeds out enough, perhaps dorian would take pity on him and let him feed. at the very least. but that idea fades just as quickly as he has it, purposely exhaling as he sits by the barrier to the door and stares out across the room. he's alone. like always, he's alone, and no one is going to care if he doesn't make an appearance or speak to them ever again.
if he just closes his eyes —
larus blinks, and the desperation to feed is muted by the fact he's more than used to it. this isn't even the worst it's ever been, leaning back into the wall at his back and sagging under his own weight as the days leading up to all of this seep through him in bright technicolor. the people he's killed, the taste of it still somehow lingering on his tongue. what he'd said to dorian. he swallows and grimaces. he needs to get out of this place. he needs to leave. ]
Dorian. [ his voice is a little dry from not having spoken in a while. so, he tries again, louder. ] Let me out.
[Dorian's starting to get used to the steady, mundane and yet low-grade horrible, routine of waking up each day to a sulky vampire shut up in the portrait room. The past few days have been unrevealing, frustratingly so, and Dorian's patience with the entire situation --with watching Larus get progressively more morose and, as he imagines it, hungry-- is wearing thin. Attempts to find anything out have been less than fruitful, and the most helpful information he's received in days is that the majority of the people on the network say that this kind of sudden and random personality shift is an idiosyncrasy of the city and something to wait out.
Something to wait out.
He doesn't do waiting. Especially not in a case like this.
So on the morning of the 8th day of Larus' confinement, a restless and frustrated mood is gnawing at the edges of Dorian's mind, and his shoulders have a gentle tension pulling at them. He enters the kitchen in simple yet elegant dress in preparation for leaving later that morning, giving himself time before he turns to see how worn down Larus looks today. The electric kettle clatters lightly as he prepares it for tea.
The vampire speaking to him again is something newer. Dorian hesitates, and then glances over at Larus when he speaks. It's unexpected that the tight glare that's usually waiting for him is missing from the other man's face, but only just so. After eight days he has to be exhausted. Dorian exhales and turns away to pull out a mug from a cupboard.]
Why? [His tone is dry, unaffected.] So you can rip my throat out?
[ he can understand the frustration, but his mind is so numb to much else that he isn't going to focus on it. yet, the insinuation of that causes him to wince, replaying all their exchanges at the very beginning of this seemingly long bout of imprisonment. apologizing would be the next step, of course. there's only so much dorian might believe unless he convinces him that he doesn't belong in this room with its sad little walls though.
that he isn't going to try to murder him or anyone else. ]
Because I don't want to be alone in here.
[ it's much more honest than even larus is expecting, but it doesn't make it any less true.
if kept confined, all he has are his thoughts, and there's nothing good about them right now. he thinks about what he's done and said and can't seem to find anything pleasant about it, wondering why and also knowing it's probably this place that's finally (and slowly) getting to him. and if dorian expects him to beg to be set free, he just might do it. ]
The creature he's come to think of this version of Larus has made several attempts at coercing him over the course of a few days, all of them ending in shows of moroseness, biting frustration, or petulance. Pitiable words is a new one. It's not in character. Dorian breathes out, uncurling his fingers from the handle of the mug on the table, his posture opening slightly.
It's been eight days. Is that enough time?
Dorian abandons the kettle to start heating, and makes his way across the room and over the front of the barrier separating him from Larus. He crouches down to look the other man in the face, searching the vampire's expression with a fixed, intense gaze.
He's almost hopeful, and Dorian's smoother and rounder tone, unlike the more edged one he's been using to wrangle with the creature, carries that emotion. He won't rule out that this is a new ploy, but it's a possibility mostly resting on his automatic cynicism in the face of every circumstance.]
Do you feel different? [If it's Larus, he'll probably have the memories that will make that question make sense. If it's not, he doubts he'll be able to answer.]
I'd rather not rip your throat out, if that's what you mean.
