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Koby.

[ he sighs, curling his arms tighter around him, drawing him in and keeping his lips pressed to his boyfriend's skin. he can feel the hurt and the pain bleeding off of him and it makes his stomach churn, makes his head spin. what he would do to protect his soft heart from the world, whether it was right or wrong. ]

There isn't a why. People like this... it's for their entertainment. There's no good left. There are evil people in this world and while they can be put down for good, it just takes time. It always takes time and pain.

[ he sighs, pressing a litany of kisses against koby's temple, his nose, his cheeks. ]

If I could send you back to your land of seas right now I would, even if it meant being apart from you. I'm sorry we had to meet this way, but I'll do everything I can to protect you. Everything, even when I have no power here.

[ the light in his eyes burns a little brighter, the flicker of cool, blue magic sparking into life and floating on the air, falling into koby's pink hair, warm across his brow, his freckles. he doesn't even realize he's doing it, but his heart aches for him. ]

You're everything to me.

[The hurt is -- a tangible thing, like a slow-healing bruise, like a cracked rib, like something crushed deep at the heart of who Koby is. He hadn't thought there was any innocence left in him, not after what he's lived through, not after Alvida. But there had been, because that's what pulses with grief and confusion and hurt, that part of him that insists it's not fair and it's not right when the world shows it, again and again, that there are no easy choices. That he's going to hurt people while trying to do the right thing. That they're going to hurt him.

And yet, still, this: Quentin's arms around him, Quentin's lips pressed to his nose, his face, Quentin's voice in his ear. Quentin says there's no good left and then makes himself a liar by existing.

Koby's so tired it aches, but he still frowns, still slips one leg over Quentin's hips, slides so he's straddling his boyfriend, hands on either side of his head.] I wouldn't. [Firmly, a touch stubbornly, with that clogged note that speaks of how often he's cried this month.] I wouldn't leave. And I'm not sorry.

[One hand finds the shape of Quentin's cheek in the dark, lit by his eyes, his voice, by the electric blue of his magic, even limited as it is. Koby cradles his face, leans in closer, forehead to forehead.] If it meant I could be with you, I would do it all again. Not -- my friends being hurt, I hate that, I hate it, but -- all this hurt. All the times I've cried your shirt snotty this week. I'd do it all again.

[ quentin holds him close, but makes a noise of surprise when that leg slides over his hips, when koby ends up atop him, hands planted. quentin is pinned in by his body and seeing the determination in koby's eyes is exactly what he wanted. he drops his arms so that his palms can rest on koby's thighs, petting them up and down.

they creep up to his sides when their foreheads touch. in the dark like this, their faces close, quentin's eyes glow bright and gold, shimmering in the dark. the blue magic around them suddenly bursts wide and vibrant, the color of it dousing their room in pale blue, lighting up the lines of koby's sweet face, the purse of his lips and the furrow of his brow. ]

Do you think I believed all of those things? Do you think I would want to be without you? Do you think I am sorry for how we met?

[ he huffs a little, tired and watery himself, and the magic swirls around them, dusting across koby's cheeks, his brow, his back, his arms... everywhere he can cocoon in warmth, the magic goes. quentin doesn't know how he does it - doesn't know how to wrangle the thing that bursts wild and rampant through him. ]

I'll fight for this. I'm hardly ready to let this house do what it's trying to do. And I'm not saying goodbye to you if I don't have to. Just wanted you to remember you can fight for it, too.

[ the magic presses into koby's skin, warm and soft, finding every little freckle or mole, alighting there, curving around his lips that quentin loves so, so well, he can see the magic more often now - but he doesn't realize that it's exposed like it is now - a raw nerve thriving against koby's haki, burst to full in desperation to end koby's despair. ]

[More than anything, Quentin seems to remind Koby again and again how much braver he is than he believes. The urge to bolt and hide, to curl up under the covers until this horrible game is over, to ignore the world and every hurtful, messy, complicated person in it is strong – but find the right thing to say, find that spark and he flares up like lightning in a bottle, like fire in the sky. The right thing is still, always someone else – fighting for himself is a skill Koby hasn’t quite learned yet.

