Caleb's cock spreads him open and his body yields to it as his lover finally sinks into him. The trust Yussa's given this man is well-rewarded with the care Caleb takes when they do things like this: Caleb makes great effort not to hurt him. A small tremor ripples through Yussa's body as Caleb rocks in and out of him, coaxing his cunt to relax further. The gentle stretch makes him want to moan, but other than his breathing, Yussa remains silent.
Cool air touches more of his skin as Caleb undoes the buttons. As the fabric parts and slides away, either with Caleb's guidance or just from the weight and fall of the fabric, another wave of shivers cascades through him, lighting him his nerves and threatening to wake him.
His lover's husky voice fills him with wicked thoughts, Yussa's mind racing to imagine such a scenario. What would it be like to wake - truly wake - with the soreness of being used? To wake to the feeling of come dripping from his cunt? He tightens briefly around the other man's cock on the next thrust inward.
Perhaps it is coincidence, but Caleb doesn't miss the way Yussa bears down on him as he pushes in again. It certainly seems like a reaction to his words, which stirs up all sorts of wicked thoughts. If Yussa enjoys that fantasy so much, maybe they can discuss it later.
"Did you like that?" he asks now, husky and gently teasing. With enough buttons undone, he tugs open the front of Yussa's caftan to bare his breasts. Both hands slide up his slim torso to squeeze at the soft flesh, rolling peaked nipples between thumb and forefinger. "You have been on my mind for days. I would have you any way I could."
His hips meet Yussa's as he bottoms out, and again when he pulls back to repeat the motion, stroking slowly deep inside his cunt to spread his passage open for longer, smoother thrusts to come. He is pacing himself for both their sakes, trying to keep a handle on his eagerness and regulate his breathing. If he relinquished his self-control, he could easily bring himself to a swift finish. But that isn't what he wants. He wants to take his time, to enjoy the unbelievable gift that is Yussa quietly and passively permitting him to take his pleasure this way. It is too good to squander.
Yussa aches to respond. He wants to grab Caleb, to hold his hair or his arms, to respond to the way his lover pinches and teases him with more than just another ripple of tension through his body. The callouses on the younger man's hands feel good against his soft skin, providing a rough edge to an otherwise tender encounter. Caleb has learned so quickly how to take him apart.
Caleb's hips press against him as he pushes deep again and again; Yussa cannot spare himself that awareness, teetering still on the line between full consciousness and his trance. He can tell Caleb is pacing himself and that excites him as much as it tests him.
In truth, he too has been thinking of Caleb for days. Since the young man left his tower with a satchel full of potions, ones he was willing to spare with some idea of what his lover - and his friends - were rushing toward. And since he's been aware of their return, he has ached to hear Caleb's voice, to feel his lips and his hands, to be assured of his survival in the most primal way possible.
Feeling Yussa's body react, the subtle way he tightens and tremors, is heady. These are signs of pleasure he cannot help or control, his honest response to what Caleb is doing to him. Cupping his breasts and tugging at his nipples, he looks on with hunger at the lovely, debauched display of his resting lover. He rolls his hips, withdrawing far enough to give them both a taste of hot, slick friction when he pushes back in.
"I should have come sooner," he says tightly. "I wanted to. You were so beautiful that day, standing above me draped in gold like a single ray of sun against the grey sky." There is a soft huff, a sharp exhale, as he nearly laughs at himself. "Maybe that is too close to bad poetry. But I did not know what would happen, and seeing you--I was reminded again why I wade into the flames."
Yussa doesn't need anyone to protect him. He is very capable of defending himself. But he'd sounded so worried--perhaps even frightened--when his voice came into Caleb's mind that day. It has probably been a long time, Caleb would guess, since a threat so powerful and imminent made itself known so close to home. There was plenty of reason for anyone to be scared.
But they are both alive and safe, and Caleb feels more free to confess what is on his heart during this tender, one-sided lovemaking than he might otherwise.
Gods, he can't. He can't listen and stay separate at the same time. He can't maintain his concentration when he's hit with something more than pure physical sensation. Yussa tries, knowing what this gives Caleb: a space in which he can do and say things he might normally refrain from. He wants to give his lover that. He can.
He tries to think instead of how charming he found it when Caleb flew up to his tower, bypassing the front door and Wensforth altogether. Impertinent, but charming. How far he's come from the terrified, paranoid young man he first met, one who could barely breathe in his presence for the fear of what if. Perhaps the only member of the Nein who realized how dangerous Yussa Errenis could be should he turn against them. And one of the two reasons why Yussa indulged at all, Caduceus Clay being the other. Caleb Widogast, waiting in thin air for him to appear, both to make a request and, perhaps, to say--not goodbye. Yussa doesn't think either of them would have tolerated that well.
Hope to see you next week, he'd said instead. Not quite a promise to return, but the hope that he would. The intention to try. Yussa sent him off with the only resources he had at the time that he knew would be of use. Caleb Widogast, even if there are things he is still learning, did not need spells from him.
His fingers twitch against the bed, but Yussa manages to keep himself under as Caleb fills him again and again. His cock is perfect, the hands toying with his breasts are perfect. Oh, what he'll do when he is awake.
Despite his active effort to pace himself, it is impossible to resist giving in at least a little. Yussa feels too good. The hot, silky walls of his cunt squeeze too perfectly around his cock, the wet sound of their fucking is too loud; he is perfectly pliant, willingly at his mercy, and utterly lovely. Caleb's rhythm picks up, not fast, but a step away from the slow, measured thrusts he was maintaining at first.
