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The Lighthouse was endlessly fascinating to Emmrich Volkarin, the Fade surroundings themselves enough to fuel at least four theses alone. He was quick to settle in; a small army of skeletal workers from the Necropolis had made short work of his baggage and the selection of books from his library that he simply couldn’t do without.
It had taken them a half-day to haul in the granite slab he used for dissection, but that was a small price to pay in case things needed examination, and he had no doubt they might be forced to do one or two dissections in the course of their hunt for the Evanuris. The Blight-addled creatures that they’d come across had already been adapted in horribly fascinating ways, and Emmrich was already developing at least three new containment measures so that he could study the Blight in their down time as well.
Now, however, it was just the two of them, Manfred and Emmrich himself, unpacking. He rolled up his sleeves, surveying the shelving.
The Lighthouse itself was adaptable to a stunning degree, not obeying the usual laws of the Fade (what laws there were, at least). Normally, a place in the Fade usually adhered to its analogous real-world counterpart to the point of an odd rigidity, only to change at the whim of a powerful or emotional spirit. Here, however, the place seemed to float without tether, the Lighthouse and its surrounding outbuildings given a rough patch of land and then structured as its original creator willed.
Inside, however, had changed with the force of Emmrich’s design so easily; it was like pushing a door that you expected to stick in its frame, only to stumble through it when it gives without protest. The bookshelves formed from thin air, the lacquered and polished wood nothing but Fade material, but it was solid and sturdy beneath his hands—because he expected it to be. They didn’t even groan under the weight of his books; even the thickest tomes slid into place near silently.
To say Emmrich was pleased was an understatement.
It was a rather non-Euclidean space, all told; he should have been able to see into their leader’s fish tank, such as it was, but there was nothing of the sort when he climbed his corkscrew stairs and peered out over his balcony. It lent the whole place an air of deliberate privacy, and it made his skin fair to tingle with the possibility of it.
How far did their secure little bubble of the Fade go?
He’d been delighted when he’d explored the rest of the space and had found the sliding bookshelves and walls in the music room. He’d immediately retreated to his own quarters to experiment, and within hours had a set of sleeping quarters laid out with a fireplace, a plush and feather soft bed that rivaled his own in the Necropolis, and windows that looked out onto a garden that did not exist.
It felt a little bit like a haven from the world, and though he knew he shouldn’t get too comfortable, it was hard to argue when one had a malleable canvas at their finger tips. He settled in nicely that evening, falling asleep to the sound of phantom rain on his imaginary blooms.
The next morning, it was time to get right to work. Emmrich emerged, buttoning his cuffs around his wrists, and nearly knocked over someone heading down the stairs. They collided, and Emmrich reached out a hand to steady them.
“I beg your—oh, Rook! My apologies.” Emmrich beamed down at him, stepping back and taking in his fellow Mourn Watcher. Kostas Ingellvar was a relative mystery to him despite his inherited name; he’d known the Lady Ingellvar and cherished her friendship for many years.
He’d heard the rumors—who hadn’t—but didn’t put much stock in gossip. It had never been his wont to snap a judgment on a person, even if he had been sent off as a punishment. He’d not crossed paths with him at the academy, either. By the time Kostas had joined the academy, Emmrich’s classes were far beyond the beginner courses and he’d had no opportunity to get to know the newest member of her family.
But Rook was no longer a young man just out of his Harrowing. The Death Caller was a centered, mature leader of men and—
He was grinning.
Rook leaned back on his heels, hip cocked against the railing of the upper level, gazing up at Emmrich and grinning. His smile split his face, making his slightly off-center nose (a break, perhaps, in his youth) scrunch in a charming way. Hazel eyes and dark, ruddy hair spilling into his face made him seem younger, but the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes spoke of a man aging gracefully before him. Freckles covered the younger mortalitasi from what looked like pointed ears to toes, but Emmrich couldn’t be sure without a full examination—which was both out of the question and rather rude to think, but Emmrich’s fluster could be explained by the collision, surely.
All in all, the elf was very impish and quite handsome as he gave a low laugh.
“It’s all fine, Professor. I’ve got to remember I have a neighbor now, that side was full empty before you got here.” He rolled his neck and shoulders, offering Emmrich the way with a courtly sweep of his hand and a little cant of his head. “After you.”
“Ah, thank you, Rook.” Emmrich moved to the stairs, waiting on Kostas to fall into step beside him, which the elf did after a moment, with a little swagger to his step. “But I must insist you call me Emmrich.”
“Emmrich, then,” he said. “You can call me Rook, if you like, but my name works just as well, and it’s better than the ‘hey, you’ or ‘you, knife-ear’ I kept getting in Denerim.”
“How rude,” Emmrich said, bemused.
“They still don’t like elves much in the cities there, but it’s...hm. Anyway. Kostas or Rook, both work.” Kostas waved a hand, as though clearing the air between them. Emmrich searched Kostas’s figure, because something was off, and he couldn’t tell what it was, until he realized—Kostas, though a Mourn Watcher, was near silent. There was no jingle or soft ringing of gold on gold.
He did not wear any grave dowry, which Emmrich found odd, but could not think of a way to broach without seeming terribly rude once again. It added to the questions he had for their leader, but he was sure he’d get to know him well enough as it was.
“Sleep well?” Kostas said, after a moment, as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “No trouble settling in, I hope?”
“Not at all,” Emmrich said. “This place is remarkable, really. The Fade but not. It’s rigid and yet malleable, like...hm.”
“Feels like partially set clay,” Kostas supplied. He held the door for Emmrich, who swept out into the false light of the courtyard while still talking.
“That’s it,” Emmrich said, snapping his fingers. “That’s exactly it! You can make what you wish so easily, but it’s a bit of a chore to get it started.”
Kostas nodded, and pointed out the others’ rooms as they walked. Bellara had a small conservatory, Harding was opposite her, and Neve was beside Bellara. Their own separate spaces, each just for them.
“Davrin’s next to Harding on the left there, and Lucanis has taken over the kitchen. I’m not complaining, because I can barely make toast in the morning, but no one eats well on Harding’s rotation,” Kostas said, sotto voce, as they climbed the steps. Emmrich chuckled, casting a glance back over his shoulder at the courtyard area while Kostas continued to speak.