But this, this he’ll fight for. The familiar shimmer of gold, the curl of electric blue, the hands slipping up over his thighs, his sides, beneath the oversized shirt Koby wears to bed nearly every night – especially now, in the midst of so, so much danger, wrapping himself in Quentin’s scent and presence even more so now that his haki is blocked. He’s so used to seeing the flicker of blue, the shimmer of it, that he needs to –

It hits, then: his haki is blocked. There’s been a blankness like a brick wall since the game started, one that Koby’s tried again and again to muscle through, to no effect. He’s mused that it’s like being blindfolded, like having his ears covered, like being underwater, unable to sense something that’s become so fundamental. Yet there: the bright blue he’s come to associate with Quentin, the aura he’s used to reaching out and feeling, like a tether, like an anchor. He shouldn’t be able to see it, now.

Unless it’s not just Quentin’s aura. Unless this is something else, something that pulses and burns and throbs with vibrancy and life, something that paints every inch of Koby’s exhausted, heartsick body in cerulean, like the sea, like the sky. His breath catches, and he leans back, lifting his hands, seeing how the bright, shimmering warmth is there, laid over his body like a second skin, glowing in the dark. For the first time in weeks, there’s no strain or fear or grief knotting his shoulders, furrowing his brow.

Instead, Koby just looks – enchanted, mouth curving in a wide, delighted grin, turning his hands over and back, tracing the magic (it has to be, it has to be, he hadn’t known it could be, but he knows it now) covering his skin, up his arms, over his collarbone, finally looking down at Quentin with a breathless, stunned laugh.]

This – are you? Doing this? You are, aren’t you?

I -

[ the magic stutters the moment he becomes aware of it again, the glimmering blue perceived and skittish, causing a pierce of pain behind his skull. a head ache. right. but his eyes stay alight and gold, the magic settling across koby's turning hands, dappling the curve of his laughing mouth. ]

Yes.

[ he has to resist the urge to say no - to hide away and pretend like this isn't something new and strange he can't control. but all the options are laid out before him - a world where he stays with koby in this place, a world where they split and forget, a world where he finds koby, koby finds him, and on and on and on like little threads floating through the air on a lazy wind.

the magic dissolves, returning the room to dark, his eyes staying flecked with gold even as the his head begins to ache from it. ]

I - it's only happened here. I don't know if this place changed me. It happens when I'm -

[ upset. worried. angry. flustered. happy. grieving. ]

I don't know.

[Even without his haki, Koby catches the hesitation in Quentin's words, remembers his life, his world, the place he came from. Remembers that others pursuing his gift, trying to control it, possess it, had caused the worst possible things to happen to him and those he loved. And if there was more, if the way Quentin can find a steady path through even the most fraught storms, the way he moves through the world like he's following an invisible thread is just the beginning of what he's capable of...it's understandable that he's anxious, nervous, maybe even afraid.

Leaning down, hands lit with brilliant blue, Koby cradles Quentin's face gently between his palms.] It's beautiful. It's -- so beautiful, whatever it means, however it works. You're amazing, Quentin, and I -- knew it, I've been seeing it this whole time, but I didn't realize what it was until now. I thought your aura was just beautiful because it was yours.

[The magic dims, but Koby catches the corner of Quentin's mouth with his own, kisses him there, kisses him properly, kisses him once more for luck.] And it is. But it's more. It's -- you're so much more. It's the most wonderful thing I've ever seen.

[ koby looks at him with loving wonder and his magic doesn't feel like a dangerous thing. his head aches dully from the use of it, but at every little kiss the warmth of it flares up between them, like waves on a sea, adrift and gentle. he reaches hands to slide along koby's thighs, rub up and down every inch of him to sooth him where his magic can't. ]

Alia. I don't know what she did, or how she did it - I could feel her. She could feel me.

[ quiet, because alia has been sentenced, has been sent down to a dungeon she does not belong in, regardless of what the house may or may not do. but he sighs, wrapping his arms tight around koby and gently nudging him to lay out on his chest, across his body. ]

She could see it - like you could. I didn't know. [ a little huff. ] I don't know what I can do or how to control it. I just - I was just thinking about protecting you. Defending you from all of this, and frankly I don't know how to.