[ it's an answer that comes automatically, though it's immediately followed by so much regret that he has to look away from dorian and across the room instead. he considers moving to sit on the divan, but he'd rather stay on the floor until he's allowed to leave, hoping that there will somehow be enough evidence to convince him to let him out. there's not so much remorse flooding him as there is guilt, hating that such things have transpired between them when they could have been avoided entirely.
is this really what it's going to be like to be contracted? ]
I shouldn't have said that to you. [ his voice is quiet, clearly tired. ] And you shouldn't have promised me your blood.
[ just saying that word makes him feel... strange. disconnected and terrified all at once. they might have trust, but what if something like this happens again and larus doesn't let dorian trick him into this room? what if dorian's imprisoned instead and kept somewhere just to feed him when he wants a taste? his expression wavers at the thought and he tries to hide it by ducking his head, only realizing afterward that there are bits of red dried into the ends of his hair. ]
[The relative outpouring --such as it is coming from Larus-- of tightly-expressed feeling registers with a wave of relief. Even the way the vampire's looking around suggests to Dorian a descending of heavy thoughts, and it's enough to be convincing. Dorian breathes out what feels like days of concern and frustration at being unable to do anything to change what was happening.]
You weren't going to get it. [His tone is confident on that point, almost informative.] I tend to get my way in these kinds of situations.
[Dorian rises to his feet, and bends to reach a hand out through the magical barrier and hold it out in front of Larus.]
Take my hand and step through the barrier while you're holding it. [His tone is smoother now, softer. This has been a terrible handful of days for both of them, and it's starting to hit properly now.] You'll be able to walk through.
[ normally, larus would have argued the point about dorian getting his way – especially when blood is involved – but he doesn't have the desire to prod at him like he usually would. he isn't even sure he should touch him as he offers his hand, hesitant for several seconds that appear obvious before slowly shifting forward to get to his feet. once he's upright, he lets his fingers slowly slide over dorian's palm until he's lightly gripping his wrist and finally, finally gets free of that room.
he stands there for a moment, still feeling strange, and before he can stop himself or question whatever it is he's doing, he steps into dorian's personal space to rest his forehead against his shoulder. a gentle point of contact, a way to ground his thoughts and whatever else is threatening to rise up and swallow him. ]
I couldn't stop, [ he says, trying to explain. ] It was like nothing else mattered.
[As soon as Larus' forehead falls against his shoulder, Dorian enfolds the vampire in his arms. He holds him close, taking some solace in the gesture himself. It's done, everything's over, and the external damage is nothing that can't be fixed or forgotten-- although he assumes Larus won't see that the same way he does. Any internal damage is something else, but whatever Larus was before was right-- he's tough. There's a reassurance and feeling of solidity in that knowledge as he holds the vampire. Turning his head slightly, Dorian slips fingers into the dried, and slightly crunchy hair falling against the back of Larus' neck, offering soothing touches.]
You came through it, and you're still here. [He's glad.]
[ it feels good to have any sort of touch that reminds him he isn't a complete monster, easing an arm around dorian's waist to hold him there. even if he tried to pull away, larus wouldn't let him. having been in that room for so long, it's a reminder that things like this are going to be short. even shorter when there's the possibility of either of them disappearing without notice, a thought that he pushes aside with everything else that's happened to him (and them) in the last week or so. ]
With your help. You could have left me out there.
[ it's not exactly thanks, but it's close. and again, it's the second time dorian's saved him in some way. it's a pattern larus doesn't want to repeat, feeling indebted to him along with the guilt that's always there at the edges. ]
[There's still a vague knot of tension in Dorian's chest that's slowly untying itself as they stand wrapped up together in the kitchen. Several days both standing on the tip of a knife and feeling protective has left an edge, but this isn't the place for those feelings now. He opens himself to Larus holding onto him instead-- he'll stand here as long as it takes.]
I could have, but I wouldn't. [He turns his head further to press his lips against the side of Larus' head.]
