[ Day-to-day keeps things busy... but at night? Lyney wondered if Wriothesley was lonely. Not in the same way he was – just if all work and no play had done a number on the Duke. The nights are what gets Lyney the most... how big the bed feels and how empty it feels. It's why their cardgame lingered on his mind, why he tried that silly tea so different than the blends Lynette made him...
It's only now that he realizes the company the Duke offered wasn't as bad as he thought.
Panting embraces, quick heartbeats were nothing now that they could feel how the other reacts. They're both stiff, unable to lie to themselves. Lyney presses down, his back slouching back into the edge of the desk to tug Wriothesley further into him. The kiss continues, at least another handful of minutes.
He's not sure where he wants those hands to settle but the slight wave of his body actively trying to rut down into that lap doesn't fight the hold on his hips. Wriothesley, most likely, could nearly touch his hands together in that grip. He's secure, safe, and guarded. He allows the Duke to touch him as he sees fit.
But... budding attractions won't be enough for them both to act out so crassly past this. All they do is ache in their pants for one another, bodies full of want and hearts full of conflict. Their mind stops things from going deeper – but Lyney still kisses with such a command it was hard to pull back.
It's only fair.
He wants to sink his teeth into Wriothesley's neck, unbuckle his pants and forget so many things but... Lyney has to be reasonable. Right? ]
You don't have to.
[ Touch him, kiss him, care about him – so many things unsaid with those hazed eyes vulnerable and lips raw. ]
[ But he does. He's known cold nights without shelter, known the gnaw of days-long hunger low in his stomach. Known how unbearable it is to go back once the need has finally been met. A floor to sleep on for one night only. A bowl of soup that resets hunger's timer. Now that he's known Lyney's warmth, been sated by his kiss, the thought of turning back--what they'll inevtitably have to do, he realizes, coming down from this high even as he claws to stay afloat within it--is intolerable. Now that Lyney's opened this door, he does have to do this. For himself. For his own heart beating out of control.
But he's not the only one in the picture.
Lyney is so many things he can't begin to put a pin in one and focus on it: an inmate. Quite a few years his junior. The next Knave. Unshakable in his loyalty to the Fatui. Someone else's lover. Due to be gone in just a matter of months. Lyney himself had said they might never see one another again. Would he prefer it that way?
This boy he's sworn to protect--does he even want protecting?
His grip at Lyney's hips relaxes, and now he finds he's not sure what to do with his hands. Not sure what to do with much of anything, really. He is, for the first time in years, in something like freefall. Old reflexes creak to life within him, past protections that once kept his heart safe when nothing else would. For a long time, he's silent. In one hand he touches Lyney's fingertips, barely feeling them at his own. ]
You worry too much. [ The words are faint in his ears, distant. ] ...If the guards catch you out past curfew again, they might not be so lenient.
[ The pain sets in that Wriothesley being one of the few people with a vested interest in him without asking for anything... presents problems. He can't ignore the interest in his mind, how Wriothesley had crept his way into fantasies and the bitterness he had for him eased away like a bruise.
Lyney's still catching his breath, his legs spread and that cock so undeniably defined pinned tight under his clothing. Everything is indicating how badly Lyney wants the Duke, how walls fell down and frustrations boil over. But fingers loosen around a tie and Wriothesley's replaces it. ]
I worry too much. Me. [ He thinks worry would have kept him angry and out of this room but here he is. Unable to say no to the man, just as Wriothesley called it. ] They report to you... do you mean you may not be lenient?
[ Technicalities. For every time Wriothesley lost in cards, he certainly reminded Lyney that the rules change on the fly here when Wriothesley finds them both suitable. But, the boy can read the room. Slouched back with the edge of the desk digging into his back, he knows he needs to move.
This kind of raw experience sits in his heart, unable to fully process what was happening. ]
I'm going to get up, dust myself off... and go, then. As you always do, you frustrate me. [ Makes him question everything. Even with his admittance of withdrawing – Lyney sounds like he didn't want to. There's a sadness still in his eyes, heavy enough to cast a shadow in such a warmth. ] Probably kick myself when I get to bed, but...
[ His fingers drag over Wriothesley's knuckle, thoughtful. ]
[ God, he doesn't want him to go--he threads his fingers between Lyney's and squeezes his hand lightly with the thought--but he can't stay, either. Not like this. Not when Wriothesley is weaker than himself, a shadow of the man he knows he can be.
It should be easy. Tell him that's for the best, make sure he gets back to his dorm, or at least away from here. Anywhere but here. In his mind he envisions what should follow: a curt nod, helping Lyney to his feet, locking the door of his office behind him. He knows what to do. All that's left is to make it real. He steels himself, tries to find what should come to him naturally. He can't bring himself to meet Lyney's eyes. ]
I'm not going to punish you. [ Said flatly, measured. ] ...Rest assured. Think of this as my mistake.
