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When Julien wakes at dawn to find Tachonis gone, he is surprised. In the week or so they've been travelling together, Tachonis has not proven himself an early riser, and by no longer being human, he's done away with most of the reasons a person has for leaving camp surreptitiously. Vaelus is sitting with her eyes closed, and whether she's awake or not Julien can never tell. He suspects she doesn't sleep. Tachonis' little beast, Pincushion, is trotting around in the grass, snapping at passing insects. So, the wizard is not dead or in distress. Still, Julien wonders what he could be up to.
“Where is your master?” he asks the fox. It swivels its head to look at him, then wanders over to Vaelus, settling in her lap. She begins petting its mismatched ears, and Julien still cannot tell if she is awake. In the canvas tent strung up between the trees behind them, Thaisha and Lady Aranessa sleep in relative peace. One of them is snoring – Thaisha, no doubt.
Julien stands up, restless, and goes to find Tachonis. He doesn't trust his absence. The stone that Vaelus is now custodian of brought him back, but what now? After what he has seen, Julien can believe that Primus could puppeteer the boy at any time from afar. He wasn't lying when he insisted Occtis would not be leaving his sight.
When Julien begins to look closely, there is a trail of dewless grass, a clear sign of a creature passing by. He follows it into the sparse woods behind their campsite. The grass is thick with clusters of red and orange flowers, bright spots in the grass that's bluish in the shade. There is the beginning of an incline, and the sound of a brook babbling not far away. Birds twitter and hide in the branches above.
Walking over the crest of the hill, it is immediately obvious what the Tachonis boy has snuck away for. He is sitting in the relative privacy of the river bank, one hand in his trousers, the other propping him up. Clearly, undeath has not robbed him of all bodily functions.
“So this is what you abandon your camp for, Tachonis?” Julien says, loudly enough for Tachonis to hear.
Occtis turns around, the unearthly green of his eyes flashing in the half-light of dawn. His hand jerks out of his clothes and into his lap. “What do you want?”
“You've been gone for almost a half hour. Don't tell me this is what you have been doing the whole time.”
Tachonis just glares balefully at him.
Julien laughs shortly. “You must have been a disappointing lover in life, if you cannot even please yourself.”
“Sir Davinos, I cannot express my gratitude at your input.” Occtis snaps. “Being as you are such an expert in the unwanted side effects of undeath.”
“Those side-effects being?”
“Not of your concern.” Occtis sniffs.
“I maintain it's an issue of skill.” Julien says, and then, “I doubt I would have such problems.”
There is a beat of silence. That young Occtis is not backing down, shrinking into the foliage in embarrassment is already unexpected. Instead, Julien senses an unspoken challenge. Before Julien has time to think better of it, he is closing the distance between them, kneeling down on the damp grass. Tachonis has ample time to back away, but he doesn't, just looks up at Julien with an obscure expression. Julien isn't sure if he was always this hard to read, or if his undeath has affected his ability to emote.
Back in Dol Makjar, sleeping with nobles was a risky business. Unlike commoners, they could back up the grudge they held, and more often than not would pay back any slight tenfold. Therefore, Julien rarely had the opportunity to indulge in debauching young, naïve nobles too privileged to understand their own good fortune. It cannot be denied that Tachonis is exactly the type that Julien would have loved to fuck and then abandon in the morning, leaving behind nothing but a hefty tab for the bar downstairs. Up close, Occtis has delicate features, high cheekbones, a scattering of freckles made fainter by the pallor of death on him. His trousers are still unlaced, and Julien wastes no time reaching down between Occtis' legs with his ungauntleted hand.
Occtis' body is surprising for two reasons. The first thing Julien learns is that, unless there was a potent and unrelated side effect to the ritual that resurrected him, at some point in Occtis' youth the family Tachonis realised that their eighth daughter was in fact a son. This is an interesting quirk, but not as interesting as the fact that Occtis is cold. Not ice cold, but matching the temperature of the morning air. Occtis still doesn't move to stop his hand's downward path – if anything, he opens his legs slightly. Julien scoffs, slides his hand into Occtis' underwear. Occtis has an unusual smell – not unpleasant, but it slightly raises the hairs on Julien's arms, like a predator is nearby. When his fingers find wetness, he slips one inside, glancing at Occtis' face. The confrontational look is gone; instead, he stares at Julien with intense curiosity. His hand, relieved of its previous task, comes to rest on Julien's forearm.
