Had the beacon been too far away when Verin fell - like it was for so many who were left behind - then even his soul would be lost forever, consecuted or not. Verin tries not to linger on the events that didn't happen; he tries harder not to fall into the guilt of everything that did.
The gentle authority in Essek's voice when he speaks again is a comfort. He doesn't have to think, only do. He turns more toward his brother and rests against him, head on Essek's shoulder. Verin can feel the warmth of his skin through the sheer robe he wears and the familiar scent of Essek's cologne doesn't escape him. It's been so very long since he has been in this place.
Verin closes his eyes as Essek's fingers stroke into his hair, offering tenderness that Verin has not been privy to since last he was in Rosohna. Tenderness that he knows Essek does not share with most - perhaps any - others. Even here in his brother's bed it is difficult to close his mind to the sounds of chaos, pain, and fear. The hopelessness of a position lost, the desperation of those trying to survive. The scent of blood and earth and sulfur.
He takes a deeper breath to steady himself, until the only things he can smell are the mingling scents of lavender, osmanthus, jasmine, cedarwood, and white musk clinging to Essek's skin.
Verin has always responded well to his authority when he is caring but firm. Today is no different, and Essek is grateful for the ways in which his brother is predictable, perhaps known only to him. Verin's head comes to rest against his shoulder, his eyes slip closed, and Essek's darkly painted lips press affectionately to his brow. In addition to the scent of his perfume clinging to his skin, he is still wearing a full face of makeup from court today.
It's been a long time since they were last able to do this, and it is a shame that these are the circumstances leading to this reunion. They don't see each other nearly as much as they should. The time they get to spend in his home together, in his bed, is even less. Essek's desire to protect his younger brother from his own machinations is in direct conflict with how much he misses him.
Combing his fingers slowly, soothingly through Verin's hair, Essek attempts to quell the restless buzz of excess energy he can practically feel radiating from his stronger, broader body. He must be exhausted, yet he hasn't yet crashed. His mind is still whirring, replaying, reminding him of what he'd survived and witnessed today.
Essek clasps him wordlessly closer. He feels his toes brush the edge of Verin's robe and slips his foot beneath to slide his bare legs against Verin's. Should he need to do anything more to help him relax, he has plenty of options for distraction.
Verin's breath catches quietly when he feels Essek's legs against his, bare skin a sudden reminder that his brother is so exposed. He tries to relax as delicate and clever fingers brush through his hair, a gesture that has brought him so much comfort over the years.
"Essek..." He speaks his brother's name and it is neither a question nor a plea, but some strange place in the middle. A question he does not know how to ask, a plea hoping for his brother's intuitive understanding. Verin pushes himself up onto his elbow so that he can look down at Essek, searching his beautifully made up face. He knows that he's had the privilege of very few to see the Shadowhand without his armor, but as they've grown he's realized that Essek's armor goes deeper than it once did.
"I missed you," he confesses quietly, words that he's spoken already but that bear repeating. His fingers, calloused and rough but still elegant, brush against Essek's hair.
For all that his tone is one of uncertainty, Essek is familiar with what Verin is seeking from him. He understands what his brother needs, but cannot ask him for. This is far from the first time.
"I miss you always, dearest one," he whispers, a tender and true affirmation as he cradles Verin's handsome face between his graceful hands again, looking up at him from the now even shorter distance between them. But there is more beneath those words that he cannot say, that wasn't there years upon years ago. It hurts. Verin was once his confidante, the one person he could admit anything to. Yet now he is hiding so much even from his brother.
It's better that way, he tells himself. Should he ever be discovered, Verin will be safer if he knows nothing.
This time, the way his legs slip around and between Verin's is blatantly suggestive, the slide of bare skin slow and sensual. His toes trail up the back of one calf while their thighs slot together. With fingers curled around the sharp line of his jaw, Essek draws his brother into an equally heady kiss, parting his painted lips and tracing his tongue along Verin's. Heat flickers to life in his belly, desire he hasn't felt since the last time they were together this way.
"It's been so long, Verin," he sighs between one kiss and the next. All these years, and Essek still hasn't taken another lover. Rather than bed a man he would have to feign interest in, he waits for these moments. They don't happen nearly often enough to sate the longing he feels for connection, intimacy, pleasure. "I need you," he implores.
Verin lets himself break, then. Not in the way that's probably coming, but he lets go of something he's been holding back since the Lucid Bastion when Essek kisses him that way. They have shared so much and Verin wants to remind himself that he hasn't lost everything. His lips part at the touch of Essek's tongue and Verin moves until he's fully over his brother, intent on properly getting between his thighs.
He's taken lovers in Bazzoxan but he's never felt for anyone what he still feels for Essek. He's cared for people he's taken to bed and maintained friendships with several, easy relationships with clear expectations. At no point has Verin ever offered love or exclusivity. Regardless of what his partners may have wanted, it isn't difficult for anyone to understand that mindset in a place like that. He has missed the ease he feels with Essek and he knows he can be vulnerable here. They have always kept each other safe. They have always shared intimacy that Verin has never offered anyone else.
"Too long," he whispers between kisses. "I should have come."
They both had their reasons, but in hindsight they feel like pitiful excuses when their bond is so close. Verin strokes his fingers into Essek's hair, tipping his head back as he deepens the kiss. If Essek needs him, Verin could never refuse him.
It is a known fact across the whole of Rosohna that the Shadowhand is the hands-off sort. That's what it's called in polite company, at least. When the man himself and anyone who might report back to him are supposedly out of earshot, he's more likely to be called frigid.
Apparently it's a shame, according to many. Even setting aside the power he holds (the youngest Shadowhand in history!) and how appealing a target he makes (the youngest Shadowhand in history), he's very easy on the eyes. He has the willowy, androgynous build that tends to be associated with classical elven beauty, with delicate features and fine-boned hands and striking violet eyes. Yet he hides his slightness under voluminous robes and billowing cloaks, hides his narrow shoulders beneath the sharp curves of his mantle--all the more enticing, then, to catch a glimpse of a long, slender leg or arm as he goes about his business. Essek Thelyss turns heads. The fact that he keeps himself closed off to everyone, untouchable, aloof as a cat, only means that there are plenty who'd betray the crown itself to be welcomed into his personal space. It's calculated.
The thing about cats is that despite their reputation, they are needy little things. As effortlessly as he gives the impression to the contrary, Essek has his needs. Picky as he is, there is only a single man who can meet them.
If anyone knew who, that would be gossip fodder for a decade. A good secret to have on hand; compromising enough to account for shifty behavior, but far less dire than treason. These things happen with some frequency among the dens, where consecution can sometimes result in unusual permutations of standard relationships. Still, this sort of closeness between siblings is the sort of thing one is expected to grow out of by their age. But they are both considered young--first lives, only partly into their second centuries. Such youthful foolishness would lead to general finger wagging and some embarassment for the den, but they wouldn't get worse than a slap on the wrist.
Still, Essek would prefer it not come to that. Having to be even more discreet while pretending to distance themselves would be a real pain. Especially when he finally has a reason to keep Verin close at hand.