[ i can't lose you is what it whispers, and quentin leans back up to kiss him again. ]

I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

Alia? Did she? [Koby's been cautious about the (odd, intense) girl since the wolf accusations, though he knows she's been kind to Tim and Hawk, kinder still to Quentin. His loyalty to her during the vote spoke volumes, and despite his own misgivings, Koby counts her as someone to watch out for.] She has -- powers too, doesn't she? Maybe she recognized something?

[Even in awe and wonder as he is, Koby's body is still exhausted, drained from the hectic, nightmarish month, so he's easily eased back down to lie on Quentin's chest, cheek pressed to where his heart beats, imagining the brilliant cerulean sparks of magic with each steady pulse.] It might be something new. But we'll figure it out. [When they're safe, left unspoken.

Koby leans up into that kiss, both his shaky hands coming to cradle Quentin's face, stroke through his hair, tug him closer.] Nothing bad's going to happen to me. [Softly, promised against his mouth.] Or you. Or anyone we love. We're all going to watch out for each other, yeah?

It's like I've known her for a long time. Like she saw it when I couldn't.

[ he sighs, letting koby rest against his chest, wrapping strong arms around him, fingers slipping up into the hair at his nape. never before would he think he'd belong in a place like this. that he would feel the pull of a north star and the night sky all in one. but here he is, starlight wrapped in his arms. ]

But it doesn't matter. Not when you're here. Safe.

[ he kisses him again, little soft things drifting like butterflies across his lips. ]

I love you. [ quiet, like a promise that he will watch out for him. a brand that he will stay at his side no matter the horrors this place or any other tries to press upon them. ] I love you, Koby, and I - [ a sigh - his head hurts, the rush of magic enough to make his skull throb. ]

I won't let anyone harm you or anyone we love.

Mmm, that's good, then. That she helped you see. [Koby snuggles closer, softly humming, thinking about the echo of his own gifts in someone who knows better, who understands how to navigate something he can barely understand. He knows what Quentin means, that soaring relief of being seen, understood. After shifting so he can feel each steady thrum of that resonant, steady heartbeat in his own ribs, Koby frowns in the darkness, frowns against the next kiss pressed to his lips.]

Yes it does. It matters. It's part of you. [One dark curl is tugged, reproachful and affectionate all at once.] Nothing could matter more. If -- if you want to find out more, of course. [Koby rests his chin over Quentin's heartbeat, hand moving to stroke gentle fingertips over the place where his own perpetual migraine lives -- just in front of his temples, where his brow furrows.] There has to be something after this. We have to be able to build something, here. Right?

[One fingertip runs down the length of Quentin's nose, then taps at his lips lightly.] I love you too. I love you and I love being here, with you. Despite everything. [Koby leans up once more, presses his mouth to Quentin's, kisses him slow and lingering, like that first day, like dust and blood and sunlight.] You need to rest too, though. You've been very brave and fought very hard for me, all month, and it's been very attractive and handsome and appealing, but you need to take care of yourself. Okay?

[ koby settles down on him and quentin's eyes drift shut, letting those fingers trace over the tired lines of his face, mapping out his features. he likes the way it feels - how soft and loving those touches are. he feels more human, more whole and real, in bed with koby than he does anywhere else.

he presses a kiss to the finger at his lips, smiling and opening his eyes slowly, looking down at him beneath heavy lids. ]

You need to rest, too. [ he shifts a little, lets one broad palm sweep up the line of koby's back, rubbing softly before he pulls the blankets up around them both, leaning down to receive the kiss, lingering and slow and full of love and light. he sighs against it, the worry in his brow melting away. ]

Stay with me - wake me up before you run off in the morning. Want to keep you close during all this.

I was always taught that “on time” means five minutes early. By my father’s standards, you’re late.

[ Lightly, almost sing-song, lifting himself on the tips of his toes to kiss him. Tim’s taking this seriously, but he doesn’t want it to feel serious, he wants it to feel so sweet and easy and unlike anything that’s ever happened with the regent that the monster of a man isn’t thought about at all. He feels the weight of whatever you want, the implication in the invitation that it doesn’t necessarily have to be sweet and easy, but the excited little smile on his face doesn’t imply it’ll be anything but.