Encountering no resistance, Julien goes to work, and he doesn't know what Tachonis was complaining about because he is easily pleased. It's less than a minute before he is shuddering and clutching Julien's arm so hard Julien thinks his nails might actually draw blood. As he orgasms, Julien watches the green werelight in his eyes blink out for a second, and then slowly reignite. Satisfied that he has proven his point, Julien pulls his hand free and wipes it on the grass. For Occtis, it seems there is no afterglow, no falling boneless on the grass, blushing from head to toe; his body just reverts to its previous inert state. The only evidence that anything has occurred between them at all, once Occtis has refastened his trousers, is the way Occtis stares at Julien's hand.
“What about you?” Occtis asks after a moment. Julien has no intention of indulging him; no doubt he has noticed Julien's incidental arousal and thinks he has some right of access to Julien's body.
“You'd better get yourself together.” Julien stands up and brushes dust from his clothes. “Your three guard dogs will be wondering where you've gotten to.”
Tachonis narrows his eyes. “Your Lady Aranessa will be wondering where you've gotten to.”
“Keep her name out of your mouth.” Julien says, heading for camp without looking back.
He thinks, perhaps foolishly, that that will be the end of it.
It only occurs to Julien after he has fondled Occtis Tachonis that Thaisha Lloy does not need another excuse to despise him. If Occtis were to tell his travelling companions about what occurred by the river, Thaisha would no doubt jump to some terrible conclusions. Of course Julien was trying to be cruel when he propositioned Occtis, but it was consensual. You only needed to look into Occtis' eyes while it was happening to know that. Plus, despite appearances, Julien has no doubt Occtis is perfectly capable of defending himself – one does not grow up in a den of vipers and remain a simple worm.
Despite his nerves, Thaisha doesn't seem to regard Julien with any more hatred than usual as their journey continues. And to his credit, Occtis is his normal reserved self. He rides just ahead of Julien, hood pulled up so that all that's visible of his face is a lock of dark hair and a flash of green. The horse had been jittery at first, as if it could sense the nature of its rider, but it seems to have accepted Tachonis now. It probably helps that it gets Occtis' share of the rations; Thaisha insists on giving the boy a fair portion, even though they can all plainly see him looking nauseous about it. Julien watches Occtis surreptitiously feed his mount when he thinks no-one is looking. When they stop to rest, Julien keeps a watch on the road, half-concerned and half hoping that some representative of the Tachonises that he is allowed to kill will be foolish enough to cross their path. None does. The Tachonis that travels with them licks his finger and turns a page of his spellbook, paying no attention to Julien.
About a week later, Julien finds himself camped on yet another backwoods road between civilisation. The predictable monotony of riding and camping and riding again is becoming dull and exhausting. He has grown too soft, too used to the drama and hustle of the city.
He is not expecting Occtis to corner him while they are gathering firewood, an unreadable look in his eyes, and say, “Will you do it again?”
Julien is briefly lost for words. He recovers fast, though. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Tachonis.”
“Yes, you do.” Occtis is staring at him, not flirtatious, just intense. “You can't have forgotten.”
“Most of my interactions with you are entirely forgettable.”
“Most of them, perhaps.” Occtis says. “I haven't forgotten. How- how could I?”
It occurs to Julien that Occtis might be trying to appeal to his ego, in his stilted way, and it's irritating because it works. Pleasing his myriad lovers is a point of pride for Julien, and that extends even to whatever this is. The idea of Occtis lying on his bedroll and reminiscing about Julien getting him off is as flattering as it is strange.
The other members of their group are nowhere to be seen, but Julien still glances over his shoulder. “You aren't worried about being caught?”
There's a rustling in the dense ferns nearby. “Pin'll keep watch.”
“The idea of that little beast being near is terrible for the libido.” Julien says.