“We think the place used to be Solas’s, given everything we’ve found so far,” Kostas said, as they strolled across the brickwork of the courtyard. “Documents, murals, things point to it being one of his bolt-holes. Kitchen is separated from the main quarters by a bit, but nothing that a little walk can’t cure.”
“I’ve never been one to shirk morning exercise,” Emmrich replied.
“I’m not usually up this early, but we don’t keep the doors to common areas locked, so you can go where you want at any time, save for the Eluvian doors—Spite keeps trying to go wandering and we’d like to discourage that if we can,” Kostas said with a nod toward the kitchen. “Lucanis is posted up in the pantry, it’s closed off and can be locked from the outside if he needs.”
“I...see,” Emmrich said. “And there’s been no attempt to come to accord with the spirit?”
Kostas sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “There’s a lot of animosity between them. They were forced together in a ritual and twisted into something they’re not. I think we can get them to even ground, maybe even harmony, but it’s going to take a lot more than a couple of days and a damn good spirit calling session. I don’t think they can separated, but there’s always the chance we stumble across something wild here that changes the game.”
“It’s horrid, what happened,” Emmrich said. Kostas made a noise of agreement, then pushed the door open.
“We’re going to take it one day at a time and see where that gets us.” Kostas let Emmrich precede him into the kitchen. “Shopping list is on the wall, Lucanis makes jaunts to Antiva for food runs, if you have requests. We can always make other stops for specific ingredients if you like.”
“Wonderful,” Emmrich said, moving to inspect the larder and the utensils to hand. He began setting up for porridge, and Kostas moved with him, pulling down wooden carved bowls and spoons. “If you’ll do the washing up, I’ll handle breakfast.”
“Deal. How do you feel about excursions?” Kostas asked. “I know we brought you in as our Fade expert, but there’s no reason to go into the field should you want to remain here.”
“I’m not about to shirk my duties either, Rook,” Emmrich said, his eyebrow lifting. He put a hand on the other Watcher’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “If you have need of me, I’m yours.”
Kostas’s hazel eyes sought his, his look appraising. Kostas’s shoulder was warm beneath his palm, the other watcher radiating heat in a way that must have been comforting in the chill of the lower halls of the Necropolis.
There was a once-over from the smaller man, an assessment of himself, and Emmrich almost caught himself straightening his shoulders even though his posture was just as good as it had always been. It felt almost like he was being judged after his Harrowing, so very long ago, and it was an unfamiliar feeling.
Can we trust each other?
It hung in the air between them, Rook’s eyes seeking the answer in Emmrich’s own. Whatever he saw, it must have satisfied him.
“Good,” Kostas said after a moment, that smile splitting his face again. His mouth naturally turned up at the corners, rendering the elf as someone cheerful, even frivolous, but Emmrich didn’t miss the strain around his eyes, either. There was a lot of weight on this young man’s shoulders. The least he could do would be to lift the burden a little. “I appreciate your contributions, Emmrich, don’t think I don’t. It’s nice to have another Watcher on the team.”
“Well, then,” Emmrich said. He realized he’d left his hand on Kostas’s shoulder, and let it drop back to his side. “Allow me to accompany you this morning. What’s on the docket for today?”
“Today?” Kostas said, moving to fetch the kettle. “Breakfast, and then we’re hunting ourselves a dragon slayer.”
Manfred found the hole in the bedroom wall a couple of weeks after their move into the Lighthouse. Kostas, Neve and Harding were out following up a lead, leaving the rest of them to their own devices, and Manfred had pointed at the tiny crack in the wall with an excited hiss.
“What is it, my boy?” Emmrich asked, turning from the mirror where he’d been changing after his study of the blighted samples he’d managed to gather on their last outing. His laboratory scrubs were waiting to be laundered, and he’d washed and dried his hands thoroughly after removing his protective gloves, so he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t be infected. Clean and dry now, he shrugged into his shirtsleeves, tidying them by tucking the tails into his trousers and shrugging on his waistcoat.
He moved to where Manfred was pointing, his eyes widening as he spotted the hole in the wall. It was small, about the circumference of a quill pen’s body, as though something had bored into the wall from a ninety degree angle.
“Well, that won’t do,” he murmured, reaching out with his will to close the hole. As he did, the paint around the small hole began to flake and peel, making Manfred clap his gloved hands together with an excited hiss. “No, no, Manfred, we should leave that alone. We don’t know why the building’s responding that way, after all. I’ll have to take a look at it more carefully here in a moment.”
“Emmrich?” came a voice from his study. “Are you here? We’ve brought back those tea cakes you said you wanted.”
Manfred, recognizing Kostas’s voice, went barreling toward the sound, and Emmrich followed behind, quite forgetting the hole for the time being.
“Manfred, are you in here?” Emmrich called.
There was a hiss from his quarters, and Emmrich slid the bookcase aside to find Manfred crouched and peering at the wall. It was then he remembered he’d been remiss in getting the hole fixed, and he strode over, only to find that the hole had gotten bigger. It was now about the size of a gold sovereign, allowing one a clear view into whatever lay beyond.
Emmrich frowned, then watched as Manfred poked a gloved finger into the hole.
“Manfred!” Emmrich’s voice was scandalized. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve been the one widening this out?”
Manfred shook his head, but he poked his finger back in the hole all the same.
Emmrich tugged the curiosity spirit away from the hole, giving him a little bit of costume jewelry from the box he kept to amuse the spirit when he needed a quick distraction and redirection.
“Why don’t you go and play with Assan for a bit, my boy?” he suggested, and Manfred gave a happy hiss. He bustled away, the brass chains dangling from his gloves, presumably to watch how they shone and glittered in the Fade light outside.
Emmrich sighed and squatted to inspect the hole.
There was, in fact, a hole big enough to see through now, he noted with a grimace. He peered out, expecting to meet the brick wall of the outside of the Lighthouse. Instead, he found himself gazing into a simply appointed room. There was veilfire flickering in a modest grate—he could tell from the green flicker that lit the room. It lit up a four-poster bed in dark wood that faced the wall the hole was in, and a rather plush armchair that looked like he would sink into it if he sat in it was placed next to the grate on the wall to the right.