They kiss, and Essek spreads his legs as he whimpers encouragingly against Verin's mouth. He buries his hands in his brother's long, loose hair as Verin's fingers comb through his own--much shorter, but the motion still sends a frission of excitement down his spine.
"You are not going anywhere now," Essek declares in a low, fierce whisper. "You are mine. I am keeping you."
When they kiss again, deeper, he sucks on Verin's tongue, scrapes his lower lip with his sharp teeth. His lip color may or may not be holding up. Barely needing to lift from the bed, his thighs find a natural position squeezing Verin's waist. Everything about the way Essek draws his brother in is deeply, unabashedly possessive.
When Verin's window for going through anamnesis fully passed and it became known that Den Thelyss had not one, but two new souls for the first time in centuries, Verin felt that he and Essek were closer than ever. They alone would live their lives, with no memories or past glories to stand on, no ties save those they built. And the tightest tie of all has ever been between them.
Verin feels a tremble deep in his chest when Essek whispers that he is going to keep him. That Verin is his. What more does he need when that is true? Especially now, when so much of the life he's built is shattered and scattered across the Barbed Fields, when he knows that those he has put his faith in have utterly abandoned reason and any sense of compassion for those that serve them. The institutions he has served his entire life have failed to do what he believed they were meant to.
But Essek is here, holding him with a sharply possessive tone that has always made Verin feel like he could keep going. If Essek is here, in his life, then there is still light in it. Verin has been his nearly since birth. Why should any of that have changed as they grew older and closer?
He meets the next kiss, slick and sharp as Essek bites his lip. Verin reaches down to catch a bare thigh and gives a firm roll of his hips, as if Essek needed any reminder of the strength in his brother's body.
"I have always been yours," he whispers as heat suffuses his body, pooling low between his hips.
Essek's breathing is rapidly growing shallow as arousal sweeps through him in an irresistible tide, hitching at the strength of Verin's grip on his thigh. Their bodies grind together in this moment, Verin's hips rolling down against his while his thighs tighten around his waist, but there is also the decades of history between them that this moment is built upon, an addiction that only grows more potent with time. He can feel the stiffening heat of Verin's erection, and Essek's entire body tingles and throbs like a numb limb finally thawing out.
"I know," Essek whispers. The silky lilt of his voice manages to be both soothing and provocative as their lips brush and his fingers twist firmly into his brother's hair. "I know you have, my love."
He drags his other hand down from Verin's jaw, down his throat to where his robe parts over his sturdy chest. He slips it inside to feel the warmth of his bare skin, the thump of his heart beneath, slipping his robe open as he goes.
"I remember how sweet you used to be for me when we both still lived at the main house," he whispers. "How you would sneak into my bed already hard from thinking of me, and I would have to cover your mouth while I rode you or sucked you or you'd have woken the whole wing." Before Verin had anyone else. Before he left to live in the barracks and learned to be quiet. Before Essek was granted these towers. Darkened lips curling, he teases, "You were so needy sometimes, little brother. Perhaps I spoiled you a bit. You knew that I would always take care of you if you told me how much you loved me."
Verin breathes in sharply as Essek's fingers curl in his hair, another hand soon pressed to his chest. He closes his eyes, momentarily lost in the memories that Essek recounts. Verin can still remember the pressure of Essek's hand against his mouth and the scent of the perfume he favored then. He always wore some on his wrists. Over the years the scents have changed, but the habit has not.
"I would have loved you anyway," he murmurs, meeting his brother's gaze. He dearly wants Essek to hear and believe that: Verin loves him for no other reason than that he is Essek. That is how Verin has always loved him. And maybe Essek did spoil him, but he cannot regret it.
His hand strokes over Essek's thigh and just feeling his brother's soft, warm skin beneath his palm is enough to make him burn with desire. Verin presses another firm kiss to Essek's lips before coaxing them apart for a better taste.
"There is no need for me to be quiet now," he says, voice lower and warmer.
Essek's towers are his own, and Verin didn't notice any other occupants - no students, no supplicants, no secretaries - on their way through. Granted, he hadn't been inclined to look particularly hard for anything when Essek brought him here from the Lucid Bastion. Verin shifts, releasing Essek's thigh long enough to slip his arm out of the sleeve of his robe. He leaves it to hang and his hand runs up Essek's thigh until he finds the hem of his brother's smalls. His fingers curl and he drags them down as far as he can, very aware that he'll have to move if he wants to get them off properly. But it's the gesture that's important for now.
From anyone else, he could never believe those words so easily. But with his brother, he's never doubted it. Maybe that is the reason--or at least part of the reason--he has only ever wanted Verin this way.
He makes a soft, wanting noise against Verin's mouth when he kisses him again, which becomes a throatier moan as his tongue sweeps past his lips. The more Verin kisses him, touches him, presses him down into his bed with less clothing between them, the wilder Essek feels.
"No. This is my home. We are alone here," he confirms breathlessly, violet eyes intent and growing darker as his pupils expand. The perfectly applied dark purple paint on his lips has started to smudge at the edges of his mouth. "I want to hear you."
Both hands slide down as Verin slips one arm free from his robe, nails raking lightly down his bared chest more for sensation than pain. He's so beautiful with his pale hair falling all around his handsome face, his broad shoulders, his strong arms and scarred chest--his rough hands stroking up Essek's soft, untouched legs until they reach his smalls and slide them halfway down his thighs. Essek shivers as the delicate silk catches against and then rubs over the sensitive head of his very hard cock, leaving him aroused and exposed in a way that makes him absolutely dizzy with desire. He visibly struggles with the urge to either cover himself with a robe too short and disheveled and sheer, or spread his legs wider, neither of which he can currently accomplish.
"How will you have me tonight, Verin?" he coaxes, sultry with an underlying edge of almost reckless urgency. "Tell me."
Verin's chest still feels heavy with loss, his mind too full with thoughts of what he should have done. Above all of it is the sharp, urgent desire to remind himself that he is still alive with the one person who he would stay alive for. The raw lines Essek leaves behind on his chest make him shiver, as does the way his brother seems torn between giving himself over to his own desires and hiding from them. It's that urgency that Verin knows is there that excites him more. How restless Essek can be, how demanding, when he is finally given what he wants.
He would argue that Essek is even more demanding when he has what he wants.
His fingers tighten in Essek's hair and Verin kisses him again as he gives another firm thrust of his hips, dragging his heavy, full cock against the place where Essek's hip meets his thigh. Light, he has missed everything about Essek, including the places where his body is softer than Verin's.
"In every way you'll let me," he whispers as his lips brush across Essek's cheek to his ear. He can feel the familiar jewelry beneath his lips, but he is far more interested in the bare spaces he finds. His brother is always so covered; no one sees him the way Verin does.
"Let me feel you beneath me first," he says, still soft and for Essek alone. Verin lifts his head so that he can see Essek's face. He can't imagine Essek agreeing to something he doesn't want - even for him - but he wants to be sure all the same.
Essek feels pinned in the most wonderful way. He squirms uselessly under his brother, testing what little leeway he has as Verin presses him down to kiss him and rock against him. The line of his cock is heavy and hot against the very sensitive skin at the crease of his thigh, nestled between a sharp hip bone and the much more plush shape of his thigh. Also mere inches from his own cock, and equally close to the even softer curve of his ass.