Fortunately, the sight of Occtis pushing him backwards to sit on a fallen tree, climbing into Julien's lap while trying to unfasten his trousers with barely contained desperation is not terrible for the libido – quite the opposite, and Julien immediately forgets Occtis' horrible familiar. Occtis' movements are a little clumsy, and Julien's not sure if its because he's unused to sitting in someone's lap, or unused to his resurrected body. Julien shakes the thought out of his mind as he lets his gauntlet hit the ground; he has every intention of grabbing Occtis with both hands this time.
“How long have you been thinking of this?” Julien tsks, noting the damp patch on Occtis' underwear already.
“Don't tease me.” Occtis says, pulling Julien's hand towards him. The sound he makes when he sinks down onto Julien's fingers almost makes Julien forget that he's a dead man.
It's Julien's own rash decisions that have led him here, to a woodland clearing where the eighth Tachonis son rides his fingers, the evidence of his arousal running down Julien's wrist and dripping onto the ferns beneath them. Julien can't bring himself to regret it, but he does wonder in what form it will inevitably come back to bite him. Occtis' teeth graze his shoulder when he comes, squeezing Julien's knuckles together inside him. Don't the undead have a taste for human flesh? Perhaps one day something will be unlocked in young Tachonis, and he'll turn on Julien. Perhaps it's all a ruse, to get him alone with his clothes off. It probably isn't safe to be so close to him.
Why it's this thought that makes Julien's cock throb, he chooses not to examine. He unlaces his own trousers once Occtis comes for a second time. It's almost embarrassingly easy to bring him off; Julien barely has to try. He could give him another, but he's been generous enough. When Occtis reaches for him, Julien swats him away, instead stroking himself until he comes onto Occtis' thighs not a few seconds later.
“Oh.” Occtis says, staring at the mess. Julien makes the mistake of leaning on Occtis' chest briefly as he catches his breath. The absence of a heartbeat is noticeable even through the layers of clothing. He feels Occtis touch his hair, hesitantly. It only then occurs to Julien that this might be the first time Occtis has witnessed anyone's orgasm but his own.
“Get off me, Tachonis.” Julien shifts his legs to destabilise Occtis, who stumbles to his feet, clumsy once again and wiping the evidence off of him. He looks perturbed at being treated this way, and Julien is glad. It will serve him well to understand what this is.
It's a real shame that Occtis was celibate in life, Julien thinks, because the man is relentless. Insatiable. A natural, he might even go as far as to say. Since that first fateful morning, they have had dozens of ill-advised liaisons. Against ancient trees in the woods, in the back of a cart, hastily while on watch, barely twenty paces from the campfire and their sleeping companions. There are bruises on Julien's shoulders from how Occtis bites down to muffle himself, scratch marks on his lower back inflicted by blunt nails. In front of the others, Occtis does nothing to indicate anything has changed between them. He doesn't start following Julien around like a lovesick puppy, nor does he give him the cold shoulder. He still makes notes in his many books, jokes with Thaisha about things Julien does not understand, and talks late into the night with Vaelus while Julien's mortal body forces him to sleep.
Then, finally, there is a roof over their heads. A roadside inn, respectable enough for there to be patrons other than themselves, and remote enough that they aren't likely to run into any representatives of the Sundered houses. Julien's glad of it for Aranessa's sake, if no-one else's. Out of all of them, she is least used to the road, though she bears it without any complaint. The rooms they rent have small narrow beds and stale air, but any bed is kinder to the body than the hard ground. It's the depths of night, and Occtis has snuck out from the room he still shares with Thaisha to meet him. When they're alone, Julien teases him about always bunking with Thaisha. You know what they say about a young man who likes older women, Tachonis. Occtis just rolls his eyes.
Underneath him, Occtis' eyes roll against his will. There is a certain look that comes over Occtis when they fuck – and yes, Julien gave up on withholding his body from Occtis weeks ago. It had been about the fourth of their encounters, and the temptation to bend him over against the old farm wall had been too much to resist. Never mind that, as the older and more worldly-wise of them, Julien should definitely have been the one to end their secret trysts. He knows from experience that it pays not to shit where you eat – to put it crudely. But, he is who he is, and there is something persuasive about Occtis, the way he pursues Julien with transparent desire, all but begging Julien to be his first. He behaves like he waited his whole life to make this particular mistake. Technically, Julien supposes, he did.