The sweat on his skin is cooled by the sea breeze wafting in from the open window. He can hear his own breathing becoming increasingly uneven. Yussa's breasts are soft and warm under his hands, and he takes to gripping them while the rough pad of his thumb rubs over his nipples. Preoccupied, he misses the subtle twitch of the elf's fingers entirely.
What will Yussa say to him when he wakes? Will he call him bold with that coy smirk of his and long lashes drooping low over eyes of molten gold? Will he feign surprise and playfully admonish him for taking liberties? Or will he obligingly allow it as his reward for returning to him alive and whole?
Anything is fine, so long as he can lay down beside him and hold him.
"I have missed you," he murmurs, and can't help a soft, throaty moan when he angles up on the next thrust. "I know it has not been long, but--oh, fuck, you feel good--"
Not what he was intending to say, but that doesn't matter. His hair hangs into his face as he leans down to kiss his lover's parted lips again, unable to resist the alluring softness of his mouth.
Caleb's pace falters, quickens, and Yussa loses his concentration as his lover whispers that he has missed him. He breathes in sharply and hiccups as Caleb gives a firm thrust. Yussa cannot even bring himself to pretend: his hand moves, gently gripping Caleb's arm as his legs draw in, tensing against his lover's hips.
A soft moan falls from his lips and Yussa arches closer, needing to feel Caleb as deep as he can. He feels the ridiculous urge to murmur an apology for breaking their game - he knows the freedom it offers Caleb. But the last time he saw this man, he'd been sailing off to a storm on the horizon, to a demi-god newly released. Caleb had gone into the storm, waded into the fire, and now he's back and in one piece. He waited, standing on his balcony and watching the sky roil miles away. He waited, unwilling to properly scry because he did not want to see--
He did not want to see the possibility the Nein would fail or have to retreat. But they did not.
And Yussa can finally exhale.
His other hand, trembling, reaches to stroke against Caleb's cheek as golden eyes finally open to drink in the sight of him.
The way Yussa begins to move is far too deliberate to be purely reactionary. As soon as his thighs close around his hips, Caleb knows he is awake. The moan that falls from his lips a moment later confirms it. Yussa arches, and Caleb's hands slip away from his breasts to wrap his arms around him instead, drawing him close. The sharp snap of his hips buries his cock deeper, and he shudders, making a soft, tight noise in the back of his throat.
Caleb is far from disappointed. He was hardly going to say much more that really matters, and there are some things to which he would very much like to hear Yussa's response. More than that, he just wants to hear his voice. He watches his lover's golden eyes flutter open, and the smile that overtakes his face is achingly soft.
"Oh," he whispers, "there you are." Chest tight with emotion, he kisses Yussa's forehead, then his lips again, short and almost chaste. "I have missed you," he repeats. "I said that I would see you next week, but I could not wait that long."
He said that he hoped he would, anyway. Thankfully, he survived to make good on their standing arrangement a little early.
His hands slide to cradle Caleb's face as he buries himself. He is rendered vulnerable by the look on his lover's face and the sweetness in his voice.
"I missed you," he murmurs, accent heavy. He almost cannot take the tenderness with which Caleb touches him. Yussa pulls the younger man down into a kiss, urgent and responsive this time as their mouths meet. "And I am glad you did not wait, Caleb Widogast."
Yussa lays back and takes a few seconds to adjust his position to tangle more with the man on top of him. His nails drag lightly down the back of Caleb's neck. His cunt tightens briefly around Caleb's cock his lover moves.
"Don't stop." They both need this. Perhaps more than either of them can properly articulate. This first, and then--then what is next will be next.
I missed you is such a simple confirmation, plain and uncomplicated; Caleb's heart soars to hear it. Wordless adoration passes from his lips to Yussa's as he's reeled down into another kiss. Yussa gradually comes awake beneath him, and every conscious movement of his body welcomes him closer, pulls him deeper, demands more, as though he'd stirred solely to show Caleb how wanted he is.
His breath catches, stutters. Yussa arches his back and stretches below him. His thighs ride up, sliding smoothly against Caleb's sides as he skims his nails down the back of his neck, causing a shiver all the way down his spine. The pressure and the change of angle make Caleb sink a little deeper, and he adjusts onto both elbows with a groan, covering him completely. Cradled so fully by Yussa's body, stopping is the furthest thing from his mind.
The sweetly simmering tension is much too good, and he snaps his hips forward sharply just to feel the slick give of Yussa's cunt, the flutter of his tight walls as he stretches so perfectly to receive him.
"No," he whispers hoarsely, a confirmation. "No, I--I need you. Yussa, please." There is no reason to beg when he is sheathed inside him already, stoking the fire between them with thrusts growing increasingly long and heavy. But what he needs is Yussa reaching for him, his responsiveness, his urgent affection pulling him in and holding him close. Their chests are close enough for him to feel Yussa's heartbeat. That is what he needs.
His hand slips to grip Caleb's arm, holding tight as his lover fucks him with long, hard thrusts. His other arm hooks around the younger man's shoulders, clinging to him as their bodies press close.
For a moment, Yussa's world narrows to just the space between them: their heavy breathing, the ease that familiarity brings as they move to meet each other, trying to get closer, deeper, more. Irrationally, he wants to berate Caleb for bolting off to fight an unknown danger on the horizon, for putting himself again between an impending doom and the rest of the world. But the words never escape, pushed back by a heavy moan as Caleb moves just right. Yussa shudders beneath him and manages to plant his foot against the bed, attempting to adjust the angle of his hips with Caleb's next firm thrust.
"Caleb--" His voice is tight and he can't finish the plea he starts. Perhaps he will be grateful for that later. His hand flicks behind Caleb's back and the pale lights in the room become a few degrees brighter, allowing them to see each other a bit better, close as they are.