[ He is, after all, the one who's been inappropriate. Perhaps he's made a joke of himself, thinking he could protect Lyney--he's gone and taken advantage of a troubled teen, one isolated beneath the waves, far from the people he loves most. Another sin to confront, an undoing of whatever virtue he's scraped together in this lifetime. But he can't take it back now. All he can do is collect himself--calm his head, put the brakes on, be the voice of reason this situation needs. ]
[ Each time Wriothesley reaches out in small ways, Lyney receives in kind. Fingertips light and soft to tough hands that had molded this place until it was safe. Squirms that keeps him rooted down into Wriothesley's lap, where the man vowed to ensure no harm came to him as they kissed. Explored... tested waters.
Wriothesley noticeably doesn't look at him and Lyney knows why now. The shock on his own face hollows all the joy from it and everything that tasted so sweet... feels bitter.
Think of this as my mistake.
He remembers nobles regretting their investment in him, favoring Lynette for reasons that churn his stomach. Mistakes that Father ensures never fill her home – mistake, mistake, mistake.
This was all a mistake. It had to be. He's right and Lyney was a fool for seeing it any other way.
Lyney pulls his hand from Wriothesley's and his hand snaps the man's gaze up. He doesn't get to say that and not stare at him in the eyes. The breathing from his own arousal and desperation is gone and a steady and calm voice, sad in its own way, was all that was left. ]
... Please ensure my letters are delivered timely.
[ One leg fumbles over as he pulls away – scrambling to his feet and away from the man. Legs shaky, hand coming up to wipe away at his mouth to pry away Wriothesley's taste as he walks towards the staircase. ]
My lips are sealed, Your Grace. I'll avoid breaking curfew from now on.
It's only fair. They had this discussion once, didn't they? What it means to accept one's sin. Right here, right now, that means looking at Lyney: beholding the hurt, the completely avoidable pain he's caused in letting this happen between them. He holds Lyney's gaze, eyes steely and even, until the boy turns away from him, headed for the staircase.
This is how it should be. He needn't say anything more. Let him go, and treat this as the momentary indiscretion it is. ]
Inmate 7646.
[ For someone who prides himself upon his ability to let go...Lyney sure has a way of undermining that. Of making it disappear. ]
...Don't misunderstand. I have a responsibility to put a stop to these things, no matter how I feel about them.
[ He straightens his tie, willing the warmth from his hands. ]
[ What is sin to a non-believer? Fontanians were born of it, forgiven and still... He believes in magic. Believes miracles are magic in their own way, not divine or holy.
The true magic spark was that catalyst of a kiss – one part need, one part frustration. Lyney trespasses into places in Wriothesley's mind where he shouldn't be. A supple, young body so willing, aching for Wriothesley and it's clear – but the restraint the man shows hurts. Why? This shouldn't happen and until the second Wriothesley asked about that meeting... on if the Knave was cruel to him – he didn't need for it to.
His hand holds onto the railing tight.
Perhaps the Duke was born for the stage as well, for how quickly he pulls the mask on under the sweet, thinly-veiled circumstances. Whatever Wriothesley feels... Lyney won't ever know. ]
Goodnight.
[ A young man that was use to someone at his side, use to being with someone is left alone with his thoughts and that will be the torture. Each light step echoes in the office and with the resounding thud of his door... Wriothesley is alone and Lyney is just another mistake. ]
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no subject
It's only now that he realizes the company the Duke offered wasn't as bad as he thought.
Panting embraces, quick heartbeats were nothing now that they could feel how the other reacts. They're both stiff, unable to lie to themselves. Lyney presses down, his back slouching back into the edge of the desk to tug Wriothesley further into him. The kiss continues, at least another handful of minutes.
He's not sure where he wants those hands to settle but the slight wave of his body actively trying to rut down into that lap doesn't fight the hold on his hips. Wriothesley, most likely, could nearly touch his hands together in that grip. He's secure, safe, and guarded. He allows the Duke to touch him as he sees fit.
But... budding attractions won't be enough for them both to act out so crassly past this. All they do is ache in their pants for one another, bodies full of want and hearts full of conflict. Their mind stops things from going deeper – but Lyney still kisses with such a command it was hard to pull back.
It's only fair.
He wants to sink his teeth into Wriothesley's neck, unbuckle his pants and forget so many things but... Lyney has to be reasonable. Right? ]
You don't have to.
[ Touch him, kiss him, care about him – so many things unsaid with those hazed eyes vulnerable and lips raw. ]
You know that, right?
no subject
But he's not the only one in the picture.
Lyney is so many things he can't begin to put a pin in one and focus on it: an inmate. Quite a few years his junior. The next Knave. Unshakable in his loyalty to the Fatui. Someone else's lover. Due to be gone in just a matter of months. Lyney himself had said they might never see one another again. Would he prefer it that way?
This boy he's sworn to protect--does he even want protecting?