I'm not going to next time, either. [Even if it means throwing him in another cage.] I'd trust you to do the same for me.
[ it's almost sweet to hear those things, but it's nearly too much after having spent eight extremely long days trapped in a room with no one other than himself. and the worst version of himself at that, recalling just how easy it would have been to disappear and never come back if he'd gotten free. he's made ties with dorian in a way he hadn't expected to find, and it's almost like a betrayal to him, after everything dorian's done. and says he will do.
larus' eyes open at the feel of that mouth to his skin, the warmth of his breath. he'd like to be close to him, but he also remembers the feeling of shoving dorian against the wall with an intention to take more than just his body. ]
I would, but it might not end the way you'd want it to. You shouldn't continue risking yourself for me.
[He has a feeling where those words are coming from, but they're still unpleasant to hear.]
You're dangerous, [Dorian acknowledges in an even tone. He understands that. He has no doubt that if he'd let Larus out of the portrait room one even one day ago, the vampire would have wasted no time tearing into him.
It's just that it isn't a deterrent.] I've told you before that you can't hurt me. The same goes for killing, too. Nothing can.
[ this is almost difficult to listen to after what's happened, slowly drawing back to look at him. larus still, undoubtedly, wants more. he'd like to wrap himself around dorian and distract them both for even a little while, but he can't. there's so much more he wants to say too, though his thoughts are drawn back to the room he's just left. with dorian's words, he knows that must be tied to the hidden painting inside; he just isn't entirely sure how. (why go through so much to protect it otherwise? not that larus would ever ask.)
instead, he gently touches the curve of dorian's jaw. ]
There are other ways to hurt someone without leaving a mark on them. [ and it's not pleasant. ] I want to keep you safe, Dorian.
[ but one way or another, he fears he won't be able to. ]
[Larus isn't wrong about there being wounds worse than any dealt to the flesh. There's still a temptation to insist that he's unbreakable and come through more in over a century than Larus could probably conceive of, but right now he'd rather try and keep the other man from pulling away emotionally.
Frowning, he watches Larus' face closely.]
Then keep me safe. [He catches Larus' hand lightly and wraps fingers around it.] If you fall into a pool of blood, I'll pull you out, and you can keep going from there.
[ their experiences shape them, of course, and it isn't the first time that he's reminded of that. different worlds, different lives. somehow, they've come together in this one, and he should really do his best to remain present with him. this room and this building—they're the closest thing larus has had to a real home in a very long time, which makes it difficult to adjust to. but he's made a conscious effort to keep communication open between them, to always come back to dorian, and he shouldn't shut it down now, glancing at the hand curled around his before meeting his eyes. ]
I don't know where to go from here. [ he needs to think about what's happened, revisit the places he'd killed those people in. but — ] Will you stay?
[ even if dorian didn't look the part of someone planning to go out, he would have asked. this is as close to vulnerable as he can be right now. ]
[He had been planning on heading out for the morning, but those plans stuttered to a halt when Larus had come back to himself. Now he just wants to be present with the other man.]
I'll stay, [he confirms. The hand at the base of of Larus' neck shifts slightly then, brushing up against blood-hardened strands. His fingers pause. It's strange, but it's this small touch that makes him suddenly aware of the amount of dried blood caking various parts of the vampire's form. Getting rid of that may be the easiest first step to deciding what to do next.]
A shower might be a good place to start, if nothing else. [A slightly wry, but still softer than usual, look tugs at his features as he looks Larus over.] I can take your clothes and either send them for cleaning, or throw them out, too.
[ the confirmation is something good, at least. he relaxes a little, and then, with the mention of a shower, he remembers the blood in his hair. where else is it? across his face? down his shirt? it's more than likely soaked into his pants, aware of the old smell of it dried into the fabric, and it's an absent thought that he hopes none of it had rubbed off on dorian with their embrace.
slowly, he disengages from him. ]
I'll do that first. [ it leaves him in a bizarrely shy fashion, keeping his eyes elsewhere other than dorian and focusing on the sound of the kettle in the kitchen. ] You should have your tea.