The room brightens enough for Caleb to see Yussa's features more clearly. He isn't certain if what he reads there is accurate, or merely projection. But he can appreciate the cut-off gasp of his name and the way he pushes his hips up, finding just the right tilt for the deep, full thrusts Caleb has been seeking.
"Yes, there," he gasps softly. There is no need to speak louder when they are so close, nearly brow to brow, always merely a breath away from their next kiss. The molten pleasure in his gut spreads, warmth seeping through his body as he pins his lover to the bed and fucks him like it has been much longer than a few days. Yussa seeks to press closer wherever he can, as if the greedy grind of his cock isn't enough for him. Neither of them can get close enough.
"I won't go." This is the assurance he chooses to pant with what little breath he can spare for words because I missed you is still echoing in his head. "Just tell me to stay."
Yussa's voice escapes in a ragged whimper and he swears he feels something inside him break: his resolve or his heart or his restraint. He curls beneath Caleb, colliding with him as his orgasm hits him hard with the perfect grind against him and inside him. Yussa buries his face against Caleb's neck, arm tight around his lover's shoulders with manicured nails digging against Caleb's back.
I won't go, the younger man whispered. Just tell me to stay. Caleb can't possibly know what those words mean to Yussa, how deeply they reach inside him. He whispers in soft, weak Elvish, unable or unwilling to share his thoughts in a language they share just yet.
Yussa feels like he can't breathe as he clutches Caleb through the crashing intensity of his release and he tries to stay exactly as he is when the first waves of tension ebb, leaving him feeling weak and heavy. But he doesn't want to let go. At a loss for words, all he can do is hold on and gasp for air, trying to catch his breath as Caleb pins him to the bed.
Soon after those words leave his lips, he feels the sting of Yussa's nails against his back and the quiver of tightening muscle as he comes for the second time tonight, barely any louder than when he was asleep. Though he can hear the emotional weight behind the whisper of Elvish, the words remain unknown to him.
Caleb pushes himself up just enough to get his knees under him, careful not to move out of the circle of his lover's arms. His hands close on his hips, coaxing them upwards as he changes the angle yet again. His movements grow frantic and irregular as his orgasm draws closer. The promise of an imminent release coils in his gut with an intolerable tension until finally it dissolves, his climax torn from him with breathtaking force as he spills into Yussa.
His heartbeat is fast and loud, his limbs suddenly leaden. He rests his head on Yussa's shoulder and sinks into his embrace, breathing fast and uneven. His mind is a tangle of conflicting thoughts as he comes down from his peak, and there is a raw ache in his chest. He doesn't know what to say, having gotten too carried away with his words already. Afraid to offer more of himself than Yussa wants. Afraid to ruin what Yussa enjoys about this relationship by impressing his own feelings upon it.
More afraid of that than he was of facing a leviathan demigod.
Yussa is almost boneless in Caleb's arms, easy and eager to move if it means helping his lover achieve his end. And when he does, Yussa wraps around him as much as he can. His arms slide around Caleb's neck and his shoulders as the younger man breathes hard against his shoulder. His fingers push weakly into Caleb's hair, slightly damp from his exertion.
The relief he feels in his lover's presence is made tenuous by the raw fragility between them right now. Yussa, powerful as he may be, does not know how to hold this moment. He realizes that he wants to tell Caleb to stay. He can imagine years, decades spent with this man and all they might accomplish together, arcane and personal. But as much as he wants it, he knows - he is certain - that it would ruin something essential in Caleb. He would cede too much. He would abandon the work he is doing, or take longer in his efforts split between the Empire, where Yussa will not live, and Nicodranas, far from the place where Caleb can have the most impact. He cannot ask Caleb to stay away from the fire, to stop protecting the others so important in his life. That is a road to resentment. He can afford to wait for the world to change. Caleb can't. He won't.
He continues to stroke Caleb's hair as their breathing slows, as their bodies relax. One hand stays in the younger man's rich auburn hair and the other slides to cradle his cheek, holding him in place for a kiss that speaks more than Yussa can at the moment. It is gentle with an unbidden, desperate edge to it. How can he possibly respond to words spoken in the heat of passion? How can he possibly hold Caleb to them?
But he cannot let the silence stretch between them, either. Yussa kisses Caleb again, more tender this time, and strokes his cheek.
"We keep meeting like this," he says lightly, managing a smile as he leans close to brush his nose against Caleb's.
Thank the fucking gods. Yussa sidesteps his foolish slip of the tongue, hopefully meaning that as long as they ignore it, he isn't put off by the implications. Caleb is more than happy to pretend it was never said, relieved that he hasn't ruined everything with a few too-honest words. Heart still pounding, he allows himself to lean into the stroke of Yussa's fingers across his cheek.
"Be careful which wizards you give out your teleportation circle to," he quips with a tired, wry smile. "Some might take it as an invitation."
He doesn't know how to interpret the sharper feeling in the kiss they'd shared a moment ago--almost like longing, but not quite. But if Yussa is still willing to kiss him with any amount of real emotion behind it, that in itself is a relief.
Tentatively, his nose brushes Yussa's as he leans in for a kiss himself, short and gentle. An apology and a test. I'm sorry for asking too much. I know what I should keep to myself. It won't happen again. He is happy with how things are between them. He doesn't need anything more.
Yussa meets the next kiss, lingering close even after it breaks. He feels it for what it is and it makes something in him ache. He cannot do this. They cannot do this. For all his strength and power, Caleb Widogast is still fragile in some ways and Yussa does not wish to be a person who breaks some part of this brilliant man. Not when he admires Caleb so much.
