[ his eyes flicker above the open pages of the notebook where it rests against his knee, watching kaz with mixed interest. the dull thrum of desire, always. sharp concern, not necessarily always but too frequent for his liking. then he feels it, a sudden lurch that unsettles him, and he thinks it's just the ship hitting a rough patch of sea, but kaz's balance hasn't shifted. just him, then. just him and his unwelcome guest, reacting to scars and corded muscle. he already regrets this unspoken understanding that if kaz cannot abide the tonic, nikolai will not use it.
the brandy goes down smoothly. a fine bottle. he downs the glass too quickly and helps himself to another before reaching for the basket of medical supplies to draw it close, tucking his pencil behind one ear while he roots out the salve, kept in an absurdly intricate pot that is only befitting of genya safin. ]
You would think you'd find an emerald in here. [ he unscrews the jeweled lid and sniffs at the contents. ] You were already irresistible in personality, but now you'll also smell like a flower.
[ the nature of the wound means kaz has to relinquish at least half of his clothes, so when his trousers are finally neatly folded and set aside, nikolai sweeps a hand over the rumpled covers to invite kaz back into the abandoned space. the sunlight splashes over kaz's pale skin as nikolai piles pillows behind him and tucks his feet beneath the covers. ]
This isn't Ketterdam. [ nikolai refrains from making skin contact, carefully unwrapping the highest bandage first. the newest wound. the one kaz willingly offered in the hopes of sparing him, and it's only weakened them both. ] We won't hit land for weeks. You're not on a job. You're not expected elsewhere. [ he lifts his gaze, close enough that he could lean in and bridge the distance to feel the familiar press of his mouth, but he doesn't, uneasy at how kaz might react (at how the thing inside of him might react). ] You can stay. With me. You can just... stay.
[ rest. recover. he would happily watch kaz brekker eat and sleep and do nothing else for days longer. with the bandages finally off, he examines the wound, thinking of the words written. that the monster had vowed kindness. it's nothing like the gouged flesh infected with merzost β rather, a perfectly normal bite accompanied with mottled bruising. the ache is likely muscle-deep, the bone-weary exhaustion of blood loss.
with the lightest touch to carefully nudge kaz's legs open, he spreads the salve along bruised skin and tries not to think about his own mouth in this very place just a night ago. quick work, no lingering despite his desire to run his fingers along kazβs unwounded parts, close, inviting. he straightens, wiping his hand on a towel and snagging the pencil, words scratching across the page before he loses his nerve. ]
There wasnβt really a question. I just wanted you in my bed. [ his grin crinkles the corners of his eyes as he turns the notebook around and nestles it in kazβs grip, then unwinds a length of bandage. on the back of kazβs writing, nikolai has penned a note: there are things i canβt say to you if the monster is always listening. ]
no subject
the brandy goes down smoothly. a fine bottle. he downs the glass too quickly and helps himself to another before reaching for the basket of medical supplies to draw it close, tucking his pencil behind one ear while he roots out the salve, kept in an absurdly intricate pot that is only befitting of genya safin. ]
You would think you'd find an emerald in here. [ he unscrews the jeweled lid and sniffs at the contents. ] You were already irresistible in personality, but now you'll also smell like a flower.
[ the nature of the wound means kaz has to relinquish at least half of his clothes, so when his trousers are finally neatly folded and set aside, nikolai sweeps a hand over the rumpled covers to invite kaz back into the abandoned space. the sunlight splashes over kaz's pale skin as nikolai piles pillows behind him and tucks his feet beneath the covers. ]
This isn't Ketterdam. [ nikolai refrains from making skin contact, carefully unwrapping the highest bandage first. the newest wound. the one kaz willingly offered in the hopes of sparing him, and it's only weakened them both. ] We won't hit land for weeks. You're not on a job. You're not expected elsewhere. [ he lifts his gaze, close enough that he could lean in and bridge the distance to feel the familiar press of his mouth, but he doesn't, uneasy at how kaz might react (at how the thing inside of him might react). ] You can stay. With me. You can just... stay.
[ rest. recover. he would happily watch kaz brekker eat and sleep and do nothing else for days longer. with the bandages finally off, he examines the wound, thinking of the words written. that the monster had vowed kindness. it's nothing like the gouged flesh infected with merzost β rather, a perfectly normal bite accompanied with mottled bruising. the ache is likely muscle-deep, the bone-weary exhaustion of blood loss.
with the lightest touch to carefully nudge kaz's legs open, he spreads the salve along bruised skin and tries not to think about his own mouth in this very place just a night ago. quick work, no lingering despite his desire to run his fingers along kazβs unwounded parts, close, inviting. he straightens, wiping his hand on a towel and snagging the pencil, words scratching across the page before he loses his nerve. ]
There wasnβt really a question. I just wanted you in my bed. [ his grin crinkles the corners of his eyes as he turns the notebook around and nestles it in kazβs grip, then unwinds a length of bandage. on the back of kazβs writing, nikolai has penned a note: there are things i canβt say to you if the monster is always listening. ]