[ It's rough. It's fucking perfect and Carver clamps a hand over his out of sheer reflex. You cannot make noise in the dark, you cannot expose yourself to the enemy or they'll find you. They'll find you and they'll rain that shit down on everyone around you, everyone you love. It's the worst kind of sin. Unforgivable. And yet -
And yet he wants to. To let go for a second, just for a second, Larus's hands on his hips. Fucking him rough. Holding him steady for it. Carver fights the urge to bite down on his own goddamn hand to muffle the noise - instinct, reflex, all of it - and forces himself to lay his palms flat on the ground. To focus on that even as Larus fucks him hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. What would it feel like if Larus really made him scream? It's a dangerous thought.
Thrilling, though.
Carver shivers, bowing his head, and rocks back hard. He doesn't try to touch himself, not yet, he just wants to ride it. To see how far Larus will take him. ]
[ There's always something different about this every time it happens. Sometimes soft, sometimes... not so much. Larus can feel that thread of control pulling tighter each time they come together, the only real sounds in the dark of that tent the drag of skin against skin and Carver's breathing. He wants to hear him though, likes those moments when he says his name like a curse and a quiet plea all in one.
It doesn't even seem important that they're still mostly dressed either.
His focus is sharp as he slows the pace just enough to shift his hips, drawing Carver closer even as one of his hands smooths along the length of his spine to bear down at the middle of his back. If he gets the position right, he'll know. Maybe he'll beg Larus for more, to stop because it's too much. It's already too much, so that doesn't really matter the way it should. Larus just breathes and says Carver's name: Brandon on the tip of his tongue, a little throaty, a little soft.
Then, he thrusts into him hard. Harder. There's the obvious jerk forward as they slide until Larus grips at Carver's sides to hold him still, grounding them both while chasing the sensation of having Carver unravel in his hands. ]
[ The force of it knocks the air from his lungs, again, fucking relentless. Carver bows his head, groaning out a jumble of nonsense curses in three different languages. He does that sometimes, swinging wild but still cursing. Fighting in at least one way. He's so hard it hurts and Larus is fucking him like it's the end of the goddamn world, and there's no room for thought. Not for this. He just shudders and takes it, takes it, and -
Oh.
Fuck.
He doesn't scream, but he makes a strangled noise; a similar sort of sin. There's nothing but heat and pressure and friction, and oh, oh, goddamn it all. ]
[ That's what he wants, but it still doesn't feel like enough. Nothing ever is, steadying him with one hand as he strokes the other around his hip and between Carver's legs to fist his cock. His grip, like the way he fucks him, is almost merciless, and he leans over him as far as he can without losing the leverage or making it awkward to try pressing his mouth to his skin. But it isn't as close as he wants it to be, isn't anything like he wants it to be. ]
On your back, [ he hisses, the words as close to a growl as he'll ever come.
And there's no ceremony to the way Larus pulls out and rolls him over, holding him down with a hand against his chest so he can slide right back into him and continue the jarring pace he's set for them. He can sink down and kiss him now, not bothering to return the hand around him but instead fisting Carver's hair and jerking his head back to kiss him deep. Hard, even harder, and no matter how tight he holds onto him, he doesn't plan to stop until he feels him come. ]
[ Like before there's no hesitation. Carver just hisses out a breath and moves where Larus guides him and oh, oh, the world goes blank. There's nothing but how it feels to have this. Carver grabs him hard, digging his nails into Larus's back, and hooks a leg over his hip to deepen it even as Larus takes him by the hair hand and kisses him breathless.
The world spins. Nothing exists but this. Nothing at all.
He nearly sobs when he comes, jerking under Larus and then going boneless. Utterly thrown by the intensity of it. ]
[ They're pressed so close together, slick skin and the sting of nails, but Larus wants to be so deep inside him that it's that same feeling all the time. The way Carver tastes and the squeeze of his body around him when he finds his release—he wants to claim this man. It's a dangerous thought, fucking him through his orgasm and only having the sense to not come inside him with his own.
It punches hard but not nearly as hard as the way he seeks out Carver's mouth.
The kiss itself is soft, the grip in Carver's hair easing as he nudges against him just to feel the heat of his skin. He presses him flat to the ground and holds onto him, soaking up the moment without a need for words. ]
[ It's gentle, afterward. Larus eases him down and Carver just shivers, clinging to him. His heart's pounding like he's been in combat, but everything feels warm and easy, the tension drained out.
Silently, he cups a hand to the back of Larus's neck and just pulls him down. Holding him close as he shivers in the aftermath. Not from the cold, he thinks. He's not cold at all. But the intensity of it, maybe. Echoing through him. ]
[ He holds him through it, brushing his fingers through dark hair and turning his face towards him. There's just a moment where he breathes, listening to his heartbeat until it slowly begins to settle, and it's only after a handful of minutes have gone by that Larus thinks he should say something. Something important, something that will carry weight and have some meaning to the things they've done together. ]
I want it to stay like this. [ Their noses touch. Their foreheads. ] Just you and me.