What is the compromise then? Either he makes a confession and bares more of himself to Caleb, or he selfishly allows this promising young man to close part of himself off for the sake of continuing as he has been.
He knows which is easier, and it has been a very long time since he put himself in such an exposed position. In fact, he has crafted an entire life to avoid this. How, then, did Caleb Widogast find his way into the heart of Tidepeak?
"How foolish of me," he says as lightly as he can. "To be so careless."
Yussa presses a gentle hand to Caleb's chest, reluctantly encouraging him to withdraw. As much as he wants to feel this close, he is slight enough to feel uncomfortable beneath the human man's weight before too long.
"Thankfully this is company I welcome. I find one wizard more enjoyable than a dozen or so sailors... though..." He trails off, allowing that salacious suggestion to leave room for all kinds of possibilities.
Thankfully Caleb is mostly oblivious to Yussa's internal struggle to determine the right course of action when it comes to the uncomfortable situation he's unintentionally shined a light on. Surely Yussa must have known he felt this way before now, and could ignore it. He holds out hope that they can smooth this over and continue that way.
He eases back when Yussa puts a hand to his chest, pulling out and relieving him of his weight by shifting off him and onto the bed. Laying on his side, close but not touching, he contemplates getting up, until Yussa speaks again. That he calls his company welcome is encouraging. But equally, Caleb finds himself fondly amused by the allusion that follows, and he can't help smiling. What an image to put into his head.
"Once in a while a dozen or so sailors is just what the mood calls for?" he finishes when Yussa trails off, brows arching suggestively. Gods, he loves this man. He knows how utterly useless it is to acknowledge that after he's just sabotaged himself by implying that very thing, but it isn't something he can control. If he could...
Well, even if he could, he still probably wouldn't choose to feel otherwise. As much as it can hurt at times, his feelings for Yussa have also brought him a great deal of joy. He wouldn't give that up.
Yussa draws his legs together before he rolls onto his side to face Caleb. Ridiculously, he wants to be full again just to feel closer. Perhaps later, if Caleb stays long enough. It occurs to him then that this could be a shorter visit than he is assuming it will be.
Just ask me to stay. Thinking it nearly makes his breath catch.
He adjusts the pillow beneath his head and looks at the man next to him with an aching fondness that he tries to contain. It easily slips into a smirk as Caleb lifts his brows. Good. It's good that he can amuse his lover after all that. Isn't it?
"Once in a while," he affirms, voice lower with a soft, husky edge to it. It's hardly a match for the tone Caleb manages so effortlessly. "You, of all people, are aware of how demanding I can be."
Yussa shifts closer, inviting more contact. Even as he tries to lighten the mood, he cannot quite help the way his gaze sweeps over Caleb's familiar figure, seeking evidence of new injuries. He's become very familiar with the other wizard's scars and marks, and it doesn't look like he's been irreparably injured.
Oh, that's a tone that stirs something in him even now. If Yussa wants Caleb in him again sooner rather than later, all he has to do is continue referring to how demanding he can be in that silky husk. (Demanding enough for a dozen hardy partners? He could believe it. He's heard at least a couple stories from Yussa's youth by now.)
Caleb's gaze lingers on his smirk for a long moment, a reverie interrupted when the other man moves closer to him. He'd deliberately put a little distance between them, and Yussa is deliberately crossing that distance. At last, Caleb feels himself beginning to relax. Yussa clearly doesn't want him gone. He can salvage this.
Now he knows it is welcome, he reaches for his lover, slipping an arm around his waist to draw him in. He doesn't hold tightly, but his touch is less hesitant. He notes Yussa looking him over with a critical eye. While he could joke about him appreciating his figure, the reason for it is obvious considering the way they'd last parted.
"No lasting injuries," he confirms. Indeed, his scars are all familiar ones. Any damage he'd sustained in his own body was healed promptly that day. "I, ah...spent most of the fight as a dragon, so." He gives a half shrug, only the lively flash of his eyes and the hint of a proud smile confirming that his modesty is entirely for show. He knows exactly how impressive that is. It is ninth-level transmutation, the kind of spell so complex only a true master of the art might understand it, let alone cast it.
It is a deep relief to feel the confidence returning to Caleb's touch. Yussa breathes a soft sigh, releasing some of the tension he's been holding as Caleb welcomes him closer. His tension only eases more when Caleb reassures him that there is no lingering damage.
Yussa's golden gaze cuts up to meet the younger wizard's when he so casually mentions he spent most of the fight as a dragon. Now they are in thoroughly familiar territory: arcane wonders. Yussa's fingers brush against Caleb's chest and he feels a quiet thrill when he sees the pride in the other man's face. He has a few such high-level spells in his own spellbook, but he's been at this far longer. It's very impressive that Caleb not only mastered such a spell to feel confident casting it during a battle, but that he was able to truly use the power granted by it to his advantage.
The warmth he feels rising in him is, perhaps, an overreaction to his student's success. But gods, Caleb's transformation, the growth of his talent, is impressive. And exciting. Yussa shifts, trying to imagine what his lover might have looked like as a dragon.
"I am sorry to have missed it," he says, the warm purr lingering as a way of offering his very capable student praise. "That's an impressive casting, Caleb Widogast."
Warmth spreads out from his chest where Yussa's fingers trailed lightly and appreciatively over his skin. It sinks down into his stomach and up into his face as he purrs his praise, exactly the sort of reaction Caleb had hoped to earn. If there is one thing he is happy to brag about (just a bit), it is his skill with the arcane. He loves magic, and he is still thrilled by his own casting. He has never before felt such power--and more than that, felt that it was rightfully his, and well within his control.
