No, you were more interested in my power, weren't you?
[Goaded on, he pushes forward with a soft snort, plunging his arms further into the fragrant waters to trace Isaac's thighs with the cleaning cloth. He slides along the outside of one leg, then shifts to the softer inner thigh.]
Does it bother you, that there could be living beings still with your blood in their veins?
[Hector wonders if he could kill a demon, if it were possible it was his offspring. The demon's origin shouldn't matter, but Hectors thinks it would, for him. It is a weakness, but one that keeps him human in spite of his dark powers.]
[The first question is left hanging, although his silence is telling. Yes - of course Hector's raw talent had captured his attention like it had the dark lord's, though not in a way entirely the same. Power aside, the sheer novelty of seeing another human in the castle, someone who had looked to be close to his age, had made his pulse quicken with an anxious excitement and a yearning he hadn't felt in a long time.]
They would mean to nothing to me, begotten by a demon-whore.
[The cloth passes along his inner leg and he stirs, fingers tightening around the tub's rim.]
[Maybe it is that easy for Isaac. Hector has no attachment to the family that spawned him, but he isn't sure the apathy would go the same way.
He moves to the other leg, up and down the thigh, slow and gentle. Hector's not trying to seduce. This, the closeness and conversation, coexisting in the same space, is the goal.]
There have been some succubae sniffing around the castle. I assume you're aware.
[Hector could put up wards, but this is Isaac's abode, and must be consulted.]
[Isaac snorts softly, a mirthless sound, supposing this is Hector's oh-so-aloof manner of pointing out that he's noticed the company Isaac has kept in the last few months.]
You assume correctly.
[With a cocked brow, he presses Hector on, half-expecting all the while for his touch to lose focus, daring to wander where it hasn't the right to be. But it doesn't - and for the moment, their truce holds.]
[Hector lets out a breath, but doesn't press the issue. If Isaac wanted them gone from his keep, they would be gone. He'll ward his own room and leave Isaac to his 'demon-whores'.
He reaches as far up Isaac's legs as he can go without groping more tender areas. He draws the cloth out of the water and reaches for Isaac's left hand.]
[His jaw stiffens, weeks of hard-won progress on the verge of coming undone in an instant.]
Then leave.
[The cloth sweeps over the beginnings of a crisscrossing of scars that extend to his inner elbow, the tendons in his arm flexing and unflexing and his hand one word away from snapping out to grab a fistful of Hector's tunic.]
You would do well to remember that my business is my own, as is this castle in which you sleep. [Crisply.] My purpose here is not to make life more comfortable and convenient for you.
[Hector asks quietly, not yet withdrawing from the side of the tub. He washes up the forearm, over scars and inked designs. If Isaac sends him away, he'll have to see to the rest of the scrubbing himself.]
This hasn't been so bad, has it? [A real conversation after months of isolation, warmth and sweet scents, and the temporary suspension of the rivalry between them. Hector doesn't wish to lose that.]
[He looks away to stare sullenly into the bath, at the pale islands of his knees, offering neither a yes or a no to Hector who isn't challenging him, who isn't pushing like he has before. It's this soft-spoken Hector he thinks he trusts the least.
In all the ways he has changed and magic has changed him, he's still human in ways he can't shake. He still yearns for a meaningful place in the world, for a sense of belonging somewhere, even if somewhere only means being welcomed between someone's legs, wanted for just a moment. He still yearns for company: wanting to sweep his hands over skin and raise goosebumps on command and feel his own tingle, alive; wants to pull moans from willing and unwilling throats, wants to bury himself into someone and leave a part of himself inside. The reason demons were here in his tower, where Hector stands now, is because Hector wasn't.
But this he doesn't try to explain. He doesn't know where he'd start if he meant to and doesn't like the way thinking of Hector and the last time they lay together still makes something twists in his gut. When he opens his mouth again, it's easier just to slip around the question and counter with one of his own.
Leveling Hector a look through the gauzy steam:]
Is it jealousy that compels you to judge me?
[It's less a question seeking understanding and more of one seeking confirmation.]
[Hector’s jaw clenches, and he focuses his attention on the arm he is washing- rivulets of soapy water snaking over the marked skin.]