He could just make out the edges of an armoire, a cabinet of some kind, near the edge of the hole.
Where was this?
He tried to reorient himself, and remembered that this wall should buttress against Rook’s little meditation chamber. He blinked, refocusing. Had Rook had the same idea he had?
A door slammed open, and Emmrich jumped, bracing himself on the wall.
“Come on, admit you’re looking to break off a piece of Bone Daddy over there.”
“Davrin, you can’t call him that,” Kostas said, striding into view and talking to the grey warden who remained just out of sight. “That’s disrespectful. Professor Volkarin is a respected member of the Mourn Watch, I’m really grateful he decided to join us.”
“You mean your libido is grateful he decided to join us,” Davrin said, clearly grinning based on his tone. “Admit it, you’ve been out of your head ever since he joined us for dinner the first night.”
“I haven’t!” Kostas said, tossing his stained cloak over the arm chair and tugging the ties of his shirt open. “I—look. When I was at the academy, his courses were booked out because he’s brilliant. He’s everything a Watcher should be, he’s intelligent, unafraid to experiment, and he’s pushed what feels like a thousand theories that ended up either being proven true or led to breakthroughs in how we interact with the Fade. We’re so lucky to have him here. He’s a foremost expert in Fade metaphysics.”
“Oh, it’s a crush crush,” Davrin said, whistling low. Emmrich felt his cheeks warm at the conversation track. “You’ve got a full on hot for teacher moment going on here.”
“All right, out,” Kostas said, waving at Davrin, his other hand over his face. “I’ve got to see to a couple things, but we’ll play Wicked Grace a little later. Besides, Assan is probably doing loops around the balcony waiting on you.”
“I’m just saying, I’m not knocking you about it,” Davrin said, but his voice was further away now. “Nothing stopping you.”
“Thank you, Davrin!” Kostas yelled, marching over and slamming the door with a grunt. There was a forceful, expelled breath of air, and the groan of something thumping against the door. From the sound of it, it was Kostas’s head. “Arsehole.”
He chuckled ruefully to himself as he reappeared in Emmrich’s line of sight and tugged at the waist of his tunic to tug the tails from his breeches, moving for the armoire. Emmrich found himself locked in place, hardly daring to breathe. The sound wouldn’t have carried, Emmrich knew, without the hole in the wall. The Lighthouse had a muffling quality to sounds of his neighbors when he was in his quarters.
But his attention was caught by movement, and he froze, his eye glued to the hole in the wall. Kostas sighed, wiping his brow with his shirt collar, before he tugged it off completely.
Emmrich felt his mouth flood with saliva, a visceral reaction that shocked him just as much as the sight before him. Kostas was compact, solid in a way that was surprising for a mage, his body corded with taut muscle. Emmrich recalled, hazily, that he’d mentioned being on the road and traveling with Varric for close to three years now. It would explain his fitness, despite rising much later than Emmrich himself and seeming to reserve his energies for the tasks at hand.
Freckles ran down his neck, peppering his skin all the way to his stomach, continuing below the line of his trousers’ waistband. A set of symmetrical scars rested beneath Kostas’s pectorals, and Emmrich recognized the technique. Johanna had raved about it when she’d been researching it for anatomy practice, and he’d been fond of the incisions himself, finding them neat and presentable, the results aesthetically pleasing.
Kostas was enchanting, despite being travel-stained and sweaty from the day’s tasks.
Emmrich was half-hard, he realized with a start, giving a soft grunt as he shifted on his heels. It broke his concentration on the sight before him, and he stumbled backwards. His bracelets clinked together, and he froze again, listening for a noise of discovery.
There was the sound of shuffling cloth, the creak of the floorboards; apparently the Lighthouse was not above torture when it suited. Emmrich listened to the sound of his thundering heart, frozen in a squat while waiting on someone, anyone to discover him while he crouched here, gawking at their leader through an ill-advised hole in the wall.
Kostas didn’t shout or curse, and Emmrich heard footsteps fade and a door slam after a long, fraught moment. He let out a breath, his palm rubbing frantically over his face, and rose stiffly from his crouch.
He dug through his own drawers, finding a dark silk scarf and a set of tacks, then pinned it over the hole so no light shone through. He would need to fix it soon, but he would need to work out how to repair it in the middle of the Fade.
For now, though, he resolved to leave it be. The shame of the temptation had already burned him quite thoroughly and he felt guilt crawl into his stomach before it settled into the pit of it, making a permanent home.
He’d invaded his privacy in the worst way, Emmrich realized. He would never judge or belittle him for it—to the contrary, Emmrich had entertained men and women of all genders on the spectrum wherever they’d landed, it was hardly a turn-off. But Kostas hadn’t divulged any of this to him, hadn’t trusted him with this information, and the thought made him slightly ill.
Kostas hadn’t deserved that, any more than he deserved the attention of an old man past his prime. He respected Emmrich, for the spirits’ sake. He looked up to him.
He couldn’t allow this to affect their working relationship. He’d do his duty, and he would return home. That was the wisest course of action.
He fled his quarters, moving back into his study and away from the damnable hole.
He’d avoided thoughts of the hole in the wall for a week. All attempts to repair it had been met with frustration. Manipulating the Fade to close the hole hadn’t worked. The paint simply flaked off as the hole grew slightly larger every time he tried. He’d even retreated back to Nevarra for plaster and the tools to fix it. The hole reopened within hours, before the plaster was even dry.
It was maddening; he’d always had such stellar control over magic and the Fade, but this was something malicious, it had to be. He covered it again with a scarf, then added two more and a chain of tiny bells so that he could tell if Manfred took interest in the architecture again.
He couldn’t help his eyes returning to the hole every time he entered the room. It was like a living thing, its presence haunting him even as he slept.
It didn’t help that he thought of the sculpture of Kostas’s neck and shoulders every time he closed his eyes. It hadn’t been this bad for anyone, not that he could remember, even with the frantic couplings in the Necropolis’s mage circle. Kostas was compelling in both personality and form, something that had always attracted Emmrich in a partner.