Verin is heavy and strong, and if Essek did not want to be beneath him he could reverse gravity with little more than a succinct gesture. But he does. In fact, it is exactly where he wants to be, legs pathetically bound by his own half pulled down smalls and unable to budge more than an inch or two in any way without the aid of dunamancy. Verin's warm lips and hot breath find his ear in a bright frission of sensation, and as it tingles down his spine, he whines and writhes uselessly. It's delicious.
"Yes," he agrees in a breathless whisper, sharp with certainty. His fingers flex, curling into fists against his brother's chest. It's a gesture that could crush a man if accompanied by the right words and intent. His skin feels hot everywhere, and he knows his face must be deeply flushed as Verin looks down at him. Their eyes meet, and Essek licks his slightly smeared lips as his heart skips in his chest.
It certainly isn't only for Verin's sake, this agreement--Essek craves it just as much. But surely Verin must know that his doting older brother would let him have him in every way he might want him.
In a haze of heat and need, Verin moves. For all that he is bigger than Essek, he is still fast, having honed his dexterity along with all of his other martial skills. That shows itself now in the quick but firm way he uses his grip on Essek's thigh to roll his brother onto his side, deftly avoiding being kicked in the process. Verin grabs the hip of his brother's smalls and twists, effectively forcing Essek's legs together and trapping them that way. It's likely that he's also ruining the garment in the process, but he will replace it if he needs to.
"I have missed you," he whispers, knowing that it has already been said and repeating it anyway. He will say it until he no longer feels it. He kisses Essek again as he rubs the wet head of his cock against the backs of his brother's thighs. He knows where the oil is and it wouldn't be difficult to reach for it now, but he doesn't want to spare a hand to do it.
"At night I would think of you here in your soft bed and wonder if you thought of me." His voice is heavy but still soft, and it would be tender if not for the way that Verin is rutting against the soft curve of his brother's ass. He doesn't begrudge Essek the comfort of Rosohna, especially when he knows that it has not always been comfortable for his brother here. Even if Essek's rise was meteoric, Verin knows better than to think it was easy.
Essek is hardly concerned about ruined smalls. It barely even occurs to him beyond the brief flash of humiliation at being trapped like this that Essek would never admit to finding arousing, though he clearly does if he's permitting it. Now on his side with his thighs forced tight together, his pulse is pounding so hard he can hear the thrum of blood in his ears.
Grasping the sheets, he makes a weak noise against Verin's mouth as he feels his hard cock leaving a wet trail of precome against the backs of his thighs. His blush deepens, if that is possible. Light, when his brother gets into these moods, all his years of intimate experience with Verin seem to evaporate at once, leaving Essek flustered, embarrassingly eager, but utterly devoid of his usual easy authority. He's utterly wrong-footed--but at least he is with the only person who could possibly make him enjoy that.
His brother grinds against him, and Essek's brow knits up as he bites his lower lip, a sharp eyetooth catching and holding. He swallows hard, trying to collect his thoughts enough to respond. Overheated as he is, words are suddenly as ephemeral as steam. His own erection is nestled nicely against his legs, and if he just shifted his hips a little, he's sure he could generate some friction for himself. But he doesn't know if he wants to appear quite so desperate as that just yet, even if he's quickly beginning to feel that way.
He thinks Verin is probably going to fuck his thighs anyway, which he'd half expected since he chose this particular robe. He's always had a thing for his legs.
"Constantly," he admits finally, dangling that tantalizing morsel of an image in front of his brother with the few words he can currently muster. "I've missed you too."
"Get us oil, my dearest one," he murmurs against Essek's ear. Whether by cantrip or more conventional means, they're going to need it.
Verin keeps his brother's smalls twisted around his hand, apparently intent on keeping him like this for a little while at least. Heat suffuses him and Verin sighs, nuzzling into Essek's soft hair. He doesn't mean to be rough, but he wouldn't let it escape like this if he had even an inkling that Essek didn't like it. No, he's very certain that his brother's gasping and writhing beneath him is because Verin has surprised him. It doesn't happen often. He hopes Essek will forgive him for taking advantage since it has.
He shifts his weight back onto his knees so that he has another hand free. He's more gentle as he pulls Essek's robe out of the way - not off, but down to expose a slender shoulder. He leans down to kiss it, far more reverent than the way he's indulging himself with rutting against Essek's thighs. Verin hadn't known what he was going to do until he did it, but being intuitive serves him well.
"Whoever might have warmed my bed in Bazzoxan, I could never love them as I love you."
Maybe it's cruel to mention them, to risk making Essek jealous. Verin's breath catches quietly and he focuses on the way his body feels rather than the fleeting thought of past lovers, some of whom may no longer be alive. Essek is warm and vibrant and living and here beneath him, whispering that he has missed Verin. What else could possibly matter in this moment?
When reminded, Essek gets the oil, feeling a little silly that it had slipped his mind in the first place. A flick of his fingers and a tug at gravity opens the correct drawer in the nearby night table, and the bottle floats through the air with his direction, the amount inside tellingly half used.
It is good that such a simple task requires little concentration, because Verin lavishes him with attention that makes Essek gasp and sigh, nuzzling close and slipping his robe from his shoulder to kiss sensually along the revealed skin. Both are in direct contrast to the rough, crude way he's handling him, pinning him in place and rutting against his thighs. But Light, Essek is enjoying every bit of this--even including the immediate flare of jealousy, which serves to enhance everything else he's feeling.
Essek prefers not to hear about his brother's other lovers. He knows that they exist, and that is all he cares to know. He is a selfish creature by nature, and he would keep his brother to himself if he could. But he would hate to forbid Verin from anything that makes him happy, especially in Bazzoxan. And he is vindicated in knowing at least that what Verin says now is true--he's never loved any of them as he loves Essek.
Still, he snarls, "Do not talk about them in my bed." Verin likes it when he bares his teeth, when he gets jealous and possessive and bossy. He must. Why else would he bring it up as frequently as he does?
The crystal bottle nudges Verin's arm somewhat impatiently where it hovers in the air. He can get to using it now, however he intends to. Essek is into this assertiveness--this play at dominance, even. In the strict context of Verin's desire, he likes that he's been overpowered.
"Forgive me," he murmurs, sweet and soothing. He shouldn't enjoy the way Essek bares his teeth so much, but it feels good to be reminded that he has not be forgotten here. The half-empty bottle of oil is just as telling.
Verin is tempted to tell Essek to use the oil on himself. He has his lithe brother pinned down with his smalls holding his legs closed, the least Verin can do is this. He trusts the bottle to stay where it is as he opens it with his free hand and tips it enough to spill a generous amount into his palm. He leans over Essek again, kissing and then gently biting his shoulder. The pressure is light, only to give him the sensation rather than pain.
His slick hand slips inelegantly between Essek's thighs, spreading oil there generously. Impatient, Verin's cock soon follows. He pushes into the tight space there with a heavy exhale, the relief of the warmth not as good as being buried inside Essek, but he'll get there.