Being inside Occtis still feels strange, even after a dozen times – the lack of heat, almost like fucking nothing, thin air or a spirit of some kind. The strangeness does something for Julien, though. And there is that look on Occtis' face – long gone is the blushing virgin, if he was ever in there at all. It's like a frenzy, a flash of violence in those profane green eyes. It's a good thing Julien is not easily frightened.
He pushes one of Occtis' knees up onto his chest to deepen the thrust. “You're too quiet, you know. I want to hear you.”
“The rest...ah, the rest of the inn doesn't.” It takes a noticeable effort for Occtis to string a coherent sentence, which pleases Julien immensely.
“Oh, but that's where you're wrong.” Julien leans in, whispering close to Occtis' ear. “You know how many of them would pay good gold to be in my position?”
“Gold? What do you think I am?” Occtis fixes Julien with as disapproving a look as he can muster while Julien is hitting the angle he likes so much.
“A whore, of course.” Julien says, and Occtis clenches around him.
“How- ah, how dare you.”
“I'm sorry, is that not what you are? Forgive me, you have been crawling to my bedroll, dripping and mewling-”
“Julien-” Occtis gasps - Julien can't tell if it's admonishment or praise. He adjusts the angle, Occtis' body as pliable as a ragdoll. Occtis is giving him the look that's equal parts anger and arousal, and it's tantalising. Julien leans back, watching Occtis come apart on the thin pillows. He needs to see the green light in his eyes disappear. It unnerved Julien, the first few times it happened, a moment of panic that Occtis might de-animate in his arms, and he would have to explain to Thaisha and Vaelus and Aranessa that he somehow fucked a so-called miracle out of existence. That Occtis' soul had been sent straight back to the Tenebral Reaches by Julien's hard earned prowess in the sack. He grins; Occtis doesn't see it, eyes closed in ecstasy. There is something a little satisfying about fucking Primus' son. Yes, granted, the one he hates and had killed. But still, it's a win-win – Occtis clearly gets something out of it, and Julien gets to lay claim to one thread of the Tachonis' web. He gets to cross enemy lines in a way he doubts any Tachonis patriarch would expect. He gets to hear Occtis moan his name and act as unlike a loyal son as it is possible to act. And he has the satisfaction of knowing that one day, Primus is going to die at his hands. Julien is going to wring the life out of him-
He is snapped out of his thoughts by Occtis pulling his hair, hard.
“Ow, Tachonis-”
When Julien looks down, Occtis doesn't look in the throes of arousal. His eyes are wide with panic. Julien's right hand, the one that usually wears the gauntlet, is around his throat. Not pressing hard enough to hurt him, especially now that he has no need to breathe, but squeezing nonetheless. Julien had lovers who enjoyed it, the light-headed feeling. Occtis just stares at him, a tremor running through his body.
Julien withdraws his hand, sitting back. “You don't like that?”
Occtis gives a nervous grin, eerily similar to that of his fox, but doesn't speak. He is still wearing his shirt, which Julien hadn't thought to question up until this point; they'd made a habit of fucking outdoors, after all. The shirt collar is revealing enough for Julien to see a thin, raised scar on Occtis' neck, the remnant of something that choked the life out of him, on the night that seems like centuries ago and yet seconds ago. Occtis must be reliving it now, by the way his eyes are fixed on a distant point. Julien only then realises that he is still inside Occtis, and he hastily withdraws. Occtis doesn't seem to notice.
“Ah. I didn't think. It was not- I apologise, Tachonis. Occtis.”
Occtis seems to be trying to recollect himself. He inhales deeply, and Julien is suddenly aware of how pointless this action is. He thinks he hears cartilage click in the ribcage. How is it the boy can seem so alive one minute, and so profoundly dead the next? Reliving traumas of the past does not, unfortunately, seem to be limited to the realms of the living. Julien reaches out to Occtis without thinking, squeezes his thin hand. The palm is warm from clinging to Julien's back – the knuckles are cold.
