You Were Everything (Sam)

[Denen Sunsinger]

He didn't understand. What was it that Sam wanted to say to him? The quiet lasted too long, and his brows furrowed slightly. Was Sam all right? The strange light illuminated the features of the face he adored. Gods, why did it have to hurt so much? Why did he have to be so beautiful? He resisted the urge to reach up, to cup his face in his hands, and to trace the wearied lines. Sam knew so much pain. It broke his heart to see it reflecting in those wonderful eyes. They were so close. He could feel the faint warmth of Sam's breath upon his face, was overwhelmed by that familiar scent. Denen swallowed hard. He knew no greater temptation than the one that lingered on Sam's full lips. Begging. Pleading. His fingers twitched slightly, wanting to brush against those beckoning lips. He clutched frantically at his resolve, but the tension told in his eyes. It was when Sam held his face in his hands that he shuddered. He couldn't help it. They were both scared. The healer trembled even now. His heart was hammering in his throat, and his face was burning. He wanted to say something, anything. To protest. But no sound would leave his lips. He knew what the kiss meant. He was no fool. But he didn't care. Not any more. This was enough. This was what he had dreamed of, the hope to which he had spent so many nights alone. His slender arm tightened around Sam, and he kissed him in return. He'd only been kissed once before, and it had been nothing like this. Don't ever leave me, he prayed in his heart, for I shall die without you. His other hand moved, delving into that beautiful, silken hair, where his fingers curled. What did it matter now? They were boys. They loved each other, though differently. He brought one hand to Sam's opposite shoulder, and eased his friend onto his back, bringing himself to straddle the stronger boy's stomach. He leaned down, dark hair making a curtain for their faces, as he kissed him, deepening the lingering of their mouth. He wanted to tell Sam that he didn't have to love him. Gods, he needed this. They needed this. Had they not hurt enough? He leaned down on his elbows, to press himself closer still. He could have devoured Sam there, had he not enough control to wait, though the hot, hungry presence of his mouth could not be removed from its present location.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Somewhere, deep down, he knew that he was letting Denen down by giving him what he wanted. If Denen adored him, it should be for his goodness, and this was not goodness, this taking advantage of the deep feelings. They weren't greater than Sama'el's own, but they were different. All the same, he had hurt Denen, but Denen remained. All the others he had tried to be there for, they were leaving him. Perhaps he owed this to Denen. Perhaps what happened in the dark could heal them both a bit. His witchlight flickered and he felt his control wavering, but he took control back and, in the process, kissed Denen harder. Honest, passionate kisses he could no longer give Dymphna. Clever, beguiling kisses such as he had learned from Merris. But there were shadows that reached out from the past, seeking to pollute all that was pure in his life, and this too. He battled those demons within even as he was gentle with his friend and careful with the fire. If he didn't hold it steady, it would fizzle and pop, and likely bring the tent burning down around them. With each heated exhalation, a bit of res emerged, drawn to his fire like moth to the fatal candle, keeping it supplied with materiel to prevent its going out. For the time being, at least, they could see each other. His hands explored as well, his tongue in Denen's mouth. His eyes, though, dark and heated, warm and vulnerable, craved permission and forgiveness all at once. They were both of them broken.

[Denen Sunsinger]