"You have been using this often, I see. How long has it been?" A crude thing to ask, maybe, but the reason should be clear enough as Verin's oiled fingertips slide between Essek's cheeks to rub gently over his hole. Light, he has missed every inch of his brother, and Verin intends to make that clear. "How long since you last filled yourself and thought of me, dearest heart?"
Verin reaches over and tips the vial of oil over his hand, spreads it between Essek's closed thighs as his teeth scrape over his bare shoulder, and slides himself between. He braces Essek's legs with his wound-up smalls, keeping them closed, and begins to fuck him like that--hips meeting flush against the backs of Essek's thighs, his ass, slapping obscenely, and cock nudging over and past Essek's balls. Essek can't stop himself from whimpering. It's so, so good like this. He luxuriates in it. Stretches languidly against the pillows and angles his hips in a way that will have the tip of his cock dragging against the sheets when Verin really starts thrusting. It feels positively divine.
But his brow furrows and he gasps his brother's name sharply, "Verin," as if in admonishment for asking him something so crass with so little shame. But it makes heat curl in Essek's gut, that insistence on knowing, that crude disregard for his proper modesty. He moans, the sound startled out of him, when he feels rough oiled fingers against his hole a moment later. His breath catches, and he squirms uselessly again, as if that will somehow get him out of answering this series of mortifying, delightfully invasive questions.
But his body will answer for him even if he cannot. Beneath Verin's fingers, his hole is tellingly pliant, clear evidence of recent self-pleasure. Verin already knows far more about his masturbation habits than anyone rightly should. It feels almost like a cycle sometimes. There will be weeks at a time where Essek's body feels awake, where he wants to touch himself constantly, where he indulges in long evenings with fantasies supplemented by toys and magic. Then for months his body is a stranger. The mere idea seems distasteful, a waste of time, and he barely spares it a thought.
As Verin correctly observes, the half-empty bottle indicates that recently, it's the former. He has been using it often.
"Only yesterday," he admits at last, barely above a whisper, face hot.
He did think about Verin yesterday. Frequently he does, but not always, which seems like a betrayal to admit, which is silly when Verin actually does sleep with other people. He's never thought about anyone else he actually knows, but sometimes the men are imagined, bodies with vague features for doing exactly what Essek desires. Sometimes they are not exactly men at all, but constructs of his magic, writhing tentacles or formless forces given more monstrous shape. But that doesn't count as having sex, does it? Even if it very much feels like having sex, it's merely elaborate masturbation. There is no one else involved.
"Is that so?" he murmurs, going still with their thighs nearly flush together. Feeling how pliant Essek is, Verin takes a calculated risk and slowly, gently breaches him two two well-oiled fingers. His cock throbs when he realizes that Essek can take them without much difficulty.
"My bright star, what were you doing then that you can take me so well now?"
Verin is vaguely aware that he may pay for all of this filthy impertinence later, but it is well worth it now to see Essek squirm and moan and blush beneath him. Light, it is worth everything. He doesn't go far with his penetration, just to the mid-joint of his fingers, before he withdraws them again to rub more oil over Essek's soft hole. He wants to bury himself in the heat of his brother's body, and he will when he hears how badly Essek wants it too.
Until then he starts to slowly fuck between his brother's thighs, ensuring that their bodies meet in a way that gives Essek pleasant friction but not nearly as much satisfaction as Verin has from the tight press of his legs. He could come from this alone, and he is tempted to, knowing how quickly they can both recover and go again.
Essek's head is spinning. Two of Verin's fingers press into him with obscene ease, but not too deep, dipping just far enough to test how well-stretched his hole is. He makes a soft, tight noise in his throat that he is too proud to call a whine, and feels his brother's cock throb between his thighs.
Verin is filthy and sweet in the same breath, calling him endearments like my bright star while he questions what he was doing to put his body in such a receptive state. Essek shuts his mouth and shakes his head in stubborn refusal at first, half hiding his face against a pillow. Because he knows exactly what he was doing and he knows that telling Verin will only encourage his frankly vulgar impudence. (Maybe that is what he wants.)
But he can't avoid answering forever. He knows his terrible, boorish brother will fuck it out of him sooner rather than later. He smothers his sounds of pleasure into the pillow as much as he can as Verin begins thrusting between his tightly clenched legs. The heavy heat of his hard cock feels hotter still with the slick friction between them, like a brand against the tender, sensitive skin along the inside of his thighs.
As incredible as this must feel for Verin, for Essek it's a drawn-out tease. It's so good, and there are jolts of more intense sensation when Verin's length rubs against his balls or his thrusts make enough of an impact to bounce the dripping tip of Essek's cock against the sheets or his own legs, but it will never get him off at this angle. And perhaps that is by design. His toes curl as his brother's fingers stroke over his loose hole with more oil. He craves fullness, but he isn't ready to admit just how much yet.
Despite the exertion of fucking Essek's thighs, Verin manages to keep his voice smooth and rather gentle. A counterpoint to the way he is rather crudely using Essek's lovely body. But if Essek didn't like it, Verin would know in an instant, one way or another. The fact that his brother is trying to stay silent, that his face is burning with embarrassment and need, is rather endearing. Verin knows Essek's practiced modesty, knows that he uses it as both armor and weapon. How his brother has honed every part of his presentation to ensure that other people know what he wants them to know.
But Verin has always been able to slip through the cracks.
"It will have to wait then, until I am certain," he murmurs as his fingers leave Essek entirely. He presses his hand to the bed again so that he can fully cover his brother's smaller body and he fucks him harder, faster, and knowing that relief will likely be just out of reach for Essek unless he touches himself. Or unless Verin does.
With that thought in mind, Verin finally releases Essek's smalls in favor of pinning one of the wizard's elegant hands to the bed. He leans low to nuzzle his brother's pale hair and breathes a heavy sigh; even without the smalls twisted to hold Essek's legs together, his brother would be hard-pressed to get out of this position without arcane interference now that Verin is bodily pinning him. His pace slows until he's grinding against the backs of Essek's thighs.
When Essek doesn't answer, Verin's fingers slip away from where Essek wants them most with some contrived excuse. Essek whines his name into the pillow in protest. "Verin." Never mind his sweet nothings; his brother is an absolute brat. He is going to pay for it eventually, when Essek can manage to get his wits about him again. Whenever that might be.
Instead, Verin uses his larger body to press him down into the bed and fucks his thighs with a renewed focus, easily keeping Essek's legs in place even without holding onto his smalls. A strong, calloused hand covers his and pins that to the bed as well, which makes Essek lift his head from the pillow with a gasp. The assertion of power in that gesture is on another level entirely to a wizard. Yet Essek trusts his brother like no one else, and with him, allowing himself to be compromised this way is exciting rather than terrifying.
Eyes wide and wild and painted lips parted, panting, Essek again pushes back physically, writhing in place to the extent that he can as Verin draws to a slower grind against him. With a dawning understanding of how helplessly trapped he is, the way he moans verges on desperate.
"I used a toy," he whimpers at last as he turns his darkly blushing face away again. "A...rather sizable one."