The temptation to bring himself off by hand had been so high, it was a constant thrum along his skin, and Emmrich denied the thought and the action vehemently. He worked late, until he was sure Kostas had retired and temptation had passed. It was not something he prided himself in doing, working on such little sleep, but he made do with what he had. He fell to breakfast duty more often than not, rising early as his habits allowed. It kept him away from the hole as Kostas stumbled into the kitchen, his hair messy still from his pillow.
It was for the best, really.
Until it wasn’t.
He was fit to drop after five weeks of the reduced rest he was getting, swaying on his feet. Kostas peered up at him, and Emmrich felt a small smile reach his face even as he all but clung to his staff to keep him upright.
“You’re exhausted,” Kostas said, and it wasn’t a question.
Emmrich started, glancing down at him. Kostas’s expression was severe, despite the natural upturn at the corners of his mouth. Emmrich, despite himself, felt his mouth go dry at the sight of the firm press of Kostas’s lips as they settled into a frown.
“Pardon?” he heard himself say, feeling slow and stupid.
“You’re exhausted.” Kostas’s brow rose as he repeated himself. “You’ve not been sleeping, have you, Emmrich?”
“I assure you, Rook, I get plenty of rest,” Emmrich said. “I’m perfectly well.”
“You’re definitely not,” Kostas replied. “It’s been at least a month since you called me Rook. And Manfred’s been up to more mischief than usual, and you’ve barely been present for it. You’re swaying on your feet.”
He nodded to himself, as though answering his own question. He turned to Bellara and Davrin.
“You two up for a jaunt to Arlathan today?”
“Always,” Davrin replied. “I’ll grab my gear.”
“Sure!” Bellara said. She turned on her heel to follow Davrin outside.
“Rook, I assure you—” Emmrich began, and Kostas turned back to him.
“You’re pushing yourself way too hard, Emmrich,” he said softly. He reached up and put a hand on Emmrich’s shoulder. He squeezed, and Emmrich swayed toward him. “Your only task for today should be to rest. I know you want to help—spirits, we’re all running on less than we’re used to—but I don’t want you dropping where you stand on my account.”
“I—” Emmrich searched Kostas’s face, feeling the elf’s thumb press against the muscle of his shoulder like a brand. “You’re right, of course. My apologies.”
“Don’t apologize,” Kostas said with that same easy grin. “Go get some sleep. We’ll touch base when I’m back and we’ll talk over our next steps. You won’t miss out on anything important, you have my word.”
“Of course,” Emmrich said. He tilted his head in acknowledgment. Kostas’s hand dropped away, and Emmrich missed it immediately. As Kostas, Davrin and Bellara made their way to the Eluvian room, Emmrich trod back up to the steps to his quarters, where hopefully he could finally grab more than a few hours of rest.
The issue with making one’s home in the Fade, even temporarily, was that Emmrich woke disoriented, unsure of what time it was. He sat up, his sheets pooling about his waist, and rubbed at his face. The ticking of the clock meant nothing to him for a long moment. He rose to check it, moving to the mantle to read the delicate hands.
Nearly midnight, and he felt a surge of guilt for sleeping nearly the whole day away. He rubbed a hand down his nightshirt, debating going back to sleep. Dressing would wake him up, but his sleep schedule had been so disrupted for so long, he feared that he would stumble into more disorder.
Instead, he took a seat in his own armchair before his fire, steepling his fingers together in front of his face. This couldn’t continue. He had to find a solution to this...whatever this was.
Unbidden, his gaze drifted to the wall beside his grate. The patch of dark silk was undisturbed, the tiny chain of bells winking in the veilfire occasionally. He exhaled.
Perhaps a walk was in order.
As he made to stand, however, a sound from the room next door made him pause. It was a soft, breathy noise, like one would make in sleep. The temptation roared back to life, and Emmrich moved to the scraps of silk that covered the hole. The bells were silenced carefully, Emmrich pressing their mouths to his palm before he moved the chains, ensuring the clappers wouldn’t sound. He set them aside and bit his lip, watching the quiet play of air around the mouth of the hole. The silk fluttered slightly, like it was a breathing thing.
A sigh echoed in the space between the rooms, something more like a moan, and Emmrich was hard in a snap—he couldn’t recall the last time it had happened so quickly, and without anything but the sound on the other side of the silk.
Emmrich’s forehead pressed against the wall, his eyes slamming shut. No. He needed to walk away.
“—spirits, that’s—” Kostas’s voice was a deeper well than normal; it washed over him, the timbre of his voice sending a rippling line of goosebumps up Emmrich’s arms. He inhaled, his hand falling to his lap and brushing against the thickening line of his cock.
He needed to walk away.
Against his better judgment, against his morals screaming at him for his failure, he remained. Emmrich settled himself on his knees, took a deep breath, and allowed himself to lift the silk to look.
Kostas was on his back, his shirt rucked up over his chest, bare from the waist down. One leg was cocked up, his knee folded in an artful line, spread wide so that one of his clever hands could—
Oh. Emmrich nearly choked, the way he almost panted at the sight of the other Mourn Watcher, spread out like a feast. He had to close his eyes for a moment, swallowing around his tongue which seemed to be too thick for his mouth. He brought his gaze back up, sweeping over the lines of Kostas’s body, taking in every inch.
His freckles did indeed cover his whole body, his skin covered in little flecks of color that were both charming and utterly devastating against his tanned skin. Kostas stretched, and Emmrich watched the way his adonis belt flexed, the dip of his hips getting an absolutely mouth-watering bit of skin that bunched as he moved. Emmrich wanted to reach out, to touch. To kiss, to bite. To consume wholly.
It had been a long, long time since a feeling of desire had slammed into him so forcefully. Emmrich felt the sweat start on the small of his back, his hand fisted on his knees as he held up the square of silk with the other.
Kostas’s head was tipped back on his pillow, the bed itself set in the room in such a way that Emmrich got a full view of him spread out before him as though on a platter. The elf lifted his hips, placing himself on display for Emmrich’s perusal. His eyes were closed, his mouth dropping open as his fingers spread himself open.
Rook was beautiful.
It was something he’d known, abstractly, upon their meeting. He was a striking man, the Ingellvar name notwithstanding. Emmrich had felt the stirring of interest, something awakening at the other Death Caller’s gaze on him. The grin he wore, easy and cheerful, his assertive and kind attitude toward everyone he met.