[ Carver keeps his eyes closed, his breathing slowly evening out. He likes how it feels to have Larus on top of him, the weight of it, the way that Larus keeps touching his hair. Pressing their foreheads together. They're so close like this, they'd be sharing the same air if Larus still drew breath. But there's something here, he thinks. Something deeper. And that's dangerous, he knows. It'd worry him more if Larus hadn't just fucked his brains out.
Right now, he's drifting, and Larus feels like the only steady thing in the goddamn universe. ]
Wouldn't be so bad, [ he says, very softly, and squeezes the back of Larus's neck. ]
[ Maybe it's good that Carver can't think, though Larus wishes the same could be said for him. Very little ever takes him away from that, but he can continue to keep his focus there on him rather than elsewhere. It's probably why he says the things he does, making a quiet sound in the back of his throat when Carver squeezes his neck. They trust each other. And all he wants to do is go back to Duplicity, find that place they'd been talking about and stay there.
It's a deep feeling, and he swallows, tilting his head to press their lips together. ]
It's the only thing I can give you. [ Said just as quietly, his knuckles gently stroking over his cheek. ]
[ This is the part where he slowly untangles himself and leaves, doesn't look back until the next moment they come together. But it's the softness and sweetness of Carver's words and his arms around him that has Larus resting his cheek against his chest to listen to his heartbeat. Larus is warm and oddly content. It's all he could really ask for right now. ]
I think you're still drunk.
[ His voice is quiet, but he might also be teasing him just a little. ]
[ That gets a faint huff, Carver shifting so he can run his fingers through Larus's hair. He likes the texture, the softness of it. And he likes how Larus feels pressed against his chest, how they've become entwined. It won't last, things like this never do, but if it did -
[ After a while, it's going to get uncomfortable being this intertwined and half-dressed as they are, but for now, Larus doesn't even consider moving except to reach out and grasp Carver's hand. He brings his fingers to his mouth, nipping at the tips. ]
It would take more than that to get me drunk. [ He assumes anyhow. He hasn't actually tried it. ] I should get you some water.
[ Because he thinks he might want to take care of him right now. ]
[ Distantly, Carver knows he's going to have a shitty hangover in a few hours. God's punishment for getting stupid drunk. But he's not thinking about that now, not thinking about much of anything right now except how Larus takes his hand, giving his fingers a teasing nip. Carver huffs at that, watching him with an odd fondness. None of this should have happened. But it did. He can't say he regrets it. ]
[ None of this should be happening, but it still is. Larus can't change those things, gently folding Carver's fingers toward his palm and pressing his mouth to his knuckles. ]
As much as I can. [ His gaze drops to the submissive mark standing out stark against Carver's skin. ] I know you'd do the same for me.
[ He already had, if Larus thinks about it. Carver could have ignored his messages, could have left him to burn in the sun. He could have also left him wounded and starving in that basement, but he hadn't. He'd stood next to him, and though something like this is hardly a repayment, his own loyalty to Carver is stronger for it. If Carver asked him for anything, he'd see it done. ]
[ There are always rules, Carver thinks silently. There are rules back home and there are rules here, and consequences to breaking them. A cost to bear.
He watches Larus, his eyes half-lidded. It feels right like this. ]
[ The surprise that floods him is impossible to hide, staring back at Carver and moving his hand to press his palm against his cheek. He doesn't want to consider the future and where things might end up, what they might or might not become. Gently, he pushes his fingers into Carver's hair.
He shakes his head. ]
You were protecting yourself. [ Even if some of it might have been excessive. ] Never apologize for wanting to live.
[ Carver cups his hand to Larus's cheek, smoothing his thumb along the line of his jaw. Careful, just like before. He isn't like this with anyone else. This, whatever this is, it built itself out of impossibilities. ]
It's just what we did back home. What we had to do.
[ He doesn't mean it as an excuse. Just a statement of fact. But it ought to be said, he thinks. ]
[ They're sharing again, and this time, it feels important somehow. These small truths that they tell each other in the dark. He turns his head into Carver's hand, pressing into the warmth of it and trying to think. ]
And you never got close to anyone.
[ It's almost a question, but Larus believes he already knows the answer to that. ]
[ Carver shakes his head, watching Larus. There’s an odd cast to the moment, something melancholy but honest. There’s weight to it, all these things they know about each other. ]
[ It's a name he hasn't forgotten, recalling the photo and their last conversation about him. There had been blood and pain and Carver ranting about tests, about God, and for a moment, Larus isn't sure he should hear the rest of this. They're close now, but what does that mean? How much more do they have to tell before something changes, before it falls apart?