Does it matter? I don’t want to kill a child of yours, but neither would I want to allow it to take what it wishes of me.
[The question for a question is a damning answer in itself. The tangled situation demon children present is real enough, though. He doesn’t want to be put in that situation.]
[He scoffs. Of course he's denied the wry satisfaction of an actual admission, of having some vague sense of what it'd have felt like to be the favoured one, competed for. Water sloshes around as he shifts a little, restless to pull his arm free.]
My devils alone are my children.
['Child' feels like the wrong word for the product of a loveless union, a living thing carelessly brought into the world. There is no loyalty among succubi, as far as he's aware, and their business is to feed and to create when they can with as many men they can sleep with, not to rear those cambions. The indifference is mutual.]
And should it ever come to pass that I find a creature claiming to carry my blood, be this real or imagined, I will destroy it myself as I would any other.
[There's no room for negotiation in his voice, his mind already made. All things considered, it may very well be an unintentional act of mercy.]
[Every conversation with Isaac is fraught with pitfalls. Had he admitted jealousy, it would be a coin's flip whether Isaac would sent him away, spitting about Hector's clinginess and sentimentality again.
He slides the cloth past Isaac's elbow and up the tense, wiry muscles of his bicep. It draws him closer, though he keeps his eyes downcast, like a good servant or a man wanting to avoid the vulnerability that would come with eye contact.]
I will leave them to you.
[Hector has no illusions about the goodness or loyalty of demons, but he still doesn't want Isaac's blood on his hands.]
[Isaac doesn't turn his eyes away but wills himself to stare into Hector's face, resisting a twinge of misplaced discomfort.]
Of course I have.
[He says, with a snappish edge. It has often felt like the only way he could bed a human would be by force, and by then they'd have been victims, in no position to offer anything resembling what he would later see while watching Hector and Rosaly, smouldering with envy and wrenching, hopeless want. He's known demons by and large to be selfish and unkind, but he can't say he hadn't learned from the formative sexual experiences many provided. It had meant something, long ago, that someone had wanted to touch him, had wanted to familiarize himself with his body and with the idea of seeking pleasure in others. The focused attention had been more thrilling than threatening, then; it had been a simpler time, before touch became a weapon and one he discovered he could use as well.]
{Hector reaches Isaac's shoulder, knotted with tension. Breaking out of the Isaac's stare, he slides around the the back of the tub, and gives Isaac a gentle push to urge him forward so he can begin on his back. If Hector could have his way, there would be oil to rub across the planes and ridges there, and he would work his fingers in deep until he could force all the knots into relaxation.
But since when has Hector ever gotten his way with Isaac? He has been granted a cloth and warm water, and he will have to make do.
Out of Isaac's direct line of sight, it's a little easier to continue his line of questioning.]
What would you want of them? Someone to be a partner, or someone to submit to your will? Do you know what you want, Isaac?
[It's too bold, but Hector can't figure it out on his own and frustration makes it hard to hold back his tongue.]
[Why couldn't it be both, he wonders. Why couldn't he dominate and thoroughly fuck someone he forged a rare sort of bond with whenever he pleased, someone he could trust in battle, at least, if not with a secret, but didn't have to in bed? The answer is one he already knows, of course. There are no such people. With Hector, it's complicated, it's a mess he doesn't know how to untangle himself from. Hector is too stubborn, too defiant to be pleased with such an arrangement; he asks too much.
It seems too good to be true, anyway, Isaac tells himself. In the end, the more a person knows of him, the deeper they can cut him. And the more he knows of them, the more of his time and his interest that he invests in their lives, the closer he is to a disaster waiting to happen. For every moment he'd enjoy, he'd spend the rest braced in constant anticipation of the other shoe dropping, and senses fate would never keep him waiting too long.]
...Does it matter? [Throwing Hector's words back at him.
He follows him with his eyes until he disappears behind him, lost in his blindspot. Then Isaac listens, waits. And though he's well familiar with the washcloth on his skin, despite never quite relaxing into Hector's touch, there's a twitch at his shoulderblades when Hector makes to guide him, to lean him forward, tension flaring through his spine. His back stays tight as a drawn bow, all of him stilling.]
