( He can't help a raspy laugh the moment Kaveh decides to probe his finger on his cheekbone, although internally he thinks it's bold of him. Perhaps this should be the extent of their touch, even if they both end up starving.
It shouldn't be this easy testing the limits of Kaveh's patience, playful as they currently are. Anybody else could probably point out how Wriothesley's voice is so marginally flirtatious when all is said and done. This is why consciously keeps his wit at bay, fearing it might bleed from playful banter to real flirting attempts. The truth is no one can ever tell the difference.
He wipes his hands on a cloth from the nursery and begins to work the gauze around his ankle, pressing lightly to ensure it sticks properly without cutting circulation. )
Since you'll be staying here, give me a day to send out a letter to the Chief Justice and we can arrange weekly entry. That also gives me time to write up a contract for us to sign.
( Kaveh's wishes only cement the idea in his head that this would never work after all. Kaveh needs to spread his wings, he needs the fresh air and he needs all the life the surface has to offer. He rolls the bandages underneath his heel and around the frame of his foot, ripping away the end of it once it's secure. He sits back against the chair, arms crossed and proud of his work. )
I'll see what I can do, but I'm afraid VIP rooms never existed in here and my room is, well, mine.
( He stands up and picks up any pieces of trash left behind, tossing them into the right bin by his desk. Something curious still itches for an answer, though. )
What do you mean by amenities?
( A pool? Personal gym? Yoga classes? Kaveh, you get food and a bed, what more else could you possibly want? )
[ Wriothesley's teasing is met with another roll of Kaveh's eyes, although it's good-natured and playful. Unlike the duke, he's not good at forcing himself to keep his natural flirtatiousness at bay, especially when he's talking to someone in whom he's so obviously interested; when he draws his hand back, it's not before he reaches to playfully— gently— tug at one of the other's helix piercings.
He falls silent again as the other sets about wrapping his ankle, explaining what he has to do next— and Kaveh nods, because everything makes sense—
Until it doesn't, and he looks up with yet another eyeroll. Didn't he just say that he doesn't need anything fancy? He's not asking for a VIP room, he just wants to be able to sleep comfortably when he's working here.
Well, if Wriothesley can tease... ]
Oh, you know, nothing too special. Round the clock room service, an on-call masseuse... [ He breaks off with a bright, amused laugh. ] I just want comfortable bedding. Warm. A bigger desk than what is usually offered— I need it for drafting. A coffee grinder wouldn't go astray. And... [ He pauses, wrinkling his nose. Honestly, this last one is possibly the most unreasonable, but he has to say it. ]
Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about being required to bathe in such a public setting.
[ His eyes drop, ostensibly focusing on his wrapped ankle as he tests it gingerly against the floor, even as he sits. ]
( The touch is dangerous, Kaveh. A surge of splintering heat is triggered with the innocent motion on his helix piercing. He covers up the jolt with a laugh, pulling away from him and stay busy fixing papers on the other side of his desk. Wild thoughts are like cotton between his ears, tuning onto Kaveh and all his demands.
He glances at him through his peripheral, airing another laugh. )
That’s fair. You don’t have to room near any inmates. Since you’re technically working here, you can have one of the rooms our staff uses. It’s slightly warmer and more comfortable, but sorry. We don’t have a masseuse in the premises.
( He holds his words back this time, keeping his good handiwork to himself. Navia always raves about how good he is massaging the stress out of her shoulders. )
I didn’t think you were the shy type. In that case, you can use my bathroom. I can go find an extra key to my room, you sit tight while I go get it.
[ Of course, he has no idea how badly he's affected the other. Wriothesley is a mystery to him, an unanswered question he desperately wants to understand even though he's accepted he probably never will. To him, this flirtatious banter is just that, a silly exchange between two people who have become friends despite his own desire for more. So he pouts playfully about the masseuse, offers a withering look in response to the comment about his being shy, and there's a rejoinder of sorts still trying to find its way to his lips when the warden gets up and leaves to get the key in question.