"Danke. I could always give you a personal demonstration, Master Errenis," he offers, his voice low and warm and his eyes boldly intent on the older wizard's. His thumb rubs a wide half circle back and forth over the curve of Yussa's hip. "Shapechange does not consume its material component. So long as I have the reserves of energy available, I am able to cast it whenever I please."
Nothing brings forth Caleb Widogast's confidence like talk of his arcane accomplishments. But doesn't he deserve to boast a little, especially to his very attractive teacher? He has come far since Yussa first offered him guidance. Caleb has chosen a fitting specialty in transmutation. It would be difficult for anyone who had not witnessed the transformation first-hand to believe that the man laying here flirting openly with Yussa Errenis is the same one who would barely dare to meet his eyes two years ago.
Yussa gets a thrill from having witnessed Caleb's growth first-hand. It doesn't hurt that his very capable student is also a very attractive man. It's easy to fall back into this familiar banter, and it's a relief. Yussa takes it, resolving to address what passed between them earlier some time before Caleb leaves again.
But for now, he holds his lover's gaze, excited by how bold he is in his pride. Chills race over his skin as Caleb's thumb strokes against his hip. A smirk plays across his mouth. He knows how the spell works, of course, but he's just as pleased to let Caleb explain it.
"And what reserves of energy do you have now, Master Widogast?" he asks, as he shifts languidly against the man beside him. The kaftan he wore to bed, mostly unbuttoned now, threatens to fall off him if he moves just right, baring warm skin to cooler air. "Is there anything you wish to show me...?"
Yussa leaves a careful space in that question - he has no way of knowing how spent Caleb is or what he's had cause to cast between the start of his day and now.
While Caleb hasn't forgotten his blunder by any means, the shift in topic has leant him a much-needed distraction. If anything can paper over a few words unwisely chosen in the heat of passion, it is turning into a fucking dragon.
The hour is late, but he hasn't had cause for especially strenuous casting today. All of his higher reserves are still available to him--though only the highest truly matters. "Enough to complete the spell, and then some, if you wish this to happen right away."
His gaze is drawn, naturally, to the open front of his lover's loosely draped kaftan and the soft brown skin revealed beneath. Though he has mapped every inch of that bare skin before, and had the freedom to touch as he pleased earlier tonight, that doesn't make the tease any less thrilling. His desire for Yussa doesn't wane based on familiarity; he wants him as intensely now as he had the very first time. More, even. His stomach swoops pleasantly as Yussa presses against him, languid but deliberate.
"The true obstacle is size. Is there a space within Tidepeak equipped to comfortably contain an adult blue dragon?"
Yussa lifts a brow when Caleb questions what space might be available in Tidepeak. He gives the younger man a gentle push before rolling away from him. With a flutter of fabric, he shifts the kaftan back into place and goes so far as to do up a few of the buttons, though not all. He stops just below his sternum, ensuring that the fabric now covering his breasts could move to expose him with little effort.
"Not in this room," he says airily. Now that he's standing, Yussa is vaguely aware that he can feel Caleb's spend dripping out of him. He doesn't immediately tend to it, too interested in seeing his student cast such an impressive spell to bother. "But yes, there is."
Yussa crooks his fingers over his shoulder and waits, assuming Caleb might want to throw on some clothes before they leave the assured privacy of Yussa's bedroom. Granted, the only other person in the tower is Wensforth, and Yussa is quite sure his servant is fast asleep at this hour.
"There is a courtyard off the sitting room. It will accommodate such a large creature."
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Cool air touches more of his skin as Caleb undoes the buttons. As the fabric parts and slides away, either with Caleb's guidance or just from the weight and fall of the fabric, another wave of shivers cascades through him, lighting him his nerves and threatening to wake him.
His lover's husky voice fills him with wicked thoughts, Yussa's mind racing to imagine such a scenario. What would it be like to wake - truly wake - with the soreness of being used? To wake to the feeling of come dripping from his cunt? He tightens briefly around the other man's cock on the next thrust inward.
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"Did you like that?" he asks now, husky and gently teasing. With enough buttons undone, he tugs open the front of Yussa's caftan to bare his breasts. Both hands slide up his slim torso to squeeze at the soft flesh, rolling peaked nipples between thumb and forefinger. "You have been on my mind for days. I would have you any way I could."
His hips meet Yussa's as he bottoms out, and again when he pulls back to repeat the motion, stroking slowly deep inside his cunt to spread his passage open for longer, smoother thrusts to come. He is pacing himself for both their sakes, trying to keep a handle on his eagerness and regulate his breathing. If he relinquished his self-control, he could easily bring himself to a swift finish. But that isn't what he wants. He wants to take his time, to enjoy the unbelievable gift that is Yussa quietly and passively permitting him to take his pleasure this way. It is too good to squander.
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Caleb's hips press against him as he pushes deep again and again; Yussa cannot spare himself that awareness, teetering still on the line between full consciousness and his trance. He can tell Caleb is pacing himself and that excites him as much as it tests him.
In truth, he too has been thinking of Caleb for days. Since the young man left his tower with a satchel full of potions, ones he was willing to spare with some idea of what his lover - and his friends - were rushing toward. And since he's been aware of their return, he has ached to hear Caleb's voice, to feel his lips and his hands, to be assured of his survival in the most primal way possible.
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"I should have come sooner," he says tightly. "I wanted to. You were so beautiful that day, standing above me draped in gold like a single ray of sun against the grey sky." There is a soft huff, a sharp exhale, as he nearly laughs at himself. "Maybe that is too close to bad poetry. But I did not know what would happen, and seeing you--I was reminded again why I wade into the flames."