“Is there – is there something I can do?”
Occtis jerks his head in the direction of the door.
“Are you sure?”
Julien assumes he is asking for Thaisha, or even Aranessa – the two of them have grown closer on the road, muttering to each other about magic. He doesn't want to fetch someone – Thaisha would probably turn into a wolf and tear him to shreds, and archfae forbid that his Lady should ever find out about this. However, Julien has experienced his fair share of terrors, and despite his best efforts, he is not monstrous.
There is a scratching sound at the door that makes his hackles rise. It sounds like – an animal. Julien finds his abandoned shirt, which thankfully falls low enough to cover his modesty, and opens the door a crack. Something small darts into the room, dashing between his legs – Pincushion, scrambling up into Julien's bed to join Occtis.
“Huh.” Julien says, closing the door again. “Fantastic. Another undead beast in my bed.”
He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.
To his profound surprise, Occtis lets out a huff of laughter. The fox climbs up onto his shoulders, baring teeth and growling at Julien.
“Don't worry, creature. I am staying over here, see?” Julien raises his hands, heads over to the knapsack on the back of the door and pulls free a small bottle. He takes a swig, feels the burn of the liquor relax him immediately, and leans against the closed door. After a minute or so, Occtis stands up mechanically, still naked from the waist down. Julien almost offers to help him dress, something he has never deigned to do before, but reasons it might not be welcome. Beyond that, he has noticed the look Occtis gets when Thaisha is overprotective, and when Vaelus looks at him like he is a fragile artefact. He rebukes it. He has returned from death, how fragile can he be?
So, once Occtis is dressed, Julien offers him the bottle of liquor. Occtis shakes his head, but Pincushion, balanced as always on his master's shoulders, leans over and sniffs the bottle, as if checking for poison. After a moments thought, it snatches the bottle in its mouth, nearly snagging one of Julien's fingers in a way he is certain is deliberate. As Occtis retreats down the corridor to his own room, the fox stares Julien down with its button eyes.
What are you going to tell them? Julien wants to ask. Is this it?
He watches Occtis until he disappears from view, on the pretence of being worried he might collapse in the corridor. Then, he goes to lie back down. The uncomfortable bed is cold and smells of Occtis, and it's past dawn when Julien eventually sleeps.
Julien doesn't touch Occtis for a week. From the tiny inn they travel north, eventually arriving in a larger settlement that is still little more than a glorified village. The trail the group are following has gone cold and so they are forced to linger a while. Occtis takes the opportunity to visit the small local library, insisting that there is always something of interest to be found, and Thaisha follows him. Julien spends his time poring over maps with Lady Aranessa and eating the best food the locals have to offer – needless to say, the bar is not high, though they have some passable wine. Since giving up his personal supply of good liquor to a fox, Julien will accept what he can get.
As they while away the hours, Julien waits for the other shoe to drop. Surely the boy will let something slip, admit to Thaisha over their research that Julien has been using him unashamedly for weeks, and that he finally overstepped. Every morning, late enough that Julien still scoffs internally, Occtis, Thaisha and sometimes Vaelus head out of the inn to conduct their research. They return when the sun has almost set, chattering ceaselessly. When Julien catches Occtis' eye, he looks tired, drawn, frustrated – as they all do. It is a relief in some ways that he appears the same as ever. Julien will not admit that he misses Occtis' clumsy, furtive advances; it just seems a shame to waste a private room and a real bed.
One evening, the ladies take themselves to the small local bathhouse. Julien is nursing an ale in the downstairs of the inn, warm by the fire and vexed that he is still sober, when Occtis appears at his shoulder.
“Will you come upstairs with me?” He says simply.
Julien scoffs but there is no real scorn to it. “Why would I want to do that?”
“If ever there was a question that warranted further study...” Occtis says, with the briefest of smiles. Then, he pulls a small dark bottle out of his coat pocket and places it on the side table next to Julien. “I couldn't drink it. Well. I could try, but I expect you would enjoy it more.”