[ there's no response about his clothes because he's definitely throwing them out as soon as he's finished.
larus gives dorian one last glance before moving off down the hallway towards his own room, not bothering with shutting the door or even closing himself off in the adjacent bathroom. it's always an unspoken invitation, stripping out of everything he's wearing and letting the water of the shower soak through every inch of him. he's in there longer than usual, trying to order his thoughts, and by the time he reemerges, larus feels marginally more himself, searching out dorian like a moth to a flame. after having spent so long confined to a room, he simply wants to be close to someone else for a while. ]
[It's been a rough few days. For Larus most of all, but as soon as Dorian's left alone in the sitting room, a blanket of both relief and exhaustion settles heavily over his shoulders. As is usually the case when he's in a situation where he feels primed for action at every moment, he's hardly noticed the wear on him the past few days have been. He does go into the kitchen to stop the kettle from whistling shrilly, but rather than a tea, he fixes himself a coffee instead, feeling the need for something stronger.
He's gathered up on the loveseat when Larus returns some extended time later, a chilling cup of coffee sitting untouched on the nearby low table, a newspaper fallen messily into Dorian's lap, and his cheek leaning heavily into the butt of his palm upon propped elbow. He hadn't meant to doze off, exactly, but after several days of middling sleep and with the sudden releasing of emotional pressure, it'd happened anyway.
It's the awkwardness of the position, and the gentle creaking of the carpeted floor under a person's weight that start to rouse him. And then his elbow slips and the resulting jerk of motion brings him back with a start. Dorian blinks a few bleary and confused times, and then exhales, stretching back into the couch and rubbing a palm into an eye.
His brain is struggling to creak back into motion, but he looks up at Larus. Surveys his much cleaner, and normal-looking appearance. That's no gauge of someone's emotional state, but it's a start.]
[ listening to his heartbeat, as always, is a comfort, and larus takes a moment to take in the sight before him: dorian exhausted and half-asleep. an obvious look at what must have been just as equally taxing as it had been for larus but in a different way. he pauses just steps from the loveseat, letting him look and meeting his eyes with something of an apology there. unspoken, of course, because he has yet to decide how he wants to broach that particular topic with him, and he wonders if it's even something to bring up. would he accept it? would there just be another instance of deflection in a way larus has slowly started to become accustomed to?
his expression softens, pushing some of his damp hair out of his face. ]
A little.
[ but he thinks he'll be even better once he's had time to readjust to the freedom he's gotten used to, keeping himself only slightly detached from it all as he moves to join dorian on the cushions. there's no shyness about what it is he needs from him, sitting close to slip an arm around him so he can press his face into his shoulder. it's not the most comfortable position, but he doesn't care about that right now, soaking up the warmth that radiates from him at their proximity. this is so much better than having stood in the shower. ]
Maybe you should think about going back to bed. [ since larus can tell he's struggling a little. ]
[Dorian puts his arms around Larus when he comes close, drawing him comfortably against his body. His fingers peruse the damp hair at the top of the other man's head, tucking it slowly out of the way. A running of his thumb over Larus' cheek is necessary right now, and it ends with his hand wrapped around the back of the other man's neck. He's not fine, but he is safe. In time, with enough processing, things will creak back to normal again.
Larus seems to need to take care of him right now, or at least to be kind, and he understands it. After being a monster for more than a week this, he figures, is some kind of apology. Or an attempt to find their way to normalcy again. It's always hard to be sure with the other man. It's unnecessary, but it's easy enough to accept when what he's really interested in right now is time to decompress, and the intimacy being offered.]