Yussa doesn't need anyone to protect him. He is very capable of defending himself. But he'd sounded so worried--perhaps even frightened--when his voice came into Caleb's mind that day. It has probably been a long time, Caleb would guess, since a threat so powerful and imminent made itself known so close to home. There was plenty of reason for anyone to be scared.
But they are both alive and safe, and Caleb feels more free to confess what is on his heart during this tender, one-sided lovemaking than he might otherwise.
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He tries to think instead of how charming he found it when Caleb flew up to his tower, bypassing the front door and Wensforth altogether. Impertinent, but charming. How far he's come from the terrified, paranoid young man he first met, one who could barely breathe in his presence for the fear of what if. Perhaps the only member of the Nein who realized how dangerous Yussa Errenis could be should he turn against them. And one of the two reasons why Yussa indulged at all, Caduceus Clay being the other. Caleb Widogast, waiting in thin air for him to appear, both to make a request and, perhaps, to say--not goodbye. Yussa doesn't think either of them would have tolerated that well.
Hope to see you next week, he'd said instead. Not quite a promise to return, but the hope that he would. The intention to try. Yussa sent him off with the only resources he had at the time that he knew would be of use. Caleb Widogast, even if there are things he is still learning, did not need spells from him.
His fingers twitch against the bed, but Yussa manages to keep himself under as Caleb fills him again and again. His cock is perfect, the hands toying with his breasts are perfect. Oh, what he'll do when he is awake.
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The sweat on his skin is cooled by the sea breeze wafting in from the open window. He can hear his own breathing becoming increasingly uneven. Yussa's breasts are soft and warm under his hands, and he takes to gripping them while the rough pad of his thumb rubs over his nipples. Preoccupied, he misses the subtle twitch of the elf's fingers entirely.
What will Yussa say to him when he wakes? Will he call him bold with that coy smirk of his and long lashes drooping low over eyes of molten gold? Will he feign surprise and playfully admonish him for taking liberties? Or will he obligingly allow it as his reward for returning to him alive and whole?
Anything is fine, so long as he can lay down beside him and hold him.
"I have missed you," he murmurs, and can't help a soft, throaty moan when he angles up on the next thrust. "I know it has not been long, but--oh, fuck, you feel good--"
Not what he was intending to say, but that doesn't matter. His hair hangs into his face as he leans down to kiss his lover's parted lips again, unable to resist the alluring softness of his mouth.
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A soft moan falls from his lips and Yussa arches closer, needing to feel Caleb as deep as he can. He feels the ridiculous urge to murmur an apology for breaking their game - he knows the freedom it offers Caleb. But the last time he saw this man, he'd been sailing off to a storm on the horizon, to a demi-god newly released. Caleb had gone into the storm, waded into the fire, and now he's back and in one piece. He waited, standing on his balcony and watching the sky roil miles away. He waited, unwilling to properly scry because he did not want to see--
He did not want to see the possibility the Nein would fail or have to retreat. But they did not.
And Yussa can finally exhale.
His other hand, trembling, reaches to stroke against Caleb's cheek as golden eyes finally open to drink in the sight of him.
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Caleb is far from disappointed. He was hardly going to say much more that really matters, and there are some things to which he would very much like to hear Yussa's response. More than that, he just wants to hear his voice. He watches his lover's golden eyes flutter open, and the smile that overtakes his face is achingly soft.
"Oh," he whispers, "there you are." Chest tight with emotion, he kisses Yussa's forehead, then his lips again, short and almost chaste. "I have missed you," he repeats. "I said that I would see you next week, but I could not wait that long."
He said that he hoped he would, anyway. Thankfully, he survived to make good on their standing arrangement a little early.
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"I missed you," he murmurs, accent heavy. He almost cannot take the tenderness with which Caleb touches him. Yussa pulls the younger man down into a kiss, urgent and responsive this time as their mouths meet. "And I am glad you did not wait, Caleb Widogast."
Yussa lays back and takes a few seconds to adjust his position to tangle more with the man on top of him. His nails drag lightly down the back of Caleb's neck. His cunt tightens briefly around Caleb's cock his lover moves.
"Don't stop." They both need this. Perhaps more than either of them can properly articulate. This first, and then--then what is next will be next.
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His breath catches, stutters. Yussa arches his back and stretches below him. His thighs ride up, sliding smoothly against Caleb's sides as he skims his nails down the back of his neck, causing a shiver all the way down his spine. The pressure and the change of angle make Caleb sink a little deeper, and he adjusts onto both elbows with a groan, covering him completely. Cradled so fully by Yussa's body, stopping is the furthest thing from his mind.
The sweetly simmering tension is much too good, and he snaps his hips forward sharply just to feel the slick give of Yussa's cunt, the flutter of his tight walls as he stretches so perfectly to receive him.
"No," he whispers hoarsely, a confirmation. "No, I--I need you. Yussa, please." There is no reason to beg when he is sheathed inside him already, stoking the fire between them with thrusts growing increasingly long and heavy. But what he needs is Yussa reaching for him, his responsiveness, his urgent affection pulling him in and holding him close. Their chests are close enough for him to feel Yussa's heartbeat. That is what he needs.
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For a moment, Yussa's world narrows to just the space between them: their heavy breathing, the ease that familiarity brings as they move to meet each other, trying to get closer, deeper, more. Irrationally, he wants to berate Caleb for bolting off to fight an unknown danger on the horizon, for putting himself again between an impending doom and the rest of the world. But the words never escape, pushed back by a heavy moan as Caleb moves just right. Yussa shudders beneath him and manages to plant his foot against the bed, attempting to adjust the angle of his hips with Caleb's next firm thrust.