It had been enough to admire him, Emmrich had thought at the time. Mutual admiration, that was safest. Until the hole had made itself known in his quarters, and now he would have no end of peace, knowing this man slept right there, with just a simple wall between them.
Those nascent stirrings had become kindling to something far more salacious, a fire that lit in his chest and made it feel tight, restricted like he was choking on the smoke. For the first time, in a long time, Emmrich wanted, and he fair to burned with it.
He wanted Kostas spread beneath him, grave gold glittering from every limb, dripping from his fingers and toes, his skin lit up with burnished trinkets that made no question of where he was to be buried and with what honors. Cuffs on his ears, glinting as his head twisted while Emmrich brought him to crisis, his whole body trembling with it, the shimmer of gold on gold a work of living art. Emmrich inhaled, the suck of breath into his lungs feeling not enough. He was drowning in this, and he would gladly sink to the bottom for the sight before him.
Kostas spread himself wide with his fingers, and Emmrich devoured with his eyes. The Mourn Watcher’s fingers were deft, and spread open his labia with all the care that Emmrich would, revealing himself. His clit was swollen, begging for Emmrich’s mouth, to be lapped at and sucked. His fingers circled it, then his index and middle finger slid down, catching the little bundle of nerves between them.
“Gods—” Kostas moaned, and Emmrich felt it roll through him like a thunderclap.
He rocked his hand from the heel of his palm, and Emmrich watched the way his hips worked, rocking into his touch as Kostas bit his lip. His head lolled to the side, chest heaving as he panted. Emmrich wanted to see this again, except he wanted hear the clink of the grave dowry as he did, feel the tug of rings as they caught in his hair while he buried his face in Kostas’s dripping cunt. He wanted to feel the press of delicate chains against Kostas’s thighs, feel the bite as they dug into his cheeks when Kostas pressed them against his head, muffling his groaning as Emmrich ate him whole.
It was slow, tantalizing, and Emmrich found his free hand tracing the shape of his cock against the soft linen of his night shirt. His breathing was short and sharp, and he exhaled, tugging the hem up and freeing himself from his smalls. The slight chill of the air brought a small sliver of clarity that was washed away as Kostas moaned again, a low and needy noise that made Emmrich twitch against his own palm. He licked the skin of his fingers, wrapping a hand around himself and stroking in time with the steady roll of Kostas’s hips.
He would be warm and tight, Emmrich thought, his gaze raking over Kostas’s chest, down his belly and back to his working fingers. His palm slid down, the elf giving a low groan as he ground the heel of his palm gently against himself as he slid his middle and ring fingers inside himself. Emmrich felt himself twitch in his own hand, his breathing harsh in his own ears.
“—like that—” Kostas said, and Emmrich skimmed his thumb across the head of his cock, smearing the beading wetness around before resuming his languorous stroking. His eyes went half-lidded, listening to the frankly obscene noise of Kostas’s breathy groans and the noise of his fingers as he speared himself on them. “Gods, I—”
Who was he calling for? Emmrich slowed his pace, biting his lip. The madness that had overtaken him overwhelmed him now, his hand stopping its movement. Shame made him drop the silk of the scarf, the fire in his chest dimming. He was so close, his crisis fast approaching, but the precipice brought him up short.
Kostas would likely not appreciate him being here. He tasted copper, realizing he’d chewed his lip until it bled. His fellow Mourn Watcher was younger than he was, was likely thinking of someone from home, or he already had a lover amongst the rest of them. Someone whole and hearty, his ardor matched with passion.
Emmrich sagged against the wall, silently begging Kostas for forgiveness, his obsession having reached a point of no return. In the morning, he would bring up the matter of the hole to him, with full disclosure. He passed a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut.
He’d go back to Nevarra, recommend someone else attend the Veilguard—
“—fucking—hah—Emmrich—”
Emmrich’s eyes snapped open, his fingers fumbling for the silk, watching as Kostas twisted over his own fingers, lips trembling as he came. The elf curled into a ball, toes digging into the sheets, and Emmrich let out a soft and strangled noise as he felt himself spill over his own fingers.
He let the silk drop back to cover the hole, mopping the mess from his hand with the hem of his night shirt. He was going to need to change as it was, but the revelation...
...that had been more than worth the need for extra laundry.
Emmrich woke early, but it was hardly the trouble he’d been having these past months. No, the faux morning of the Lighthouse was full of possibility today. He’d replayed it over and over in his head, the sound of his name on Kostas’s tongue, in a tone he’d never heard before, and it was heady with promise.
He bathed and dressed, fastidious as always.
It was worth it to take his time, to delay. To hold himself back and let events unfold naturally, instead of trying to force their conclusion.
When he emerged, he headed to the kitchen to make himself a pot of tea. He would wait this one out, the uncertainty settled; it made him patient.
As he was warming his water, the door opened, and Kostas himself tumbled in. He was still sleep-mussed and rumpled, and there was something endearing about it. Despite the events of last night, Emmrich felt anticipation settle in his stomach.
“Morning, Emmrich,” Kostas said, his voice going foggy on a yawn as he covered his mouth with his elbow. “Feeling better?”
“Much, thank you,” Emmrich said softly. “I was wondering if you had time for a chat this morning?”
“Hm? Oh, sure,” Kostas said, trying to smooth his ridiculous bed head. There was a fond bubble in Emmrich’s chest, threatening to burst as the elf only succeeded in making it worse rather than taming it, curls and snarls making it look a little like a bird’s nest. “I’ll swing by here once I’ve woken up a little more.”
“Of course,” Emmrich said. “Whenever you’ve got the time.”
He wasn’t made to wait long. As he sat in his study, skimming but not quite absorbing the text he’d been working with, Kostas strode in. He’d bathed, his hair damp and curling around the back of his neck, combed neatly. His eyes were brighter, more awake.
“You said you wanted to see me?” he said, leaning against the stair’s handrail, a serious expression on his face.
“I did,” he said, nodding. He marked his place with the book’s ribbon and set it aside. Manfred was off with Assan, hunting bugs that Assan was sure existed in Harding’s little Fade plant conservatory, and she’d promised to keep them occupied for the morning.
He glanced at Kostas as he rose. “I’m afraid I have a bit of a confession to make.”