[ he's grateful for it as well as the lack of questions. there will be time for it later, he's sure, but for now, larus leaves him to touch as he pleases, inhaling the warmth like he's been dying without it. some part of him might as well have been dead in that room anyhow, turning his head to press a kiss to dorian's fingers before slipping away and taking his hand. ]
I won't go anywhere.
[ not only because it's currently daylight but because he doesn't feel the need to.
and he draws dorian up, walking with him towards the master bedroom until they're shut inside together. he leaves him then to do whatever he needs to do to ready for a nap so larus can turn down the bed, sitting on the edge of it and glancing at dorian. there's something he wants to say – still an apology, perhaps – but he keeps silent, only offering his hand to the other man when he finally decides to move. ]
[That's reassuring, and although it wasn't on his mind before, a short rest is starting to sound divine.
Once they're inside, all Dorian really does is toe out of his shoes, take off the rings on his hands, and then unbutton the line of buttons closest to the top of his collar. It's comfortable to unravel a bit in the darkness like this, and with Larus waiting for him in the biggest bed in the suite. He's not sure if he'll really be able to sleep, but luxuriating in bed together and being useless is appealing right now.
When Dorian's done, he accepts the offer of a hand down and then joins Larus on the bed. He looks the vampire over again, doing a last check for something he's not entirely sure of, before he leans in for a kiss. This is where he lingers for a few long moments, before he presses himself against the other man, feeling the solidity and chill of his form.
It's comfortable in a very familiar way to stretch out like this.]
You're the first person I've lived with who's only ended up in my bed twice-- three times I guess, counting the time you came upon me during my nightmare, [he says after a moment in the warm and comfortable darkness, a note of a more usual wry amusement in his tone.]
[ larus isn't too concerned about his own comfort, but right now, all of this is familiar enough that it's enjoyable. the dimness of the room, too, settles whatever nerves might still be lingering from his time spent away from him, and when the kiss comes, larus turns his face towards him, lips parting to encourage more contact. his hand cups the back of dorian's neck, holding him there as they sink into the mattress together.
it's strange how much he craves this suddenly. ]
Are you telling me that because you want me in it more often?
[ there's something soft and almost teasing about the question, unable to help himself as he thinks about that. larus wonders just how many people dorian's lived with in the past, how many lovers he's had. it's not an important detail, really, but it does help with understanding someone in other ways, pushing up to lean into him. the heat of his body is addicting, as always, and he presses his lips to the swell of dorian's cheek.
he takes a breath, his voice low when he speaks. ] It's good being here with you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Ask someone else if you're that concerned about it.
[ leave dorian to think about what he might have done because he's finished talking for now, which is punctuated by the way he turns away from him again—both an ending to the conversation and a visible way to show he's not afraid of dorian whatsoever. ]
no subject
I intend to. [More like listening to the city's various news channels on the stereo and reading the network to check for posts about violent vampire murder, but it'll be enough. There still enough lingering fallout and chatter related to Hellboy's rampage that the only murder victims likely worth enough attention to be announced will be anyone important.
If there's nothing over the next day or two, he'll take that as a sign that nobody cares.
From the way Larus turns away from him, it's easy to see that this conversation is over. Dorian lingers by the barrier.]
If you change your mind and feel like playing nice, tell me. [Dorian takes a step away, and then turns.] The sooner you're done being this, the sooner you get out of that room.
[He'll wait another moment to see if that gets a reaction, before turning away and heading into the living room to find wherever he threw his phone.]
no subject
done being like what, he almost asks, but it's not important enough to follow up with, deciding to simply bide his time until he can be free of this boxed prison. it's difficult to tell the hours considering, though he follows the movements and noises he occasionally hears in the apartment to get an idea. breakfast, tea, dinner, sleep. the routine doesn't alter much unless dorian decides to leave, and then, it's larus trying to fight his way out of the room with no avail. at least a few days pass like this before he tries to verbally coax his way out.
dorian doesn't believe him, naturally, because he snaps at him, and he's left to his own devices once more.