Verin cannot help his grin when Essek, breathless and the picture of desperation beneath him, finally admits to what he's been doing. The deep blush in his face is becoming, and Verin knows that he would feel a sharp jealousy if this was shared. He is Essek's, but deep and hidden he has always wanted Essek to be his, too. There was never a suitor good enough for him where Verin was concerned.
As a reward for speaking, Verin shifts his weight into the hand pinning Essek's to the bed, leaving the other free to sweep through the copious oil between his brother's thighs. Fingers slick once more, they trail up to rub over Essek's pliant hole, and with little more warning than that he buries two fingers in Essek with a single, gentle thrust. Even if Verin remembers how perfect Essek feels, it is nothing like feeling him like this.
"There," he murmurs, leaning low to press his lips to a burning cheek in a kiss that is far more tender than the way he's treated Essek since pulling down his smalls. "I am gratified to know you have not neglected yourself."
Even as he says it, Verin is aware of the cycles Essek goes through, months at a time of simply not thinking about physical desire or pleasure, far more interested or preoccupied in other things. But just as well he knows that his brother can be a vibrant, provocative, and fierce lover. Light, he has loved him for so long. Verin presses his brow to Essek's temple as he moves his hips again, slowly building up a pace as he uses his fingers to fuck his brother's ass while he fucks his thighs.
Admittedly, Essek is a little surprised to be rewarded so quickly, but he certainly isn't complaining. At least he doesn't have to confess to the rest of it if Verin is pleased enough by that answer. The breathy gasp he gives as Verin's fingers press so easily into him is startled but satisfied. To stifle any more embarrassing sounds as Verin begins to fuck him with those fingers, he lifts his single free hand to his mouth to bite down lightly on his index finger. That doesn't stop him from sighing as Verin's lips touch his cheek.
Light, it feels so good. Even the cock he'd used yesterday, a truly outsized thing that had taken some time to fit inside him, can't compare to the simple pleasure of Verin's touch within his body after all this time. When Essek is alone, his moods are fickle. But with his brother, he wants. He could do this every day. At one point in their lives, they did do it nearly every day. But it has been a long time since then.
"I would not have to satisfy myself," he whispers tightly, "if you visited your older brother more often. But I manage."
Flexing his thighs, he gives Verin's cock a deliberate squeeze, a tighter place to fuck into between the smooth, oil-slicked skin of his legs. Sometimes part of him wishes he were capable of taking other lovers--or more accurately, of desiring other lovers. At times like this, he can't help feeling slightly pathetic, needing his brother in a way that Verin doesn't need him. If he didn't have Verin, he wouldn't do this at all.
Verin's breath stutters as Essek flexes his thighs, but it is his words that hit him harder than he could have imagined. He should have been here more, but leaving Bazzoxan was not easy--until today. Even that was under duress, and it took several officers and at least one secretary to talk him out of going back. But it wasn't only them. One thought struck him to his core, and it was the one thing to make him turn back to Rosohna.
He shudders over his brother and he cannot grab his chin and kiss him the way he suddenly, urgently wants to; nor can he coax Essek's finger away from his mouth. He keeps his head down, reverent, and his hair falls over his shoulders to shroud them both. Verin curls his fingers carefully the next time he pushes them in, and it only takes him a few strokes to find the spot he's looking for. He knows he's hit it for sure when Essek's body tightens and trembles around him.
"Light, Essek--you already feel ready for me." That's a surprise, and Verin has to wonder how the Shadowhand was occupying himself yesterday. He gently bites Essek's earlobe, mindful of the jewelry. "Are you? You know your thighs alone would make me come."
And he is tempted to find his finish there, but he aches to be inside Essek. He wants to give his brother everything.
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The gentle authority in Essek's voice when he speaks again is a comfort. He doesn't have to think, only do. He turns more toward his brother and rests against him, head on Essek's shoulder. Verin can feel the warmth of his skin through the sheer robe he wears and the familiar scent of Essek's cologne doesn't escape him. It's been so very long since he has been in this place.
Verin closes his eyes as Essek's fingers stroke into his hair, offering tenderness that Verin has not been privy to since last he was in Rosohna. Tenderness that he knows Essek does not share with most - perhaps any - others. Even here in his brother's bed it is difficult to close his mind to the sounds of chaos, pain, and fear. The hopelessness of a position lost, the desperation of those trying to survive. The scent of blood and earth and sulfur.
He takes a deeper breath to steady himself, until the only things he can smell are the mingling scents of lavender, osmanthus, jasmine, cedarwood, and white musk clinging to Essek's skin.
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It's been a long time since they were last able to do this, and it is a shame that these are the circumstances leading to this reunion. They don't see each other nearly as much as they should. The time they get to spend in his home together, in his bed, is even less. Essek's desire to protect his younger brother from his own machinations is in direct conflict with how much he misses him.
Combing his fingers slowly, soothingly through Verin's hair, Essek attempts to quell the restless buzz of excess energy he can practically feel radiating from his stronger, broader body. He must be exhausted, yet he hasn't yet crashed. His mind is still whirring, replaying, reminding him of what he'd survived and witnessed today.
Essek clasps him wordlessly closer. He feels his toes brush the edge of Verin's robe and slips his foot beneath to slide his bare legs against Verin's. Should he need to do anything more to help him relax, he has plenty of options for distraction.
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"Essek..." He speaks his brother's name and it is neither a question nor a plea, but some strange place in the middle. A question he does not know how to ask, a plea hoping for his brother's intuitive understanding. Verin pushes himself up onto his elbow so that he can look down at Essek, searching his beautifully made up face. He knows that he's had the privilege of very few to see the Shadowhand without his armor, but as they've grown he's realized that Essek's armor goes deeper than it once did.
"I missed you," he confesses quietly, words that he's spoken already but that bear repeating. His fingers, calloused and rough but still elegant, brush against Essek's hair.
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"I miss you always, dearest one," he whispers, a tender and true affirmation as he cradles Verin's handsome face between his graceful hands again, looking up at him from the now even shorter distance between them. But there is more beneath those words that he cannot say, that wasn't there years upon years ago. It hurts. Verin was once his confidante, the one person he could admit anything to. Yet now he is hiding so much even from his brother.
It's better that way, he tells himself. Should he ever be discovered, Verin will be safer if he knows nothing.
This time, the way his legs slip around and between Verin's is blatantly suggestive, the slide of bare skin slow and sensual. His toes trail up the back of one calf while their thighs slot together. With fingers curled around the sharp line of his jaw, Essek draws his brother into an equally heady kiss, parting his painted lips and tracing his tongue along Verin's. Heat flickers to life in his belly, desire he hasn't felt since the last time they were together this way.
"It's been so long, Verin," he sighs between one kiss and the next. All these years, and Essek still hasn't taken another lover. Rather than bed a man he would have to feign interest in, he waits for these moments. They don't happen nearly often enough to sate the longing he feels for connection, intimacy, pleasure. "I need you," he implores.