“Oh? You didn’t actually get any sleep like I told you to?” Kostas asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
“No, I assure you, I slept for a good long time,” Emmrich said. He waved a hand, the bookcase to the left of the fireplace folding out and opening to reveal the path to his quarters.
Kostas let out a low whistle. “Well, spirits, I should be taking my Fade sculpting lessons from you.”
“Why?” Emmrich asked, amused.
“My armoire in my meditation room just opens up, your whole book case swings aside. Much fancier.” There was a grin on Kostas’s face, but he followed when Emmrich beckoned him.
He led him into the neat little bedroom, Kostas turning a little circle to inspect everything curiously before he noticed the windows.
“Oh,” he said, stepping close and peering out at the garden. “Did you do this?”
“I did,” Emmrich said. “It reminded me a little of the Memorial Gardens.”
“Enough wisps, and it will,” Kostas agreed.
“But that’s not what I meant to show you,” Emmrich said. “I seem to have, however inadvertently in the beginning, become a bit of an eavesdropper.”
“...what?” Kostas’s brows drew down in confusion.
“It started as a small hole about the size of a pin, roughly two months ago,” Emmrich began. “Manfred found it, and you know how curiosity spirits behave when they discover something new. I don’t think he meant to widen it, if he even did at all. But something about it wouldn’t repair. I would leave it, even if I thought it un-fixable, until I realized where it led.”
He moved to the wall beside the grate, touching the silk. The bells jingled as they were moved, and he watched Kostas work out where the walls touched. The elf didn’t seem to move for a long moment, then he squatted, moved the silk aside, and peered into his own room on the other side of the wall.
“Is that—” Kostas swallowed hard, his throat working. He sprang to his feet, whirling on Emmrich, his ear tips turning red. “Fuuucking shit. Emmrich, I’m so sorry, I—you heard—I’m the worst kind of sorry—”
“Easy,” Emmrich said softly. He reached up, cupping Kostas’s chin with his hands, the elf going very still as his long thumb stroked at the side of Kostas’s face. “What I heard was very enlightening, but I haven’t taken offense.”
Kostas seemed to deflate, sagging a little. “Thank you for being so understanding. I—”
He swallowed.
“I had no idea. I’d fix it myself, but I didn’t know it was there. That wall is paneled in wood, I thought it was a knothole, natural.”
“Believe me, I attempted to fix it myself,” Emmrich said, still soothing Kostas with gentle sweeps of his thumbs. “It wouldn’t respond to nudges of my will, and it reappeared when I tried to plaster it closed.”
Kostas’s eyes had gone half-lidded, leaning into Emmrich’s hands.
“Oh, you darling man,” Emmrich said, his voice soft, full of warmth. “How could you think I’d be anything but immensely flattered?”
Kostas froze. “But not interested.”
He pulled back, swallowing hard.
“Kostas—” Emmrich began, but Kostas held both hands up, forestalling him.
“I get it, I do. I’m younger than you, it probably feels like a mabari puppy chasing you,” he said, his jaw set stubbornly. “Spirits, you probably get enough of that with your students. It won’t upset me, I promise. I’m happy just to work with you. There’s nothing wrong with remaining friends, not at all.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” Emmrich said.
Kostas blinked at him, as though he didn’t quite comprehend it.
“You...are?” Kostas asked, his voice cautious.
“May I?” Emmrich said, opening his hands to Kostas. The elf nodded, swallowing. Emmrich stepped forward, backing Kostas up against the wall, and lowered his head to kiss him. There was a muffled groan from the elf, and he opened to Emmrich, who delighted in keeping him right there.
Deep, drugging kisses, the anticipation in his stomach simmered to something bright and pleasant that fizzed in his chest. Their tongues tangled, his body covering Kostas and hiding him from sight, narrowing their focus to this room and each other. Emmrich let his fingers tousle Kostas’s ruddy hair. There was a noise of want from the elf, and Emmrich broke away.
Kostas looked up at him, his pupils wide, the beautiful hazel irises thin rings around them.
“There you are, dearest,” Emmrich said, smiling at him, and Kostas pressed his face to his chest.
“Can’t kiss me within an inch of my life and then call me that,” Kostas groaned. “I haven’t had nearly enough time to prepare for that.”
“It rather is a day of unexpected surprises, isn’t it?” Emmrich said. He leaned in, his breath warm against Kostas’s pointed ear. “Though the next time you need me and call my name like that, expect me to answer.”
A shudder rippled through Kostas’s whole body. “Emmrich—”
“Ah, just like that.” Emmrich inhaled, pleased. “Will you join me?”
Kostas nodded, his forehead bumping against Emmrich’s breastbone. “Of course.”
He led Kostas to the edge of his bed, settling him down there. When he did, he gently pressed his palms against the dark blue tunic Kostas wore. The elf inhaled, then tugged the tails of his shirt from his trousers, toeing off his boots as he did.
Emmrich turned as Kostas began to undress, pulling his waistcoat off and folding it neatly.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” Kostas said, his voice small. “I wanted to...do it the right way. I didn’t know how. I was working up to it.”
“To be fair,” Emmrich said. “I think we were both in the same boat. I have been struggling with the matter of the hole for some weeks now, and this is honestly the best conclusion to that I could have envisioned.”
He turned, finding Kostas watching him, his lips parted.
“What is it?” Emmrich asked.
“I just...can’t believe I’m sitting here, really.” Kostas shook his head, that smile back in place. “Feels a bit like a fever dream.”
“That I can concur with,” Emmrich said, taking a seat next to Kostas. “I’m fairly sure that this is real, however.”
Kostas looked up at him, and Emmrich surprised him with a kiss, pressing him back against the comforter. They parted, Emmrich leaning over him, and Kostas lifted his hands to press them against the sides of Emmrich’s neck, where his pulse beat strong in his throat.
“I kept trying to tell you,” Kostas said, his voice rough. “You’re so...Emmrich—”
He leaned up, dragging his mouth against Emmrich’s, and Emmrich groaned, the hunger flaring to life in his chest again.
“Do we have time to do this now?” he asked against Kostas’s lips, low and urgent.
