bloodwords | [ open post ]

Holland is here on the cot for the same reason the magic dances; something familiar.

Every bump in the current made him sick, made him reach for something else to focus on. Made him hold a hand out to the younger man, fingers curling to invite him closer.

"You wouldn't. You were a boy and I didn't know anyone else like me still existed," he admitted after a moment, eyes cracking to find the others face, "I didn't want the responsibility that keeping you close would bring." Nothing but pain followed him.

Kell looks at Holland's hand, there's a question in his expression when he looks back up but he moves closer. It's almost like there isn't actually a choice. There is an invitation that he can't possibly decline.

"You would not have been responsible for me."

Holland would argue that but he chooses not to, mostly because he's surprised that Kell actually moved.

"I would have wanted to, and that is a dangerous game to play when everything that follows you turns to ash," The look he offers clearly says that he is speaking about himself. He reaches out slowly and takes the younger mans hand; surveying the marks in his skin. Sure, most of the wounds would heal, but scars would sometimes still remain. Lots and lots of scars. Pink flesh angry and misunderstanding.

"But," he continued on with another sigh; it sounded part tired and part annoyed, "I thought about you every day since."

Kell is troubled by that as he studies everything about Holland in that moment. Is he opening up to him in a truer way? It seems so but there's still so much withheld... The magic seems to jump when Holland takes his hand, or maybe that is just Rhy's pulse. Why is he so affected? He looks at his own hands and he wonders what exactly Holland sees.

"I...always thought of you."

Kell had never stopped wishing for more than the coldness that passed between them. A cordialness at best, nothing more.

Of course there is much being withheld. Holland has never been an open book, and he isn't about to start now when he's so close to everything being over.

The little jolt between them causes his gaze to flicker briefly over the other mans face. Wonder, maybe.

Holland was more than a little aware of his reputation. A thing that had followed him ever since he was a child. A thing that was only partial truth. Nevertheless, it was his.

He didn't look away from Kells face, studying his profile as Holland carefully curled his fingers through the others, holding his hand where no one else could see.

"You are a fool." And so am I.

A part of Kell's mind whispered that he should draw his hand away but it couldn't. Now that their fingers were twined together it felt like two magnets holding firm. He doesn't understand what he sees in Holland's face when he meets his eyes, or why his heart is still pounding so in his chest. He feels off-kilter, the other antari taking him completely off guard. Something has him leaning in toward Holland, their shoulders brushing and it's a shock.

"You do like to think that, don't you," he says and there's something rough in his voice an ache perhaps that he can't name, a longing that's the same and yet different from the way it has always been.

Kell is leaning in and Holland has to force his calm again. But it is more difficult than usual. Perhaps it’s because Kell is different. Like him. Different but like him.

The green of his eye shines brighter before clouding over with something else; something sad, something reaching for something else.

“You are a fool,” he murmurs lowly, his gaze sliding down briefly to Kells mouth and back up, “you should make me go.”

Kell doesn't miss the way the other's gaze moved. His lips feel suddenly dry and he licks them without a thought before his own gaze wonders to Holland's and he wonders how they would taste...

"I don't want you to go, Holland," Kell says earnestly and he means it in so many ways. It's a dull ache in his chest and a flutter in his stomach, the pounding of his heart as his hand tightens on Holland as if daring him to break the hold first.

Holland doesn’t let go. In fact, he uses his grip on Kells hand to pull the younger man over into his lap.

The act was done unconsciously; a base need that he had long since forgotten to joys of. And for a moment the surprise was evident even in his own eyes when they settled on Kells face.

Kell was handsome. Unique and handsome. And not his.

“What do you want, Kell?”

Among so many shocking things... finding himself in the other man's lap. That... is new for Kell, very new and not just because it is Holland. But he revels in the closeness, one he didn't know he wanted until he had it. He stares at Holland, their hands still tethered together.

What does he want?

That's not a question he's asked often or that the answer really matters most of the time...but with Holland he knew it did.

"I don't want to be alone," he answers and that encompassed what he wanted as well. "I want you to stay."

“We both know I cannot,” Holland released Kells hand and looked away from his face.

They both knew that there was only one ending to this trip. And he wouldn’t be coming back with them.

Kell ached at the loss of connection. Not just their hands but that Holland looked away. Before he thought about it his hand went to the other's cheek, guiding him back to look at him. And he doesn't know what he's thinking as it lingers there.

"Just tell me you will stay," he says and it's ridiculous. Rhy would laugh at him for something so ludicrous.

Holland closes his eyes at the touch but when he opens them, he can’t look away. The problem with Holland is that he can keep quiet. He can not say a word. He can not move, not flinch, not scream. But if one is quick enough they can catch glimpses of things in his eyes.

“You would have me lie to you?” He mutters and tries to look away. Not pull away. But look away. The fact greedy hat he hasn’t shoved Kell away by now tells more than it should.

Kell didn't want Holland to leave and he knew the reality, that he must, that there is no way to save him. And it aches after all these years... of longing, to finally have something and feel as if it will be ripped away from him, knowing it will be is almost too much to bear.

"Lie to me," Kell confirms, trying to catch what he can in the other's face, his eyes. "Please, tell me you'll stay."

His head tilts forward, letting his forehead find Holland's. Please stay, please don't look away, he pleaded inwardly as if he hadn't just begged aloud for Holland to lie to him.

Foolish, he sighed inwardly and then after a long stretch of silence he brought his hands up to cradle Kells face in them.

