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[bloodwords]

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[bloodwords]

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."

[almostking]

“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.

[bloodwords]

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.

[almostking]

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.

[bloodwords]

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.

[almostking]

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.

[bloodwords]

"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.

[almostking]

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.

[bloodwords]

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.

[almostking]

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.

[bloodwords]

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.

[almostking]

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.”

[bloodwords]

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."

[almostking]

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.

[bloodwords]

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.

[almostking]

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.”

[bloodwords]

Kell's moving to pull his own shirt over his head, quickly just so he can spend the time watching Holland remove his. Every inch of him is beautiful, scars only adding to it.

"Maybe you should," Kell said, honestly he's not sure if he could stay quiet. Despite his forwardness, his openness to Holland this isn't an area he has much experience in at all but he's eager to give. If he gave enough could somehow they both survive all this? It's a strange and errant thought but it somehow sticks in his mind.

"I feel like you might make it difficult to stay quiet."

[almostking]

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you,” Holland murmurs with a depth to his voice that is very different than his usual tone.

Setting his shirts aside, he take a moment to let Kell just look. For an Antari Holland has more scars than usual. They aren’t the small ones from cuts used for spell work. They’re reminders of his past. Of things taken from him. And he doesn’t care enough to shy from them. Especially now when Kells own shirt is removed. His skin is perfectly beautiful; fitting of that bright red hair and the cool blue of his eye. The stark contrast of black against ivory makes him hum low in his throat.

Kell is striking.

And apparently has zero self preservation.

Holland’s brow arches and his gaze slides from the others face to the front of his pants, “Take those off for me. You won’t be needing them.”

[bloodwords]

Kell dares a touch, fingertips touching a scar briefly. He doesn't know why he's drawn to them, why he finds them so beautiful. He's transfixed. Holland had always been ... interesting in his own way, but it's different now. Not all that different but his desires, his reactions have shifted. His voice was enough to make his stomach flutter, a twitch in his cock. Why?

He keeps his eyes on Holland as his hands reach down to his pants, making quick work of the fastenings and pulling them off and discarding them to the side, leaving him naked, his cock half hard and his breathing picking up. What is it about Holland's orders that sends heat straight through him?

His fingers reach out again to touch another scar, lingering, starting to trace it with his fingertip.

[almostking]

While Kell is busy admiring, or just touching, he isn’t sure which, Holland shifts closer on the cot. He’s still wearing his own pants but it doesn’t matter right now. There are other matters to attend to.

Long, scarred fingers trail over the sharp dip of a hip and gently wrap around the others length. The velvety warmth of him, still half soft, feels nice in his hand. Heavy and pulsing softly with life. He strokes him and noses into the red curls above Kells ear, “If we had the time...and real privacy...I could show you so many other things that magic could be used for,” he murmured, then teeth teased at the shell of Kells ear, the tip of his tongue licking out briefly before he continued, “We could have enjoyed life together if things had been done differently.” You could have been mine, and I yours.

[bloodwords]

Kell gasps when Holland takes hold of him. His breathing picking up and his head tilting to the side as the words, the voice wrap around him like a touch that was everywhere. His body felt more alive than it ever had. He aches for time with Holland. Why couldn't there be more? There's a sense of sorrow that rises and he has to bite it back, focusing on the heat, on the way his cock is hardening at the touch, the other's mouth teasing at his ear which is turning out to be particularly sensitive. He's rather sure he probably will need gagged if that is enough to draw such sounds from him.

"Holland..." he can't help how the words come out slightly choked because the words hurt, and he ached for a life they hadn't had the chance to live... and maybe if Holland and his king had made a different choice...maybe everything would have been different. But it could also be said that if Red London hadn't shut White London off... but then perhaps they wouldn't be the only two sides of the same coin for so long.

"Maybe...we can still find a way," the voice is small and he knows it's fruitless, his hands splaying over the other's side, stroking along it. It's strange such physical pleasure while his heart feels like it's being torn.

[almostking]

Holland almost pulls away at that. How dare he, even for a moment, even hint that he should hope for anything...

There was no time. The mistakes had been made. His end would come in the near future and that was the way it would be. It was the only way. Holland wasn’t afraid of death. The mere idea of it was the most romantic bedmate he’d ever had. But, now...

His hand didn’t stop moving. It couldn’t. If he let go he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to touch him again.

Kell sounded so sincere that it made his heart ache. They weren’t close. Barely friends. If even that. But the idea of not existing together was a new kind of terror.

No sing along Kells neck, he breathes in the scent of Red London, of Kell, and buried his face against his skin. Kissing it. Nipping it.

With a swallow, he pulled back just enough to look down into Kells face, to admire the way his emotions were always right there on the surface. He shouldn’t have turned him away all of those years ago.

“We have this moment, Kell,” he said softly, “do not burden yourself by hoping for more.”

[bloodwords]

It is strange how the distance between them was not a straight line. At times it was like disparate dots that didn't quite connect into anything, everything and nothing. But they were so close now, he knew Holland didn't like what he had said but he couldn't help it when it was the truth, couldn't help the way his hips arch too into the other's hand. He had gotten fully hard under the attention and is greedy for more of it.

"Holland," he breathes the other's name again as he easily tilts his head back, exposing his neck to him, swallowing each kiss rippling through him, the nips a shock. Please don't ever stop, he thought but luckily did not say out loud.

He looked up at the other, and there's something raw in his eyes, desire, pain, something intangible, the connection between them, his desire to give until he couldn't to Holland who deserves it after what he has been through.

"Do not deny me the opportunity to hope," Kell counters gently. "I can't give you my hope. But I will savor this moment."

[almostking]

Holland arches a brow again and just sighs, “Such stubbornness,” but he steals a deeper kiss just then; a biting, hungry, needful thing laced with affection that only Kell will understand.

But when he breaks away from it with a little hum of approval, he licks Kells bottom lip and and slips a rolled handkerchief into his mouth, tying it behind his head.

“Be a good boy,” he says, kissing his forehead and then pushes him back onto the cot, enjoying the way he sprawls against it. For a moment he has the mind to imagine Kell like this, but on soft sheets and a bed that could fit at least three. Tied up and needy in a way that had nothing to do with escape.

He moves to stand and finally rids himself of his own pants, but the belt he holds onto; looping it one way and then another before his gaze steadies on Kells face, “Hold your hands out.”

[bloodwords]

Kell is lost in that kiss, no desire to argue about his stubbornness. He is stubborn and that has been a boon to him more often than not. Maybe his stubbornness can save Holland despite Holland not wanting to be saved. He moans, lifting into the kiss, soaking in the need, echoing the hunger and kissing back just as fiercely, just as much affection. He's slightly dazed by the intensity of it when Holland backs away, leaves him wanting more and he honestly didn't see the handkerchief coming, a muffled low sound, not quite of protest...just surprise.

He feels his cock jump at the instruction. Be a good boy should have angered him but instead it just sent heat skittering all over his hips pushing upward, searching for friction he was not going to get. If he hadn't been gagged he might have begged.

When Holland pulls off his pants it takes Kell a moment to comply with the order, distracted by more of his body exposed and he ached to touch, a whimper indicating that even as he did obey, holding his hands out to Holland obediently.