Larus kisses him with all of that in mind, their noses bumping. ]
How did it happen?
[ If he wants to tell him goes unspoken but hangs there in the silence. ]
[ It’s not something he talks about, not even with Shaw and the others. Not since he found her in that cabin and the relief of seeing her again was so stark and sharp it felt like dying — and only then did he realize that she was alone, that Matthew wasn’t with her. She took them all to the grave and words were said, Mancea speaking in tongues to honor all they’d lost, and that was the end of it. What else was there to say? It just became another ghost. Something to carry.
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he exhales, smoothing his thumb along the line of Larus’s jaw. ]
The dead broke through the perimeter, [ he explains softly. ] And it was — it was bad. Our brothers got torn to pieces. So many…
[ Carver’s voice glows distant, trailing off for a moment before he shakes himself. ]
We’d barely made it out when we realized Leah and Matthew weren’t with us. And we went back for them. Cleared fifteen miles in every direction, checked every body we found, but they were just…gone. We kept looking, though.
[ The smile he gives Larus is small, and sad. ]
Took us six years. And then we found her living out in this little cabin. I knew she was alive — I just knew. Felt it, maybe. God, seeing her again…
But she was alone. And it turned out he didn’t make it. He died right after we got separated, and she had to carry that alone.
I went to the grave, [ he adds softly. ] She grew flowers for him.
[ It's not the first time he's heard Carver speak this much, but there's something incredibly heavy about it, trying to imagine what it must be like to live in a world like that. Even in the Dusk, there's still some semblance of normal. People carry on with their lives and do their best to ignore it when vampires or other supernaturals upend the routine, but they live. They don't exist in a fear brought about by the end of the world, don't corner themselves off and simply try to exist. Survive. He doesn't know that kind of grief, doesn't know how to respond.
So, he leans into the touch before bringing his own hand up to cup the side of Carver's face. ]
You loved him. [ That much, he can tell, is obvious. His voice is quiet. ] I know it must hurt, but it's good to remember those things. It's human.
[ If he ever forgets that, will that make him the real monster he's afraid he already is? No remorse, no pain—nothing that separates him from the cold, uncaring thing he tries to pretend he is. The way he frowns must be telling, trying to shake it even as he nudges his face against Carver's. Gentle, easy. ]
But you don't have to carry it on your own. You're not alone here. Not when we're together.
[ Larus sighs, biting down on his tongue for a moment. Feeling too much makes him unsteady. ]
[ There’s something uncertain in the way Larus looks at him then, something quiet and careful. But the way he touches Carver’s face is gentle, steadying, and Carver closes his eyes as he presses into it. You loved him, Larus said, and it wasn’t a question.
Yeah, Carver thinks. Yeah, I did. He was my nephew and I watched him grow and then I stood over his grave.
He exhales. He doesn’t open his eyes. ]
You’re the only one who knows, [ he says, very softly. ] You’re the only one who knows a lot of things, Larus.
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And yet he wants to. To let go for a second, just for a second, Larus's hands on his hips. Fucking him rough. Holding him steady for it. Carver fights the urge to bite down on his own goddamn hand to muffle the noise - instinct, reflex, all of it - and forces himself to lay his palms flat on the ground. To focus on that even as Larus fucks him hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. What would it feel like if Larus really made him scream? It's a dangerous thought.
Thrilling, though.
Carver shivers, bowing his head, and rocks back hard. He doesn't try to touch himself, not yet, he just wants to ride it. To see how far Larus will take him. ]
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It doesn't even seem important that they're still mostly dressed either.
His focus is sharp as he slows the pace just enough to shift his hips, drawing Carver closer even as one of his hands smooths along the length of his spine to bear down at the middle of his back. If he gets the position right, he'll know. Maybe he'll beg Larus for more, to stop because it's too much. It's already too much, so that doesn't really matter the way it should. Larus just breathes and says Carver's name: Brandon on the tip of his tongue, a little throaty, a little soft.
Then, he thrusts into him hard. Harder. There's the obvious jerk forward as they slide until Larus grips at Carver's sides to hold him still, grounding them both while chasing the sensation of having Carver unravel in his hands. ]
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Oh.
Fuck.
He doesn't scream, but he makes a strangled noise; a similar sort of sin. There's nothing but heat and pressure and friction, and oh, oh, goddamn it all. ]
F - fuck, Larus...
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On your back, [ he hisses, the words as close to a growl as he'll ever come.
And there's no ceremony to the way Larus pulls out and rolls him over, holding him down with a hand against his chest so he can slide right back into him and continue the jarring pace he's set for them. He can sink down and kiss him now, not bothering to return the hand around him but instead fisting Carver's hair and jerking his head back to kiss him deep. Hard, even harder, and no matter how tight he holds onto him, he doesn't plan to stop until he feels him come. ]
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The world spins. Nothing exists but this. Nothing at all.