Edited 2019-10-17 15:19 (UTC)
HE’S NOT SAYING IT SHOULD totally absolutely BE HIM
[It takes Hector's prompting to breathe more deeply - to remember he can - and then for him to realize he's gripping the tub fiercely, knuckles blanching. First comes the stinging slap of self-consciousness, then frustration swelling inside him. He exhales through his nose and closes his eyes a moment, working his jaw.
A bottle of wine in arms' reach sounds like his next mistake. He isn't sure he could limit himself to a few mouthfuls after this long. But it may be all that can smooth his nerves over now - for his own sake. Maybe he'd even find sleep at the bottom of the bottle, if he were lucky, if not a moment's peace while awake. With the day's work catching up to him and the luxurious, toe-curling heat of the bath sucking what's left of his will from his bones, it's not untrue that there'd be nothing he'd accomplish now that he couldn't after a few solid hours of sleep. Without the energy to feed his devils, he'd be as good as useless.
[Hector hums in agreement and drapes the cloth over the side of the tub. He stands, stretches, and pats a hand absently on Isaac's shoulder as he walks past.]
I shall be right back.
[He doesn't run, but he takes his steps in long strides to hasten his trip to the kitchens. He chooses a bottle of red, and unstops it. He doesn't bother with goblets.
He makes his way back to Isaac's rooms and offers him the bottle.]
[Isaac sees him off with a sharp look, thanklessly plucking the bottle from Hector's hands. Tonight, the make or the year don't matter; he uses his thumbnail to lever the cork until it comes free with a wet pop, not giving the wine the chance to breathe before his lips smother the bottle and he tips his head back. It washes over his tongue, tart and crisp, going down like water. A few drops escape him when he pauses to breathe, clouding in the bath. It looks like blood.]
Enjoying yourself, are you?
[Another joyless swig. He licks away a fat, red bead sliding down the neck of the bottle and sets it down at the foot of the tub for the moment, not looking Hector's way.]
[Hector doesn’t reply to Isaac. He circles around the tub and kneels at the back to resume his washing. Isaac’s back and right arm get the same gentle lathering that his left and legs were treated to.
He maneuvers around the tub as he works, and when he reaches Isaac’s wrist, he glances down at the pale expanse of chest.
Isaac could scrub himself there easily enough. Hector has steered clear of the most sensitive areas, but he’s not pulling all his punches. He leans forward and sweeps the cloth over Isaac’s collarbone.]
[In lieu of an answer, he ducks his head and splashes his hair until it lies flat on his skull, long enough now to drape both his eyes. He calmly extends a hand for the soap and works up a lather between his palms, scrubbing at his scalp and behind his ears and the nape of his neck with the pads of his fingers. His movements are vigorous, briskly efficient, and after a rinse and another soaping, he washes out the foam and leans back with the wine in hand. He takes a long, thoughtful swallow and then another, gazing straight ahead, at nothing in particular, lazily swirling the bottle. It'd be a long while before the water cooled off, with the fire in the built-in stove snapping into a few hunks of wood; he stretches out his legs, in no hurry to pick up where Hector left off.]
[Hector draws back when Isaac finishes washing his hair and settles himself to lounge and sip at the wine. He fetches a hand towel and dries his wet forearms as he thinks on his answer.]
You...you understand a portion of myself that no other could. I think there is a possibility we could work together and be better off than either would be on our own. Last time was not a proper test of what could be between us. I did not know what horrors you had witnessed.
[He shrugs a shoulder, trying to be casual in the face of a serious conversation, wary of provoking Isaac’s claws.]
I don’t know if we could ever be considered ‘friends’...but we are likely the closest either of us will come to that. It seems worth taking a chance on.
[Because Hector, at least, had been content with solitude when he had known no other option; now that he has felt what it is to be close to another person, he cannot go back to the aloofness of his youth.]
'tis a sad state of affairs if you must look to me for some manner of deeper fulfillment.
