faderift | [Closed] And Fate is Pulling You

WHO: Adasse Agassi and Sorrel Ashara (Guest Starring Beleth Ashara)
WHAT: Because you know what you need when everything else is Blue Flu and chaos? Your not-boyfriend getting kidnapped by a gang
WHEN: After this conversation.
WHERE: The Gallows/Darktown
NOTES: Violence, threats of mutilation, racist slurs of an ugly elven nature

The note had been simple enough - Sorrel wanted Adasse to meet him down in the kitchens. Which ... was good, right? It meant that Sorrel wanted to have further contact with him and Adasse could talk to him about this whole 'ma'nehrn' word and what that meant to Sorrel. Then Adasse could ... try to ... tell Sorrel what he meant to Adasse, but how he wasn't pressuring him and how he could pick his Clan. That he would say, with all due respect to said Clan, that he'd give anything to be worthy of Sorrel's affections, but then again, he wouldn't force Sorrel into anything at all and -

Maker, he should just give this whole mess up -

Something in his throat tightened when he entered the smaller side kitchen, but it wasn't nervousness. It was a jolt of fear. There was flour spread on the floor, and clear signs of a struggle. Mostly damning though, was the basket of jam pies, tipped over, with one or two pies crushed under the heel of a sharp boot. Sorrel was nowhere to be found, and Adasse immediately went looking around the place for any sign of him ... or who could have him.

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It was sweet, this closeness. A kind of sweetness he'd never, ever had before. He'd had a lot of fast, dark and dirty. Quick fun times, or longer ones, but nothing like this. It made him more careful, made him pull back first, like kissing Sorrel was spun glass that he could break.

One corner of his mouth lifts, "It has a lot of benefits, yeah?" A glint flashes across his expression, "Sorrel Ashara, are you telling me that you are not some sort of seductive Dalish force of nature? Come to draw all hapless city elf men into your web of attraction?"

He let the teasing smile fade, before he leaned up to kiss Sorrel's brow. "I am all right, with anything you want to give. I just want to be with you."

"Ha," Sorrel can't seem to stop smiling, "No, I'm afraid that's strictly one per clan, and you've already met Cyril."

And oh, even as Adasse's smirk faded, Sorrel's heart clenched to see what replaced it, an expression so gentle and tender that it was nearly painful. Suddenly, all that anxious worry seemed a waste, particularly when Adasse kissed his head, a gesture of love that had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with simple fondness, with wanting to protect him and see him done well by.

"Well good, now you're making me cry because you're so bloody sweet," That had been meant as a joke, but the slightly soggy tone belied the truth of it, "You'll stay then? I'm not all that tired or anything."

He lied, unconvincingly. Between the hostile tour of Darktown and all the less dangerous excitement, Sorrel would still be running weary even if he hadn't a near encounter with death to round it out.

"But Beleth'll probably want me to sleep this off anyways. And it'd be nice, if you stayed right here. You can't have been comfortable, in the chair."

"I am starting to think you snuck in an extra one." Adasse stated with that same smile as before. A smile that looked worried as Sorrel's tears started to form, and he reached into his pocket for a clean hanky, to dab at his eyes.

"Make sure to proclaim that loudly, so Beleth doesn't horribly murder me, please." Oh Sorrel, come on. Adasse can see the circles under your eyes. The weariness in that bright smile. He pushes himself up on the bed, so they're parallel. He opens his arms, so Sorrel can curl up within them.

"It is not comfortable, so I shall be happy to steal into this bed and cuddle you to sleep." He stated firmly, kissing Sorrel's cheek again. "C'mere. I wish to comfort you."

"Well, I can't say you're not a master thief now," He laughs, gone a little pink but with some effort turns himself into Adasse's reach, settling one arm around his middle so that there can be no mistaking the claim thereby made. Sorrel was not only willing, he was... marking his place. Mine.

"Thank you, ma'nehn," comes the murmur, pressed against Adasse through his shirt, "Goodnight."

"You should know that your ma'nehn is a brilliant master thief." He curls one arm around Sorrel's shoulders, pulling him all the way in so Sorrel could use him as a pillow. He stroked fingers through red hair, kissing his forehead again.

"Good night, sweetheart."

At that, Sorrel almost laughs, at himself as much at the situation. With nothing more than a word and a touch and one chaste kiss, Adasse has him wide-eyed and wondering whether this will always be so surprisingly, so utterly delightful. Even so, the warmth seeps in, with the blanket and the soothing sound of Adasse's breathing against his ear-- it's not long before Sorrel sleeps, heavy and deep, like an exhausted kitten.

And for once in the Gallows, his dreams do not trouble him.

[Closed] And Fate is Pulling You

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