His hands slide up and down Quentin’s chest, as if it’s his to touch whenever he pleases, and then catch on the hem of his shirt, giving it a little tug. ]

Take that off and get comfortable for me, alright? I’ll be right back.

[ oh.

oh. a prickle of surprise flits up his spine at the very thought that he is late. even all soft and singsong, there's something in him that already wants tim's approval. wants to prove he is a man of his word and can keep to what he says. it's all he has here. he watches as tim comes close, watches the hands slide up his chest.

idly his fingers reach to graze the other's forearms, boyish and a little less sure. timothy laughlin has caught him off guard. ]

Only my shirt then? Or shall I remove the lot for you?

[ Tentative fingertips graze up his arm, and Tim looks at him in return, warm brown looking even wider while he’s still got his glasses on. The smile quirking at the corner of his mouth gives his gaze a hint of playfulness, no true chastising, just poking around at corners and cracks to see what Quentin responds to. It would be easy enough to just channel Hawk, take the reins with a strong hand and not let go, but that’s what Tim needs. He needs to be claimed and kept under control, to give of his body as an act of worship, but that’s not true for Quentin. This has to be different. A reclamation of this as something good, divorced from duty, which he has a real choice in. ]

Hmmm...

[ Looking Quentin up and down, pretending to think about it as his smile breaks wider, teasing. ]

Keep the underwear. I want to take that for myself.

[ He steps back up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then slips into the bathroom for a quick freshening up. A few minutes later, he returns with lube and a towel, nude and half hard already, and sits on the edge of the bed. Tim leans back on his hands and looks at Quentin, tilting his head in an invitation to come closer. ]

"Bet you'd enjoy it in your mouth," you said. Let's see.

[ quentin does as he's told, stripping down to only the slim, black boxer-briefs he always wears. he listens as he waits, the movement in the bathroom, the silence making his skin prickle with heat, anticipation. he eyes the supplies curiously, allows his eyes to follow the easy, lean line of tim's body.

he really is a pretty thing, strong but lithe, hard and soft in all the places he likes. but he stays still, watching as tim makes himself comfortable, tilts his head. and he does step forward, though he huffs a little at the words. oh, he did indeed say that. ]

You've a good memory.

[ he steps closer, leaning down to press his palms against tim's thighs, parting them a hair more to make room for the broad width of his shoulders as he kneels before him. his eyes stay focused on tim's as he reaches for his half-hard cock, long and callused fingers circling it to steady him. maybe even a cheeky swipe of his thumb along the underside before he leans down, laves his tongue slowly over the flared head, the slit, tasting him. he presses a long line of kisses down the length of him, dragging his tongue up the other side.

he's playing with his food.

but it's the next pass that has him closing his lips around the head of him, sucking once with a loud wet pop, then again. taking him deeper and deeper each time. ]

[ The noise is careless and wanton, Tim's head blissfully empty except for endorphins, sensation, the dull, blunt pain of fingers pressing into smacked-raw flesh. For all the teasing about wailing, Tim's moaning is low and guttural, as if it's being pulled from deep within him, some wild, animal place that he doesn't have access to on his own. ]

Quentin-- I want--

[ He hesitates as he forces his brain back online, and his ass back against Quentin. Wasn't he supposed to be calling the shots? Maybe he is, even listening to Tim's requests, pulling him back from the edge of oblivion until he's deserving of it. His face is just as red as his ass as he squirms, leg spreading and body lowering to rut against the sheets. ]

You know I. [ Swallowing, whimpering with the tingling heat of just his breath against his hole. It clenches, in want of something to squeeze around. Tongue, fingers, anything. ] I want, fuck me, please.

[ in all their fumblings he's never seen tim so worked up, so desperate and quentin aches in a new way, too. his own cock throbs between his thighs as his mouth meets every needy jut of tim's hips until he reaches to press a single finger against tim's hole, breaching that fluttering ring of muscle and sliding his tongue against it as well.

at least until he hears it. ]

Ah, is that what you want? [ a hum against the wet skin of his ass, his index finger pressing slowly, stretching him on the slick of his spit and nothing more until he's in up to the knuckle. he laughs a low rumbling sound as tim ruts against the sheets, his ass pushing back. he clicks his tongue, disapproving. ] And here I was going to reward you for your behavior, then you had to go and break the rules.