Julien takes another sip of ale – it's suddenly tasteless in his mouth. He doesn't know where to look.
“Julien, if you- I don't know.” Julien can see Occtis' hands fidgeting in his periphery, a pale band on the finger where his family's signet ring used to be. “I'll be in my room.”
When Occtis leaves, Julien slumps. He picks up the bottle, which remains half-full, just as it was when he gave it away. Lively chatter fills the room around him. The inn is just busy enough that he doesn't draw attention to himself, sitting here alone. A young woman gives him a curious glance. A fiddler warms up in the corner, preparing for some evening performance. Julien waits for some strike of inspiration, or conscience, that will tell him how to proceed. Another mistake in a litany of mistakes, and guilt gnaws at him again – or is it thirst?
When he inevitably ends up outside the room Occtis shares with Thaisha, Julien hesitates in the doorway. When he knocks and opens the unlocked door, Occtis is sitting on a stool by the bed, sorting through some of the unsettling scalpels and bottles he carries with him. He seems genuinely surprised when he looks up and sees Julien standing there.
“Oh.”
“Well, I don't have all night, Tachonis.” Julien closes the door behind him. “What do you want?”
The small grin that Occtis gives him as he slides a small pair of pliers into a leather case is almost mischievous. “I might have believed that you find me forgettable a few weeks ago, but I don't believe it now.”
Julien huffs. “I don't understand what you're smiling about. Last time, we didn't exactly-”
Occtis stands up and approaches him carefully, with measured steps. “One mistake is forgivable. Wouldn't you agree?”
Julien swallows. “That depends on the mistake.”
Occtis gets close enough that his lack of body heat is noticeable. “Will you understand if I tell you I don't want to talk about it?”
Yet again, Occtis is an unwelcome mirror. “I understand that impulse better than you know.”
“Good. Then let me demonstrate that I've forgiven you.” He says, and it's such a scientific way of seducing him that Julien almost laughs. He isn't amused by the time Occtis has shoved him back onto the bed and taken Julien halfway down his throat – no, what he feels is entirely different. There are benefits to not needing to breathe, and Occtis, ever a quick study, hasn't hesitated to exploit every single one of them.
When Occtis pulls off of him, lips cool and soft, Julien can barely think. It is easier when Occtis is the one writhing underneath him, mindless with pleasure. When Occtis is trying to get Julien off – and often succeeding – he has a habit of scrutinising Julien in an unnerving way. It makes him feel like he is an experiment – one that Occtis finds frustrating and fascinating in equal measure.
“Come here.” Julien says, patting the bed next to him. “Like I said, we don't have all night.”
Occtis makes a small gesture, mutters an arcane word, and Julien hears the bolt on the door slide into place. “Now we do.”
Julien tries not to be embarrassed at the excited twitch in his body, watching Occtis weave the spell. He can do wicked things with a mage hand, Julien has learned. Occtis sheds his trousers with a single-minded focus. Then, he hesitates. Julien tenses, alert for any sign that Occtis might have been too shaken by their previous encounter to ever trust Julien with his body again.
“What is it?”
Occtis' hands hesitate at the buttons of his shirt. Then, he looks at Julien. “Do you mind if I take this off?”
Julien blinks. Does he mind? He doesn't know what he might see under there, but he'll be damned if he is seen recoiling. “Suit yourself.”
Occtis leans forward and kisses him. Julien freezes in surprise. He can taste himself on Occtis' tongue, along with that strange energy that suffuses all of Occtis. It's neither a smell nor a taste, really, more a sense. A sixth sense telling Julien to be afraid of the restless dead. He can feel Occtis' cold hands all over him, creeping under his shirt, unfastening his belt. A thumb brushes his nipple.
“Weren't you going to undress yourself, Tachonis? This is not what we agreed.” Julien says, but he's shuffling out of his underwear all the same. After weeks of exposure, Julien's libido no longer has any hesitations when it comes to Occtis.