"Caleb--" His voice is tight and he can't finish the plea he starts. Perhaps he will be grateful for that later. His hand flicks behind Caleb's back and the pale lights in the room become a few degrees brighter, allowing them to see each other a bit better, close as they are.
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"Yes, there," he gasps softly. There is no need to speak louder when they are so close, nearly brow to brow, always merely a breath away from their next kiss. The molten pleasure in his gut spreads, warmth seeping through his body as he pins his lover to the bed and fucks him like it has been much longer than a few days. Yussa seeks to press closer wherever he can, as if the greedy grind of his cock isn't enough for him. Neither of them can get close enough.
"I won't go." This is the assurance he chooses to pant with what little breath he can spare for words because I missed you is still echoing in his head. "Just tell me to stay."
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Yussa's voice escapes in a ragged whimper and he swears he feels something inside him break: his resolve or his heart or his restraint. He curls beneath Caleb, colliding with him as his orgasm hits him hard with the perfect grind against him and inside him. Yussa buries his face against Caleb's neck, arm tight around his lover's shoulders with manicured nails digging against Caleb's back.
I won't go, the younger man whispered. Just tell me to stay. Caleb can't possibly know what those words mean to Yussa, how deeply they reach inside him. He whispers in soft, weak Elvish, unable or unwilling to share his thoughts in a language they share just yet.
Yussa feels like he can't breathe as he clutches Caleb through the crashing intensity of his release and he tries to stay exactly as he is when the first waves of tension ebb, leaving him feeling weak and heavy. But he doesn't want to let go. At a loss for words, all he can do is hold on and gasp for air, trying to catch his breath as Caleb pins him to the bed.
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Caleb pushes himself up just enough to get his knees under him, careful not to move out of the circle of his lover's arms. His hands close on his hips, coaxing them upwards as he changes the angle yet again. His movements grow frantic and irregular as his orgasm draws closer. The promise of an imminent release coils in his gut with an intolerable tension until finally it dissolves, his climax torn from him with breathtaking force as he spills into Yussa.
His heartbeat is fast and loud, his limbs suddenly leaden. He rests his head on Yussa's shoulder and sinks into his embrace, breathing fast and uneven. His mind is a tangle of conflicting thoughts as he comes down from his peak, and there is a raw ache in his chest. He doesn't know what to say, having gotten too carried away with his words already. Afraid to offer more of himself than Yussa wants. Afraid to ruin what Yussa enjoys about this relationship by impressing his own feelings upon it.
More afraid of that than he was of facing a leviathan demigod.
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The relief he feels in his lover's presence is made tenuous by the raw fragility between them right now. Yussa, powerful as he may be, does not know how to hold this moment. He realizes that he wants to tell Caleb to stay. He can imagine years, decades spent with this man and all they might accomplish together, arcane and personal. But as much as he wants it, he knows - he is certain - that it would ruin something essential in Caleb. He would cede too much. He would abandon the work he is doing, or take longer in his efforts split between the Empire, where Yussa will not live, and Nicodranas, far from the place where Caleb can have the most impact. He cannot ask Caleb to stay away from the fire, to stop protecting the others so important in his life. That is a road to resentment. He can afford to wait for the world to change. Caleb can't. He won't.
He continues to stroke Caleb's hair as their breathing slows, as their bodies relax. One hand stays in the younger man's rich auburn hair and the other slides to cradle his cheek, holding him in place for a kiss that speaks more than Yussa can at the moment. It is gentle with an unbidden, desperate edge to it. How can he possibly respond to words spoken in the heat of passion? How can he possibly hold Caleb to them?
But he cannot let the silence stretch between them, either. Yussa kisses Caleb again, more tender this time, and strokes his cheek.
"We keep meeting like this," he says lightly, managing a smile as he leans close to brush his nose against Caleb's.
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"Be careful which wizards you give out your teleportation circle to," he quips with a tired, wry smile. "Some might take it as an invitation."
He doesn't know how to interpret the sharper feeling in the kiss they'd shared a moment ago--almost like longing, but not quite. But if Yussa is still willing to kiss him with any amount of real emotion behind it, that in itself is a relief.
Tentatively, his nose brushes Yussa's as he leans in for a kiss himself, short and gentle. An apology and a test. I'm sorry for asking too much. I know what I should keep to myself. It won't happen again. He is happy with how things are between them. He doesn't need anything more.
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What is the compromise then? Either he makes a confession and bares more of himself to Caleb, or he selfishly allows this promising young man to close part of himself off for the sake of continuing as he has been.
He knows which is easier, and it has been a very long time since he put himself in such an exposed position. In fact, he has crafted an entire life to avoid this. How, then, did Caleb Widogast find his way into the heart of Tidepeak?
"How foolish of me," he says as lightly as he can. "To be so careless."
Yussa presses a gentle hand to Caleb's chest, reluctantly encouraging him to withdraw. As much as he wants to feel this close, he is slight enough to feel uncomfortable beneath the human man's weight before too long.
"Thankfully this is company I welcome. I find one wizard more enjoyable than a dozen or so sailors... though..." He trails off, allowing that salacious suggestion to leave room for all kinds of possibilities.
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He eases back when Yussa puts a hand to his chest, pulling out and relieving him of his weight by shifting off him and onto the bed. Laying on his side, close but not touching, he contemplates getting up, until Yussa speaks again. That he calls his company welcome is encouraging. But equally, Caleb finds himself fondly amused by the allusion that follows, and he can't help smiling. What an image to put into his head.