every time he walks by and sees him, he glares so hard it would have given him a headache if he'd been human.
he gets used to this rhythm until the hunger starts to crawl up into his throat, days later, and at one point, larus considers tearing into his own wrist to smear his blood everywhere in protest. if he bleeds out enough, perhaps dorian would take pity on him and let him feed. at the very least. but that idea fades just as quickly as he has it, purposely exhaling as he sits by the barrier to the door and stares out across the room. he's alone. like always, he's alone, and no one is going to care if he doesn't make an appearance or speak to them ever again.
if he just closes his eyes —
larus blinks, and the desperation to feed is muted by the fact he's more than used to it. this isn't even the worst it's ever been, leaning back into the wall at his back and sagging under his own weight as the days leading up to all of this seep through him in bright technicolor. the people he's killed, the taste of it still somehow lingering on his tongue. what he'd said to dorian. he swallows and grimaces. he needs to get out of this place. he needs to leave. ]
Dorian. [ his voice is a little dry from not having spoken in a while. so, he tries again, louder. ] Let me out.
no subject
Something to wait out.
He doesn't do waiting. Especially not in a case like this.
So on the morning of the 8th day of Larus' confinement, a restless and frustrated mood is gnawing at the edges of Dorian's mind, and his shoulders have a gentle tension pulling at them. He enters the kitchen in simple yet elegant dress in preparation for leaving later that morning, giving himself time before he turns to see how worn down Larus looks today. The electric kettle clatters lightly as he prepares it for tea.
The vampire speaking to him again is something newer. Dorian hesitates, and then glances over at Larus when he speaks. It's unexpected that the tight glare that's usually waiting for him is missing from the other man's face, but only just so. After eight days he has to be exhausted. Dorian exhales and turns away to pull out a mug from a cupboard.]
Why? [His tone is dry, unaffected.] So you can rip my throat out?
no subject
that he isn't going to try to murder him or anyone else. ]
Because I don't want to be alone in here.
[ it's much more honest than even larus is expecting, but it doesn't make it any less true.
if kept confined, all he has are his thoughts, and there's nothing good about them right now. he thinks about what he's done and said and can't seem to find anything pleasant about it, wondering why and also knowing it's probably this place that's finally (and slowly) getting to him. and if dorian expects him to beg to be set free, he just might do it. ]
no subject
The creature he's come to think of this version of Larus has made several attempts at coercing him over the course of a few days, all of them ending in shows of moroseness, biting frustration, or petulance. Pitiable words is a new one. It's not in character. Dorian breathes out, uncurling his fingers from the handle of the mug on the table, his posture opening slightly.
It's been eight days. Is that enough time?
Dorian abandons the kettle to start heating, and makes his way across the room and over the front of the barrier separating him from Larus. He crouches down to look the other man in the face, searching the vampire's expression with a fixed, intense gaze.
He's almost hopeful, and Dorian's smoother and rounder tone, unlike the more edged one he's been using to wrangle with the creature, carries that emotion. He won't rule out that this is a new ploy, but it's a possibility mostly resting on his automatic cynicism in the face of every circumstance.]
Do you feel different? [If it's Larus, he'll probably have the memories that will make that question make sense. If it's not, he doubts he'll be able to answer.]
no subject
[ it's an answer that comes automatically, though it's immediately followed by so much regret that he has to look away from dorian and across the room instead. he considers moving to sit on the divan, but he'd rather stay on the floor until he's allowed to leave, hoping that there will somehow be enough evidence to convince him to let him out. there's not so much remorse flooding him as there is guilt, hating that such things have transpired between them when they could have been avoided entirely.
is this really what it's going to be like to be contracted? ]
I shouldn't have said that to you. [ his voice is quiet, clearly tired. ] And you shouldn't have promised me your blood.