[With every clash of perspectives and opinions, Isaac knows less and less of what understanding they do share beyond the burdens and possibilities of this cursed magic others have dreamt of wielding. And he doubts that what they have is truly enough to satisfy a man who once took another's hand in marriage. Hector had had a place in the world and in someone's heart, once; he could do better than this, holing up in a ruined castle watching life pass him by. But Hector made this choice of his own will, fought him on it. And he'd have to make his peace with it, fully, if he hadn't already.]
[Hector stands, leaving the hand towel folded on the floor beside the tub. Hector has known true love, and does not expect to find that a second time. What he seeks with Isaac is something else. Understanding of the parts of himself he concealed from his wife. Companionship, whether it be physical or not. This evening, though, Isaac agreed to the bath, nothing more.]
Lounge as long as you wish. We will see in the morrow if relaxing has done you any good.
[He crosses the room, but pauses at the door on his way out.]
If you decide you are in the market for fulfillment, you know the way to my chambers.
[Swilling another mouthful, he watches him from the corner of his eye, his gaze sharpened, for a brief moment, by more than wariness.]
Is that so?
[He pauses with the rim at rest against his lower lip, holding his gaze long enough to suggest it may be a legitimate question.] ...Have you considered taking a more human lover?
[Snorting:] God, Hector...
[Nearing the bottom of the bottle, his laughter comes more easily already, trickling out of him. A little more of the wine misses his mouth, a bead sliding down his skin, another unfurling between his legs in the bathwater.]
The thought has occurred to me...but after a man has possessed a rare treasure, a counterfeit of it brings no joy. I cannot rebuilt what I have lost, so I must seek something new.
[He looks over Isaac's form, naked and sprawled, skin pink from the heat of the water, looking as languid as Hector's ever seen him, laughing.]
And from where I stand, it doesn't look so poor a choice.
[He bows his head in mimicry of a servant to his lord, the role he's played this night, and turns back toward the hallway to leave.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Goaded on, he pushes forward with a soft snort, plunging his arms further into the fragrant waters to trace Isaac's thighs with the cleaning cloth. He slides along the outside of one leg, then shifts to the softer inner thigh.]
Does it bother you, that there could be living beings still with your blood in their veins?
[Hector wonders if he could kill a demon, if it were possible it was his offspring. The demon's origin shouldn't matter, but Hectors thinks it would, for him. It is a weakness, but one that keeps him human in spite of his dark powers.]
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They would mean to nothing to me, begotten by a demon-whore.
[The cloth passes along his inner leg and he stirs, fingers tightening around the tub's rim.]
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[Maybe it is that easy for Isaac. Hector has no attachment to the family that spawned him, but he isn't sure the apathy would go the same way.
He moves to the other leg, up and down the thigh, slow and gentle. Hector's not trying to seduce. This, the closeness and conversation, coexisting in the same space, is the goal.]
There have been some succubae sniffing around the castle. I assume you're aware.
[Hector could put up wards, but this is Isaac's abode, and must be consulted.]
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You assume correctly.
[With a cocked brow, he presses Hector on, half-expecting all the while for his touch to lose focus, daring to wander where it hasn't the right to be. But it doesn't - and for the moment, their truce holds.]
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He reaches as far up Isaac's legs as he can go without groping more tender areas. He draws the cloth out of the water and reaches for Isaac's left hand.]
I don't want to see your cambions firsthand.
[Try to have a little restraint, Isaac.]
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Then leave.
[The cloth sweeps over the beginnings of a crisscrossing of scars that extend to his inner elbow, the tendons in his arm flexing and unflexing and his hand one word away from snapping out to grab a fistful of Hector's tunic.]
You would do well to remember that my business is my own, as is this castle in which you sleep. [Crisply.] My purpose here is not to make life more comfortable and convenient for you.
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[Hector asks quietly, not yet withdrawing from the side of the tub. He washes up the forearm, over scars and inked designs. If Isaac sends him away, he'll have to see to the rest of the scrubbing himself.]