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He's taken lovers in Bazzoxan but he's never felt for anyone what he still feels for Essek. He's cared for people he's taken to bed and maintained friendships with several, easy relationships with clear expectations. At no point has Verin ever offered love or exclusivity. Regardless of what his partners may have wanted, it isn't difficult for anyone to understand that mindset in a place like that. He has missed the ease he feels with Essek and he knows he can be vulnerable here. They have always kept each other safe. They have always shared intimacy that Verin has never offered anyone else.
"Too long," he whispers between kisses. "I should have come."
They both had their reasons, but in hindsight they feel like pitiful excuses when their bond is so close. Verin strokes his fingers into Essek's hair, tipping his head back as he deepens the kiss. If Essek needs him, Verin could never refuse him.
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Apparently it's a shame, according to many. Even setting aside the power he holds (the youngest Shadowhand in history!) and how appealing a target he makes (the youngest Shadowhand in history), he's very easy on the eyes. He has the willowy, androgynous build that tends to be associated with classical elven beauty, with delicate features and fine-boned hands and striking violet eyes. Yet he hides his slightness under voluminous robes and billowing cloaks, hides his narrow shoulders beneath the sharp curves of his mantle--all the more enticing, then, to catch a glimpse of a long, slender leg or arm as he goes about his business. Essek Thelyss turns heads. The fact that he keeps himself closed off to everyone, untouchable, aloof as a cat, only means that there are plenty who'd betray the crown itself to be welcomed into his personal space. It's calculated.
The thing about cats is that despite their reputation, they are needy little things. As effortlessly as he gives the impression to the contrary, Essek has his needs. Picky as he is, there is only a single man who can meet them.
If anyone knew who, that would be gossip fodder for a decade. A good secret to have on hand; compromising enough to account for shifty behavior, but far less dire than treason. These things happen with some frequency among the dens, where consecution can sometimes result in unusual permutations of standard relationships. Still, this sort of closeness between siblings is the sort of thing one is expected to grow out of by their age. But they are both considered young--first lives, only partly into their second centuries. Such youthful foolishness would lead to general finger wagging and some embarassment for the den, but they wouldn't get worse than a slap on the wrist.
Still, Essek would prefer it not come to that. Having to be even more discreet while pretending to distance themselves would be a real pain. Especially when he finally has a reason to keep Verin close at hand.
They kiss, and Essek spreads his legs as he whimpers encouragingly against Verin's mouth. He buries his hands in his brother's long, loose hair as Verin's fingers comb through his own--much shorter, but the motion still sends a frission of excitement down his spine.
"You are not going anywhere now," Essek declares in a low, fierce whisper. "You are mine. I am keeping you."
When they kiss again, deeper, he sucks on Verin's tongue, scrapes his lower lip with his sharp teeth. His lip color may or may not be holding up. Barely needing to lift from the bed, his thighs find a natural position squeezing Verin's waist. Everything about the way Essek draws his brother in is deeply, unabashedly possessive.
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Verin feels a tremble deep in his chest when Essek whispers that he is going to keep him. That Verin is his. What more does he need when that is true? Especially now, when so much of the life he's built is shattered and scattered across the Barbed Fields, when he knows that those he has put his faith in have utterly abandoned reason and any sense of compassion for those that serve them. The institutions he has served his entire life have failed to do what he believed they were meant to.
But Essek is here, holding him with a sharply possessive tone that has always made Verin feel like he could keep going. If Essek is here, in his life, then there is still light in it. Verin has been his nearly since birth. Why should any of that have changed as they grew older and closer?
He meets the next kiss, slick and sharp as Essek bites his lip. Verin reaches down to catch a bare thigh and gives a firm roll of his hips, as if Essek needed any reminder of the strength in his brother's body.
"I have always been yours," he whispers as heat suffuses his body, pooling low between his hips.
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"I know," Essek whispers. The silky lilt of his voice manages to be both soothing and provocative as their lips brush and his fingers twist firmly into his brother's hair. "I know you have, my love."
He drags his other hand down from Verin's jaw, down his throat to where his robe parts over his sturdy chest. He slips it inside to feel the warmth of his bare skin, the thump of his heart beneath, slipping his robe open as he goes.
"I remember how sweet you used to be for me when we both still lived at the main house," he whispers. "How you would sneak into my bed already hard from thinking of me, and I would have to cover your mouth while I rode you or sucked you or you'd have woken the whole wing." Before Verin had anyone else. Before he left to live in the barracks and learned to be quiet. Before Essek was granted these towers. Darkened lips curling, he teases, "You were so needy sometimes, little brother. Perhaps I spoiled you a bit. You knew that I would always take care of you if you told me how much you loved me."
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"I would have loved you anyway," he murmurs, meeting his brother's gaze. He dearly wants Essek to hear and believe that: Verin loves him for no other reason than that he is Essek. That is how Verin has always loved him. And maybe Essek did spoil him, but he cannot regret it.
His hand strokes over Essek's thigh and just feeling his brother's soft, warm skin beneath his palm is enough to make him burn with desire. Verin presses another firm kiss to Essek's lips before coaxing them apart for a better taste.
"There is no need for me to be quiet now," he says, voice lower and warmer.
Essek's towers are his own, and Verin didn't notice any other occupants - no students, no supplicants, no secretaries - on their way through. Granted, he hadn't been inclined to look particularly hard for anything when Essek brought him here from the Lucid Bastion. Verin shifts, releasing Essek's thigh long enough to slip his arm out of the sleeve of his robe. He leaves it to hang and his hand runs up Essek's thigh until he finds the hem of his brother's smalls. His fingers curl and he drags them down as far as he can, very aware that he'll have to move if he wants to get them off properly. But it's the gesture that's important for now.
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He makes a soft, wanting noise against Verin's mouth when he kisses him again, which becomes a throatier moan as his tongue sweeps past his lips. The more Verin kisses him, touches him, presses him down into his bed with less clothing between them, the wilder Essek feels.
"No. This is my home. We are alone here," he confirms breathlessly, violet eyes intent and growing darker as his pupils expand. The perfectly applied dark purple paint on his lips has started to smudge at the edges of his mouth. "I want to hear you."
Both hands slide down as Verin slips one arm free from his robe, nails raking lightly down his bared chest more for sensation than pain. He's so beautiful with his pale hair falling all around his handsome face, his broad shoulders, his strong arms and scarred chest--his rough hands stroking up Essek's soft, untouched legs until they reach his smalls and slide them halfway down his thighs. Essek shivers as the delicate silk catches against and then rubs over the sensitive head of his very hard cock, leaving him aroused and exposed in a way that makes him absolutely dizzy with desire. He visibly struggles with the urge to either cover himself with a robe too short and disheveled and sheer, or spread his legs wider, neither of which he can currently accomplish.
"How will you have me tonight, Verin?" he coaxes, sultry with an underlying edge of almost reckless urgency. "Tell me."
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He would argue that Essek is even more demanding when he has what he wants.
His fingers tighten in Essek's hair and Verin kisses him again as he gives another firm thrust of his hips, dragging his heavy, full cock against the place where Essek's hip meets his thigh. Light, he has missed everything about Essek, including the places where his body is softer than Verin's.
"In every way you'll let me," he whispers as his lips brush across Essek's cheek to his ear. He can feel the familiar jewelry beneath his lips, but he is far more interested in the bare spaces he finds. His brother is always so covered; no one sees him the way Verin does.