[ just saying that word makes him feel... strange. disconnected and terrified all at once. they might have trust, but what if something like this happens again and larus doesn't let dorian trick him into this room? what if dorian's imprisoned instead and kept somewhere just to feed him when he wants a taste? his expression wavers at the thought and he tries to hide it by ducking his head, only realizing afterward that there are bits of red dried into the ends of his hair. ]
no subject
You weren't going to get it. [His tone is confident on that point, almost informative.] I tend to get my way in these kinds of situations.
[Dorian rises to his feet, and bends to reach a hand out through the magical barrier and hold it out in front of Larus.]
Take my hand and step through the barrier while you're holding it. [His tone is smoother now, softer. This has been a terrible handful of days for both of them, and it's starting to hit properly now.] You'll be able to walk through.
no subject
he stands there for a moment, still feeling strange, and before he can stop himself or question whatever it is he's doing, he steps into dorian's personal space to rest his forehead against his shoulder. a gentle point of contact, a way to ground his thoughts and whatever else is threatening to rise up and swallow him. ]
I couldn't stop, [ he says, trying to explain. ] It was like nothing else mattered.
[ like he didn't care at all. ]
no subject
You came through it, and you're still here. [He's glad.]
no subject
With your help. You could have left me out there.
[ it's not exactly thanks, but it's close. and again, it's the second time dorian's saved him in some way. it's a pattern larus doesn't want to repeat, feeling indebted to him along with the guilt that's always there at the edges. ]
no subject
I could have, but I wouldn't. [He turns his head further to press his lips against the side of Larus' head.]
I'm not going to next time, either. [Even if it means throwing him in another cage.] I'd trust you to do the same for me.
no subject
larus' eyes open at the feel of that mouth to his skin, the warmth of his breath. he'd like to be close to him, but he also remembers the feeling of shoving dorian against the wall with an intention to take more than just his body. ]
I would, but it might not end the way you'd want it to. You shouldn't continue risking yourself for me.
no subject
You're dangerous, [Dorian acknowledges in an even tone. He understands that. He has no doubt that if he'd let Larus out of the portrait room one even one day ago, the vampire would have wasted no time tearing into him.
It's just that it isn't a deterrent.] I've told you before that you can't hurt me. The same goes for killing, too. Nothing can.
no subject
instead, he gently touches the curve of dorian's jaw. ]
There are other ways to hurt someone without leaving a mark on them. [ and it's not pleasant. ] I want to keep you safe, Dorian.
[ but one way or another, he fears he won't be able to. ]
no subject
Frowning, he watches Larus' face closely.]
Then keep me safe. [He catches Larus' hand lightly and wraps fingers around it.] If you fall into a pool of blood, I'll pull you out, and you can keep going from there.
no subject
I don't know where to go from here. [ he needs to think about what's happened, revisit the places he'd killed those people in. but — ] Will you stay?
[ even if dorian didn't look the part of someone planning to go out, he would have asked. this is as close to vulnerable as he can be right now. ]
no subject
I'll stay, [he confirms. The hand at the base of of Larus' neck shifts slightly then, brushing up against blood-hardened strands. His fingers pause. It's strange, but it's this small touch that makes him suddenly aware of the amount of dried blood caking various parts of the vampire's form. Getting rid of that may be the easiest first step to deciding what to do next.]
A shower might be a good place to start, if nothing else. [A slightly wry, but still softer than usual, look tugs at his features as he looks Larus over.] I can take your clothes and either send them for cleaning, or throw them out, too.
no subject
slowly, he disengages from him. ]
I'll do that first. [ it leaves him in a bizarrely shy fashion, keeping his eyes elsewhere other than dorian and focusing on the sound of the kettle in the kitchen. ] You should have your tea.