“I'm getting there.” Occtis says, teeth sharp on Julien's throat, and Julien is going to kill him permanently if he leaves a hickey on his neck like a teenager. Serves you right for sleeping with a younger man, Aranessa would tease him if she knew. Occtis makes Julien slide up the bed so he can climb on top, bracing his hand on the headboard. The other arm is wrapped around Julien's neck, somewhere between an embrace and a headlock.
“What made you change your mind?” Julien asks, despite himself.
“Boredom, of course. What else?” Occtis says, and sinks down onto Julien's willing cock.
It's fucked up, how well suited Occtis' revenant body is for this. His muscles don't cramp, his thighs don't tire; he could ride Julien for hours chasing his pleasure. Julien can't help but hope that one day they might get to put that to the test – in a more comfortable room, with a bed three times the size and no chance of interruption. Julien reaches down and strokes Occtis with his thumb where their bodies meet – it's not easy to find the right spot with him bouncing all over the place, but the effort's worth the moans that escape him, increasing in pitch. So much for not alerting the inn – soon the whole village will be coming out to see what the fuss is about.
After barely a minute Occtis orgasms with a gasp, clenching down on Julien hard, and it takes every bit of willpower Julien has not to join him.
“Is that all? I should have stayed downstairs.” Julien says, but the strain in his voice betrays him.
Occtis swipes the hair out of his eyes, instantly lucid, and lets go of where he's been clinging to Julien and doing his best to crush the headboard. He seems to notice the shirt is still on him, and a strange look crosses his face. He doesn't bother with the buttons this time – in a show of strength and impulse that Julien didn't think he was capable of, Occtis rips the shirt open. Buttons clatter onto the floor and the side table. Beneath the shirt, a livid scar bisects him from sternum to navel. It ends just high enough that Julien never noticed it while clutching Occtis' hips or fingering him – or perhaps he was too busy watching Occtis' face to pay attention to it.
“Well. Was that really necessary?” Julien says, but there's no way Occtis doesn't feel how he twitches inside him.
Occtis looks down at himself, and then at Julien, a crease of worry on his brow. “You'd rather I kept it on?”
Julien shakes his head, tugging the ruined shirt off where it still clings to Occtis' arms. Stray threads from the destroyed buttons snag as he does so. “No, no. I think I've earned the full picture, don't you?”
For the first time in weeks, some of the shyness that characterises Occtis outside the bedroom seems to be creeping into his demeanour. “I- Some things are best left to the imagination.”
That won't do - Julien much prefers him drooling like a rabid incubus, without a self-conscious thought in his head. It's such an amusing contrast to the way he behaves in every other social situation.
“Perhaps you are put off by a few scars, wizard, but I am not.” Julien says, tugging on Occtis' hips by way of encouragement.
Occtis cocks his head, and Julien wishes he wouldn't do that because it is exactly what the fox does, but he does start rocking his hips again. He has a narrow, lean body that now looks just on the unhealthy side of slim. Possibly a side effect of his undeath, or maybe just one of being a wizard that seldom eats, sleeps or experiences daylight. The scar stretches as Occtis' chest heaves with fruitless breaths, the moonlight pouring through the window making him look more ghoulish than ever. There is a fading bruise on Occtis' hip that Julien thinks he might have caused – one of those times he took Occtis from behind, not trying to be rough but not being gentle either. And it is true, the long scar is not repulsive to look at if Julien doesn't think too hard about how it was acquired. About how Occtis' own brother gutted him like a fish, while simultaneously his father was slaughtering everyone Julien cared about. The scar is twisted and uneven, widening where Ethrand had to fight to get through bone, narrow where the knife slid easier-
Occtis loses his rhythm, and Julien thinks for a moment he's had one of those second or third orgasms that he won't deny he is jealous of.
“Is something wrong?” Occtis asks. “Your, um-”
To Julien's annoyance, his deflated erection slips from Occtis, cold on Julien's thigh. “Ugh.”
A shadow flickers across Occtis' face. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”
Julien reaches out and covers Occtis' mouth before he can say anything else. Occtis makes a noise of disbelief, then bites Julien's hand – not entirely gently.
“It's not your appearance.” Julien says, once he has put thoughts of that night firmly out of his head. “It's that you talk too much.”