[ and that's all he gets before his hand pulls away, before quentin's rising up onto his feet and gliding the hard line of him against the cleft of tim's sore ass. ] You want me to fuck you so terribly? Well, I'm feeling lazy.

[ he lines his dick up with tim's entrance, just enough to let the head of him press against him, but not further. he drags the nails of his free hand along the red, sore skin of tim's ass. ] You'll have to take what you want, since you like moving so very much. Go ahead, sweets.

It was this morning.

[ A bratty little last word, at least for now, as he watches Quentin sink to his knees in front of him, feels his blood rush south. He's always been handsome, with the strong arms of a sailor, muscled shoulders he's thrown his arms around enough times that he's lost count, warm eyes that have felt safe to him since the night they met. He's never been looking up at him, though, and there's enough thrill in the novelty of it that Tim nearly forgets he's supposed to be in charge here.

But not for long. His cock grows thick in Quentin's hand, and his breathing grows deep and heavy just at the teasing, hot press of his tongue. Taking him in more makes him gasp, the warm wet and lewd noise darkening his eyes and kicking him into gear. Tim's hand reaches down to his hair, dark loose waves caught now between his fingers, keeping him from straying too far. ]

Taste good?

[ there's victory in the sounds tim makes, the way his breathing changes and the hand drops into his hair. his sweet man, carefully controlling him and gently coaxing him. it takes him out of his mind in a way, makes him focus on his body, ground himself in where he is and who he is with.

there is no one else haunting him in this moment, only the hot line of tim's arousal laying heavy on his tongue. at first he does nothing but take tim in to the back of his throat and hum his answer, low and rumbling, until he pops off of his dick, head tilting back a little, lips plush and red and slick. ]

Very. I see why Koby wouldn't let up. [ when they'd all been together, a tangle of limbs and bodies. he dips his head, licking softly at the slit, pressing harder on the second pass. ]

Do you like it?

[ Tim muffles another shocked gasp against the sheets, as if he's been smacked on the ass again, not because he’s been struck, but because he’s been chastised. Rules? He’s forgotten the rules, he hasn’t been thinking, only feeling, begging for Quentin and chasing pleasure.

Ah. That. It’s for Quentin to give out, to decide when and how much, isn’t it? Tim wipes his eyes against the sheet, flushed and tearful with the embarrassment of having forgotten such a simple instruction. Punishment and penance can’t be rushed, so there’s a practical lesson, fucking himself on only spit. He can do that, he has to do that, needs to earn the sweetness back, take back the praise that tickles his brain, his spine, his cock. With a shuddering breath, Tim picks himself up so that he’s on all fours again instead of shamelessly pressing himself to the bed and scoots back, angling into position with the hot head against his hole. ]

I’m sorry. [ A soft, needy sob, cock hanging heavy and red from lack of attention. He gasps further at the track of his nails across his ass, searing hot and painful. Necessary. ] I’m sorry. I didn’t–I’ll do better.

[ He moves his hips back slowly, accepting Quentin inside him with a wince at the sharp stretch. It stings, but not nearly as badly as losing his praise. ]

The library's closed.

What do you mean? The doors shut? Or is it just gone?

[The most woeful selfie of the library door, with the "closed for repairs" sign on it, and Koby leaning heavily against said sign, looking incredibly dejected.]

Closed?

Did someone knock over the shelves? I'm surprised it wasn't us.

[ he knows how serious this is for koby, but he's trying to make light of it. ]

We can see if there's another room that might have books for you. Surely it won't be closed forever.

I hope not? That'd be very bad for the books. We never knocked anything DOWN, don't be silly. Just slightly dislodged things. And we always cleaned up afterwards. You're right. You're absolutely right. There are smaller rooms with books, it's just This one is the only one that answered us. Not even the Balfours do that. I'm worried about what this might mean.

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