"Once in a while a dozen or so sailors is just what the mood calls for?" he finishes when Yussa trails off, brows arching suggestively. Gods, he loves this man. He knows how utterly useless it is to acknowledge that after he's just sabotaged himself by implying that very thing, but it isn't something he can control. If he could...
Well, even if he could, he still probably wouldn't choose to feel otherwise. As much as it can hurt at times, his feelings for Yussa have also brought him a great deal of joy. He wouldn't give that up.
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Just ask me to stay. Thinking it nearly makes his breath catch.
He adjusts the pillow beneath his head and looks at the man next to him with an aching fondness that he tries to contain. It easily slips into a smirk as Caleb lifts his brows. Good. It's good that he can amuse his lover after all that. Isn't it?
"Once in a while," he affirms, voice lower with a soft, husky edge to it. It's hardly a match for the tone Caleb manages so effortlessly. "You, of all people, are aware of how demanding I can be."
Yussa shifts closer, inviting more contact. Even as he tries to lighten the mood, he cannot quite help the way his gaze sweeps over Caleb's familiar figure, seeking evidence of new injuries. He's become very familiar with the other wizard's scars and marks, and it doesn't look like he's been irreparably injured.
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Caleb's gaze lingers on his smirk for a long moment, a reverie interrupted when the other man moves closer to him. He'd deliberately put a little distance between them, and Yussa is deliberately crossing that distance. At last, Caleb feels himself beginning to relax. Yussa clearly doesn't want him gone. He can salvage this.
Now he knows it is welcome, he reaches for his lover, slipping an arm around his waist to draw him in. He doesn't hold tightly, but his touch is less hesitant. He notes Yussa looking him over with a critical eye. While he could joke about him appreciating his figure, the reason for it is obvious considering the way they'd last parted.
"No lasting injuries," he confirms. Indeed, his scars are all familiar ones. Any damage he'd sustained in his own body was healed promptly that day. "I, ah...spent most of the fight as a dragon, so." He gives a half shrug, only the lively flash of his eyes and the hint of a proud smile confirming that his modesty is entirely for show. He knows exactly how impressive that is. It is ninth-level transmutation, the kind of spell so complex only a true master of the art might understand it, let alone cast it.
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Yussa's golden gaze cuts up to meet the younger wizard's when he so casually mentions he spent most of the fight as a dragon. Now they are in thoroughly familiar territory: arcane wonders. Yussa's fingers brush against Caleb's chest and he feels a quiet thrill when he sees the pride in the other man's face. He has a few such high-level spells in his own spellbook, but he's been at this far longer. It's very impressive that Caleb not only mastered such a spell to feel confident casting it during a battle, but that he was able to truly use the power granted by it to his advantage.
The warmth he feels rising in him is, perhaps, an overreaction to his student's success. But gods, Caleb's transformation, the growth of his talent, is impressive. And exciting. Yussa shifts, trying to imagine what his lover might have looked like as a dragon.
"I am sorry to have missed it," he says, the warm purr lingering as a way of offering his very capable student praise. "That's an impressive casting, Caleb Widogast."
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"Danke. I could always give you a personal demonstration, Master Errenis," he offers, his voice low and warm and his eyes boldly intent on the older wizard's. His thumb rubs a wide half circle back and forth over the curve of Yussa's hip. "Shapechange does not consume its material component. So long as I have the reserves of energy available, I am able to cast it whenever I please."
Nothing brings forth Caleb Widogast's confidence like talk of his arcane accomplishments. But doesn't he deserve to boast a little, especially to his very attractive teacher? He has come far since Yussa first offered him guidance. Caleb has chosen a fitting specialty in transmutation. It would be difficult for anyone who had not witnessed the transformation first-hand to believe that the man laying here flirting openly with Yussa Errenis is the same one who would barely dare to meet his eyes two years ago.
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But for now, he holds his lover's gaze, excited by how bold he is in his pride. Chills race over his skin as Caleb's thumb strokes against his hip. A smirk plays across his mouth. He knows how the spell works, of course, but he's just as pleased to let Caleb explain it.
"And what reserves of energy do you have now, Master Widogast?" he asks, as he shifts languidly against the man beside him. The kaftan he wore to bed, mostly unbuttoned now, threatens to fall off him if he moves just right, baring warm skin to cooler air. "Is there anything you wish to show me...?"
Yussa leaves a careful space in that question - he has no way of knowing how spent Caleb is or what he's had cause to cast between the start of his day and now.
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The hour is late, but he hasn't had cause for especially strenuous casting today. All of his higher reserves are still available to him--though only the highest truly matters. "Enough to complete the spell, and then some, if you wish this to happen right away."
His gaze is drawn, naturally, to the open front of his lover's loosely draped kaftan and the soft brown skin revealed beneath. Though he has mapped every inch of that bare skin before, and had the freedom to touch as he pleased earlier tonight, that doesn't make the tease any less thrilling. His desire for Yussa doesn't wane based on familiarity; he wants him as intensely now as he had the very first time. More, even. His stomach swoops pleasantly as Yussa presses against him, languid but deliberate.
"The true obstacle is size. Is there a space within Tidepeak equipped to comfortably contain an adult blue dragon?"
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"Not in this room," he says airily. Now that he's standing, Yussa is vaguely aware that he can feel Caleb's spend dripping out of him. He doesn't immediately tend to it, too interested in seeing his student cast such an impressive spell to bother. "But yes, there is."
Yussa crooks his fingers over his shoulder and waits, assuming Caleb might want to throw on some clothes before they leave the assured privacy of Yussa's bedroom. Granted, the only other person in the tower is Wensforth, and Yussa is quite sure his servant is fast asleep at this hour.
"There is a courtyard off the sitting room. It will accommodate such a large creature."
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