Occtis scoffs, wriggling free of Julien's grasp. “You're a reprobate.”
“There you go again.”
“I should kick you out of here.”
“You should.” Julien says, grinning through his discomfort, “But you won't.”
“I certainly will. What use are you to me like this?” Occtis says, and it almost stings Julien's pride. Almost, because Occtis' hand is creeping up his thigh, and his gaze is fixed on Julien like he might just eat him alive. “You'd better get it together.”
“And why is that?”
Occtis leans close to him, so close that their foreheads almost touch, close enough that the eldritch green light in his eyes is all Julien can see. “Because I will not have another thing taken from us.” He says, and it sounds like a threat in a way that makes Julien shiver. Vengeful rage looks good on Occtis Tachonis – and it is, he discovers, a sure way to bring Julien's body back to attention. Whether this is a deliberate machination of Occtis' Julien has no idea.
When Occtis climbs back onto him, he wraps the sheet around himself to hide the scar.
“Don't do that on my account.” Julien says, though he does feel a weight lift from his traitorous mind.
“You've indulged me enough this evening, Sir Davinos,” Occtis says; Julien's pride does not know how to feel about Occtis talking to him like this, but his body certainly does. “This is for you. Close your eyes if you want to.”
Julien does as he is told.
Once Occtis has driven Julien to the edge of exhaustion, wrenching two orgasms from him before he is forced to surrender, they lie together in the rumpled sheets. Julien is still trying to catch his breath; Occtis is motionless and pensive next to him. The bed is more comfortable than the one at the previous place, Julien has to admit. He dozes for a few minutes, and then feels the prickling sensation of someone watching him.
He opens one eye and sees Occtis staring at him. “What?”
“Aren't you going to leave?” Occtis asks.
“Oh.” Julien glances around. “Are they back?”
“No,” Occtis says, “You just don't usually stay after.” He doesn't say it with any malice, just a simple statement of fact. It irritates Julien.
“What, were you expecting a tender embrace after we fucked outside in the rain and mud? If you want to be treated like a prince, don't behave like a dog.” Julien huffs, reclining in a way he hopes is obnoxious. “And if I had tried to stay last time, Pincushion would have bitten my hand off.”
Occtis just grins and goes back to staring at the ceiling. It's impossible to maintain any distance in this bed, which is barely big enough for one man, let alone two. It would be belated to try to maintain distance now, Julien thinks as he readjusts his position, resting his head on Occtis' shoulder. Maybe it's presumptuous to do so, and if it is possible for Occtis to grow stiller than a corpse, he does. Then, he relaxes, and lets Julien hook a leg over him. His skin is warmer than usual, still holding onto Julien's residual heat.
“Must you steal all of the blanket?” Occtis complains.
“You certainly don't need it. And 'blanket' is generous, it's not fit for a horse.”
Occtis hums in agreement, though at what part of the statement Julien is not sure.
It is surprisingly easy to fall asleep on Occtis. At some point along the way, his lack of heartbeat has become unshocking, his unnatural stillness just a quirk of his nature. When Julien wakes up, he doesn't know how long has passed. It's raining outside, a gentle drumming against the small window, and too dark now for Julien to see the terrible scar. His head still rests on Occtis' chest. He feels Occtis toying with his hair, separating the curls, running his fingers through it. A hundred lovers have done it before – what's one more?
There is a diffuse green glow in the room, so faint it is almost not noticeable - emanating from Occtis' eyes, no doubt.
“Julien.”
“Hmm?”
Occtis' hand pauses its movements in his hair, perhaps surprised to find him awake. There is a moment's silence, and then a quiet “Thank you.”
Julien raises an eyebrow, knowing that his expression can't be seen. “It's strange to thank someone for fucking you. Just a tip for the future.”
Occtis laughs quietly, and the sound reverberates through Julien's skull. “That's not why I'm thanking you, but I appreciate the advice.”
What exactly Occtis is thanking him for, Julien has no idea. He would think on it further but, well – he's tired, and Occtis is warm where Julien's been lying on him.
It can wait until morning, like everything else.