“Today? Yeah,” Kostas said, his voice rougher, and Emmrich slide a hand beneath his tunic, making him curse. “Neve’s—ah—got a lead to follow up with, and then we’ll move on it when we’re able.”
“Good,” Emmrich said, his voice a bit of a growl. His fingers fumbled with the ties of Kostas’s trews, and the elf wiggled his hips, shucking them neatly to the floor. “Climb up.”
Kostas obeyed, sitting with his back to the headboard. Emmrich undid his collar clasp and set it to the side, allowing him more air. He rolled his sleeves to the elbow, removing his glove.
“One day,” Emmrich said. “I will do this exceedingly right. And by that, I mean drape you in your grave dowry so that I can see you in all your splendor.”
“I’m afraid it’s a bit disappointing,” Kostas said. “I don’t have much.”
“For now,” Emmrich said, and climbed up onto the bed, folding his leg and seating himself atop it. It left him able to reach Kostas, his fingers trailing along one of the elf’s ankles, his thumb passing over those charming freckles at last. “Something I intend to remedy.”
Kostas swallowed, his eyes dilating. “If you like.”
“I would,” Emmrich confirmed. “Bedecked in gold suits such a beautiful creature.”
Kostas chuckled a little, covering his face with both hands. His smile was shy, pleased, and Emmrich felt another swell of affection for him.
Emmrich tugged his ankle, and Kostas slid down, his head resting on the pillows, giving Emmrich access to his hips. He traced over the muscle, skirting his smalls, and Kostas let out a little broken noise. There was already a dampness spreading between his thighs, soaking the cloth.
“And I will admit, once the thought entered my head, I’ve thought of little else,” Emmrich said. “Other than getting my mouth on you.”
“Oh, I’m not going to survive this, am I?” Kostas said, his voice a little high and choked.
“No death today, dearest,” Emmrich said, his breath puffing warm against those beautifully freckled thighs. He leaned on his side, one of Kostas’s legs over his waist to accommodate him. “Well, perhaps a few...small ones.”
There was a cut-off snort of laughter, and Emmrich looked up, finding Kostas watching him with a besotted expression.
“What?” Emmrich said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
“You’re ridiculous, you know. Lucky I like that about you.” Kostas shook his head with a broad grin. The feeling in his chest fizzed and burst, and Emmrich bent his head to kiss Kostas through his smalls.
The change was instant. He had Kostas’s full attention now, the elf letting out that same breathy noise that Emmrich had heard before. He hummed his approval, pressing his tongue against the soft, damp linen.
“Emm—” Kostas hitched a breath, his fingers finding purchase in Emmrich’s hair.
Emmrich sucked gently against the damp fabric; Kostas tugged, and Emmrich moaned, pressing his face further against him. He pushed aside the soaked smalls, freeing the elf to the air of the room, and there was a shudder from Kostas.
“I’d love to drape you in gold,” Emmrich said, his lips hovering against Kostas’s heated skin. “I want to watch how it looks on you while I do this.”
Kostas’s head fell back, a low groan as Emmrich leaned in, pressing an indulgent, open-mouthed kiss against his cunt. He delved in, his nose brushing against Kostas’s clit, and he felt the way the elf’s toes curled as he braced his foot against Emmrich’s side. He wrapped one hand around his bare ankle, the other keeping Kostas parted as he took what he wanted.
And he wanted to savor. He continued at a leisurely pace, slow licks with the flat of his tongue, his fingers around Kostas’s ankle massaging absently as he feasted. His fingers joined his mouth after a while, pressing him open.
Soon, there was a rhythm, Kostas’s stuttering breaths accompanied with rolls of his hips, the elf abandoning anything resembling a pretense as his head fell back and he lost himself in what Emmrich was doing. Emmrich felt himself pressed against Kostas’s folds with the hand in his hair, and he let out a hungry noise as he continued to lick and suck.
He barely felt the need to breathe, though he turned his head from side to side at times, indulging his lungs in anything other than the meal before him. He was lightheaded with it, Kostas’s low groans of pleasure making him redouble his efforts.
Kostas clenched around his fingers, Emmrich’s breathing hitching as he felt the draw of the muscle. He pulled back, flipping his hand palm up, looking up at the other Mourn Watcher.
Kostas’s eyes were locked on him, the mess he was, and Emmrich smiled at him.
“Lovely,” Emmrich purred, and leaned in to get his lips around Kostas’s clit, middle and ring finger pressing in, then up. Kostas howled, hips lifting as Emmrich brought him up and over, straight into his orgasm with as much fanfare as his own eagerness would allow.
The hand in his hair was locked, the locks in Kostas’s fist pulled right to the point of pain, and the bright point of pleasure that was made Emmrich bite the inside of Kostas’s thigh. He sucked a mark, watching the bruise form as he pulled back from sinking his teeth in.
For a long moment, he lay there, indulging himself with pressing his cheek to the pliant muscle of Kostas’s thigh, fingers trailing against the crease of his hip.
“Emmrich,” Kostas said after what felt like an interminable moment, breaking the silence of what had been just the ticking of the mantle clock and their mingled, slowing breaths. “I wish you’d told me about the hole earlier.”
Emmrich chuckled softly. “I find myself wishing I had as well.”
“Come here,” Kostas said, and who was Emmrich to do anything but obey? He slid from between Kostas’s thighs, mourning the loss of the warmth and the taste of his skin, but indulging Kostas all the same. He sat at the edge of the bed, one leg folded beneath himself again.
Kostas reached out, taking the hand that had been inside him, and slipped the fingers into his mouth. Emmrich’s breath hitched, feeling the press of Kostas’s tongue against the pads of his fingers, the wickedly sharp points of his incisors.
Once he was satisfied Emmrich’s fingers were clean, Kostas sat up. He shuffled to the edge of the bed, then swung down to land on his feet. Emmrich held his arm as he wobbled, but Kostas simply laughed about it.
“Yeah, that was—” Kostas grinned at Emmrich. “Gonna spoil me with that, Emm.”
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Emmrich’s mouth, lush and heavy, their breaths mingling. Before he could be too distracted, however, he felt Kostas’s palm grazing the front placket of his trousers.
“But I don’t want to be the only one being spoiled here,” Kostas said, tracing his outline. Emmrich bit back a garbled noise; he’d forgotten himself in indulging in one of his favorite pastimes, and now his body reminded him that he was still very interested in the motion of that hand.