"Let me feel you beneath me first," he says, still soft and for Essek alone. Verin lifts his head so that he can see Essek's face. He can't imagine Essek agreeing to something he doesn't want - even for him - but he wants to be sure all the same.
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Verin is heavy and strong, and if Essek did not want to be beneath him he could reverse gravity with little more than a succinct gesture. But he does. In fact, it is exactly where he wants to be, legs pathetically bound by his own half pulled down smalls and unable to budge more than an inch or two in any way without the aid of dunamancy. Verin's warm lips and hot breath find his ear in a bright frission of sensation, and as it tingles down his spine, he whines and writhes uselessly. It's delicious.
"Yes," he agrees in a breathless whisper, sharp with certainty. His fingers flex, curling into fists against his brother's chest. It's a gesture that could crush a man if accompanied by the right words and intent. His skin feels hot everywhere, and he knows his face must be deeply flushed as Verin looks down at him. Their eyes meet, and Essek licks his slightly smeared lips as his heart skips in his chest.
It certainly isn't only for Verin's sake, this agreement--Essek craves it just as much. But surely Verin must know that his doting older brother would let him have him in every way he might want him.
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"I have missed you," he whispers, knowing that it has already been said and repeating it anyway. He will say it until he no longer feels it. He kisses Essek again as he rubs the wet head of his cock against the backs of his brother's thighs. He knows where the oil is and it wouldn't be difficult to reach for it now, but he doesn't want to spare a hand to do it.
"At night I would think of you here in your soft bed and wonder if you thought of me." His voice is heavy but still soft, and it would be tender if not for the way that Verin is rutting against the soft curve of his brother's ass. He doesn't begrudge Essek the comfort of Rosohna, especially when he knows that it has not always been comfortable for his brother here. Even if Essek's rise was meteoric, Verin knows better than to think it was easy.
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Grasping the sheets, he makes a weak noise against Verin's mouth as he feels his hard cock leaving a wet trail of precome against the backs of his thighs. His blush deepens, if that is possible. Light, when his brother gets into these moods, all his years of intimate experience with Verin seem to evaporate at once, leaving Essek flustered, embarrassingly eager, but utterly devoid of his usual easy authority. He's utterly wrong-footed--but at least he is with the only person who could possibly make him enjoy that.
His brother grinds against him, and Essek's brow knits up as he bites his lower lip, a sharp eyetooth catching and holding. He swallows hard, trying to collect his thoughts enough to respond. Overheated as he is, words are suddenly as ephemeral as steam. His own erection is nestled nicely against his legs, and if he just shifted his hips a little, he's sure he could generate some friction for himself. But he doesn't know if he wants to appear quite so desperate as that just yet, even if he's quickly beginning to feel that way.
He thinks Verin is probably going to fuck his thighs anyway, which he'd half expected since he chose this particular robe. He's always had a thing for his legs.
"Constantly," he admits finally, dangling that tantalizing morsel of an image in front of his brother with the few words he can currently muster. "I've missed you too."
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Verin keeps his brother's smalls twisted around his hand, apparently intent on keeping him like this for a little while at least. Heat suffuses him and Verin sighs, nuzzling into Essek's soft hair. He doesn't mean to be rough, but he wouldn't let it escape like this if he had even an inkling that Essek didn't like it. No, he's very certain that his brother's gasping and writhing beneath him is because Verin has surprised him. It doesn't happen often. He hopes Essek will forgive him for taking advantage since it has.
He shifts his weight back onto his knees so that he has another hand free. He's more gentle as he pulls Essek's robe out of the way - not off, but down to expose a slender shoulder. He leans down to kiss it, far more reverent than the way he's indulging himself with rutting against Essek's thighs. Verin hadn't known what he was going to do until he did it, but being intuitive serves him well.
"Whoever might have warmed my bed in Bazzoxan, I could never love them as I love you."
Maybe it's cruel to mention them, to risk making Essek jealous. Verin's breath catches quietly and he focuses on the way his body feels rather than the fleeting thought of past lovers, some of whom may no longer be alive. Essek is warm and vibrant and living and here beneath him, whispering that he has missed Verin. What else could possibly matter in this moment?
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It is good that such a simple task requires little concentration, because Verin lavishes him with attention that makes Essek gasp and sigh, nuzzling close and slipping his robe from his shoulder to kiss sensually along the revealed skin. Both are in direct contrast to the rough, crude way he's handling him, pinning him in place and rutting against his thighs. But Light, Essek is enjoying every bit of this--even including the immediate flare of jealousy, which serves to enhance everything else he's feeling.
Essek prefers not to hear about his brother's other lovers. He knows that they exist, and that is all he cares to know. He is a selfish creature by nature, and he would keep his brother to himself if he could. But he would hate to forbid Verin from anything that makes him happy, especially in Bazzoxan. And he is vindicated in knowing at least that what Verin says now is true--he's never loved any of them as he loves Essek.
Still, he snarls, "Do not talk about them in my bed." Verin likes it when he bares his teeth, when he gets jealous and possessive and bossy. He must. Why else would he bring it up as frequently as he does?
The crystal bottle nudges Verin's arm somewhat impatiently where it hovers in the air. He can get to using it now, however he intends to. Essek is into this assertiveness--this play at dominance, even. In the strict context of Verin's desire, he likes that he's been overpowered.
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Verin is tempted to tell Essek to use the oil on himself. He has his lithe brother pinned down with his smalls holding his legs closed, the least Verin can do is this. He trusts the bottle to stay where it is as he opens it with his free hand and tips it enough to spill a generous amount into his palm. He leans over Essek again, kissing and then gently biting his shoulder. The pressure is light, only to give him the sensation rather than pain.
His slick hand slips inelegantly between Essek's thighs, spreading oil there generously. Impatient, Verin's cock soon follows. He pushes into the tight space there with a heavy exhale, the relief of the warmth not as good as being buried inside Essek, but he'll get there.
"You have been using this often, I see. How long has it been?" A crude thing to ask, maybe, but the reason should be clear enough as Verin's oiled fingertips slide between Essek's cheeks to rub gently over his hole. Light, he has missed every inch of his brother, and Verin intends to make that clear. "How long since you last filled yourself and thought of me, dearest heart?"
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But his brow furrows and he gasps his brother's name sharply, "Verin," as if in admonishment for asking him something so crass with so little shame. But it makes heat curl in Essek's gut, that insistence on knowing, that crude disregard for his proper modesty. He moans, the sound startled out of him, when he feels rough oiled fingers against his hole a moment later. His breath catches, and he squirms uselessly again, as if that will somehow get him out of answering this series of mortifying, delightfully invasive questions.
But his body will answer for him even if he cannot. Beneath Verin's fingers, his hole is tellingly pliant, clear evidence of recent self-pleasure. Verin already knows far more about his masturbation habits than anyone rightly should. It feels almost like a cycle sometimes. There will be weeks at a time where Essek's body feels awake, where he wants to touch himself constantly, where he indulges in long evenings with fantasies supplemented by toys and magic. Then for months his body is a stranger. The mere idea seems distasteful, a waste of time, and he barely spares it a thought.