[ there's no response about his clothes because he's definitely throwing them out as soon as he's finished.
larus gives dorian one last glance before moving off down the hallway towards his own room, not bothering with shutting the door or even closing himself off in the adjacent bathroom. it's always an unspoken invitation, stripping out of everything he's wearing and letting the water of the shower soak through every inch of him. he's in there longer than usual, trying to order his thoughts, and by the time he reemerges, larus feels marginally more himself, searching out dorian like a moth to a flame. after having spent so long confined to a room, he simply wants to be close to someone else for a while. ]
no subject
He's gathered up on the loveseat when Larus returns some extended time later, a chilling cup of coffee sitting untouched on the nearby low table, a newspaper fallen messily into Dorian's lap, and his cheek leaning heavily into the butt of his palm upon propped elbow. He hadn't meant to doze off, exactly, but after several days of middling sleep and with the sudden releasing of emotional pressure, it'd happened anyway.
It's the awkwardness of the position, and the gentle creaking of the carpeted floor under a person's weight that start to rouse him. And then his elbow slips and the resulting jerk of motion brings him back with a start. Dorian blinks a few bleary and confused times, and then exhales, stretching back into the couch and rubbing a palm into an eye.
His brain is struggling to creak back into motion, but he looks up at Larus. Surveys his much cleaner, and normal-looking appearance. That's no gauge of someone's emotional state, but it's a start.]
Better?
no subject
his expression softens, pushing some of his damp hair out of his face. ]
A little.
[ but he thinks he'll be even better once he's had time to readjust to the freedom he's gotten used to, keeping himself only slightly detached from it all as he moves to join dorian on the cushions. there's no shyness about what it is he needs from him, sitting close to slip an arm around him so he can press his face into his shoulder. it's not the most comfortable position, but he doesn't care about that right now, soaking up the warmth that radiates from him at their proximity. this is so much better than having stood in the shower. ]
Maybe you should think about going back to bed. [ since larus can tell he's struggling a little. ]
no subject
Larus seems to need to take care of him right now, or at least to be kind, and he understands it. After being a monster for more than a week this, he figures, is some kind of apology. Or an attempt to find their way to normalcy again. It's always hard to be sure with the other man. It's unnecessary, but it's easy enough to accept when what he's really interested in right now is time to decompress, and the intimacy being offered.]
Join me and I will.
no subject
I won't go anywhere.
[ not only because it's currently daylight but because he doesn't feel the need to.
and he draws dorian up, walking with him towards the master bedroom until they're shut inside together. he leaves him then to do whatever he needs to do to ready for a nap so larus can turn down the bed, sitting on the edge of it and glancing at dorian. there's something he wants to say – still an apology, perhaps – but he keeps silent, only offering his hand to the other man when he finally decides to move. ]
no subject
Once they're inside, all Dorian really does is toe out of his shoes, take off the rings on his hands, and then unbutton the line of buttons closest to the top of his collar. It's comfortable to unravel a bit in the darkness like this, and with Larus waiting for him in the biggest bed in the suite. He's not sure if he'll really be able to sleep, but luxuriating in bed together and being useless is appealing right now.
When Dorian's done, he accepts the offer of a hand down and then joins Larus on the bed. He looks the vampire over again, doing a last check for something he's not entirely sure of, before he leans in for a kiss. This is where he lingers for a few long moments, before he presses himself against the other man, feeling the solidity and chill of his form.
It's comfortable in a very familiar way to stretch out like this.]
You're the first person I've lived with who's only ended up in my bed twice-- three times I guess, counting the time you came upon me during my nightmare, [he says after a moment in the warm and comfortable darkness, a note of a more usual wry amusement in his tone.]
no subject
it's strange how much he craves this suddenly. ]
Are you telling me that because you want me in it more often?
[ there's something soft and almost teasing about the question, unable to help himself as he thinks about that. larus wonders just how many people dorian's lived with in the past, how many lovers he's had. it's not an important detail, really, but it does help with understanding someone in other ways, pushing up to lean into him. the heat of his body is addicting, as always, and he presses his lips to the swell of dorian's cheek.
he takes a breath, his voice low when he speaks. ] It's good being here with you.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)