He should thank him— offering a key to his personal room is a little much even for a contractor who's also a friend, he thinks— but it's another thought that goes unfinished when a vibration against his chest startles him. ]
Oh. Shit.. Your Grace—
[ He fumbles in getting the phone from its pocket in Wriothesley's jacket, fingers accidentally brushing against the screen in a way that brings up not only the message thread that has caused the phone to vibrate, but one of the previous sent messages— a video, at that.
He would recognize those hands anywhere. And that groan, low and throaty and desperate as he fucks his own grip—
Kaveh's eyes are wild. He should put the phone down; instead, trembling fingers scroll back in the conversation, and then forward, watching the white of Wriothesley's pleasure spill thick over his own abdomen, reading the text accompanying it— "all yours."— seeing the lazily smiling face of an impossibly beautiful blonde, licking her own sheen from a sex toy.
His vision is blurring.
Fuck. Fuck. He comes back to himself too late, quickly exiting the conversation and dropping the phone on the desk like it's caught fire, and before he can stop himself he's wrestling a shoe on and slipping to his feet, wincing at the way the injury wants to make his ankle give out from under him. Wriothesley's jacket is draped over the desk, his arms folded protectively over his chest.
As soon as the other re-enters the room, Kaveh makes a weak little gesture in the direction of the phone. ] You got a message. Sorry. I, um. I have to go, but. I'll come back tomorrow about the contract just— just um, tell me when.
( It is out of the ordinary letting a contractor in the confines of his privacy. Not even Neuvillette has been in his room, and the ones who have conditions that extend the Fortress culture. He can’t always be the one visiting Navia on the surface so she makes the trip here.
Everybody needs a comfortable shower and privacy and Kaveh, as a worker, shouldn’t be subjected to all the restrictions inmates have.
He picks up the key from the front desk and walks back into his office. To his surprise, Kaveh is downstairs already, shoes on and jacket gone. This behavior is similar to someone crippled by panic— the stuttering and need for flight. He almost reaches for him to hold him back by his shoulder, but Wriothesley’s inhibition could handle war. )
I’ll go check it out, thanks. I have the key— are you in pain? We still have the rest of the tour to get through, my room included. The handles on the shower can be finicky.
( Words do fall on deaf ears. He can’t speak over Kaveh already making up his mind that this is all they both get for today. Besides, he still needs to write a contract, and run the budget numbers. Yet the way Kaveh’s voice sounds feels awry. Perhaps the Fortress is even more inappropriate for him than he expected. )
I'm fine— [ The words are bitten out, harsher and sharper on his tongue than Kaveh intends, evidence of the panic creeping under his skin moment by moment. He can't do this; he can't be near him any longer, not when he feels as if he's about to burst into tears at any moment.
He doesn't know who she is, but of course Wriothesley would go for someone like her. She's beautiful. Sexy. Her tone in text playful and sweet at the same time. Kaveh imagines that she can make him smile, bring warmth to the cold blue of his eyes. In his mind's eye he can see her splayed across his chest, fingers dancing over scars he can only imagine, sweet kisses coaxing ragged gasps from between his lips.
Fuck...
Why does he care so much? It's just a stupid fucking crush, there's no need for him to be getting this worked up over someone he already knew he couldn't have— ]
I'm fine. Sorry. I'm sorry, I just— I don't feel well. But I'm fine. I can make my way back to the dock. We can finish the tour tomorrow. Okay?
[ This time, he doesn't wait for an answer; he hurries from the room as well as he can on one good foot and one bad, hobbling more than he is walking, and it's probably frightfully obvious to Wriothesley just how not fine he is— but it doesn't matter. He just needs to be gone.
Somehow, he manages to keep the tears at bay until he's on the elevator leading back to the surface world. ]
( He’s obviously not fine, but Wriothesley doesn’t bother adding more pressure. He can smell an argument out of this, and besides— Kaveh is better off on the surface. What he holds back is his biting loneliness watching as his doors close again. This is why he doesn’t get attached.
As he’s climbing stairs again he realizes he already is. How many months has it been, even if they only speak mostly through text. It’ll be like a missing piece once Kaveh does decide to leave Fontaine.