As Verin correctly observes, the half-empty bottle indicates that recently, it's the former. He has been using it often.
"Only yesterday," he admits at last, barely above a whisper, face hot.
He did think about Verin yesterday. Frequently he does, but not always, which seems like a betrayal to admit, which is silly when Verin actually does sleep with other people. He's never thought about anyone else he actually knows, but sometimes the men are imagined, bodies with vague features for doing exactly what Essek desires. Sometimes they are not exactly men at all, but constructs of his magic, writhing tentacles or formless forces given more monstrous shape. But that doesn't count as having sex, does it? Even if it very much feels like having sex, it's merely elaborate masturbation. There is no one else involved.
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"My bright star, what were you doing then that you can take me so well now?"
Verin is vaguely aware that he may pay for all of this filthy impertinence later, but it is well worth it now to see Essek squirm and moan and blush beneath him. Light, it is worth everything. He doesn't go far with his penetration, just to the mid-joint of his fingers, before he withdraws them again to rub more oil over Essek's soft hole. He wants to bury himself in the heat of his brother's body, and he will when he hears how badly Essek wants it too.
Until then he starts to slowly fuck between his brother's thighs, ensuring that their bodies meet in a way that gives Essek pleasant friction but not nearly as much satisfaction as Verin has from the tight press of his legs. He could come from this alone, and he is tempted to, knowing how quickly they can both recover and go again.
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Verin is filthy and sweet in the same breath, calling him endearments like my bright star while he questions what he was doing to put his body in such a receptive state. Essek shuts his mouth and shakes his head in stubborn refusal at first, half hiding his face against a pillow. Because he knows exactly what he was doing and he knows that telling Verin will only encourage his frankly vulgar impudence. (Maybe that is what he wants.)
But he can't avoid answering forever. He knows his terrible, boorish brother will fuck it out of him sooner rather than later. He smothers his sounds of pleasure into the pillow as much as he can as Verin begins thrusting between his tightly clenched legs. The heavy heat of his hard cock feels hotter still with the slick friction between them, like a brand against the tender, sensitive skin along the inside of his thighs.
As incredible as this must feel for Verin, for Essek it's a drawn-out tease. It's so good, and there are jolts of more intense sensation when Verin's length rubs against his balls or his thrusts make enough of an impact to bounce the dripping tip of Essek's cock against the sheets or his own legs, but it will never get him off at this angle. And perhaps that is by design. His toes curl as his brother's fingers stroke over his loose hole with more oil. He craves fullness, but he isn't ready to admit just how much yet.
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Despite the exertion of fucking Essek's thighs, Verin manages to keep his voice smooth and rather gentle. A counterpoint to the way he is rather crudely using Essek's lovely body. But if Essek didn't like it, Verin would know in an instant, one way or another. The fact that his brother is trying to stay silent, that his face is burning with embarrassment and need, is rather endearing. Verin knows Essek's practiced modesty, knows that he uses it as both armor and weapon. How his brother has honed every part of his presentation to ensure that other people know what he wants them to know.
But Verin has always been able to slip through the cracks.
"It will have to wait then, until I am certain," he murmurs as his fingers leave Essek entirely. He presses his hand to the bed again so that he can fully cover his brother's smaller body and he fucks him harder, faster, and knowing that relief will likely be just out of reach for Essek unless he touches himself. Or unless Verin does.
With that thought in mind, Verin finally releases Essek's smalls in favor of pinning one of the wizard's elegant hands to the bed. He leans low to nuzzle his brother's pale hair and breathes a heavy sigh; even without the smalls twisted to hold Essek's legs together, his brother would be hard-pressed to get out of this position without arcane interference now that Verin is bodily pinning him. His pace slows until he's grinding against the backs of Essek's thighs.
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Instead, Verin uses his larger body to press him down into the bed and fucks his thighs with a renewed focus, easily keeping Essek's legs in place even without holding onto his smalls. A strong, calloused hand covers his and pins that to the bed as well, which makes Essek lift his head from the pillow with a gasp. The assertion of power in that gesture is on another level entirely to a wizard. Yet Essek trusts his brother like no one else, and with him, allowing himself to be compromised this way is exciting rather than terrifying.
Eyes wide and wild and painted lips parted, panting, Essek again pushes back physically, writhing in place to the extent that he can as Verin draws to a slower grind against him. With a dawning understanding of how helplessly trapped he is, the way he moans verges on desperate.
"I used a toy," he whimpers at last as he turns his darkly blushing face away again. "A...rather sizable one."
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As a reward for speaking, Verin shifts his weight into the hand pinning Essek's to the bed, leaving the other free to sweep through the copious oil between his brother's thighs. Fingers slick once more, they trail up to rub over Essek's pliant hole, and with little more warning than that he buries two fingers in Essek with a single, gentle thrust. Even if Verin remembers how perfect Essek feels, it is nothing like feeling him like this.
"There," he murmurs, leaning low to press his lips to a burning cheek in a kiss that is far more tender than the way he's treated Essek since pulling down his smalls. "I am gratified to know you have not neglected yourself."
Even as he says it, Verin is aware of the cycles Essek goes through, months at a time of simply not thinking about physical desire or pleasure, far more interested or preoccupied in other things. But just as well he knows that his brother can be a vibrant, provocative, and fierce lover. Light, he has loved him for so long. Verin presses his brow to Essek's temple as he moves his hips again, slowly building up a pace as he uses his fingers to fuck his brother's ass while he fucks his thighs.
"I hate to think of you unsatisfied, Essek."
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Light, it feels so good. Even the cock he'd used yesterday, a truly outsized thing that had taken some time to fit inside him, can't compare to the simple pleasure of Verin's touch within his body after all this time. When Essek is alone, his moods are fickle. But with his brother, he wants. He could do this every day. At one point in their lives, they did do it nearly every day. But it has been a long time since then.
"I would not have to satisfy myself," he whispers tightly, "if you visited your older brother more often. But I manage."
Flexing his thighs, he gives Verin's cock a deliberate squeeze, a tighter place to fuck into between the smooth, oil-slicked skin of his legs. Sometimes part of him wishes he were capable of taking other lovers--or more accurately, of desiring other lovers. At times like this, he can't help feeling slightly pathetic, needing his brother in a way that Verin doesn't need him. If he didn't have Verin, he wouldn't do this at all.
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He shudders over his brother and he cannot grab his chin and kiss him the way he suddenly, urgently wants to; nor can he coax Essek's finger away from his mouth. He keeps his head down, reverent, and his hair falls over his shoulders to shroud them both. Verin curls his fingers carefully the next time he pushes them in, and it only takes him a few strokes to find the spot he's looking for. He knows he's hit it for sure when Essek's body tightens and trembles around him.
"Light, Essek--you already feel ready for me." That's a surprise, and Verin has to wonder how the Shadowhand was occupying himself yesterday. He gently bites Essek's earlobe, mindful of the jewelry. "Are you? You know your thighs alone would make me come."
And he is tempted to find his finish there, but he aches to be inside Essek. He wants to give his brother everything.
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