“I’ll stay,” And while a part of him had resigned itself to his fate; another longed to believe to words. However false they were.

Mismatched eyes raised and mirrored the others. Black to black. Green to blue. Pain to pain.

“For as long as I am able. I’ll stay.”

And then you and Delilah will have each other.

"Holland," the name is a prayer on Kell's lips and he can't help but hope that maybe... just maybe the other could really stay. He chose to believe those words for now. Perhaps he should feel torn, guilty about Lila but he doesn't. This is different. Lila was a raging inferno of emotions inside of Kell but Holland had been burning in the foundation of his soul, like a fire burning innocuously in the walls of a house until it's too late.

His hands felt right on his face and Kell bridged the distance this time, his lips pressing to Holland's. Maybe he should have tread softly but the kiss is hard, needy.

The way Kell says his name surprises him. But more than that is the kiss that follows.

As close as they were. The sparks that barely shot over their skin, between them, around them like the beginnings of a thunderstorm should have been telling. However, when one has gone without any level of intimacy for as long as he had—a kiss like that is mind shattering.

The sound he breathes is shocked, surprised, and hungry all at the same time.

Bold of you, Kell.

His mouth responds eagerly. Too eagerly. Lips parting against the others, and Kell tastes the way he smells; sweet.

Kell's arms wrap around the other, pressing close as Holland lets this happen. As he kisses back, hunger meeting hunger. There's something desperate in Holland, far more so than Kell but he does have his own desperation and hunger too. He tries to match Holland. His heart is racing and magic seems to be everywhere, colliding as he and the other fell into each other in a way.

Please don't stop, Kell pleaded inwardly, his arms wrapped tightly and his kiss still hard, hungry, searching but open, giving, encouraging Holland to take.

Whatever this was, it needed to stop. It needed to stop.

Control was something Holland had in spades. He knew how to school himself into barely existing. Barely feeling anything. But Kell was like lightning in a bottle and the lid was barely screwed on. His arms were wrapped around him so tightly that Holland didn’t want them to let go.

But he couldn’t have him grabbing him like that either.

Kell ended up on his back on the cot with his wrists pinned on either side of his head, and Holland caught his breath; panting softly against the younger mans mouth, “You don’t really want this.” Me.

Holland didn’t want this. Or at least he isn’t been aware that he did until those lips were against his.

It's fast, one moment lost in that kiss, the hunger and holding on to Holland so tightly as if he would disappear if he let go. But then he's on his back staring up at the older antari, his wrists pinned and he knew if Holland didn't want them to move they would not be moving so he puts up only the smallest resistance to the hold, checking the strength of it.

"I do. I want you, Holland, like this," his breath was heavy and he wants to touch him again, hold him but he can't.

"Don't you want me too?" Kell dares to ask, he'd felt how the other had kissed him back, the hunger.

The amount of resistance, lack thereof really, ticks the corner of his mouth in what would have been a smirk. It wasn’t even a half assed attempt at a struggle and it left Holland watching Kell with a different kind of curiosity.

He felt it again. The crackle of power hidden between them. And it made him wonder...not for the first time, what it would be like to be with someone that was as hard to kill as he was. Someone who would hold their own. Surprise him. Endure.

Kell had much to learn and not enough time to learn it from him, but he was far from weak. That held its own appeal and Holland’s grip tightened. A pulse around the others wrists, relax, grip, relax...

And he was headstrong. Persistent. Aggravating. Intoxicating. Bratty.

Holland licked his lips and brushed his nose lightly against Kells, an oddly affectionate gesture before moving to whisper lowly into his ear, “More than you know.”

Kell couldn't pin exactly what it is that was going on in Holland's mind -- no, he couldn't even get close. He desperately wanted to understand, to know. He keeps his gaze on Holland, the grip the other had on him, the pulse of it had his heart racing, his actual pulse too fast. And he should have been worried about the strength that Holland held him down with, the knowledge that if kell really tried he probably couldn't escape it, at least not easily not with Holland. But he didn't want to escape anyway. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

his eyes flutter when the other's nose brushes along it, a shiver moving through him at the affection, warming him. But the whisper, the breath on his ears the words themselves feel as if they create a molton core inside of him, burning desire.

"Then take."

If Holland has wanted to harm Kell, he would have done it by now. Kell was not the one that deserved that particular outcome.

His eyes closed and for a moment he just enjoyed the pleasure that came from those words. But he wasn’t someone that took, not at his core.

So when he pulled back enough to hover a breaths space apart he shook his head, “No, you must give. I will not take anything from you.”

Even still, one hand strayed, relinquishing one wrist so that he could run his palm down the others front. His finger tips caught on seams of fabric, and nudged it up enough to feel the skin beneath.

Kell looks at up when they're face to face. He understood why Holland needs that. He starts to reach to touch him only to remember his hands are pinned and he relaxes under the hold again, but then one is free. He shivers as Holland's hands move over him, electricity on his skin and when his fingers met skin it was fire. He could barely breathe for a moment.

He started to reach, to touch but then he waited, pushing down the urge to show how serious he is when he speaks.

"I will give you everything I can." He didn't know how much that was. Maybe he wouldn't know until they hit that point where he could give no more.

The timing for this couldn’t be worse. Holland supposed it would do as a final farewell, in the end. A sort of parting gift. Something to remember him by. Something that didn’t involve horrible meetings and betrayal.

With a short nod, Holland sat back and reached to undo his shirt, “You have to be quiet,” he says and after a moment there was a hint at a genuine smirk (it was there and then I was gone again) “, Or I could gag you.”

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