He’s putting on his jacket while looking down at his phone, and when he flips it over he’s met with Navia’s beautiful face. Nude and sensual. The messages are opened on their chat, and suddenly he feels sick in his stomach.
He looks back at the stairs, short of breath. It’s not like he can catch up with him, but he can’t say he’s not unbothered that Kaveh took the liberty of browsing a private conversation without his consent.
Fuck.
He sits at this desk, briskly handling papers as if they deserve his violence. Then he rubs his temples while leaning down to watch the blankness of it. He could pretend he doesn’t know, but where will that take them?
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sempiternals2023-11-16 11:24 pm
no subject
( He can't help a raspy laugh the moment Kaveh decides to probe his finger on his cheekbone, although internally he thinks it's bold of him. Perhaps this should be the extent of their touch, even if they both end up starving.
It shouldn't be this easy testing the limits of Kaveh's patience, playful as they currently are. Anybody else could probably point out how Wriothesley's voice is so marginally flirtatious when all is said and done. This is why consciously keeps his wit at bay, fearing it might bleed from playful banter to real flirting attempts. The truth is no one can ever tell the difference.
He wipes his hands on a cloth from the nursery and begins to work the gauze around his ankle, pressing lightly to ensure it sticks properly without cutting circulation. )
Since you'll be staying here, give me a day to send out a letter to the Chief Justice and we can arrange weekly entry. That also gives me time to write up a contract for us to sign.
( Kaveh's wishes only cement the idea in his head that this would never work after all. Kaveh needs to spread his wings, he needs the fresh air and he needs all the life the surface has to offer. He rolls the bandages underneath his heel and around the frame of his foot, ripping away the end of it once it's secure. He sits back against the chair, arms crossed and proud of his work. )
I'll see what I can do, but I'm afraid VIP rooms never existed in here and my room is, well, mine.
( He stands up and picks up any pieces of trash left behind, tossing them into the right bin by his desk. Something curious still itches for an answer, though. )
What do you mean by amenities?
( A pool? Personal gym? Yoga classes? Kaveh, you get food and a bed, what more else could you possibly want? )
no subject
He falls silent again as the other sets about wrapping his ankle, explaining what he has to do next— and Kaveh nods, because everything makes sense—
Until it doesn't, and he looks up with yet another eyeroll. Didn't he just say that he doesn't need anything fancy? He's not asking for a VIP room, he just wants to be able to sleep comfortably when he's working here.
Well, if Wriothesley can tease... ]
Oh, you know, nothing too special. Round the clock room service, an on-call masseuse... [ He breaks off with a bright, amused laugh. ] I just want comfortable bedding. Warm. A bigger desk than what is usually offered— I need it for drafting. A coffee grinder wouldn't go astray. And... [ He pauses, wrinkling his nose. Honestly, this last one is possibly the most unreasonable, but he has to say it. ]
Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about being required to bathe in such a public setting.
[ His eyes drop, ostensibly focusing on his wrapped ankle as he tests it gingerly against the floor, even as he sits. ]
no subject
( The touch is dangerous, Kaveh. A surge of splintering heat is triggered with the innocent motion on his helix piercing. He covers up the jolt with a laugh, pulling away from him and stay busy fixing papers on the other side of his desk. Wild thoughts are like cotton between his ears, tuning onto Kaveh and all his demands.
He glances at him through his peripheral, airing another laugh. )
That’s fair. You don’t have to room near any inmates. Since you’re technically working here, you can have one of the rooms our staff uses. It’s slightly warmer and more comfortable, but sorry. We don’t have a masseuse in the premises.
( He holds his words back this time, keeping his good handiwork to himself. Navia always raves about how good he is massaging the stress out of her shoulders. )
I didn’t think you were the shy type. In that case, you can use my bathroom. I can go find an extra key to my room, you sit tight while I go get it.
no subject
He should thank him— offering a key to his personal room is a little much even for a contractor who's also a friend, he thinks— but it's another thought that goes unfinished when a vibration against his chest startles him. ]
Oh. Shit.. Your Grace—
[ He fumbles in getting the phone from its pocket in Wriothesley's jacket, fingers accidentally brushing against the screen in a way that brings up not only the message thread that has caused the phone to vibrate, but one of the previous sent messages— a video, at that.