This hasn't been so bad, has it? [A real conversation after months of isolation, warmth and sweet scents, and the temporary suspension of the rivalry between them. Hector doesn't wish to lose that.]
no subject
In all the ways he has changed and magic has changed him, he's still human in ways he can't shake. He still yearns for a meaningful place in the world, for a sense of belonging somewhere, even if somewhere only means being welcomed between someone's legs, wanted for just a moment. He still yearns for company: wanting to sweep his hands over skin and raise goosebumps on command and feel his own tingle, alive; wants to pull moans from willing and unwilling throats, wants to bury himself into someone and leave a part of himself inside. The reason demons were here in his tower, where Hector stands now, is because Hector wasn't.
But this he doesn't try to explain. He doesn't know where he'd start if he meant to and doesn't like the way thinking of Hector and the last time they lay together still makes something twists in his gut. When he opens his mouth again, it's easier just to slip around the question and counter with one of his own.
Leveling Hector a look through the gauzy steam:]
Is it jealousy that compels you to judge me?
[It's less a question seeking understanding and more of one seeking confirmation.]
no subject
Does it matter? I don’t want to kill a child of yours, but neither would I want to allow it to take what it wishes of me.
[The question for a question is a damning answer in itself. The tangled situation demon children present is real enough, though. He doesn’t want to be put in that situation.]
no subject
My devils alone are my children.
['Child' feels like the wrong word for the product of a loveless union, a living thing carelessly brought into the world. There is no loyalty among succubi, as far as he's aware, and their business is to feed and to create when they can with as many men they can sleep with, not to rear those cambions. The indifference is mutual.]
And should it ever come to pass that I find a creature claiming to carry my blood, be this real or imagined, I will destroy it myself as I would any other.
[There's no room for negotiation in his voice, his mind already made. All things considered, it may very well be an unintentional act of mercy.]
no subject
He slides the cloth past Isaac's elbow and up the tense, wiry muscles of his bicep. It draws him closer, though he keeps his eyes downcast, like a good servant or a man wanting to avoid the vulnerability that would come with eye contact.]
I will leave them to you.
[Hector has no illusions about the goodness or loyalty of demons, but he still doesn't want Isaac's blood on his hands.]
Have you ever considered taking human lovers?
no subject
Of course I have.
[He says, with a snappish edge. It has often felt like the only way he could bed a human would be by force, and by then they'd have been victims, in no position to offer anything resembling what he would later see while watching Hector and Rosaly, smouldering with envy and wrenching, hopeless want. He's known demons by and large to be selfish and unkind, but he can't say he hadn't learned from the formative sexual experiences many provided. It had meant something, long ago, that someone had wanted to touch him, had wanted to familiarize himself with his body and with the idea of seeking pleasure in others. The focused attention had been more thrilling than threatening, then; it had been a simpler time, before touch became a weapon and one he discovered he could use as well.]
no subject
But since when has Hector ever gotten his way with Isaac? He has been granted a cloth and warm water, and he will have to make do.
Out of Isaac's direct line of sight, it's a little easier to continue his line of questioning.]
What would you want of them? Someone to be a partner, or someone to submit to your will? Do you know what you want, Isaac?
[It's too bold, but Hector can't figure it out on his own and frustration makes it hard to hold back his tongue.]
HOW DARE HECTOR HAVE NEEDS OF HIS OWN
It seems too good to be true, anyway, Isaac tells himself. In the end, the more a person knows of him, the deeper they can cut him. And the more he knows of them, the more of his time and his interest that he invests in their lives, the closer he is to a disaster waiting to happen. For every moment he'd enjoy, he'd spend the rest braced in constant anticipation of the other shoe dropping, and senses fate would never keep him waiting too long.]
...Does it matter? [Throwing Hector's words back at him.
He follows him with his eyes until he disappears behind him, lost in his blindspot. Then Isaac listens, waits. And though he's well familiar with the washcloth on his skin, despite never quite relaxing into Hector's touch, there's a twitch at his shoulderblades when Hector makes to guide him, to lean him forward, tension flaring through his spine. His back stays tight as a drawn bow, all of him stilling.]
HE’S NOT SAYING IT SHOULD totally absolutely BE HIM
[Hector tries to sooth away the stiffness of Isaac’s back, but Isaac is stubborn. He huffs.]
This is supposed to help you relax. What will it take for you to uncoil? I could fetch wine.