There was so much at risk. Denen knew that. He knew what would happen if people knew. He knew how his father would look at him, that the final seal would be burned onto the edict of his exile from his Pavilion. He didn't care any more. He was a castoff. Denen had never been part of the Brokensong family. His mother's death had made certain of that. Frantic sins committed in the dark had been the end of whatever chance the tiny newborn might have had. Denen was on his own, even as he grappled in the dark for these stolen kisses. Let him be the stand in. Let his body serve as the vessel through which Sam released the hurt that was stored inside of him. Sam's lips were so much more experienced than his own, and he did what he could to keep up. The brilliant, clear mark of his eyes danced in the dim light. His lashes were heavy, and fell thus against his high cheekbones. He knew, would always know, that Sam did not love him as Denen loved his friend, that such would likely never change, but what other chance was there for a boy like Denen? Sam accepted him. Sam was, perhaps, the only person Denen trusted enough to be understanding and gentle with him; he knew Sam would be patient. He cupped Sama'el's face in his hands for a moment, intensely studying those beautiful, dark eyes. He saw, there, the doubt, and the fear, and a soft, fleeting smile touched his lips. He brushed his thumb almost sadly across Sam's cheekbones, and then leaned down to kiss him again. His eyes answered that he understood, and that, for the moment, nothing else mattered but this fleeting matter of minutes. He reached for Sam's hand (the non-flaming one), and slowly brought it to his knee, dragging it slowly up his thigh, as if to pleadingly give direction. His soft lips parted, and his own tongue moved to tangle with Sam's, a dance unfamiliar and yet recognizable all at once. But he made not a sound, lest he break the delicate spell that hung over them.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el said farewell to conscious thought, let instinct take over. Even so with the light, which hovered to the side, independent of his hands. Soon enough it began to pulse as if it had a heartbeat, a silent drumbeat by which to fuck in rhythm and sorrow. It became primal, the need. They were made of dirt, air passed from mouth to mouth, tears had been shed, and a fire accompanied them, even as they stoked their own with friction and failure to be what other people needed them to be. Gradually the need for the fire died as they had created their own, and he let the fire flare out as if to say good luck and good night, the element burning through the remainder of the res in one flash. In the heated dark, they shared the secrets of their bodies with each other, for better or for worse. When the morning came, Sama'el would be gone, guiltily stealing away after brushing hair out of Denen's eyes and covering him with a blanket. Unashamed of the act itself, he was sure it was a betrayal of Denen's trust and friendship. He kept his head down as he skulked toward home, wanting to be hidden from Syna's eye when it rose to its all-seeing prominence. no, this is how it works you peer inside yourself you take the things you like and try to love the things you took and then you take that love you made and stick it into some someone else's heart pumping someone else's blood and walking arm in arm you hope it don't get harmed but even if it does you'll just do it all again regina spektor; on the radio

END

[Mycroft]

Don't ever leave me, he prayed in his heart, for I shall die without you.

It became primal, the need. They were made of dirt, air passed from mouth to mouth, tears had been shed, and a fire accompanied them, even as they stoked their own with friction and failure to be what other people needed them to be.

They were both of them broken.

- Denen Brokensong -

Experience:
Drinking: +1
Seduction: +4

Lores:
The Same Old Desires
Even the Deaf Know How to Listen
Feeling His Pain
A Kiss He Never Expected
The Fire You Ignited Burns in Me
Taking What He Can Get
The Loss of Innocence
Left to Wake Alone

- Sama'el -

Experience:
Drinking: +3
Seduction: +1
Reimancy: +4

Lores:
Desperately Needing a Friend
Signing In the Dark
Having to Keep a Deaf Man Quiet
That Familiar Herbal Scent
Kissing His Demons
Drunk Enough
Wandering From the Straight and Narrow
March of Betrayal

Notes: *sigh* I could comment about the incredible writing, the overwhelming emotion, or the heart-rending conflict in this thread, but you both have heard it from me before. As usual, amazing tale and interaction. This story is beyond romance, beyond inner conflicts and incredible pain. This is about brotherhood, and love of all kinds, and the faith to stand by each other in all things, through all things. This is the essence of the Drykas bond.

It was a challenge to come up with lores that a story like this deserves. It's pure poetry. But I did my best.

And sorry, Sam. You don't pull someone in for a kiss out of the blue without getting point in Seduction. Not that it would have taken much to seduce Denen. I did give extra points to Denen, not so much for effort, but his sheer boldness and unbridled passion.

Normally you know I like to pick out quotes to represent each character, but I felt like this deserved something beyond sampled dialog. Just as both of them forsook conscious thought and let go of their inhibitions, not another word needed to be said between them as they moved in the night.