He would recognize those hands anywhere. And that groan, low and throaty and desperate as he fucks his own grip—
Kaveh's eyes are wild. He should put the phone down; instead, trembling fingers scroll back in the conversation, and then forward, watching the white of Wriothesley's pleasure spill thick over his own abdomen, reading the text accompanying it— "all yours."— seeing the lazily smiling face of an impossibly beautiful blonde, licking her own sheen from a sex toy.
His vision is blurring.
Fuck. Fuck. He comes back to himself too late, quickly exiting the conversation and dropping the phone on the desk like it's caught fire, and before he can stop himself he's wrestling a shoe on and slipping to his feet, wincing at the way the injury wants to make his ankle give out from under him. Wriothesley's jacket is draped over the desk, his arms folded protectively over his chest.
As soon as the other re-enters the room, Kaveh makes a weak little gesture in the direction of the phone. ] You got a message. Sorry. I, um. I have to go, but. I'll come back tomorrow about the contract just— just um, tell me when.
no subject
( It is out of the ordinary letting a contractor in the confines of his privacy. Not even Neuvillette has been in his room, and the ones who have conditions that extend the Fortress culture. He can’t always be the one visiting Navia on the surface so she makes the trip here.
Everybody needs a comfortable shower and privacy and Kaveh, as a worker, shouldn’t be subjected to all the restrictions inmates have.
He picks up the key from the front desk and walks back into his office. To his surprise, Kaveh is downstairs already, shoes on and jacket gone. This behavior is similar to someone crippled by panic— the stuttering and need for flight. He almost reaches for him to hold him back by his shoulder, but Wriothesley’s inhibition could handle war. )
I’ll go check it out, thanks. I have the key— are you in pain? We still have the rest of the tour to get through, my room included. The handles on the shower can be finicky.
( Words do fall on deaf ears. He can’t speak over Kaveh already making up his mind that this is all they both get for today. Besides, he still needs to write a contract, and run the budget numbers. Yet the way Kaveh’s voice sounds feels awry. Perhaps the Fortress is even more inappropriate for him than he expected. )
At least let me escort you back to the dock.
no subject
He doesn't know who she is, but of course Wriothesley would go for someone like her. She's beautiful. Sexy. Her tone in text playful and sweet at the same time. Kaveh imagines that she can make him smile, bring warmth to the cold blue of his eyes. In his mind's eye he can see her splayed across his chest, fingers dancing over scars he can only imagine, sweet kisses coaxing ragged gasps from between his lips.
Fuck...
Why does he care so much? It's just a stupid fucking crush, there's no need for him to be getting this worked up over someone he already knew he couldn't have— ]
I'm fine. Sorry. I'm sorry, I just— I don't feel well. But I'm fine. I can make my way back to the dock. We can finish the tour tomorrow. Okay?
[ This time, he doesn't wait for an answer; he hurries from the room as well as he can on one good foot and one bad, hobbling more than he is walking, and it's probably frightfully obvious to Wriothesley just how not fine he is— but it doesn't matter. He just needs to be gone.
Somehow, he manages to keep the tears at bay until he's on the elevator leading back to the surface world. ]
no subject
As he’s climbing stairs again he realizes he already is. How many months has it been, even if they only speak mostly through text. It’ll be like a missing piece once Kaveh does decide to leave Fontaine.
He’s putting on his jacket while looking down at his phone, and when he flips it over he’s met with Navia’s beautiful face. Nude and sensual. The messages are opened on their chat, and suddenly he feels sick in his stomach.
He looks back at the stairs, short of breath. It’s not like he can catch up with him, but he can’t say he’s not unbothered that Kaveh took the liberty of browsing a private conversation without his consent.
Fuck.
He sits at this desk, briskly handling papers as if they deserve his violence. Then he rubs his temples while leaning down to watch the blankness of it. He could pretend he doesn’t know, but where will that take them?
From one dead end to another?
God damn it, Kaveh. )