[ it's immediate, the aching loss that fills the empty space when kaz pulls his hands away, a familiar sensation, and yet a new edge to it because it's kaz. has to be new because everything he's felt here is like nothing else that's ever passed through him. he wants to tell him that just because he's been in love before doesn't mean that this isn't all made up of firsts for him, too — and it startles him to even have the thought. love. but what else can this terrible sinking feeling be, like he's cutting some vital part of him away, an excision that will leave him battered and bruised for days and weeks on end? this is how he discovered it the first time, too, when dominik lay bleeding in his arms, the word rising through the hurt ravaging his mind, the tears blurring his vision. love, inextricably bound by loss.
why does it come to him like this? something he desperately craves, something he hopelessly dreads. why is it never something he can keep? he isn't quick enough to hide the flash of hurt in his eyes. ]
Do you really feel that way? [ he matches his quiet tone, hands gentle as he wipes away blood from his pale skin, tender skin that he's kissed, places only he's touched. the wound disappears as he winds bandages carefully around his thigh. ] That I haven't savored every minute we've had? That I've just wanted this to be over? Do you think there’s something better I’m rushing to, something better than you? [ he stops, searching the sky of kaz’s eyes, so close to being closed off to him forever. he can feel his disappointment, his barely-contained anger and hurt, and he leans in to cage him there, sliding his hands across the cool countertops until he finds kaz’s, settling his fingers over them. ] I don’t want anything else. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Please don’t pull away from me now, Kaz, I don’t — I don’t know when anyone will ever be able to be near to me like this again.
[ relief floods him when kaz kisses back, and it turns into a desperate thing, his mouth trembling and his breath growing unsteady. what could you possibly want before sunrise? there’s so little time. so little time to make kaz feel all the things he deserves, to bandage his wounds, to kiss every bit of hurt away. to make sure that he’s all right. how can he be, when nikolai is doing this to him? his eyes crack open at his request, something so wholly selfless that it opens up a painful little fissure in his chest. will he fight? it’s all he knows how to do. no matter how much he wants to lay down and rest, to put down his weapons and go off in search of peace, he knows nothing else but to be a soldier, but to chase ambition, always craving more. what would it be to just stop? to just let go? like the quiet peace of sinking deeper into the sea, no weight, no sound. he’d like to feel it again, but something in kaz’s voice straightens his spine, drags the mantle of responsibility back down. you’re not dead yet, you daft bastard. he nods once, drawing in a quick breath. ]
I’ll fight. [ a tired promise edged in steel. he can always a bleed a little more for his country, for his people, for kaz. when you love a thing, the work is never done. ] I’ll fight, and I will see you again.
[ he kisses him then, harder than before, hoisting him higher on the counter as his wet hands run though his dark hair, down the curve of his spine, roaming over his bruises and sore body. a week apart and it feels like years. feels like several lifetimes for him, caged inside of a monster, watching a nightmare unravel again and again. he wants to lose himself in this, to forget at least for a few hours of the blood marking the snow, soaking his blackened fingers, of the screams that litter his mind and follow him into his dreams. his kisses down his throat, his chest, then returns to his mouth as if he can’t get enough — and he can’t. there will never be enough of this, not when he wants kaz all the time, standing beside him or in his bed or just quietly rotating in his orbit, close enough to see, close enough for his feet to carry him there. he kisses his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, cradling his face like something precious. ]
Something you’ve wanted that you haven’t told me. [ he whispers it between breathless kisses, his fingers trailing gently down his side, down to his bandaged thigh. ] Or — anything. I’ll kiss you until sunrise if you want. Whatever you want. Let me fill your aches.
no subject
why does it come to him like this? something he desperately craves, something he hopelessly dreads. why is it never something he can keep? he isn't quick enough to hide the flash of hurt in his eyes. ]
Do you really feel that way? [ he matches his quiet tone, hands gentle as he wipes away blood from his pale skin, tender skin that he's kissed, places only he's touched. the wound disappears as he winds bandages carefully around his thigh. ] That I haven't savored every minute we've had? That I've just wanted this to be over? Do you think there’s something better I’m rushing to, something better than you? [ he stops, searching the sky of kaz’s eyes, so close to being closed off to him forever. he can feel his disappointment, his barely-contained anger and hurt, and he leans in to cage him there, sliding his hands across the cool countertops until he finds kaz’s, settling his fingers over them. ] I don’t want anything else. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Please don’t pull away from me now, Kaz, I don’t — I don’t know when anyone will ever be able to be near to me like this again.
[ relief floods him when kaz kisses back, and it turns into a desperate thing, his mouth trembling and his breath growing unsteady. what could you possibly want before sunrise? there’s so little time. so little time to make kaz feel all the things he deserves, to bandage his wounds, to kiss every bit of hurt away. to make sure that he’s all right. how can he be, when nikolai is doing this to him? his eyes crack open at his request, something so wholly selfless that it opens up a painful little fissure in his chest. will he fight? it’s all he knows how to do. no matter how much he wants to lay down and rest, to put down his weapons and go off in search of peace, he knows nothing else but to be a soldier, but to chase ambition, always craving more. what would it be to just stop? to just let go? like the quiet peace of sinking deeper into the sea, no weight, no sound. he’d like to feel it again, but something in kaz’s voice straightens his spine, drags the mantle of responsibility back down. you’re not dead yet, you daft bastard. he nods once, drawing in a quick breath. ]
I’ll fight. [ a tired promise edged in steel. he can always a bleed a little more for his country, for his people, for kaz. when you love a thing, the work is never done. ] I’ll fight, and I will see you again.
[ he kisses him then, harder than before, hoisting him higher on the counter as his wet hands run though his dark hair, down the curve of his spine, roaming over his bruises and sore body. a week apart and it feels like years. feels like several lifetimes for him, caged inside of a monster, watching a nightmare unravel again and again. he wants to lose himself in this, to forget at least for a few hours of the blood marking the snow, soaking his blackened fingers, of the screams that litter his mind and follow him into his dreams. his kisses down his throat, his chest, then returns to his mouth as if he can’t get enough — and he can’t. there will never be enough of this, not when he wants kaz all the time, standing beside him or in his bed or just quietly rotating in his orbit, close enough to see, close enough for his feet to carry him there. he kisses his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, cradling his face like something precious. ]
Something you’ve wanted that you haven’t told me. [ he whispers it between breathless kisses, his fingers trailing gently down his side, down to his bandaged thigh. ] Or — anything. I’ll kiss you until sunrise if you want. Whatever you want. Let me fill your aches.