His grip at Lyney's hips relaxes, and now he finds he's not sure what to do with his hands. Not sure what to do with much of anything, really. He is, for the first time in years, in something like freefall. Old reflexes creak to life within him, past protections that once kept his heart safe when nothing else would. For a long time, he's silent. In one hand he touches Lyney's fingertips, barely feeling them at his own. ]
You worry too much. [ The words are faint in his ears, distant. ] ...If the guards catch you out past curfew again, they might not be so lenient.
no subject
Lyney's still catching his breath, his legs spread and that cock so undeniably defined pinned tight under his clothing. Everything is indicating how badly Lyney wants the Duke, how walls fell down and frustrations boil over. But fingers loosen around a tie and Wriothesley's replaces it. ]
I worry too much. Me. [ He thinks worry would have kept him angry and out of this room but here he is. Unable to say no to the man, just as Wriothesley called it. ] They report to you... do you mean you may not be lenient?
[ Technicalities. For every time Wriothesley lost in cards, he certainly reminded Lyney that the rules change on the fly here when Wriothesley finds them both suitable. But, the boy can read the room. Slouched back with the edge of the desk digging into his back, he knows he needs to move.
This kind of raw experience sits in his heart, unable to fully process what was happening. ]
I'm going to get up, dust myself off... and go, then. As you always do, you frustrate me. [ Makes him question everything. Even with his admittance of withdrawing – Lyney sounds like he didn't want to. There's a sadness still in his eyes, heavy enough to cast a shadow in such a warmth. ] Probably kick myself when I get to bed, but...
[ His fingers drag over Wriothesley's knuckle, thoughtful. ]
You're not as cold as I thought you would be.
no subject
It should be easy. Tell him that's for the best, make sure he gets back to his dorm, or at least away from here. Anywhere but here. In his mind he envisions what should follow: a curt nod, helping Lyney to his feet, locking the door of his office behind him. He knows what to do. All that's left is to make it real. He steels himself, tries to find what should come to him naturally. He can't bring himself to meet Lyney's eyes. ]
I'm not going to punish you. [ Said flatly, measured. ] ...Rest assured. Think of this as my mistake.
[ He is, after all, the one who's been inappropriate. Perhaps he's made a joke of himself, thinking he could protect Lyney--he's gone and taken advantage of a troubled teen, one isolated beneath the waves, far from the people he loves most. Another sin to confront, an undoing of whatever virtue he's scraped together in this lifetime. But he can't take it back now. All he can do is collect himself--calm his head, put the brakes on, be the voice of reason this situation needs. ]
no subject
Wriothesley noticeably doesn't look at him and Lyney knows why now. The shock on his own face hollows all the joy from it and everything that tasted so sweet... feels bitter.
Think of this as my mistake.
He remembers nobles regretting their investment in him, favoring Lynette for reasons that churn his stomach. Mistakes that Father ensures never fill her home – mistake, mistake, mistake.
This was all a mistake. It had to be. He's right and Lyney was a fool for seeing it any other way.
Lyney pulls his hand from Wriothesley's and his hand snaps the man's gaze up. He doesn't get to say that and not stare at him in the eyes. The breathing from his own arousal and desperation is gone and a steady and calm voice, sad in its own way, was all that was left. ]
... Please ensure my letters are delivered timely.
[ One leg fumbles over as he pulls away – scrambling to his feet and away from the man. Legs shaky, hand coming up to wipe away at his mouth to pry away Wriothesley's taste as he walks towards the staircase. ]
My lips are sealed, Your Grace. I'll avoid breaking curfew from now on.
no subject
It's only fair. They had this discussion once, didn't they? What it means to accept one's sin. Right here, right now, that means looking at Lyney: beholding the hurt, the completely avoidable pain he's caused in letting this happen between them. He holds Lyney's gaze, eyes steely and even, until the boy turns away from him, headed for the staircase.
This is how it should be. He needn't say anything more. Let him go, and treat this as the momentary indiscretion it is. ]
Inmate 7646.
[ For someone who prides himself upon his ability to let go...Lyney sure has a way of undermining that. Of making it disappear. ]
...Don't misunderstand. I have a responsibility to put a stop to these things, no matter how I feel about them.
[ He straightens his tie, willing the warmth from his hands. ]
That will be all. Do take care.
no subject
The true magic spark was that catalyst of a kiss – one part need, one part frustration. Lyney trespasses into places in Wriothesley's mind where he shouldn't be. A supple, young body so willing, aching for Wriothesley and it's clear – but the restraint the man shows hurts. Why? This shouldn't happen and until the second Wriothesley asked about that meeting... on if the Knave was cruel to him – he didn't need for it to.
His hand holds onto the railing tight.
Perhaps the Duke was born for the stage as well, for how quickly he pulls the mask on under the sweet, thinly-veiled circumstances. Whatever Wriothesley feels... Lyney won't ever know. ]
Goodnight.
[ A young man that was use to someone at his side, use to being with someone is left alone with his thoughts and that will be the torture. Each light step echoes in the office and with the resounding thud of his door... Wriothesley is alone and Lyney is just another mistake. ]