[Hector is invested in this working. If Isaac comes away more tense than he went in, Hector will never here the end of it from him.]
no subject
A bottle of wine in arms' reach sounds like his next mistake. He isn't sure he could limit himself to a few mouthfuls after this long. But it may be all that can smooth his nerves over now - for his own sake. Maybe he'd even find sleep at the bottom of the bottle, if he were lucky, if not a moment's peace while awake. With the day's work catching up to him and the luxurious, toe-curling heat of the bath sucking what's left of his will from his bones, it's not untrue that there'd be nothing he'd accomplish now that he couldn't after a few solid hours of sleep. Without the energy to feed his devils, he'd be as good as useless.
He loosens his hands, drops his shoulders.]
...Bring me the bottle. [He demands, hollowly.]
no subject
I shall be right back.
[He doesn't run, but he takes his steps in long strides to hasten his trip to the kitchens. He chooses a bottle of red, and unstops it. He doesn't bother with goblets.
He makes his way back to Isaac's rooms and offers him the bottle.]
Can I continue now?
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Enjoying yourself, are you?
[Another joyless swig. He licks away a fat, red bead sliding down the neck of the bottle and sets it down at the foot of the tub for the moment, not looking Hector's way.]
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He maneuvers around the tub as he works, and when he reaches Isaac’s wrist, he glances down at the pale expanse of chest.
Isaac could scrub himself there easily enough. Hector has steered clear of the most sensitive areas, but he’s not pulling all his punches. He leans forward and sweeps the cloth over Isaac’s collarbone.]
Would you like your hair washed next?
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Why are you here...?
[He looks at Hector after a long beat.]
Why choose this when you are not without choice?
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You...you understand a portion of myself that no other could. I think there is a possibility we could work together and be better off than either would be on our own. Last time was not a proper test of what could be between us. I did not know what horrors you had witnessed.
[He shrugs a shoulder, trying to be casual in the face of a serious conversation, wary of provoking Isaac’s claws.]
I don’t know if we could ever be considered ‘friends’...but we are likely the closest either of us will come to that. It seems worth taking a chance on.
[Because Hector, at least, had been content with solitude when he had known no other option; now that he has felt what it is to be close to another person, he cannot go back to the aloofness of his youth.]
no subject
'tis a sad state of affairs if you must look to me for some manner of deeper fulfillment.
[With every clash of perspectives and opinions, Isaac knows less and less of what understanding they do share beyond the burdens and possibilities of this cursed magic others have dreamt of wielding. And he doubts that what they have is truly enough to satisfy a man who once took another's hand in marriage. Hector had had a place in the world and in someone's heart, once; he could do better than this, holing up in a ruined castle watching life pass him by. But Hector made this choice of his own will, fought him on it. And he'd have to make his peace with it, fully, if he hadn't already.]
no subject
[Hector stands, leaving the hand towel folded on the floor beside the tub. Hector has known true love, and does not expect to find that a second time. What he seeks with Isaac is something else. Understanding of the parts of himself he concealed from his wife. Companionship, whether it be physical or not. This evening, though, Isaac agreed to the bath, nothing more.]
Lounge as long as you wish. We will see in the morrow if relaxing has done you any good.
[He crosses the room, but pauses at the door on his way out.]
If you decide you are in the market for fulfillment, you know the way to my chambers.
no subject
Is that so?
[He pauses with the rim at rest against his lower lip, holding his gaze long enough to suggest it may be a legitimate question.] ...Have you considered taking a more human lover?
[Snorting:] God, Hector...
[Nearing the bottom of the bottle, his laughter comes more easily already, trickling out of him. A little more of the wine misses his mouth, a bead sliding down his skin, another unfurling between his legs in the bathwater.]
A fine choice you've made for yourself.
no subject
[He looks over Isaac's form, naked and sprawled, skin pink from the heat of the water, looking as languid as Hector's ever seen him, laughing.]
And from where I stand, it doesn't look so poor a choice.
[He bows his head in mimicry of a servant to his lord, the role he's played this night, and turns back toward the hallway to leave.]
hope this timeskippery is okay -- let me know if you wanted anything changed
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