He nearly sobs when he comes, jerking under Larus and then going boneless. Utterly thrown by the intensity of it. ]
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It punches hard but not nearly as hard as the way he seeks out Carver's mouth.
The kiss itself is soft, the grip in Carver's hair easing as he nudges against him just to feel the heat of his skin. He presses him flat to the ground and holds onto him, soaking up the moment without a need for words. ]
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Silently, he cups a hand to the back of Larus's neck and just pulls him down. Holding him close as he shivers in the aftermath. Not from the cold, he thinks. He's not cold at all. But the intensity of it, maybe. Echoing through him. ]
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I want it to stay like this. [ Their noses touch. Their foreheads. ] Just you and me.
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Right now, he's drifting, and Larus feels like the only steady thing in the goddamn universe. ]
Wouldn't be so bad, [ he says, very softly, and squeezes the back of Larus's neck. ]
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It's a deep feeling, and he swallows, tilting his head to press their lips together. ]
It's the only thing I can give you. [ Said just as quietly, his knuckles gently stroking over his cheek. ]
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It's good, like this.
[ He keeps his eyes closed, holding Larus close to him. ]
It's good, with you.
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I think you're still drunk.
[ His voice is quiet, but he might also be teasing him just a little. ]
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If it did, Carver thinks that'd be all right. ]
Mhph. We did shots.
[ He pokes Larus's arm. ]
If I'm drunk, you are too.
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It would take more than that to get me drunk. [ He assumes anyhow. He hasn't actually tried it. ] I should get you some water.
[ Because he thinks he might want to take care of him right now. ]
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You looking out for me? Hmm?
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As much as I can. [ His gaze drops to the submissive mark standing out stark against Carver's skin. ] I know you'd do the same for me.
[ He already had, if Larus thinks about it. Carver could have ignored his messages, could have left him to burn in the sun. He could have also left him wounded and starving in that basement, but he hadn't. He'd stood next to him, and though something like this is hardly a repayment, his own loyalty to Carver is stronger for it. If Carver asked him for anything, he'd see it done. ]
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He watches Larus, his eyes half-lidded. It feels right like this. ]
Yeah, I would.
[ There will be a cost to that, too. One day. ]
I'm sorry I tried to stab you so many times.
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He shakes his head. ]
You were protecting yourself. [ Even if some of it might have been excessive. ] Never apologize for wanting to live.
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It's just what we did back home. What we had to do.
[ He doesn't mean it as an excuse. Just a statement of fact. But it ought to be said, he thinks. ]
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And you never got close to anyone.
[ It's almost a question, but Larus believes he already knows the answer to that. ]
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We closed ranks, after —
[ He hesitates, then exhales. ]
After Matthew died.
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Larus kisses him with all of that in mind, their noses bumping. ]
How did it happen?
[ If he wants to tell him goes unspoken but hangs there in the silence. ]
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He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he exhales, smoothing his thumb along the line of Larus’s jaw. ]
The dead broke through the perimeter, [ he explains softly. ] And it was — it was bad. Our brothers got torn to pieces. So many…
[ Carver’s voice glows distant, trailing off for a moment before he shakes himself. ]
We’d barely made it out when we realized Leah and Matthew weren’t with us. And we went back for them. Cleared fifteen miles in every direction, checked every body we found, but they were just…gone. We kept looking, though.
[ The smile he gives Larus is small, and sad. ]
Took us six years. And then we found her living out in this little cabin. I knew she was alive — I just knew. Felt it, maybe. God, seeing her again…
But she was alone. And it turned out he didn’t make it. He died right after we got separated, and she had to carry that alone.
I went to the grave, [ he adds softly. ] She grew flowers for him.
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So, he leans into the touch before bringing his own hand up to cup the side of Carver's face. ]
You loved him. [ That much, he can tell, is obvious. His voice is quiet. ] I know it must hurt, but it's good to remember those things. It's human.
[ If he ever forgets that, will that make him the real monster he's afraid he already is? No remorse, no pain—nothing that separates him from the cold, uncaring thing he tries to pretend he is. The way he frowns must be telling, trying to shake it even as he nudges his face against Carver's. Gentle, easy. ]
But you don't have to carry it on your own. You're not alone here. Not when we're together.
[ Larus sighs, biting down on his tongue for a moment. Feeling too much makes him unsteady. ]
Not when you have me.
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Yeah, Carver thinks. Yeah, I did. He was my nephew and I watched him grow and then I stood over his grave.
He exhales. He doesn’t open his eyes. ]
You’re the only one who knows, [ he says, very softly. ] You’re the only one who knows a lot of things, Larus.
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