“Dearest,” Emmrich murmured, chasing his lips even as he spoke, still sharing breath with Kostas. “Lay flat on the bed’s edge for me? Tiptoes, please, and grab the duvet.”
Kostas’s breath caught. “Yessir.”
It was almost comical how fast the other mortalitasi complied, scrambling himself onto his stomach and pressing himself up on the balls of his feet. It was easier for him, the taller bed made to accommodate Emmrich’s long legs. It was just enough that Kostas would need to be on the balls of his feet to lay as he was instructed.
Emmrich stroked his flank, admiring the shiver as Kostas bared himself for perusal, his hands fisting in the coverlet. The arch of his back was poetry, and Emmrich would be spending time later pressing his fingers against the knobs of his spine.
But for now—
Emmrich rose, his long fingers tracing the curve of Kostas’s arse, his fingertips finding a set of dimples set right against the brush of Kostas’s tailbone. How precious.
His other hand undid the placket of his trousers, folding the material down and pushing his smalls open so that he could free his aching cock to the cool air of the room. His eyes closed briefly, but only just, as he smeared his fingers through the dampness at the head, slicking himself.
He knew he needn’t bother, Kostas was still glistening from his attention, but it was yet another detail to fix in his memory. Something to keep with him.
Kostas moaned softly as Emmrich played the head of his cock against his cunt, slowly sliding himself against his folds. One hand on Kostas’s hip, he used his hand’s width to his advantage, his long thumb spreading Kostas open and entering him.
“Breathe for me, dearest,” he said softly, feeling Kostas tense at the intrusion, but only to clench around him. “Slow, deep. In, and then out.”
His other hand, having guided his cock to where it would no longer need the help, spread against the base of Kostas’s spine, holding him there to feel the expansion of his lungs, the intake of air.
“Spirits, Emmrich,” Kostas said, his thighs trembling with the effort of keeping still.
“There you are, darling boy,” Emmrich said, thumb rubbing at Kostas’s right scapula. The muscle was tense, but not knotted, and Kostas relaxed as he touched elsewhere while he slid inside his warm, welcoming wetness. “Feeling good?”
“Mm,” Kostas replied. “Definitely spoiling me.”
“You’ve been very good, and understanding,” Emmrich said, his breath hitching as he bottomed out. He could imagine Kostas’s fluids mixing with his own, a heady rush. Perhaps he would indulge himself further, pressing his spend back inside with his fingers, his tongue.
His cock twitched inside Kostas at the thought, and Kostas moaned.
“All right?” he asked. Kostas nodded, Emmrich’s hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. “Very good, dearest. Can you hold for me, just like that?”
“I—I’ll try,” Kostas said, his voice rough.
“You will, you can,” Emmrich said. Kostas hadn’t disappointed him yet, in anything. He pulled his hips back, the first thrust shallow. “Keep breathing for me, my darling.”
Exquisite.
Kostas shuddered, squeezing him, and Emmrich pulled back, a sharp snap of his hips that had the breath punching out of them both. It was everything he needed, the arch of Kostas’s hips a welcoming home for him, the other man spread beneath him and shivering with a building crisis.
“Do you have one more in you?” he asked, his voice low. He set a slow rhythm, his hips rocking into Kostas as he spoke, his voice urgent over the slap of Kostas’s thighs against his own.
“Dunno,” Kostas blurted. “Dunno—Emmrich—”
He gasped, his face turned to the side so he could breathe, and Emmrich held his neck, keeping him pinned with very little effort. Kostas rocked his hips back, meeting Emmrich. His other hand landed on Kostas’s hip, squeezing.
“There you are, darling,” he murmured, his breathing becoming erratic. The little noises he was forcing from Kostas were charming, sweat gathering at the base of the other’s spine as Emmrich bent over his back, kissing his neck. “Keep going, just a little longer.”
“Emm—I’m—” Kostas buried his face into the duvet, arching as high as he could, clenching himself around Emmrich like a fist, drawing him in. Emmrich slammed home, his own orgasm striking him like a fist to the chest, bowing his back over Kostas as he felt himself spill inside him.
“Oh, sweet, darling man,” Emmrich mumbled, feeling his own legs start to tremble from the exertion. He rocked himself against Kostas, no longer thrusting but pressing into him, rutting against him. “You’re so good for me.”
Kostas cursed, and the little curl happened again, the elf pressing back into his chest, his whole body shuddering.
“There you are,” Emmrich murmured, pressing his lips to Kostas’s temple, his neck, the pointed tip of his ear. “There you are.”
He pulled himself free after a long moment, pushing the strands of hair away that had fallen into his face. Kostas made a dissatisfied noise, but Emmrich bent and kissed his temple before he warmed some water in the basin with a pass of his hand, dipping a cloth into it. He righted his own clothing, cleaning himself up without a thought to the mess against his trousers beyond it, then turned to his elvhen companion.
He cleaned Kostas’s flanks, the sweeps of the cloth relaxing him further, and finally Kostas melted under the touch. Completely clean now, Emmrich helped him into the bed, Kostas sprawling immediately.
“Months ago, Emmrich,” Kostas said, pointing at the hole, his head falling back as he let out a huff. “Months.”
Emmrich chuckled, moving to change his clothing so that he could join him. “Yes, dearest. We’ve a lot to make up for, don’t we?”
What had been soft, and affectionate touches had given way to sleep, both of them dozing on the bed and tangled in each other. Emmrich, back to his early riser ways, had woken bleary, blinking up at the ceiling. He smiled when he realized Kostas was curled against his chest, head pillowed on his shoulder and one of Emmrich’s long legs between his thighs. He snuffled softly in his sleep, his fingers twitching.
Emmrich indulged himself in the sweetness of the moment, fondness and contentment washing over him, before he turned his gaze to where the hole was on the wall. Perhaps now it would allow itself—
He blinked in the low light of the veilfire.
The hole was gone, replaced by a simple wooden door between the rooms.
Emmrich smiled and closed his eyes, listening to Kostas breathe counterpoint to the ticking of the clock on the mantle. It seemed that the Lighthouse was merely adapting itself to the needs of its inhabitants, once again.